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TRANSACTIONS

mogal 0ocitt}i of HitrratiuT

THE UNITED KINGDOM.

SECOND SERIES,
VOL. XIL

LONDON:

JOHN" MURRAY, ALBEIttARLE STREET

TRUBNER AND CO., PATERNOSTER BOW.

MDCCCLXXXll.

HAEEISON AND S0X3,
PRINTERS IN OEDINAEY TO HEE MAJESTY,

ST. maetin's lane.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

I. The Ogham-Runes and El-Mushajjar : a Study.
By RiCHAKD F. Burton, Esq., M.R.A.S. ... 1
II. The Earthly Paradise of European Mythology.

By C. F. Keary, Esq., M.A., F.S.A 47

III. The Rubens Centenary and the Antwerp Art
Congress. By C. H. E. Carmichael, Esq., M.A. . 85

IV. On the History, System, and Varieties of Turkish
Poetry, illustrated by selections in the Original,
and in Enghsh Paraphrase, with a notice of the
Islamic doctrine of the Immortality of woman's
soul in the Future State. By J. W. Redhouse,
Esq., M.R.A.S., Hon. M.R.S.L., etc. . . .99

V. On an Unrecorded Event in the Life of Sir Thomas
More. By E. W. Brabrook, Esq., F.S.A. . . IGO
VI. What is Poetry? By George Washington
Moon, Esq

Report

President's Address
List of Members .

173

203
217
233

VII. The Ethnology of Modem Midian. By Richard P.

Burton, Esq., M.R.A.S 249

VIII. The Paris International Literary Congress, . 1878,
and the International Literary Association. By C.
H. E. Carmichael, Esq., M.A. . . . .331

IX. Some Aspects of Zeus and Apollo Worship. By C.

F. Keary, Esq 348

X. A Theory of the Chief Human Races of Europe and
Asia. By J. W. Redhouse, Esq., Hon. M.R.A.S.,
M.R.S.L . 377

IV CONTENTS.

PAGE

XI. Early Italian Dramatic Literature. By R. Datey,

Esq 400

XII. Praxiteles and the Hermes with the Dionysos-
Child from the Heraion in Olympia. By Charles
Waldstein, Ph.D

Report

President's Address
List of Members .

435

467
483
501

XIII. The Mythology of the Eddas : How far of Teutonic
origin. By C. F. Keary, Esq 517

XIV. The Popular Literature of Old Japan. By C.
Pfoundes, Esq., M.R.A.S., M.R.S.L. . . .591

XV. The Living Key to Spelling Reform. By F. G.

Fleat, Esq 623

XVI. On the Roll containing illustrations of the Life of
Saint Guthlac in the British Museum. By Walter

DE Gray Birch, Esq., F.S.A., Hon. Librarian, R.S.L. 639

XVII. On Waxed Tablets recently found at Sempeii. By
W. S. W. Vaux, Esq., M.A., F.R.S., Sec. R.S.L. and
R.A.S 663

XVIII. The Wax Tablets of Pompeii, and the Bronze Table

of Aljustrel. By C. H. E. Carmichael, M.A. . . 685
XIX. Notes on the Survey of Western Palestine executed
for the Palestine Exploration Fund. By Trelawxey
Saunders, Esq. ....... 705

XX. The Colour Sense in the Edda. By xIrthur Law-

rexson, Esq., Lerwick, Shetland Islands . . . 723

Report 749

President's Address 765

Li^t of Members . . . . . . . .775

Index 701

TRANSACTIONS

|[0nal Sntirfu oi ^gxitxRixm.

THE OGHAM-KUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAE
A Study.

BY RICHAKD F. BURTON, M.R.A.S.

(Eead January 22, 1879.)

Paet I.
The Ogham-Runes.

In treating this first portion of my subject, the
Ogham-Runes, I have made free use of the materials
collected by Dr. Charles Graves, Prof. John Rhys,
and other students, ending it with my own work in
the Orkney Islands.

The Ogham character, the " fair writing " of
ancient Irish hterature, is called the Bohel-loth,
Betliluis or Bethluisnion, from its initial letters, like
the Grseco-Phoenician " Alphabeta," and the Arabo-
Hebrew "Abjad." It may briefly be described as
formed by straight or curved strokes, of various
lengths, disposed either perpendicularly or obliquely
to an angle of the substance upon which the letters
were incised, punched, or rubbed. In monuments
supposed to be more modern, the letters were traced,

VOL. XII. B

'2 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

not on the edge, but upon the face of the recipient
surface ; the latter was originaUy wood, staves and
tablets; then stone, rude or worked; and, lastly, metal,
silver, and rarely iron. The place of the bevel was
often taken by a real or an imaginary perpendicular,
or horizontal, bisecting the shortest notches repre-
senting vowel-cuts; or, more generally, by a Fleasgh,
stem-line, trunk-hne, or Kune- Staff. According to
the Rev. Charles Graves,^ " The continuous stem-
hne along wliich the Ogham letters are ranged is
termed the ridge (bjmim) ; each short stroke,
perpendicular or oblique to it, is called a ttvig
(jJeaj-j ; in the plural pleaj^^a)." That authority
also opines that the stem-line, as a rule or guide, like
the Devanagari-Hindii, was borrowed from the Bunic
" @taf."

The " Tract on Oghams " and Irish grammatical
treatises^ contain some eighty different modifica-
tions of the Ogham alphabet, while Wormius enu-
merates twelve varieties of the Runes proper — most
o\' them mere freaks of fancy, like similar prolusions
in the East.^ The following is the first on the list,
and it is certainly that which derives most directly
from the old Orient home.

' " Paper ou the Ogham Character." Proceedings of tlfe Eoyal
Irish Academy, vol. iv, part 2, p. 360.

^ The " Tract "' is in the " Book of Ballymote," written about the ninth
century, and assuming its present form in the fourteenth. The treatise
is the " Precepta Doctorum " (Upaicepr or Uppcherna neigea)- or u'eigeji),
the Primer (Precepts) of the Bards, composed in the ninth or tenth
century, and found in the " Book of Lecan," a manuscript dating from
A.D. 1417. It is "said to have been composed in the first century."
(p. xx\'iii., John O'Douovan's Irish Grammar, Dublin, 1845.)

' See " Ancient Alphabets and Hieroglyphic Characters explained,"
Sec, by -Joseph Hammer. Loudon, 1806.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 3

b 1 }: ]■ 11 h b c c q m ;; 113 jc ji a o u e 1

The number and the power of the letters are
given, as above, by the author of the " Paper on
Oghams."'* I am aware that this form in which the
directing-line has been cut up to make steps is held
by some scholars to be a " sort of artificial ladder-
Ogham." Yet it is an undoubted revival of the
most archaic type ; and from it the transition is
easy to the modification popularly known, the six-
teenth figured in the "Tract on Oghams."

pl Jst

b 1 f J s la m u ug- \ z r

nnr 11)1 \\\i\.^'^ "' '^ ^^"'^ -z^' /^y /^v^/^^ — '-^ ■" "^ '"■' -

hd t fc q a one i

Here evidently the only thing needful was to
make the stem strokes of the primitive alphabet a
continuous " Fleasgh."

Let us now compare the Ogham proper with what
may be called " the Ogham-Runes " ; the latter
being opposed to Runogham^. or Secret Ogham in
such plirases as Runoghatn na Fian — of the Fenians
or ancient Irish militiamen. The " Ogham-Kunes "
represent the three groups of letters (cittcv) gener-
ally known as the Futhorc, from the initial six.

Bancs.

Corrcspondvn g Ogham- Pmucs.

F 11 til o r k . H n i a s . T b 1 m j ((5)

* Lor. cit., p. 358.

' O'Brien and O'Reilly (Dictionaries), translated Bv7i by " Secret " :
Welsh, Rhm

B 2

4 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

(The letters may evidently be inverted with the
tAvigs pointing upwards.)

The above specimen of the Ogham-Runes is quoted
from Joh. G. Liljegren.*^ In " Hermothena "' we
find the opinion that this " twig-E,une," correspond-
ing with the " Ogham Craobh " (or virgular Ogham), ^
composed of an upright stem and side branches, sug-
gested the " stepped," "ladder" or primitive Ogham;
and hence the perfect popular Ogham. This theory
has by no means been generally accepted. Yet it
well exemplifies the principle upon which the various
Abecedaria were constructed- — namely, that the
symbol for any letter showed in the first instance
its particular group amongst the three; and, secondly,
the place which it held in that group. Goransson
(Bautil, p. 232) figures an ancient monument on
which are a few w^ords written in these "Ogham-
Runes " with the twigs (^iinneftrecfen), the remainder
being in the common Runes.

Among the " class-Runes " supposed to have been
developed from the " Futhorc " there is a vast variety
of forms. We need only quote the variety called
Hahal-Runes, whose resemblance is most striking to
the '•' Ogham Craobh."

Ff 7?f

CO r T i

It is popularly asserted that the inventors, or
rather the adapters of the Ogham, gave to its letters
the names of trees or plants. So the Chinese

« " ilunlara," p. 50.
' Vol. v., p. 232.

8 See John O'Donovan's Irish Grammar, Introdnction, pp. 34-47 —
" Craobh Ogham, i.e., Virgei Characteres."

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJ JAR. 5

" Hadical," or key for Moh, a tree, is a plain cross "f
with two additional oblique strokes >'j'^ , General
Vallancey ("Prospectus of a Dictionary," &c.)^ who
makes this remark, seems to have held that the
tree-form was adapted to the name, whereas the
virgular shape named the letters. The Arabic El-
Mushajjar or E]-Shajari, the *' branched " or the
" tree-like," certainly arose from the appearance of
the letters.

In the original Runic Alphabet two letters are
called after trees, the thorn and the bn-ch ; the
latter I have shown^ is like poplar {Pi'ppal), the only
term which spread through Europe deriving directly
from the old Aryan home {Bhurja). To the thorn
and the birch the more developed Anglo-Saxon
alphabet added four : yew, sedge, oak, and ash. All
the Irish letters are made to signify trees or plants ;
but at least ten of them are not Irish terms.
Amongst foreign words, curious to say, is the
second letter of the Bethluis, L = luis = a quicken,
or mountain ash ; whilst the same is the case with
the third letter n [nin, or nio7i, an ash) in Bethluisnin
{Beth-luis-nion f). The latter term has suggested
to some that in old Ogham the letter n stood
third. But there is nothing in the Uraicept to
support this theory. On the contrary, there are
passages to show that the word nin was " occasionally
taken in a general signification, and was used with
reference to all the letters of the alphabet in-
differently."

All the letters of the Bethluis are called Feada,

" See "Ultima Thule " (Nimmo and Co.) and "Etru.scan Bologna."

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

'* woods " or " trees '' (Feaba), a term especially
applied to the vowels as being the true " trees." The
consonants are Taohomma or *' side-trees " (caobomma) ;
and the diphthongs Forfeada, " over-trees " or " extra
trees." The division of the alphabet is into four
aicnie ("groups") of five letters, each named after
its initial. Thus, h, l,f, s, n compose the B-group
(aicme-b) ; li, d, t, c, q the H-group (aicme-li), and
so forth. The five diphthongs {Forfeada or " extra
trees ") ea. oi, ui, ai and ae become the Foraicme-
group (Fojiaicme). The words were read from the
bottom upwards, often rounding the head of the stone
and running down the opposite shoulder. If hori-
zontally disposed, the order was from left to right,
hke Sanskrit and other Aryans ; when
written backwards in Semitic fashion,
from right to left, secresy was in-
tended.

The groups, both in Runic

and in Ogham are : 1. Lines

to the left of the Fleasgh when

perpendicular, or below it when

horizontal ; these are 6, I, f, s,

n, according as they number 1,

2, 3, 4 and 5 characteristic

" twigs." 2. Lines to the right

or above the line ; h, d, t, c, q,

{cu ?). 3. Longer strokes cross-
ing the bevel on the Fleasgh

obliquely, m, n, ng, st (z), r.

4. Shorter cuts upon the stem-
line usually represent the five

vowels, a, o, ii, <>, i. Sometimes

a x|

b X

ci n

e t

f p

g y

ll %

i I

k A

1 I

m ^

n A

o A

r A

t t

u h

th \

b —

= t

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSH A JJAK. 7

they are mere notches; in other cases they are of
considerable length ; for instance, in the St. Gall
Codex of Priscian, whose eight marginal notes in
Ogham are attributed to A.D. 874, 875.

Th\is the total characters originally numbered
in Kunic 16 and in the Ogham 20, or 25, simple
and compound. These two illustrations, in which
they are compared with the Roman alphabet, show
their deficiencies. Of the five diphthongs, only the
first (ea) has been found upon the ancient monuments.
The next added to it was the second (oi) ; and lastly
came the other three (ui, ia and ea) which were
employed occasionally. The absent consonants are
y, h (= c, q), p, V, IV, X, z. The disappearance of the
J), which Bishop Graves^° holds to be a " primitive
letter in the Phoenician alphabet," and which was
so much used in Latin, is significant, or rather should
be so, to those who hold the Ogham to have been
modelled upon the Roman syllabarium. Unknown to
the Irish tongue as is the h to Romaic or modern Greek,
it is expressed by hh, and tlie Uraicept assigns as a
reason that p is an aspirated h,- — which it is not.
There are rare and presumedly modern characters
for the semi- vowel y, and for the double consonant x
(^ Jcs, cs), which was also denoted by ec, ch, Ach,
and iicli. The naso-palatal ng of Sanskrit — a
character lost to the abecedaria of Europe — is
preserved in Ogham. The z is denoted by ]c or r^.
Thus Elizabetli and Zacharias become Elistabeth
and Stacharias {Liber Hymnorum), and in the
Uraicept Greek ^ is written j'ceca (Steta)." Finally,

" Hermothena, iv., 469.

" O'Donovan (j). 48) makes z = ts ur ds.

8 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

several of the signs are supposed to denote different
sounds.

I have no intention of entering into the vexed
question of Ogham antiquity, or of its pre-Christian
versus its post-Christian date. Dr. Graves^" deter-
mines the question as follows : " One of the first
things to be remarked in this alphabet is the
separation of the letters into consonants and
vowels. This arrangement alone ought to have
satisfied any scholar that it is the work of a gram-
marian, and not a genuine primitive alphabet.
Again, the vowels are arranged according to the
method of the Irish grammarians, who have divided
them into two classes, broad and slender. The
broad a, o (identical in the oldest writings), and u
are put first ; the slender e and i last." Thus
as regards the origin of the Ogham alphabet, the
author came to the conclusion that it was introduced
into Ireland from Scandinavia or North Germany ;
and that it was framed by persons acquainted with
the later and developed Runic alphabets, such as
those used by the Anglo-Saxons. Dr. O'Connor
also doubted the antiquity of the Ogham alphabet.
He held that the Irish possessed a primitive
abecedarium of 16 letters (like the Runic), all
named after trees ; and, consequently, that the
tree-shaped letters {foi^mcB rectilineares) may be a
modern invention.

O'Donovan (1845) makes the Bohel-lotli alphabet
contain 24, and the Beth-luis-nion 26 letters. The
Reverend Thomas Jones, M.A., reduces the genuine
Irish alphabet to 18.

'- Loc. cit., 360.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 9

But these are objections to the alphahet,^^ not to the
characters composing it. With respect to the artificial
distribution of the vowels, Dr. Graves owns in the
next sentence that " it was not by any means strictly
observed by the earliest writers of this country ;"
adding that frequent violations of it are to be found in
the "Book of Armagh" and in the monuments of olden
time. His argument, founded upon the present
systematisation, is absolutely worthless. Ogham
cannot be an original and primitive alphabet in its
actual and finislied state ; it may have been so in its
rude form. A case in point is the modern " Deva-
nagari," still used for Prakrit as well as for Sanskrit.
That beautiful and philological system is the work
of grammarians who knew as much as, and perhaps
more than, " Priscian and Donatus." Nothing can be,
at any rate nothing is, more artful, more scientific,
than its distribution of the sound-symbols. Yet the
original and simple abecedarium was old enough,
having been simply borrowed from the Phoenicians.
We know that the Hindus wrote letters in the days
of Alexander, and the Girnar inscriptions prove that
the ancient form of the complicated modern alphabet
was used in India during the third century B.C.
The same may have been the case with the primitive
Ogham of 16 or 20 letters. All we can now say
is, that either the inscriptions have perished or
they are yet to be found ; and no wonder when
they were cut on wooden staves, wands, and tablets :
" Barbara fraxineis sculpatur Ehuna tabellis."

{Ammian. Marcell.)

" " Critical Essay ou the Ancient Inhabitants of the Northern Parts
of Britain or Scotland." London, 1729. Chiefly a reply to O'Flaherty's
" Ogygi^ Vindicated."

10 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

Bishop Graves himself quotes many remnants of
tradition touching the use of Ogham among the
lieathen Irish — not to speak of the Catholic legend
of Fenius Fearsaidh, " great grand -son of Japhet."
A story in the " Leabhar na h Uidhri," mentions
the Ogham, inscribed on the end of the Lia or
headstone planted over the grave of King Fothadh
Airgthech (the Robber), who ruled Ireland in a.d. 285.
The " Book of Ballymote " refers to the Ogham of
Fiachrach (ob. A.D. 380). A similar allusion is found
in the "Elopement of Deirdre,"^^ — their Ogham names
were written.

Again, the Druid Dalian, sent by Eochaidh Airem,
King of Ireland, to recover Queen Etaine, " made
four wands of yew and wrote in Ogham on them.''
This event is attributed (Tocmarc Etaine) to B.C.
100. Lastly we are told that in heathen times the
Irish '^ marked everything which was hateful to them
in Ogham on the Fe ;" the latter being a wand
made of the aspen, a " fey " tree, and used for
measuring the corpse and its grave. The cave of
the New Grange tumulus, ascribed to the Tuath De
Danaans, and opened in a.d. 1699, exhibits a few
Ogham characters (numerals ? ) and near them a
decided representation of a palm branch. ^^ There
is another, attributed to pagan ages, on a pillar-
stone near Dunloe Castle, county Kerry. We may
then hold, with Professor Pthys, that the "origin
of Ogham writing is still hidden in darkness."

A note by Bishop Graves on " Scythian letters,"^^

" "Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Dublin," 1808, pp. 127-9.
'^ O'Donovan, loc. cit., pp. 28 and 44. See both figured in Fergusson's
"Eude Stone Monuments," p. 2U7.

'" " Hermothena," vol. v., p. 252, terminal note.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 11

shows that the ''Alans predicted futurity by in-
scribing straight line-sticks with secret enchant-
ments." (Ammian. Marcell. xxxi, § 2, 24.) The
Sortes PrcERestiiiw of Cicero (De Div. ii, 40) were
"inscribed on oak with marks of ancient letters."
Csesar (Bell. Gall, ii, c. 53,) speaks of similar ^orte6-
among the Germans ; and Tacitus (Germ. c. x.) notes
that " twigs or staves were marked with certain
signs." We have found no characters more ancient
than Oghams and Ogham-Eunes in Northern Europe,
and the conclusion is obvious.

I do not propose any attempt at determining
whether the Ogham was or was not " a steganography,
a cypher, a series of symbols ;" in fact, a secret form of
the Eoman alphabet " used only by the initiated
among the pre-Christian and the Christian Gaoid-
heilg."^' Dr. Graves has laboured hard to place the
abecedarium, not the characters,^® in the rank of a
comparatively modern cryptogram, known to knights
and literati, and used chiefly for monumental and
magical purposes. He has proved conclusively that
the average of Ogham inscriptions are as simple as the
Etruscan, often consisting of a single proper name,
generally a genitive governed by "Lia" {lajns
sepulchralis), expressed or understood. In Ireland
it is accompanied by a patronymic ; in Etruria by a
matronymic ; the letters occur mixed with Eunes,
and even with Latin, as Miss Margaret Stokes has
shown in her admirable volume of " Inscriptions."^^

" " Hermothena," vol. iv., p. 400, and vol. v., pp. 208-252.

" The attention of the reader is called to the distinction between the
alphabetic order and the characters which compose the alphabet.

'9 Part IV., Plates ii. and iii. of " Christian Inscriptions in the Irish
Language," chiefly collected and drawn by George Petrie, LL.D., and

12 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSH AJ JAR.

The Bishop of Limerick's elaborate and extensive
arguments concerning the modern origin and the
secret nature of Ogham appear to have been gener-
ally adopted. Mr. Gilbert Gordie"*' expresses the
popular opinion, "Oghams are, as we know, an
occult form of monumental writing practised by
the Celtic ecclesiastics of the early middle ages."
The Maes Howe inscription appears to be a crypto-
gram, and the same is the case with its equivalent,
the Arabic Mushajjar, or " Tree- Alphabet."

Professor Rhys'"^ is the objector in chief to the
Bishop of Limerick's theories and opinions. He holds
that the " stepped " or " ladder " Ogham is purely
artificial, and found chiefly in the "Essay on Ogham."
He believes that the cryptic runes, from which the
" fair writing " has been derived, are not proved old
enough in any shape to originate the Ogham. He
does not see any cause for accepting the assertion
that " the Ogham alphabet was intended for cryptic
purposes ;" owning the while, "it is possible, how-
ever, that it may have, in the hands of pedants,
been so applied, just as it was growing obsolete.
He quotes (p. 302) from a well known member of
the Boyal Irish Academy, '■' Ogham inscriptions are
of the simplest."

edited by Miss Stokes. Also Cav. Nigra, Reliquie Celtiche, Turin, 1872.
The oldest Eomau alphabet found in Ireland is of the fifth century
(O'Donovan, xxxvii).

2° Vol. xii., part 1. I'^dinburgh, 1877. Proceedings of the Royal
Society of Antiquaries, Scotland.

^•"On Irish Ogham Inscriptions." A letter addressed (at special
request) by John Rhys, INI.A., late Fellow of Merton CoUege, Oxford,
to William Stokes, M.D., F.R.S., &c.. President of the Royal Irish
Academy, dated Rhyl, Oct. 28, 1874. Read Jan. 11, 1875.

« Loc. cit., p. 301.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 13

Professor Rhys,"^ treating of the Welsh inscrip-
tions which date from the second century, shows
how the Ogmic alphabet, claimed for their own
country by certain Irish antiquaries, passed from
Wales to Ireland ; and that the art, if ever in-
vented by the Kelts, must have been due to the
ancestors of the Welsh. He believes, moreover,
that the Ogham, supposed to typify the rays of
light and similar poetic fancies, the rude system
used before the introduction of .Runes, was borrowed
by the Kimri from their Teutonic neighbours. He
hazards a conjecture that though the origin is still
hidden in darkness, it was based upon the Phoeni-
cian— a conclusion apparently formed before reading
my letter to the Athenmmi.~^ In his address to
that great scholar, the late William Stokes, he
would assign the chief part of the earlier class of
Irish Oghams to the sixth centurj*, or, rather, to
the interval between the fifth and the seventh. He
suspects that one instance, at least, elates before the
departure of the Homans from Britain — -especially
alluding to the Loghor altar examined by Dr. S.
Ferguson. He ends w^ith saying, " It is noteworthy
that British Oafham-writincc is to be traced back to a
time when we may reasonably suppose Kimric nation-
ality to have revived, and a reaction against lioman
habits and customs to have, to a certain extent,
taken place, when the last Roman soldier had taken

-•'' " Lectures on Welsh Vliilology." London: Tiiibner, 1877. I know
the book only from Mr. O. H. Sayce's review (T/ie Academy, May 12,
1877). It is out of print ; and we can only hope that the learned author
will listen to the voice of the publishers, who are clamouring for a
second edition.

-' April 7, 1877.

14 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

his departure from onr island. But since the
"Roman alphabet had been introduced into Britain,
it is highly improbable that another and a clumsier
one should have been invented and got into use.
The inevitable inference then seems to be, that
Ogmic- writing dates from a time anterior to the
introduction of the Roman alphabet."

Upon this part of the subject, Dr. now Sir
Samuel Ferguson, poet and scholar, informed me
that in one of the county histories of Cumberland,
whose author's name he had forgotten, a Palm-rune
attracted his attention. He spent a long day at the
Shap Quarry, near Dalston, worked to supply the
Prcetentura, or Southern Roman Wall of Hadrian or
Surrus, connecting the Tyne with the Solway Firth.
This interesting relic of an alphabet, which may
have dated from the days of the Latin Legionaries,
had unfortunately disappeared. The " Cave-pit," at
Cissbury, near Worthing, shows at least one charac-
ter,'"' and two imperfect cuts contain two Phoenician
and Etruscan as (Plate XXV, Figs. 1 and 2). See
also " Inscribed Bone Implements," by J. Park
Harrison, M.A. : he divides the marks upon chalk
into two orders : Symbols and Simple signs. Many of
the latter are Branch-Runes — e.g., C Jl 4 W"l and j?-

The most important evidence adduced by Prof
Rhys in favour of his Teutonic-Kimric theory is, that
the third alphabetic letter the Jim (soft g as George)
of the Arabs and Phoenicians ; and the Gimel (or hard
g as GoTge) of the Hebrews and Greeks who pro-
nounce their Gamma as (xAamma, becomes a ch
{Church). This fact, he says, can be explained only

■^ Journal of the Anthropoloijical Institiite, Ma}^, 1877, page 441.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 15

on the supposition that the syllabary reached the
Kelts through the Teutons.

According to the Uraicept, the " Bethluisnion "
was invented by the Scythian King, Fenius Fear-
saidh, who, about one generation before the Hebrew
Exodus"^ came from his northern home and esta-
blished a philological school of seventy-two students
in the Plains of Shinar.-' In the " Book of Lecan "
is found a tradition supposed to be interpolated, that,
" Ogma, the sun-faced," brother of Breas, King of
Ireland, both sons of Eladan or Elathan {Sapientia),
in the days of the Teutonic (?) Tuath De Danaan,
about nineteen centuries B.C., " invented the letters
of the Scots, and the names belonging to them."
Prof. Phys opines that this mythical Irish hero was
to be identified in ancient Gaul under the name
"Ogmius," with the Poman Hercules, in the Welsh
" Ofydd," a savant, the Ovate of the Eisteddfod.
Kimric legend also traced the origm of letters to
Ogyrven, father of the Dawn-goddess " Gwenh-
wyfar'' (Guinevere), the fabled wife of Arthur.
Our author also opines that " Ogyrven " is, letter
for letter, the Zend Angro-Maniyus or Ahriman, the
bad-o^od of nio-ht and darkness and cold. Here,
then, we are in full Persia and amongst her sons, the
Manichseans, of all sects perhaps the most vital and
persistent. But granting the Teutonic origin of
Ogham, the question arises, says my erudite friend,
Prof. Sprenger, " AVhen and how did the Teutons
borrow it from the Phoenicians ? "

-" " Hermothena," vol. iv., pp. 452-53. The legend is uuivei's.al in the
ancient literature of Ireland.

^' The date is gaven with considerable vaiiations.

IG THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

This much has been quoted from others. The
first part of this paper may fitly end with my own
work in the Orkney Islands ; it was the application
of an Arabic alphabet to an Icelandic graffito in
Palm-runes, Tree-runes, or Twig-runes, which the
Bishop of Limerick would make the primitive form
of Ogham. It is not a little curious that the mob
of gentlemen who criticize with ease, has not, in a
single case at least which came under my notice,
remarked the curious discovery of a Scandinavian
inscription in an Arabic character.

A ride to Hums, the classical Emesa, on February
27, 1871, and a visit to my old friend the Matran
or Metropolitan of the Nestorians, Butrus (Peter)
introduced me to the alphabet known as El-Mus-
hajjar, the tree or branched letters, one of the many
cyphers invented by the restless Oriental brain.
Shortly afterwards (June, 1872), I found myself
inspecting Maes Howe, the unique barrow near
Kirkwall (Orkneys), under the guidance of the late
Mr. George Petrie, a local antiquary, whose energetic
labours and whose courtesy to inquirers will long
keep his name green.-® The first sight of the Branch
or Palm-Bunes amongst the common Pvunes of Maes
Howe reminded me of the alphabet which I had
copied in northern Syria.

Mr. James Farrer, M.P. ("Notice of Runic In-
scriptions discovered during Recent Excavations
in the Orkneys," printed for private circulation,
1862), first "established the important fact of
Runic inscriptions existing in Orkney, where none
had hitherto been found." He gives (Plates VIII

=8 See " Ultima Thule," vol. i., \^\). "iSo-yy.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 17

and IX) both sets of Palm-Eunes, wliicli run as

follows : —

No. I.

a (ae) r y i k r

Here the first "tree" has a cross-bar which Mr.
Petrie acutely determined to represent the key of
the cypher. This would be the first letter a, or,
as in common Runic, the cognate diphthong (A E).
He was thus able to read " Aeryikr " (Eric). Prof.
Stephens, in his well-known work on the Tree or
Twig-Runes, had interpreted the word AErling.
But there is no I ( "f^), and the error may have
arisen from the second letter havingf the lowest branch

on the right r, cut short at the base ( "^"^^ )•

/ / 1 r

una r

The above, in which the left hand branches are
bent downwards instead of upwards, proved equally
amenable to its G^dipus. Prof. Stephens had also
made it to mean " these Runes."

Thus Mr. Petrie had simply applied my Arabic
" Mushajjar " to the Icelandic " Futhorc," or Scandi-
navian alphabet, so called, like the Abjad, the
Bethluis and our own, from the letters which begin

it.

No. III.

1 (Class) 2 (Class)

-^yg# ^ y ^ Ti2;2.

f u th or r c (k) li n
VOL. XII.

No.

//.

^p>

^p-

18 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

Mr. Petrie announced his discovery as follows : —
"I attempted, by means of your 'tree-branched'
alphabet to read the palm-runes of Maes Howe, but
failed. It then occurred to me that they might
correspond with the Futhorc, and, obtaining the
key of the cypher, I completely succeeded after a
few hours trial. On referring to Mr. Farrer's copies
of the translation given by the Scandinavian pro-
fessors, I find that Professor Stephens appears to
have put five runes into the first two classes (?),
which makes the third palm-rune (No. l) to be I,
instead of y ; moreover, he does not give the key.
My first attempt at classifying the Runes by means
of the cypher, turned out correct ; and I have there-
fore retained that classification in reading the second
inscription. It is evident that the classification
could be altered at will of the person using it, and
this uncertainty of arrangement must constitute the
difiiculty of interpreting such runes."

Mr. Farrer (Plates VIII and IX) gives both sets
of Palm-runes, and borrows (p. 29, referring to Plate
VIII) the following information from Professor
Stephens : — •" The six crypt-runes or secret staves
represent the letters A, M, H, L, I, K, P, and
signify Aalikr or Erling, a proper name, or perhaps
the beofinninof of some sentence." Prof Munch
observes : "The other characters in the third line are
known as ' Limouna,'-'' or Bough-Punes. They were
used during the later times of the Punic period, in
the same manner as the Irish Ogham, but are not
here intelligible. The writer probably intended to
represent the chief vowels. A, E, I, 0, U, Y. The

^=' Generally " Lim-vunai"."

THE OGHAM-RUNES AXD EL-MUSHAJJAR. 19

Runic alphabet was divided into two classes ; the
strokes on the left of the vertical line indicating the
class, and those on the right the rune itself" And
Professor Kunz declares, " The palm-runes under-
neath cannot be read in the usual manner ; the
first, third, and fourth of the runes being a, o, and i ;
the writer probably intended to give all the vowels,
and some of the letters have been obviously mis-
carried, and have perhaps been altered or defaced at
a later period by other persons. In the first of
these, a cross-line has been added to show that the
letter a is intended." Of No. XVIII (Plate X) Mr.
Farrer notes : " The palm-runes are rarely capable
of being deciphered. Prof Munch similarly declares :
" The bough-runes are not easy to deciplier," whilst
Cleasby {suh voce) explains them as "a kind of
magical runes." They are mentioned in tlie Elder
Edda (Sigrdrifurraal, Stanza II) : —

" Line-runes thou must ken
An tliou a leach wouldst be
And trowe to heal hurts."

A scholar so competent as Sir George Dasent
assures me that he knows no other allusion to them
in old Scandinavian literature.

The Bishop of Limerick believes that in this case
"the Pune-graver has introduced his own name,
evidently intending thereby to give a proof of his
Punic accomplishments by the use of a cipher. "^'^
But Dr. Graves is possessed by the " dominant
idea " of a cryptogram. In Nos. XIX and XX
Plate X) we read, " lorsafarar brutu Orkhrough "

3" " Hermotheua," vol. iv., p. 4(i.3.

C 2

20 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

— the Jerusalem farers (pilgrims to the Holy Land)
broke open Orkhow, the " shelter-mound." There
are also seven crosses, and one inscription (No. XIII)
must be read, Arab fashion, from right to left. We
may therefore believe that certain old Coquillards,
and possibly Crusaders, returning home with en-
larged ideas, violated the tomb in search of treasure,
an object especially Oriental ; and put a single name
and an unfinished inscription to warn followers that
they had left nothing of value unplundered.

I cannot but hold this interpretation of a Scandi-
navian text by an Arabic character as proof positive
that the Semitic " Mushajjar " and the Palm-runes
of the Ogham and Ptuiiic alphabet are absolutely
identical.

To conclude the subject of Ogham, with a notice
of its derivation from the cuneiform of Babylon and
Assyria and from the Phoenician. The former sup-
position has been much debated and even advocated,
but not by Orientalists, Bishop Graves remarks^^
that although the arrow-headed characters include
some phonetic signs, they rest mostly upon an
idiographic base. His objection is not valid. The
cuneiform alphabets, as everyone knows, gave rise, at
an age anterior to Phoenician, to the Cypriotand pre-
Cadraean syllabarium, used at Troy.^^ And finding
a modified form of El-Mushajjar, in Pehlevi, one is
tempted to refer it to the Persians, a restless and
ingenious people who would have been more likely

31 " Hermothena," vol. iv., pp. 471-72.

'^ See Scliliemami's " Troy." Of the 18 inscriptions found in that
valuable volume, 11 belong to the "Trojan stratum," and of these
five are Cyi^rian.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 21

than any Arabs to have converted its arrow-heads
into a cryptogram. The main objections to the
Phoenician theory are three : 1, the Phoenicians were
of Semitic stock, a race which borrows and improves
but does not originate : it is, in fact, remarkably
barren of invention; 2, the Phoenicians, although
they used, as we know, letters in B.C. 500,^^ were
by no means a literary race. They doubtless corre-
sponded, engrossed, and kept their invoices and
their ledgers with exemplary care ; but with the
sole exception of the Ashmunazar or Sidonian
epitaph, that touching and beautiful wail over a
lost life, they have not left a single monument of
remarkable poetry or prose ; 3rd, and lastly, they
had a far handier alphabet of 22 letters chosen from
the Egyptian phonology, the latter being contained
in 25 characters besides some 400 hieroglypliics :
consequently they would hardly want a second.
Perhaps our Ogham may be of a still nobler stock,
and I here venture to suggest that it may have
originated with the far-famed Nabat or Naba-
thseans.

Finally, we may expect, when the subject shall
have acquired importance, to find traces of this
alphabet in places hitherto unsuspected. It may be
worth while to investigate the subject of the Punes^^
found upon stones in the Vernacular lands. Some
scholars have interpreted them by the vernacular

'^ There is no known Phoenician inscription antedating B.C. 500
(M. Ernest Renan, p. 138 of Schliemann's " Troy ") except only the
" Moabite Stone," if that noble monument be held Phoenician.

^* Archiv fiir Sclavische Philologie. Berlin, 1877, 2 Band, 2*" Heft).
Mr. Howorth also refers me to vol. i., series 6, of the " Memoirs of
the Acadeniy of St. Peterslmrgh."

22 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSH AJJAR.

tongues ; whilst others look upon them as wholly
Scandinavian. Mr. W. R. MorfiU, of Oxford, a
competent scholar, believes the Glagolitic alphabet,
in which the supposed Slavonic Runes are stated to
be traced, to be of late introduction : others hold it
to be distinctly founded on Greek.

Part II.

El-Mushajjar. ^^\

In this part I propose to collect all the scattered
notices concerning the little-known Mushajjar, the
Arabic Tree-alphabet, adding the results of my own
observations. Its birth is at present veiled in
mystery. I have heard of, but never have seen, rocks
and stones bearing the characters, and the manu-
scripts are by no means satisfactory.

In the spring of 1877, during mj^ visit to Cairo,
that literary city of the Arabs appeared to be the
best place for investigating the origin of the
mysterious " Mushajjar." Amongst those consulted
was the Aulic Councillor, Alfred von Kremer, the
ripe Arabic scholar of the Culturgeschichte, &c. : he
vainly turned over all the pages of the FiJwist,
(Flligel, Leipzig, 1871), Prof Spitta, Director of the
useful Bihlioteque Khediviale de V Instruction jpublique,

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 23

in the Darb El-Jemamiz, was not more fortunate.
Danish Bey, Professor of Turkish to H.H. Ibrahun
Pasha, the young Prince now studying in England,
had heard of the cryptogram : he declared that it
should be called " El-Shajari" (the tree-shaped),
and thought that it was an Arab, not a Persian
invention. Fortunately I also consulted H.E. Yacoub
Artin Bey, an Armenian and Christian^^ officer, then
attached to the household of the same Prince ; and
the following is the result of our joint enquiries.

Moslem literati are, as a rule, painfully ignorant
of the history of language ; and, although many know
the words " El-Mushajjar " and " El-Shajari, " few
have any definite ideas upon the subject. I have
often heard reports of a manuscript which contains
a complete description of the character, but none
could tell us either the name of the book or of its
author. A popular tradition traces the origm of
the Arab Tree-runes to El-Hiid,^^ the well-known
Himyarite prophet, buried m Hazramaut (Hazar-
maveth). Christian writers often identify him with
Heber, a hypothesis which Ibn Khaldim Tabari
disdainfully rejects. It is also reported that the

" " Tancred " declares that my friend's father, Artiu Bey, was of
Israelitic blood. The name, in India Aratoon, is the Turkish form of
Haroutiou7ie, meaning in Armenian "Resurrection." Imagine a
Hebrew choosing such cognomen ! The confusion arose from the
similarity of the Armenian Ai-tin and the Hebrew Artom.

^^ The Koran (Sab, chap, vii., v. 66) sends him on a mission to the
Tribe of 'Ad, the Pelasgi of the Semites. He is supposed to have
lived about b.c. 1750, under the 'Adite King, Khul Khuljciu. The
Kdmiis gives his lineage as Bin 'Amir, b. Shahh b. Falagh (Peleg ?) :
b. Arphakhshad : b. Sdm (Shem) : b. Nlih-Sale {loc. cit.) and popular
opinion add two generations to these six. Htid b. 'Abdillah : b. Ribdh :
b. KhoKid : b. 'Ad : b. Aus (Uz) : b. Aiam : b. Sdm : b. Null.

24 THE OGHAM-RUNES AXD EL-MUSAHJJAR.

alphabet was used in the reign of El-Maamiin
(XXVIth Abbaside Khalifah, a.d. 813 = 833).
Yacoub Artin Bey had promised to procure for me,
if possible, the volume containing this important
notice/^ Again, we trace it to the days of Abu '1-
Hazan Ali (Sayf el-Daulah), the literary Prince of
Aleppo and Damascus (ace. a.h. 320 = A.D. 932 :
ob. A.H. 356 = A.D. 966), when it was used
for chronograms. Meanwhile that celebrated dic-
tionary "El-Kamiis" (of Ferozabddi a.d. 1350 —
1414) declares that El-Mushajjar is a form of Khat
(writing), and straightway passes on to another
subject.

All we know for certaia is that El-Mushajjar
appears in two forms among the 80 alphabets
recorded by Ibn Wahshiyah (Ahmad bin Abibakr).
This author is called by Kirscher " Aben Vaschia "
and " Vahschia," and by d'Herbelot {sub voce Falahat),
■'Vahaschiah."^^ He is mentioned in the Kashf el-
Zunun (Revelation of Opinions, &c.), by Haji
Khalifah (ob. A. h. 1068 = a.d. 1658), as being
employed in translating from Nabathsean into
Arabic. Two other authorities quoted by Ham-
mer'^^ confirm the report. It is generally behoved
that he flourished in our ninth centuiy ; that he
finished his book about a.h. 214 (= a.d. 829),

3' Unfortunately, tlie owner, who speaks higlily of it, is a confirmed
vagi-ant, in the habit of disappearing for months, and showdng all the wild
enthusiasm of his forefathers. He occasionally \dsits Caii'o, in the vain
attempt to make money out of a small estate. During 1877-78, the
" Low Nile " so vexed him that he would neither lend the work or
give its name.

^ De Herbelot, however, calls him " Aboubekr ben Ahmed."
^^ Sect, xvi, " Ancient Alphabets," by Joseph Hammei". London :
Buhner, 1806.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 25

or 1,040 years ago ; and in that year, as lie himself
tells us, deposited the manuscript in the public
treasury founded by Abd el-Malik bin Marwdn,
tenth caliph, a.d. 685—705 = a.h. 65 — 86.

Ibn Wahshiyah is a M^ell known name, which has
given rise to abundant discussion, and of the latter
we have by no means seen the last/'^ I therefore
regret to see so trenchant an opinion expressed by Dr.
Charles Graves :*^ " an Arabic collection of alphabets
by Ibn Wahsheh,*'" translated by Hammer, contains
two tree-shaped alphabets, of which one is con-
structed on precisely the same principle as the
Ogham. This work, which for a time imposed upon
the half-learned, is now (1830) proved to be of no
authority." In his later publication the Bishop of
Limerick thus reforms his crude opinions — thirty-
six years have done their duty. " But the work,
apocryphal as it is, was written in the ninth or
tenth century ; and it will be a curious problem to
account for the similarity of the tree-al^Dhabets
represented in it, and the ' Twig-Bunes ' of
Scandinavia." This similarity it is my object to
illustrate, in the hope of restoring the Ogham to its
old home — the East. The work can be done only
by three means : 1, by proving that it was known
to the Moslems before the days of Ibn Wahshiyah ;
2, by showing that its wide diffusion and varied
forms suggest a more ancient origin ; and, 3, by
determining where it arose.

■"• I have outlined the subject in " The Gold Mines of Midian,"
chap. viii.

*^ Proceedings of Royal Irish Academy, vol. iv., p. 362, of 1830, de-
liberately repeated in " Hemiothena," vol. iv., p. 465, of 1866.

•*- This error is Hammer's {loc. cit.).

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

The followinpf are the varieties which I have
liitherto been able to procure : —

No. I. {Ihn WahshiyaK).

'i t h
10 9 8

z w h
7 6 5

d j b a
4 3 2 1

z kh th
70 60 50

t sli V k . 5 f a' 8 . n m 1 k
40 30 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11

gh 2 z
100 90 80

No. II. {Ditto).

with the additionals —

No. III. {A Modification of the above).

with the addition of a distinct character ^ for "i^
= lu)

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 27

No. IV. {from Hums).

i\^o. V. {from ditto).
No. VI.

^ ^ ^ f ,-^y #^ ¥ .¥ ^t y

It is to be noticed that all these modifications
are read from right to left, and are disposed in the
Hebrew order ; this, which diflPers from the common
form mostly by placing the additional Arabic letters
at the end, is still known as El-Abjad, after its four
initial characters. The Moslems trace this dis-
position backwards through the Prophet Hud to
Father Adam ; but we hold that it was adopted
about the beginning of the Christian era when the
Himyaritic characters became obsolete. The terms
El-Mushajjar and El-Shajari (the branched or the
tree-shaped) are evidently Arabic. But, as shown
by the Icelandic " Limb-runes," the syllabary may
have had various vernacular names invented by
every race that adopted it. This artless article is
evidently capable of universal application. It may
be written from left to right, as well as vice versd,
and it is equally fitted for expressing English and
Arabic. Like the Ogham, it is slow and cumbrous ;
but so are all alphabets in which the letters are
detached. The Fleasgh or directing-line which
appears in No. TV and in the Ogham, is general to

28 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

the Hindu alphabets, whose source was the
Phoenician, The latter, probably in a pre-Cadmean
form, passed eastwards from Syria as a centre, via
Southern or Himyaritic Arabia, to the vast Indian
Peninsula, wliich was apparently unalphabetic before
B.C. 350. Thence, altered once more, it was spread
by the Buddhists through Central Asia as far as the
Wall of China. Westward, the Greeks, the Etruscans
and the Pomans carried it over the length and
breadth of Europe ; and our daily A, B, C, D still
represents the venerable Hebrew-Arabic Abjad and
the Greek Alpha, Veta, Ghamma, Thelta.

The following are Ibn Wahshiyah's remarks upon
the six forms given above : —

No. 1 is " The alphabet of Dioscorides the
Doctor (Diskoridus el-Hakim), commonly called El-
Mushajjar. He wrote on trees, shrubs and herbs,
and of their secret, useful and noxious qualities in
this alphabet, used since in then- books by diflferent
philosophers."*^

No. 2 is '* The alphabet of Plato, the Greek
Philosopher. It is said that each letter of this
alphabet had different imports, according to the
affair and the thmg treated o£"^

No. 3, which evidently modifies No. 2, was copied for
me by my friend Yacoub Artin Bey. In the library
of the late Mustafa Pasha (Cairo) he found an undated
manuscript {p No. i), apparently not ancient : upon
the margin of the last page, probably for want
of a better place, had been copied the"Khatt Shajari."
It is the fuU Arabic, as compared with the incomjDlete

*^ Ibn Wahshiyah, in Hammer ; Sect, xvi., pp. 8 and 38.
" Jbid., pp. 9-46.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 29

Hebrew alphabet ; with a termmal addition of " Ld."
The latter both in the Abjad and in the popular
system is written otherwise than might be expected.

No. 4 is the only system that has a base hne, and
its elements appear in the fourteen letters which
conclude No. 2 ; it is one of those which I copied at
Hums, and it contains only the ancient and universal
Semitic letters, lacking the last six of Arabic.

No. 5, also copied at Hums, is based upon the
same system as the former ; but the scribe gave
warning that it is applied to Pehlevi or old Persian,
whereas No. 4 is Arabic.

No. 6 is found in a manuscript called El-Durar el-
Muntahhabdt ji Isidh el-Glialatdt el-Maslihuri, or
"Pearls Choice and Scattered, in Pectification of
vulgar Errors." It was translated from Arabic into
Turkish in a.h. 1221 (= a.d. 180.5) and its
information is distinctly borrowed from Ibn Wah-
shiyah's Shauh El-mushtahd fl Ma'rifat Rumnz el-
AMdm [" Desirable Advice in the knowledge of the
Secrets of written Characters "). As regards the
assertion that Dioscorides wrote in the Kaldm el-
Musliajjar (Tree-shaped characters), perhaps the
Arabic version of the Greek physician was made in
this cryptogram ; and the work of the translator or
the scribe was eventually attributed by confusion to
the author.

30 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSH A J JAR.

PART III.

Various Notes on Ogham-Runes and El-Mushajjar.

A correspondent in the United Slates, who does
not wish to be named, draws my attention to the
Lycian characters on the Xanthus Tomb and other
casts and monuments in the British Museum.'''*^
During the last generation, some thirty years ago, it
was the general opinion that the language of these
epigraphs had some connection with Zend, and the
characters with Greek. A few of the letters
resemble Ogham-runes and El-Mushajjar : for in-
stance, the characters below the alphabets {loc. cit.)
are true runes J * 1*^ and ''* Mr. Sharpe suggests
that they are imperfect copies of V , E or F. The
other letters are apparently Phoenicio-Greek. I am
also told that a similar family likeness appears in
the corns called by Sestini'^'^ " Celtiberian ; " and which
M. Grassm,*^ with the generahty of numismatologists,
sets down as medailles inconniies.

Another correspondent threw out the followmg
hint reo-arding " The Coins of the Eastern Khalifahs

« See " An Account of Discoveries in Lycia," by Sir Charles Fellows.
London : Murray, 1840. Especially the Lycian letters in p. 442, and
Appendix B, " On the Lycian Inscriptions," by Daniel Sharpe. Also
vol. i., pp. 193-196, Proc. of the Philological Society, Feb. 23, 1844.

*6 " Classes generales," 4to. Florentiaj, 1841.

" " De riberie, 8vo. Leleux : Paris, 1838.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 31

of the British Museum," by S. Lane Poole (vol. i,
p. 175). Croyez-vous que les arhrisscaux, au revers
des medailles Sassanides, aient quelque rcqyport avec
cette ecriture ? He adds, " I find in the above volume
' Copper Coinage, Amawee, with formula of faith
only.' "

No. 17. No. 16. No. 19.

Rev. Rev. Obv.

Jk.4>^^

" The subjoined contains the name of the mint
(Tiberias) and bears no date : —

Rev. Area. Eev. Margin.

U^-^j (> (In Allah's name; this coin was
<^\ ^ minted at Tabariyyah.

" Now the earliest copper corns in the British
Museum bear the date a.h. 92, and these evidently
precede it, so that we may refer them to a.h. 77."

On the other hand I would remark that, in the
four specimens given above, the " twigs " appear to
be merely ornamental, being always in two, three,
or four pairs, hence we must prefer the opinion of
Prof Stickel of Jena {Muhammedanische Munz-
hunde), followed by Mr. Bergmann of the Museum,
Vienna, that they are either mint-signs, denoting
the places of issue, Tiberias, Hamah, and Damascus ;
or that they are merely intended to fill up the area,
like the circlets, the elephants, and other animals
which appear upon the coins of Abd el-Malik bm

32 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

Merwd,n and various of the Ommiades. In those
days the Moslems were not so squeamish about
representing thmgs of life and even the human
form. For instance, Tiberias issued a coin bearing
on the obverse a robed figure standing upright with
sword and bandolier slung over the shoulder. On
the reverse is a Byzantine vase with a globe instead
of a cross. The inscription, in detached characters
resembhng those of the Nabat (Nabathseans) is
Khdlid ihn Walid. Zuriba fi Tabariyyah. I may
note that the Bayt el-Khalidi, the descendants of
the Conqueror of Syria, still flourish at Jerusalem.

The Rev. Dr. Badger also pointed out to me. in
the Expose de la Religioii des Druzes, by that
celebrated Orientalist, Silvestre de Sacy,*^ the
followmof fio'ure of Mohammed borrowed from the
pages of El-Nuwayri, and composed oi m-\-h-\-m-\-d,
beginning as usual from the right.

The French author adds : " Pour y trouver Vcdlusion
que Von cherche, 07i ecrit le mot perpendicidairement,
et on altere un pen la forme des lettres, ou peut-etre
on leur conserve une forme plus ancienne." Some
fifteen years ago Dr. Badger copied a true mono-
gram from a copper plate found at Aden, ex-
pressing the words Wa Sallam (Adieu), i.e., iv + s
+ I + m.

TraveUing to Alexandria in October, 1877, with
Dr. Heinrich Brugsch-Bey, I showed him my letter

" Paris, Imprimerie Royale, 1838. Introd. to vol. i., p. Ixxxvi.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 33

to the Athenceum ;'^^ and that distinguished Egypto-
logist at once recognised several of the forms. In
1867-68, happening to be at Agram, he was in-
duced, little expecting that a new alphabet would
be the result, to unroll an unopened mummy belong-
ing to the Museum. Its date appeared to be 700 —
500 years, B.C. ; and he was not a little surprised to
find the swathes, some of them 20 feet long, covered
not with hieroglyphs, but with characters partly
Grseco-European (?) and partly Kunic ; at any rate
non-Egyptian. The writing was divided, by regular
lacunae, mto what appeared to be chapters, each
consisting of 10-12 lines, and the whole would
make about 60 octavo pages. We could not help
suspecting that he had found a translation of the
Todtenhuch from Egyptian into some Arabic (Naba-
thaean ?) tongue. I his Nilotic Bible, whose title
Dr. Birch renders " The Departure from the Day "
{i.e., death), is supposed to date from B.C. 3000, and
thus it would precede Moses by some fifteen cen-
tmies. It is divided into eighteen books, contain-
ing 150 to 165 chapters in various manuscripts. The
general conception is that the future is simply a
continuation of the present life ; and chapter 110,
treating of existence in Elysium, notices the com-
munications of spirit-friends.

The following is Dr. Brugsch's transcript of the
alphabet — 21 characters — -

I immediately wrote to my friend, the Abbd
Ljubie, Gustos of the Museo del Triregno, Agram.

" April 7, 1877.
VOL. XII. D

34 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

He replied (November 26th, 1877) that it would be
difficult to copy the swathes as the marks were
doubtful, and that a competent photographer, Herr.
Standi, had failed to reproduce them in sun-picture.
The colour of the cloth had been darkened by time
to a dull yellow, and the letters refused to make
an impression ; perhaps, however, a better instru-
ment might have succeeded. The idea of washing
the fascie (swathings) white was rejected for fear of
obHterating the marks.

Two years before the date of my application the
Oriental JSociety of Leipzig had addressed the
Directors of the Museum, requesting a loan of
the heiide (bandages), but the Government had
refused ; promising, however, to aid the studies
of savants charged with the transcription. And
here the matter had dropped. At the instance of
Dr. Leo Keinisch, the well-known Professor of
Egyptology to the University, Vienna, Abbe Ljubie
proposed to reproduce in print these "pannilini (httle
cloths) and other interestmg remains under his
charge ; but the " necessary " in the shape of a
subsidy of pubhc money was not forthcommg.

On June 4th, 1878, I received another letter from
the Abbe, giving the history of the mummy as
follows. According to the Museum registers,
about half a century ago, one Michiele Burie, a
concepista (inferior employe) of the Hungarian
Aulic Chancellerie, brought it back with him from
Egypt. The owner left it as a dymg gift to his
brother Elia, parish priest of Golubince, m Slavonia,
and sub-deacon in the diocese of Dyakovar, where
now resides the far-famed Mgr. Strossmeyer. This

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 35

ecclesiastical owner also dying, the mummy found
its way to the Museum, packed, as it still is, in two
modern chests, the horizontal containing the band-
ages and inner parts, and the vertical, the skeleton
nude and propped by an iron bar. It is complete
in all its parts ; the hair is thick and well-preserved ;
and traces upon the brow suggest that the head had
been partly gilt. According to the Abbe Ljubie,
Dr. Brugsch, who inspected the mummy after it
had been unrolled by others, pronounced it to be
Cretan.

Traces of writing are showm by seven fragments,
whose measure in metres is as follows : —

No.

1 = 0-358 long

X 0-065 broad.

2 = 0-182 „

X 0-060 „

3 = 0-282 „

X 0-052 „

4 = 0-260 „

X 0-050

5 = 0-215 „

X 0-055

6 = 0-146 „

X 0-062

7 = 0-133 (?)

X 0-045 „

A local photographer, Sig. Pommer, at last suc-
ceeded in making a copy. The latter was sent to
Prof. Leo Reinisch, who concluded his reply with ;
" Vorldiifig nur meine Ueherzeugitng, dass ivenn es
Ihnen gelingt, die Lnscliriften zu puhliciren, diesel-
hen ein enonnes Aufsehen in den gelehrten Kreisen
machen iverden" The Egyptologist was requested
to apply for a subsidy to I. E. Academy of Sciences,
Vienna, or to obtain subscriptions for covering the
expenses of publication. Nothing of the kind, how-
ever, seems to have been done.

During my absence in Midian, Mrs, Burton sent

D 2

36 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

to Agram, for the purpose of copying the inscription,
Mr. Philip Proby Cautley, of Trieste, who afc first was
looked upon as a rival photographer. Sig. Pommer
had aspired to making a "good job " : he asked ten
florins for photographing each fourth of what may be
looked upon as a chapter. On January 22nd, 1878,
Mr. Cautley wrote to me as follows : —

" On the morning of my arrival at Agram I called
on Abbe Ljubic, who received me most cordially,
and put himself entirely at my disposal. I then in-
spected the bandages, of which many had been un-
swathed, and had been removed to the Director's
study from the antiquarian department of the Museo
del Triregno, where the mummy stands. Though
well preserved on the whole, the greater part is
illegible ; time and the exudations of the dead have
stained them dark-brown. They consist of linen-
strips, varying from one to three yards in length,
and cut off the piece, as they show no selvage. The
breadth is about two inches ; the stuff would be
called coarse in our days, the warp and woof are
equally thick ; and the texture of the linen is very
even.

" The writinof is divided into sections of five or
six lines each, measuring about seven and a half
inches long, according to the length of the cloth.
These must have been in hundreds ; and one of the
best specimens was shown to me at the town photo-
grapher's. Each piece appears to have been a
chapter, separated by intervals of about two fingers
breadth. The Abbe styled the characters Grceco an-
iico mischiato con caratteri jeratichi; and he thinks
that the mummy dates from the third or fourth cen-

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 37

tury A.D.^° The Grseco-hieratic idea may have
arisen from the condition of the thick strokes, which
extended originally over one and even two threads ;
now they have been erased on the upper part of the
thread, so as to leave marks, often double, in the
intervening spaces only. I mentioned to the Direc-
tor my intention of copying the characters on
tracing-cloth ; the simplicity of the idea seemed to
excite his merriment. However, next morninsf he
admired the results obtained, and he asked me to
leave some of the material so that he might try his
hand.

"Choosing a well-marked chapter, I went to work
by pmning a piece of tracing- cloth over it, and then
following the characters as exactly as possible with a
pencil. Curious to say, the tracing-cloth, instead of
preventing the characters being seen, or rendering
them more indistinct, brought them out, I suppose
by uniting the two strokes formed by the ink having
been erased on the single threads. The work was
continued as long as I could find a piece clear enough
to be copied, and where the characters were near
enough to one another for deciphering.

" The copies have been numbered from 1 to 5.
In No. 3 you will remark that two lines are wanting
at the bottom. The original does not show any
stains or marks that could have been characters,
while the three top lines are distinct. I take it,
therefore, to have been the end of a chapter, or
perhaps of the whole volume. No. 4 shows on the

^^ Dr. Brugscli-Bey, who upon these subjects is perhaps the highest
hving authority, assigns, as has been seen, the muniiny to the fifth
•lentury b.c.

38 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

right hand a break m the manuscript which has
been denoted by a dotted hne."

So far Mr. Cautley, who did his work carefully and
completely. I give it in extenso.

The following appears to be the alphabet. The
signs number 27 ; but two of them are so similar to
others that they may be omitted, thus reducing the
total to 25 : the number assigned by Plutarch to the
hieroglyphic : —

x_p i_M.C,(?,/^'/C, 1V-, 0,7t^ fc S-U,^/•/•
Lastly, as regards the Agram mummy, I have
received a promise from my learned friend, Dr. H.
Brugsch-Bey, to send me his copies of the inscriptions
taken from what he calls this tresor mconnu.

We have now reached B.C. 500 ; but we may go
further back.^* Dr. Schliemann's learned volume
("Troy and its Pvemains," London: MuiTay, 1875)
sho\\'s, among the tnonuments figures, not a few
specimens of lines so disposed that, without having
Ogham or El-Mushajjar on the brain, T cannot but
hold them to be alphabetic. A few instances will

suffice. We find the following two forms Y and ^\^
on an inscribed terra-cotta seal (p. 24), which may
consequently be presumed to be significant f" and
there is something very similar on the " Piece of

*^ App. Brugsch ( ( / ) reversed.

" The same.

5* The Siege of Troy would be about b.c. 1200, and the foundation of
the city B.C. 1400. Thus 200 years would be allowed to the five Kings,
Dardanus, Ericthonius, Tros, Ilus, and Laomedon, preceding Priam.

" See seal No. 78, with signs resembling the ancient Koppa stamped
upon the coins of Cormth.

N°l.

.:0

Vv '

r-^ ^

i3 -- 3^

^^ _. ^

^ S

N? 2.

5«

■V

:x ^

^ ^ - -

C- -U

~ J. ^ -^ — O

-c "^ ir

L^ ''-^ ^

^?°3.

_ 0) o

t _

~- 4=

- - -4-

o: ^ ^

X -^ 3

-^ ^ .^

^ u —

IJT

X" 4

>v^

^ ^ - - -

-^ ^ ^ r. ..

y)- H y

^ 7

^ fi

— ^

— CD

H 9

^^'

N^: 5.

-3

^ -/ _

_f ^s:

/i_

Ll) u4 J- _- _

O -r _J. '-^ ^
T^ C \^ >_^ -T

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 39

Red Slate, perhaps a whetstone " {ihi.d.). In p. 130,
" Terra-cotta with Aryan emblems," the figure to
the right shows the following distinct types : 1, ^
(repeated with equal symmetry in whorl No. 376,

PL XXVII), 2, ^ 3, ^ (see also whorl No. 400, PI.

XXXIII), and 4, ^, No. 164, p. 235. These can

hardly be modifications of " Aryan symbols," as
the unexplained Rosa mystica; the well-known
Swastika r^ the eu eVrt, the signs of fire and of
good wishes, and the original cross, esjDecially its
modification, the Maltese ; nor signs of lightning ;
nor mere branch ornaments, as on the " elegant
bright-red vase of terra-cotta" (p. 282) ; nor "sym-
bolical signs " as on the cylinder (p. 293).

Again, the " Terra-cotta Vase from tlie house of

Priam " (p. 308) gives the peculiar ^V-^- It may be

only an ornament, like the " Greek honeysuckle,"
the simplified form of the Assyrian " Horn " or Tree
of Life, the Hindu "Soma"; but the difference of
number in the branches on both sides of the per-
pendicular, suggests something more. Many of the
whorls again show what may be " Palm -runes." I

^:^ wid quote only two. No. 309 (PL XXI) bears

Cj^ with six lines to the proper left and nine to the

;^^ right. On whorl 399 (PL XXXIII) we have a

variety of similar forms/J^ V^^, /^|^ , or ^-^5

40 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

or "NiS- , J^, and J" • On whorl No.

494 (PL LI), are inscribed '^t: and \^ ; whilst

whorl No. 115, the Imes Nos. 145, 146 and No. 496
as determined by Prof. Gomperz, bear letters alpha-
betic and Cypriote. Dr. Schliemann is confident
that these existed in Homeric Troy, although Homer
uses the word ypdcpeLP in two places only with the
sense of " to grave " (scratch into).

It is not a httle curious that Schliemann's other
great work (" Mycense," &c., London : Murray,
1878), with its 549 illustrations and 25 plates,
contains no sign which can be considered alphabetic,
and very few of the branch forms numerous at Troy.
I find only two mstances : one of the P twice re-
peated in No. 48 (PL XI) ; and the other in No. 102
(Plate XVIII) where ) occurs with 1] thrice repeated.

The agfe of the items forming- Dr. Schliemann's
great finds can be settled approximatively with
comparative ease. This is not the case with Cyprus.
General L. P. di Cesnola (" Cyprus," &c., London :
Murray, 1877) believes that his terra-cottas mostly
date from B.C. 400-300 ; but evidently there are
articles which run up to the days of Sargon, B.C. 707.
Here, again, I find only two instances of what may
be " branched Hunes." One is on a pottery jar
(Plate XLII, fig. 2), which shows the combination
of the human figure with the geometric pattern :

the proper left of the standing warrior bears with-
out any similar sign on the corresponding field.
Again, in Plate XLI (Gem No. 22) occurs a double

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 41

with five branches on the proper right, and six

to the left ; both are surrounded by an oval of beads
or circlets. In p. 391, it is explained as a "sacred
leaf (or tree) ": perhaps the Persea plum whose re-
semblance to a tongue made it a symbol of the
Deity amongst the ancient Egyptians. But here,
again, there is an evident want of symmetry.
Compare it with the regular forms of the tree
branches (Plate XI, p. 114), which are probably
flags growing below the papyri, on the silver
patera found at Golgos or Golgoi, north of Larnaka.
In Plate XXXVI (Gem No. 5), we have four letters
L-/^/, •'-^, and ^, faced by the cone and cu'cle
supposed to represent the conjunction of Baal-
Ammon with Ashtaroth.

It appears highly probable that Palm-runes and
El-Mushajjar were known to the ancient Etruscans,
possibly through Egypt.'' Sir Samuel Ferguson
kindly forwarded to me the followmg transcript of
signs which occurred on a sepulchral urn of clay
found in the Tirol, with other objects of decidedly
Rasennic provenance : —

7H.4AiB txm^< :i^

As win be observed, there are frequent repetitions
as well as diversities in the signs ; and my learned
correspondent was of opinion that the latter were

5" Upon the subject of the Etrascans in Egypt, see pj). 106-114 uf
the Bulletin de VImtitut cV Egj/pte, No. xiii., of 1876.

42 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

not sufficient to establish a distinctly alphabetic
character.

Amongst the finds at the cemetery of Marzabotto,
dating from at least 1000 B.C., I find the following
Etruscan mark : — '"

Again, my attention was drawn to Etruria by the
fine foho, Intorno agli Scavi archeologichf^ (in the
Arnealdi property)^ near Bologna, lately pubHshed by
the Count Senator G. Gozzadini, whose long labours
have done so much in illustrating the condition of
early remains in his native land.

Page 32 ofiers a highly interesting talk of Sigle
("potters' marks ") from various cemeteries, especially
that of Villanova. The destruction of the latter
settlement was determined by the Count, from the
presence of an ces rude, to date about B.C. 700, or the
Age of Numa. M. de Mortillet,^^ on the other hand,
would make it much older.

The table in question is divided into foiu" heads :
1, those scratched [graffiti) on the base of the articles
after baking ; 2, the marks on other parts of the
pottery also baked ; 3, the basal graffiti made after
the oven had done its work ; and 4, the signs mscribed
upon bronze vases. No. 1, numbering 39, supplies

" Table III., p. 2, " Marche figularie condotte a graffiti, nei vasi sco-
perti nella Necropoli di Marzabotto." Primo Siipplemento. Parte Prima.
Roma, &c., 1872.

■* Bologna ; Fava e Garagnani, 1877.

*» Pp. 88-89 " Le Signe de K Croi.x avant le Christianisme," <fee.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 43

seven more or less connected in shape with the
Palm-runes, without including the crosses which
may belong to any age. The f the y and the
^ are perfect wdth their variants, the x ^ J^nd
the ::^. Less remarkable are the T the A, and

the seven-branched tree ^p. No. 2 gives four

types : viz., the J , the T , the ^ , and the ^ :
in this category the five crosses are noticeable, vary-
ing from the simple ^ to a complex modification of

the Swastika (y~« j ; that peculiarly Aryan symbol
which gave rise first to the Christian '' Gammadion,"
and lastly to the Maltese Cross. No. 3 gives three

signs: the "[JT, the 7^, and the ^, besides the
two crosses plain ( X ) and crotchetted ( .X). Lastly,
No. 4 gives two : the T and the jT . In Table 1,

also, we find the Phoenician Alif ( \;^ ), and the
same occurs eight (nine ?) times in the Sigle, which
are printed (p. 236) in my little volume upon
" Etruscan Bologrna."

I venture to suggest that these graffiti are true
letters and not mere marks. Similarly in the
Wusiim (" tribal signs ") of the Bedawin, we find
distinct survival, real significance underlying what
seems to be simply arbitrary. For instance, the
circlet afPected by the great 'Anezah, or Central
Arabian family, is the archaic form of the Arabic
Ayn, the Hebrew Oin, wdiich begins the racial
name.

44 THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR.

The following communication to the ArchcBographo
Triestino^^ suggests a further extension of the system
also possibly Etruscan.

In September, 1876, I had occasion to visit the
island-town Ossero, in the Gulf of Fiume, whose
waters bathe the southern and the south-eastern shores
of the Istrian peninsula. Landing at La Cavanilla,
an ancient Suez Canal in miniature, spanned by a
bridge right worthy of the Argonautic days, A\'e
were met by his Reverence Don Giovanni Bol-
marcich, Archiprete of the Community, who was
good enough to show us his finds and the places
which had produced them. Amongst the number
was a common-shaped sepulchral lamp {lume eterno)
which struck me forcibly. The mscribed lines may
have been, as suggested by the learned Dr. Carl
Kunz, Director of the Museum of Antiquities,
Trieste, the trick of a waggish apprentice ; but
they are disposed upon a true Fleasgh or Runi-
Staff, which mere scratches would hardly be, and
there is evident method in their ordering. If it be
asked what El-Mushajjar and Ogham-Runes have to
do in the Archipelago of Istria, I reply that " Palm-
runes " appear in impossible places ; and that the
Lion of Marathon, which named the Pu'seus Porto
Leone, and which still stands before the Arsenal,
Venice, is covered as to the shoulders with legible
Runic inscriptions. The following illustration shows
the lamp in natural size, and the marks were drawn
for me, in order to correct and control my own
copy, by Don Giovanni.

•*" Fasciculo ii., vol. v. of 1877.

THE OGHAM-RUNES AND EL-MUSHAJJAR. 45

Amongst the impossible places where Ogham and
Mushajjar-like lines appear must be included the
tattoo of the New Guinea savages. Mr. Park
Harrison has given the " characters tattooed on
a Motu woman " from the south-eastern coast, whose
arms, especially the right, and both whose breasts
bare such types as /\Y and A , Philologists will
bear in mind the curious resemblance which has
been traced between Phoenician characters and the
Rejang alphabet of Sumatra, which is mostly Phoeni-
cian inverted. In fact, it would not surprise me if
future students established the fact that the whole
world knows only one alphabet (properly so called),
and that that is Phoenician.

I here conclude for the present my notices of the
connection between the Ogham- Kunes, " whose
origin is still hidden in darkness," and the equally
mysterious " Mushajjar," or Arabic - branched
alphabet. Prof. J. Phys, let me repeat, believes
that the former is "derived in some way from the
Phoenician alphabet " ; but he holds his theory to be
" highly hypothetical" ; and he '' would be only too
glad to substitute facts for suppositions." It is my
conviction that Ogham descends from an older and

46 THE OGHAM- RUNES AND EL-MUSH A J JAR.

even nobler stock. I hope some day to restore
it to the East, and to prove that, in the former El-
Mushajjar, it originated among the Nabathseo-Chal-
deans. It would, indeed, be curious if the Ogham
alphabet of the old schoolmaster, King Fenius
(the Phoenician ?) , concerning whom Irish tradition
speaks with such a confident and catholic voice,
should once more be traced back to the Plains of
Shinar.

EICHARD F. BURTON.

THE EAETHLY PAKADISE OF EUROPEAN
MYTHOLOGY.

BY C. F. KEARY, ESQ.

(Read Noyembcr 27th, 1878.)

When Christianity drew a curtain in front of tKe
past creeds of Heathen Europe, a veil through which
many an old belief was left still faintly visible, she
succeeded more than with most things in blotting
out the miages wliich in former days had gathered
round the idea of a future state. It is almost as if
the new religion were content to leave this world
under much the same governance as before, provided
only she were secured the undisputed possession of
the world beyond the grave. So the heathen gods
were not altosfether ousted from their seats. The
cloak of Odin — that blue mantle, the air, of which
the sagas tell us — fell upon the shoulders of St.
Martin ; his sword descended to St. Michael or St.
George : Elias or Nicholas drove the chariot of
Helios or wielded the thunders of Thor.^ They
changed their names but not their characters, passing
for a while behind the scene to be refurnished for

' Wuttke Deutsche Volhaberglaube, p. 19, aud Grimm IJeut. Myth.,
pp. 127, 946, and 68 K, 371, 4th Ed. Elias Id., p. 144.

48 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

fresh parts : just as when the breath of the new
creed blew over the fields, the old familiar plants
and flowers died down — Apollo's narcissus, Aphi^o-
dite's lilies, Njoid's Glove, or Freyja's Fern^ — to grow
up again as the flowers of Mary, Our Lady's hand,
the Vu^gin's hair.^ But it was different with the
behefs which passed beyond this life — the whole
doctrine of a future state, wliich for the European
races had belonged to the region of languid half
belief,^ became suddenly a stern reahty.

It grew greater while worldly things grew less,
until at last it seemed to take a complete hold upon
the imagination, and to gather round itself all that
was greatest in the poetical conception of the time.
Then, from having been so impressive, the idea of
eternity became familiar by constant use. At
last it took, in the hands of dull unimaginative men,
a ghastly prosaic character, whereby we see the
infinities of pleasure and pain, of happiness or woe,
mapped out and measured in the scales.

Beside the dreadful earnestness of the two pictures,
the mediseval Heaven, and the mediaeval Hell, the
less obtrusive behefs of earlier days fell into the
background. The older notion of a future state
was not so much of a place of reward or punishment
as of a quiet resting after the toils of life, as the
sun rests at the end of day. Now, if such a creed is

2 Cf. Jolianuis Bauhini De plantis a dim's satictisve nomena hahentibus
Basilic^ 1521. Cf. also Grimm D. M. 4th Ed., p. 184, (Balders lirar).

^ European races. Among the Indo-European nationalities, the
Persians raised the doctrine of Heaven and Hell to supreme impor-
tance, and in so doing, greatly, though indirectly, aflfected the creed of
Christendom. The Persian beliefs had since the time of the fall of
Babylon been largely infused into the Hebraic religion, quite revolu-
tionising its ideas touching a future state.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 49

to live on at all in the Middle Ages, it must do so
in defiance of the dominant religion, it nnist do so in
vu-tue of the Old Adam of pagan days not yet rooted
out. It must find its home in the breasts of those
who have not really been won over to the dominant
creed ; who resent as something new and intrusive,
the presence of a restraining moral code, or who
would fain believe that the neglected gods are not
really dead ; that they are, like Baal, asleep, or upon
a journey and have not for ever given up their rule.
It was through these influences, that the pagan
notions of a future state survived in the mediseval
pictures of an Earthly Paradise. This was a place
of sensuous ease, unblessed perhaps by the keenest
enjoyments of life, but untouched also with the fear
by which these pleasures are always attended — that
they will soon be snatched away. The saints and
confessors might have their heaven a,nd welcome.
Such a place of rapturous emotion was not suited to
the heroes of chivalry. There must be another home
set apart for them, for Arthiu: and his Knights, for
Charlemamie and his Paladins ; where, untroubled
by turbulent emotions, they shaU enjoy the fruit of
their labours " in a perpetual calm."

We cannot fully appreciate the history of the
Middle Ages, if we leave out of account the
distmct anti-Clnistian undercurrent accompanying
their course ; though of less force than the current
of the main stream, it is not to be overlooked, whether
it be the genuine heathenism of tlie ruder newly-
converted lands, or that sort of paganism or atheism
of lands which in comparison of their times were
almost over-civilised. The first kind is so well ex-

VOL. XII. E

50 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

pressed by the words pagan and heathen, men of
rural villages, and men of the uncultivated heaths
and moors; the second kind was that of countries like
Provence, which having been conquered and overrun,
time out of mind by successive bands of Romans,
Goths, Franks, and Arabs was old and enervated
while the northern nations were vigorous and young.
Provence began a sort of private renaissance before
the time for a renaissance had come ; it gave a new
direction to the impulses of chivalry, it fostered la gaie
science, and sent out its companies of troubadours
and minne-sinofers, exercisinof their art to call men
away from thoughts of the day of judgment, and to
drown with their songs the perpetual chanting of
masses and the toll of bells. We cannot overlook
these elements in mediaeval life.

The Gothic cathedral is a lasting memorial to the
glory of Catholicism ; but examine it closely, look in
neglected corners or at the carvings beneath the
seats and you will see strange sights, not altogether
provocative to holy meditation. Dante strikes, no
doubt, the true note : but in the pauses of his stately
music you may hear the laughter of Boccaccio.

Forces such as these existed to foster the behef in
an Earthly Paradise. The simple folk who would
not quite abandon the creed of their forefathers,
were wont to account in two ways for the disap-
pearance of their ancient divinities. Sometimes the
peasant fancied they had gone to sleep for a hundred
years : Wuotan (or Odin) — changing in course of
time to Charlemagne or Frederick Barbarossa — was
sleeping under the Gudensberg* (Wuotansberg), or

* In Hesse, see Grimm D. M., p. 137, 4th Ed.

EUKOPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 51

at Kaiserlautern : Horsel, another Teutonic divinity,
and afterwards Venus, slept under the Horselberg.
Or he deemed that they had been taken to
some happy land, his Earthly Paradise, whereof
old beliefs and prejudices kept alive the memory.
Arthur, for instance, who was a god before he became
a knight, had been wafted away in this manner, " T
go to the vale of Avalion to be healed of my grievous
wounds," he said to Su- Belvidere, wdien the barge
" in which were many fair ladies, and among them a
queen," had borne hun from mortal sight.^ Iloland
and Ogier, the Paladins, and as some say, Charles him-
self, had been carried off in a like fashion while still
ahve. All these stories began in folk-lore, and then
were amplified and adorned by the minstrels, and be-
came in their hands the literatrire of gentle societies.
Catholicism of coarse made some concession to this
spirit. A way for doing this was opened by the
Biblical account of the garden of Eden ; for though
the Mosaic record says that man was turned out of
the garden, it says nothing about the destruction of
Paradise. And accordingly we find lay and clerical
writers alike speculating upon the nature of this
place and the road by which it w^as to be reached :
and presently we find accounts of both real and
mythical voyages to the East in search of the desired
land. But there still remained a question between
orthodoxy and ancient heathenism. The former
naturally insisted upon the fact that Eden was in
the East, but heathenism had an obstinate prejudice
that its Paradise lay westward ; so on this point
there w^as a battle between the two faiths. In

« Sir T. Maloiy, 3/ort d'Art/iure, c. 108.

E 2

52 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

truth we find tliat like a needle when the neighbour-
ing magnet has been withdrawn, popular belief
when not under the pressure of ecclesiastical teach-
ing, tends constantly to vere round from the ortho-
dox tradition of the Eastern Paradise. What in one
century is related of Eden, in the course of a hun-
dred years is transferred, no apology made, to some
new found land of the Atlantic : as happens to the
fons mice which Sir John Mandeville said he had dis-
covered in Ceylon, close to the holy garden. In a little
while, as \he fontaine dejouvence, it appears again in
the Canaries, thence it passes to the Bahamas and
then settles upon the continental coast of America.^
But the most widespread example of this force of
popular belief is seen in the legend of St. Brandan's
Isle. St. Brandan was a monk who is supposed
during the eighth century to have made a voyage to
Paradise, and the story of this voyage became one of
the most widespread legends of the Middle Age.
Though the legend itself certainly represents the
saint as saihng eastward, tradition insisted upon
beheving the island was in the West. Sometimes
it was to the west of Ireland ; it could be seen m
certain weathers from the coast, but when an
expedition was fitted out to go and land there,
the island somehow seemed to disappear. Or it was
locahsed in the Canaries. It was, as the Spanish
and Portuguese declared, an island which had been
sometimes lighted upon by accident, but when sought
for could not be found [quando se husca non sehalla).

« Sir John Mandeville's Travels. Humboldt Geog. du Nouveau
Cont., Vol. Ill, p. 194. Cf. D'Avizac, Les lies Fantastiques, c£'c., and
Baring Gould, Curious Myths, £c.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 53

A king of Portugal is said to have made a condi-
tional surrender of it to another when it should be
found, and when the kingdom of Portugal ceded to
the Castilian crown its rights over the Canaries, the
treaty included the island of St. Brandan, described
as "the island which had not yet been found. "'^
Even such a burlesque picture of an Earthly Para-
dise as that of the celebrated Land of Cockaygne,
is a relic of the popular creed; here too the
happy land is placed in the West. Om- English
poetical version begins : —

Farre awaye by weste Spayn,
Is a londe yhight Cockaign.^

Down, therefore, till the end of the Middle Ao-es,
that is down to the disappearance of the last re-
remaining trace of heathenism, we can discover the
impress of a widespread and ancient belief in an
Earthly Paradise, as a happy deathless land lying
far away in the West. I will now ask you to go
back with me to a much higher point in the stream
of time, to mark the rise of this belief, and then to
follow it downwards through the various stages of
its growth and decay.

Eeasonable conjecture, something more indeed
than mere conjecture, has placed the home of our

' Wright. The Voyage of St. Brandan. Percy Soc. Pub., Vol.
XIV.

* Harl. MS. 913. This is a very witty parody of monkish visious or
popular creeds of Paradise, and is found both in French and English
versions as early as the 12th century. What can be better than tliis
estimate of the universal hope of re.st from labour at a money value ?
" Qui plus i dort plus i gaigne
Cil qui dort jusqu'a midi
Gaigne cinq sols et demi."

Cf. Wright. " St. Patrick's Purgatory," p. 52

54 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

ancestors of the Inclo-Em-opean race, in that country
which lies westward from the Beloot Tagh, north-
ward from the Hindoo Koosh, and all the region of
barren Afghanistan ?^ This land, the ancient Bactria,
was once celebrated aniono the countries of the world
for its fertihty, and though it has lost much of its
old beauty, is still one of the best cultivated districts
of Central Asia, both in a material and in an intel-
lectual sense/° The hig-h. rang-es which lie at their
backs, cut off from the inhabitants all communication
mth the east or south. The rivers wliich go to swell
the waters of the Amau and Silion (the Oxus and
Jaxartes), all flow westward ; there lies then- only
outlet. From the mere circumstances of their
geographical situation we might expect that when
the ancient dwellers in this land migrated in search
of fresh homes they could travel westward. And
this we know they did. Out of the Aryan
stock who once inhabited this land by far the
greater portion found their way to Eiu-ope and
became the ancestors of the various European
nations. Before that their wanderings began,
this people stood with their backs to the moiuitains,
and then' faces towards the West, and every day they
followed the sun's course and saw him sink beneath
the low western horizon. As time went on, as
their nmnbers increased, and provisions grew scarce,
and it became more and more evident that they
could not all stay in their present home, they
must have felt that their only outlet lay to the

8 For the argiimeuts in favour of this home for our Aiyan pro-
geuitors, see Pictet, Les Origines Tndo-Europeennes passim.
'" Bokhara is at this day a ceutre of Mohammedan learning.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 55

West. These Aryans were great worshippers of the
Sun-god : and we need not fear to be taunted with
holding exaggerated notions upon what has been
called the sun-myth theory, because we acknowledge
the important place which this planet must have in
every Pantheon, the special influence which he had
upon the mythology of the Indo-European nations.
It is not only when the sun is a chief deity that his
attractive power is felt. He may sink far below the
position of a supreme god, become rather a demigod
than a divmity ; but precisely on account of these
changes the sun will exert a special mfluence over
those parts of a creed which touch closely upon the
daily wants of humanity. Now, the sun is es-
sentially the wandering god ; his journey had long
been watched by the Aryans with special interest ;
when their journeys began he became their natural
guide and leader ; like him they travelled westwards.
But there is another way in wliich the Sun-god
touches the hfe of man, an essential and universal
way. He is the god who dies. All images of death
among every people are drawn primarily from the
image of the dymg sun and the departing day. As
the traveller, the sun pointed to the European races
the course of then- migrations : as the dying god,
he showed them the course of another jom-ney, wliich
the soul makes when disjoined from the body.

There is nothing distinctively Aryan in the belief of
the journey after death. Every nation has pos-
sessed it, and associated it with the journey of
the sun to his place of setting. But the creed
has taken different forms in different lands, and
has been necessarily affected by the geographical

56 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

situation of those who held it. The Eg^yptians, for
instance, for whom the sun set behind the trackless
desert, which lay on the left side of their great and
sacred Nile — while the cities of the living were upon
the rio^ht bank — showed in their ritual the dead man
crossing the river of the dead, travelhng through the
dark land of the serpent-king Apap,'^ until at last he
reaches the house of Osiris, the hidden sun. Our
Aryans used the same imagery, with variations of
local colouring. In both myths there is the
same childlike confusion of thought between the
subjective and objective ; between the position of
the myth-maker and that of the phenomenon out of
which he weaves his story. Because towards sunset
the sun grows dim and the world too, it is imagined
that the sun has now reached a dim twilight place,
such as the Egyptians pictured in their region of
Apap, or the Greeks in their Kimmerian land upon
the borders of earth. But when the sun has quite
disappeared, then inconsistently it is said that he has
gone to a land which is his proper home, whence
his light, whether by day or night, is never with-
drawn. The twilight region is the land of death,
the bright land beyond is the home of the blessed :
such are the general notions, which among a primi-
tive people correspond to our Hell and our Heaven.

M. Pictet, who has carried on an ingenious train
of inductive reasoning upon the life of our Indo-
European ancestors, founded upon the information

" Apap, " the immense," a personification of the desei't, and hence of
death. He may be compared with the great mid-earth serpent (mid-
gaard worm) of the Norse mythology, which is a persoiiifi«itiou of the
sea and death in one. See infra.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 57

to be gleaned from Comparative Philology, places
the older members of the race, those from whom
descended in after years the Indians and Iranians,
close against the eastern hiUs, and in a circle
outside of these, the people who went to form
the nations of Europe, and who, before they broke
up into separate tribes, bore the common name of
Yavanas, the younger — i.e., the fighting members of
the community. ^^ These therefore lay upon the
borders of the cidtivatable land. At the present day
a broad belt of desert lies between the fertile valleys
of Bactria, and the Caspian Sea. While the latter
are inhabited by a settled and agricultural people,
the great Khuwaresm desert produces only vegeta-
tion enough to support a few Cossacks and wander-
ing Turkic tribes. But there is sufficient reason to
believe that this was not always the case ; but that
a great part of what is now dry land was once the
bed of the Caspian, which was probably joined on to
the Sea of Aral, and extended in every direction
farther than it now extends. The Caspian is known
to have fallen greatly in its banks, and not at a
remote period, but within historical times ;^'^ the
process of shrinking would in a double way tend to
the creation of desert both by exposing the dry bed
of the sea, and by rendering the other land sterile
when so much neigflibourinof water was withdrawn.
Some have thought that the growth of the desert,
coinciding with a parallel growth of the Aryan
people, first set these last upon their journeys.

'* Akin to juvenis, irom. juvare.

'^ Strabo speaks of the Caspian as being joined to the Sea of Aral.
The Oxus and Jaxartes probably both flowed into the Caspian in
ancient days. See Wood, " Shores of Lake Ai'al."

58 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

We may, then, picture our ancestors, before their
migrations began, settled in great part upon the
shores of the Caspian Sea, which was then of greater
extent than it now is. A larger number still, who
had never seen the ocean, would through rumour
get some notion of its existence : in the special myth
we are considering, the myth of death, it lay ready
to play just the same part which was taken by the
Great Sahara in the Egyptian religion. As the
Egyptian dead had to cross the desert to arrive at
theii' Paradise, the house of Osiris, so the Aryan, in
imagination, crossed after death the wide waste of
waters and came by a long sea voyage to the palace
of the sun in the west. It was, I suspect, in this
their early home, that the belief in a Paradise lying
in some happy island beyond the western sea first
arose, and thus became the property of all the
European races. Before they had ventm-ed to
explore its sohtudes, the sea would be looked upon
by them as crossed by all the Souls on their last
journey. It would become the Sea of Death. And
as a fact, we find that that word for sea, which is
most common in the various European languages, is
from the same root as a word — as widely spread — for
death : mare, Meer (German), meer, from the same
root as mors, murder. ^""^ Thus much therefore we
know by the infallible testimony of language, that
when our earliest ancestors ^^ronounced the name of

'* From an Aiyan root, onara, we get Skr., mar a, death, a-mara,
immortal, Zend, mar a, mdra, death, Grk. fiopos ; and in the second
degree, Skr., mrta, death, Grk. jSpuros, ( ;= Germ., bkit, blood), Lat.
mors.

From the same Aryan root mara we get Skr. miixi, ocean, Grk.
dfiap'ta ditch. Sewer, Lat., mare.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 59

the sea, the idea of death was not far distant from
their thoughts.

That was in days before their migrations : when
these began it is likely enough that the Yavanas first
travelled by land, and only when they had reached
new seas, ventured upon the dreadful element.'^

A desert, such as the Egyptian desert, or a sea
like the Caspian, forms a natural barrier between
the Hving and the dead. Without such a bar, if
men supposed that some liappy land lay to the west
of them, it would be hardly possible that they should
refrain from an attempt to get there, hving. When
a behef of this kind becomes very literal and, as it
were, geographical, we meet with frequent accounts
of travellers who go in search of the desired place.
In the course of the Middle Ages, the story of the
Earthly Paradise became translated into this literal
language, and the outcome were frequent expeditions
— more by many than we know of now — ^to find it.
At last they ended happily in the discovery, if not
of a deatliless land, at any rate of a new world. In
just the same spmt are the journeys of tliat king we
read of in the Heimskringia Saga — Swegcler Fiol-
nersson was his name — who made a solemn vow to
seek Odin and the home of the gods, Asgaard had
lost its grand sujDersensuous meaning in his days : it
was simply a city of the earth and a place to be got
to. Snorro teUs us how Swegder wandered about for
many years on his quest — in vain, as we might ex-
pect— and of the strange way he found, not Paradise,
but Death instead. One day he came to an immense

'•■^ We argue this {yitcr alia from the fact meiitiuiied below of the
Greeks having a separate word for sea, meaning " the way."

60 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

stone as large as a house. Beneath it sate a
dwarf, who called out, " Come Swedger, this is the
road to Paradise," and being very drunk, Swedger
and his man ran towards the stone. Then a door
opened in the stone ; the king ran in and the door
immediately closed upon him so that he was never
seen again. ^"^

The effect of the first wanderings of the Aryans
must necessarily have been to take away much
of the mystery and awe which had settled
round the Sea of Death : and though the original
behef would not leave them, there would grow up
alongside of it the more cosmological conception of
a strictly Earthly Paradise. The earhest Paradise
is m a sense an earthly one : its site is never
distinctly disjoined in thought from the earth.
Thoup'h somehow it can never be reached save
through the portal of death, it is never acknowledged
that the dead do actually leave the world of man.
This inconsistency of thought — if it is one — could
be preserved without an effort by a sedentary people.
The Egyptian probably never inquired why hving
men might not cross the desert to the house of
Osiris. But when the nation begins to move, the
thought springs up : Why is Death the only road
to the home where our fathers have gone ? May we
not arrive at the happy immortal land by an easier,
at any rate, by a less painful route ? Come what
may they resolve to try.

Of all the European races the Greeks were the
first who took to the sea ; a fact pretty evident from
what we can trace of the routes taken by their

16 " Ynglinga Saga," 15.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. Gl

brother nations, and indeed indicated by the
peculiarity of the Greek names for the sea,
names unconnected with death, but OdXaaaa, salt
water, or 7r6i/To<i a path.^'^ The advantages of situa-
tion which Greece enjoyed are to be credited with this
circumstance. As Ciu-tius points out so well, where
Europe and Asia meet in the ^gean. Nature has made
no separation between the two worlds. " Sea and
air unite the coasts of the Archipelago into a con-
nected whole, the same periodical winds blow from
the Hellespont as far as Crete, and regulate naviga-
tion by the same conditions, and the climate by the
same changes. Scarcely one point is to be found
between Asia and Europe where in clear weather the
mariner would feel himself left in solitude between
sky and water ; the eye reaches from island to island,
and easy voyages of a day lead from bay to bay."
It was in this nearness of shore to shore, from the
invitation of the islands spread out like stepping
stones across the calm iEgean, that the Greek
people, when their wanderings brought them to the
limits of Asia Minor, did not hesitate lonof before
they crossed over to European Greece and joined
the two shores under the dominion of one race. Very
early in prehistoric days, long before the age of
Homer, they had become familiar with theii' own
Greek sea, with all its islands and all its harbours ;
but it was long after this that their mariners had
rounded Cape Matapan ; longer still before the first
Greek had sailed as far as Sicily. Some tidings of
the distant lands of the Mediterranean were brouofht
by Phoenician navigators, and afterwards by theii'

■' Connected with the Skr. pantha, pat/a and owv path.

62 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OE

own more adventurous sailors ; and with this slender
stock of real knowledge, imagination was busy in
mingling the stories of a mythic world. For the old
wonder which had so long hung round the Western
Sea and Western lands, was still alive, and whatso-
ever had in former times been dreamt of concerning
the Caspian Sea was now transferred to the Medi-
terranean. Thus arose the endless pictures which
Greek poetry has left behind it of the Western
Paradise, whether this be called the land of the
Hesperides, the Elysian Plain, Meropis, or the Islands
of the Blessed, where Kronos lives and Phadaman-
thus reigns. For under every name, the substantial
meaning is the same, the same description would,
with small change, serve for each :

"Where round the island of the blessed,

Soft sea- winds blow continually,
Where golden flowers on sward and tree,

Blossom, and on the water rest,
There move the Saints in garlands dressed,

And intertwined wreaths of odours heavenly.^^

And in the sea on the way to these islands lay all
the strange wild adventures which a man might
expect to meet with on his journey to the dead :
there are the islands of Kalypso or of Kirke, or of the
Kyklops, or the land of the Lotophagi, the children of
sleep. And still as imagination outstripped know-
ledge, the Sea of Death retreated farther and farther
to the westward, and beyond the Mediterranean lay
the utterly fabulous Okeanos with the land of shades
upon its farther shore. In most of these stories
there is an element of truth and an element of

'8 Piudar, Olijmp., 2.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 63

fiction, which it is impossible for us to disentangle :
a thin substratum of reality, let us rather say, over-
laid by a world of fancy. Euhemerist geographers, like
Pliny or Strabo, may try to give the Earthly Paradise
of the Greeks a local position by identifying the garden
of the Hesperides with a land near Ceuta, or with
some island in the Atlantic Ocean ;^^ Justin Martyr,
on the other hand, says that these are one with the
Biblical Paradise. -"^ Each is in his way right. Shall
we say that the mythic golden apples were not the
first oranges brought to Greece ?

In any stoiy which professed to relate the adven-
tiu-es of explorers in the West when, so far as real
knowledge went, the western lands were still a closed
book to the Greeks, the teller must make up for the
w^ant of fact, by drawing upon the store of fancy.
He mast use, not his own imagination only, but the
fancy of generations of men who have gone before,
and his history will include many images and myths,
of which he himself does not know the origin :
What have been once a relation in figurative
language of the story of the departure, of the dead,
and images which told more directly of the proto-
typical journey to the sun to his setting, will in
this narrative assume the air of fact. A tale of this
kind is the Odyssey. In its direct intention, it is
only a sailor's story of adventure in the Mediterra-
nean ; but in that earlier meaning which lies hidden
in it — which it half reveals and half conceals — it is a
myth of the soul's journey to the realms of death.
We have no need here to enter into that long con-
's " Pliny," y I, 31, 3G.
2» " Cohort, ad Gra;cos," 28.

64 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

troversy over the relative antiquity and the relative
merits of the two great poems ascribed to Homer.
But we cannot avoid taking note of the marked
difference in the subject matter of the two epics, a
difference which would alone suffice to give to each a
distinctive character. The story of the Ihad may
be mythical ; but in the poem it puts on all the garb
of history. There is, one might say, no unnatural
element in it, for even the supernatural beings are
compelled to conform to the human standard. The
bard is never oppressed by a sense of the unkno\^^l,
the unlikely, the real supernatural ; he is sailhig in
a trusty barque upon known waters. In this I
think hes the secret of the superior greatness of
the Iliad, for a poet can only attain his highest alti-
tudes when the substance of his art is formed out
of — I will not say fact — but behef, which has become
so constant and familiar as to take almost the shape
of fact. That sense of reality which drags down
prosaic minds is for him the proper medium of his
flight : no sham behefs or half behefs are at his best
moments possible to him. So we should never have
had the Divine Comedy, unless the vulgar hteral-
ness of priestly minds, confounding metaphors with
fact, had in its pseudo-philosophy mapped out the
circles of Heaven and Hell, as an astronomer maps
out the craters of the moon. The Iliad has over
the Odyssey just this advantage : that the former is
occupied with the familiar world of Greek life ; the
other is cast abroad upon a sea of speculation and
fancy. The diflPerence is a difference of geography.
The Ihad is the poem of the iKgean and its shores :
the Odyssey deals with the fabulous Mediterranean.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 65

That the Odyssey was written as an allegory of
the soul's journey, I have already disclaimed any
thought of contending. Anything may be construed
into an allegory if we are minded to make the attempt.
Calderon, I think it is, who has a very pretty play
in which the voyage of Ulisses is treated in this
fashion. UHsses is the human soul, his journey the
soul's journey through life, and the sailors who man
the barque are all the desu-es which distract the
mind from the pursuit of what is best. No such
fanciful notions were present in the minds of Homer
or of his audience. They were reahstic up to the
limit of their knowledge ; but that went such a little
way. And therefore it easily falls out that the
wanderings of Odysseus do in reahty httle else than
to repeat in many forms the old-estabhshed myth of
death, and of the soul's voyage to seek its paradise
after death. Or we may, more truly perhaps, look
upon the hero as the one living being of his race
who performs the journey and returns to tell the
tale.

A myth is in its first shape not a continuous story,
but a picture presenting, like the pictures of poetry,
some aspect of nature clothed with a human character,
or some human thought translated into the imagery
of natural things. It would be a tedious attempt
to unravel all the pictures of death and paradise
which the Odyssey encloses, but it may be worth
while to look at what seems to be the kernel of the
story, and in unfolding that, to glance by inference
at the remaining parts ; this nucleus by itself presents
the most complete though most primitive story of
the journey to the Earthly Paradise which has been

VOL. XII. F

66 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

preserved for us by any European people. It is
almost an axiom for the resolving of any mythic tale
into its constituent elements, that when we find a
part of the history told as an interlude during the
action of the rest, we conclude that the two portions
were once independent, and have been forced into a
connection, in order that the story may seem more
ample or more complete. I could, did time permit,
give many instances where such a course has been
pursued in the construction of an epic. In the case
of the Odyssey this discriminating test at once
separates from the smaller nucleus the greater part
of the adventures of the hero. All the events which
Odysseus recounts while sitting in the hall of
Alkinoos, though they are supposed to tell the earher
history of his voyage, are no doubt additions to the
original tale, which follows directly the course of the
poem till the wanderer is brought to the island of the
Phseakians, and then takes up its interrupted thread
when his story is finished and Alkinoos prepares liis
return voyage to Greece.

Let us therefore put out of our heads the total
sum of Odysseus' previous adventures, and discover
him first, as Homer does, upon the Island of Ogygia,
the home of Kalypso. Our first appeal, if we wish
to penetrate the deeper, or at least the earher,
meaning vvhich hes behind the mere narrative, must
be to the assistance of philology, without which the
study of myths would become like surgery divorced
from anatomy, or astronomy without mathematics.
Etymologists connect the word Ogygia with Okeanos,
and this shows that the name was not originally the
name of an island, so much as the general name of

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 6 7

the sea. It means moreover something primeval, so
that it is also the name of Egypt,-^ the oldest land of
the world, and Ogyges is the name of the earliest Attic
King,~=^ and in this sense Oxygia is likewise chosen
as the home of Time, Kronos. But so Okeanos
is spoken of as the oldest of all things.-^ Kalypso,
the nymph who inhabits here, in her name reveals
her character still more plainly than Ogygia displays
its origui. This name corresponds etymologically
with our Hell, which was originally the name, not of
a place, but of the goddess of death (Hel) and comes
from the Icl. lielja to cover or conceal. So Kalypso
from KokviTTeLv. Hel too is closely related to the
sea.-"*" Kalypso, therefore, is Death, as Ogygia is the
Sea of Death.

It is when Odysseus has been seven years in the
embrace of this dreadful goddess that Hermes comes
from the gods with commands that she shall set the
hero free. She is not dreadful here, nor her abode
anything but a quiet home of sleep. Coming over
the sea like the wind of morning,-^ the divine
messenger finds her within her cave, at the mouth
of which burns a fire (we often meet with this

2' " Eustath. ad Diou," p. 42, Hard. ed.

^■^ Ogyges is the name of two primeval kings, one of Boeotia and
the other of Attica. The second is father of Eieusis. Pans. I, 38, § 7,
and IX, ,5, § 1.

2^ II. XIV, 246.

^ That is to Jorrmmgandr the " gi'eat monster," a personification of
the sea, who is the brother of Hel. These with their third brother
Fenrir and their father Loki, form a sort of chthonic group, eacli being
in some way typical of death or the underworld. Snorra Edda.
Dfemisaga 33.

" That is to say he is the wind, and on this occasion the moruing
wind. Homer likens him to the sea-gvill fishing over the barren sea.

F 2

68 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

fire at the entrance to the house of death) a fire of
cedar and frankincense, wliich wafts its scent over the
island. Kalypso is singing, and as she sings she
moves over the web a golden shuttle.-'' In the wood
behind the birds a brooding. Hermes is, we know,
the St. Peter of mythology, carrying the keys of Hell
and Death, only that instead of keys he bears that
magic wand of his — liis "slepy yerde," as Chaucer
calls it — or as Homer says in this place : —

The rod,
Wherewith the eyes of men he shuts in sleep,
Or opens sleeping.

it is not only over sleeping and waking, but over
Life and Death that the rod has power. Its too
common use is to drive the souls down to the dark
kingdom of Hades ; here it changes its function, and
restores a man to hfe.

The tale would, however, be but half complete if
the w^anderer returned home at once. He has passed
through the jaws of death — the gates of heU, we
may say, have not prevailed against him — there
remains for liim to visit the island of the blessed
before he brings back report of his doings : —

What reports,
Yield those jealons courts unseen ?

Further dangers he in w^ait for him who would
gain Paradise : Odysseus has sailed but a httle way
from Ogygia when Poseidon raises a storm to destroy
him ; and but for the help of Athene, he would have
been destroyed, and of the nymph Leukothea, a
goddess of morning brightness, enemy to the powers

26 " od." V. 63.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 69

of darkness and death. Stretching himself upon
Leukothea's veil, which serves liim as another raft,
Odysseus is borne at last to Scheria, the land of the
Phseakians. If the hrst island literally meant
ocean, the name of tliis island is shore — X-^epia from
crxep6<; ; and in this contrast of meaning there is
all that is appropriate, for it takes us back to a
time when the myth of the great traveller was more
simple than we find it in Homer, and told only of
his passing over the sea and arriving at the coast
beyond. But this shore is Paradise, for here are the
famous gardens of Alkmoos, so like the gardens of the
Hesperides, so like all the pictures which before and
after have been drawn of an Earthly Paradise.
There the trees and flowers never grow old, winter
does not succeed to summer, but all is one continued
round of blossoming and bearing fruit ; here a tree
still in bloom ; there one on which the fruit is green,
and there a third whose clusters are already fully
rif)e.^^ The notion of identifying this Scheria with
the island of Corcyra is quite inconsistent with
Homer's account. Scheria lay, evidently, hke the
land of the daughters of the West, on the farther
side of the Mediterranean ; for Alkmoos himself shows
this when he says : " Far away do we Hve at the end
of the watery plam ; nor before now have we had
deahngs with other mortals. But now there comes
hither tliis luckless wanderer ; him it is right that we
help for all men fellows and strangers come from
Zeus, and in the sight of Zeus the smallest gift is
pleasmg."-^ Bemote from the mortal world, but in

2- "Od." VM, 114, &c.
« " Od." VI, 204, &c.

70 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

familiar converse with the gods,~^ the Phseakians hve
like the blameless ^tliiopians, somewhere upon the
confines of the earth. Here it was that yellow
haired Khadamanthus fled when persecuted and
driven from Crete hj his brother Minos ;^° the
just E/hadamanthus who elsewhere is placed as
ruler in the land of the blessed. ^^

The Phseakians have no deahngs with mortals, and
yet strangely enough they have ships which know
all the cities and homes of men. These barques are
at once their most mysterious and most famous
j)roperty ; yet although from their possession of them
thev are called the oar-lovina: Phseakians, it would
seem as though the islanders take small part m the
voyages made by theu ships. The vessels ask no
aid from pilot or oar, for they themselves know
the thoughts and minds of men ; they know all the
cities and rich fields of mortals and swiftly pass over
the crests of the sea shrouded in night and mist.^^
We know well the mission which brings the silent
vessels to every city, every port, every field of men.
They are but the counterparts of the " grim ferryman
whom poets tell of" and his boat, only instead of
crossing the undergromid Styx, they ply over the
Western Sea, which is the Sea of Death. The
Phceakians may be unacquainted with mortals, but
they know those who ahght from these dark ships.
Their land is the land of souls.

Welcker, speakmg of the Phgeakians and then-

-» "Od." VI, 203. Near to the gods {ayxiOfoi), as Zeus himself
declares. " Od." V, 35.
30 « Od." VII, 323.
3> " Od." IV, 563.
^2 "Od." VIII, 562,

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 7l

vessels,'^^ recalls the story of Procopius^* touching the
fishermen upon the northern coast of Gaul, how these
were excused from the ordinary incidence of taxation
on account of the strange duty which they were
selected to perform. To them was assigned the office
of ferrymg the soids across the channel to the opposite
Island of Brittia, which is none other than our own
land. The task fell upon them by rotation, and
those villagers whose tm^n had come round were
awoke at dead of night by a gentle tap upon the
door, and a whispering breath calling them to the
beach. There lay vessels to all appearance empty
and yet weighed down- as if by a heavy freight.
Pushing off, the fishermen performed m one night
the voyage which else they could hardly accomplish,
rowing and sailing, in six days and nights. Arrived
at the strange coast, they heard names called over
and voices answermg as if by rota, while they felt
their vessels gradually growing hght ; and when all
the ghosts had landed they were wafted back to
the habitable world. Claudian makes allusion to
the same behef, referring to the same locality, and
connects it with the journey of Odysseus to Hades :

Est locus extremum qua pandit Gallia littus
Oceani prsetentus aqua, ubi fertur Ulisses
Sanguine libato populum movisse silentem,
Illic umbrarum tenui stridore volantum,
Flebilis auditur questus ; simlacra coloni
Pallida, defunctasque vident migrare figuras;''

And I cannot help associating with the same super-

'3 " PJieinesches Museiini," Vol. I, 1833. Die JJomerisclie PhdaLen.
3* " Bell. Goth." IV.
5' "In Eiifin" I, 123.

72 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

stition a story wliicli we find in Paulus Diaconus.^^
When Pertaric, the dethroned king of Lombardy,
was fleeing from the power of Grimvald the Usiu-per,
he went fii-st to France ; but finding that Dagobert II,
the Merovingian king, was friendly to Grimvald, and
fearing lest he should be delivered over to his enemy,
he took ship to pass over to Britain. He had
been a httle while upon the sea, when a voice came
from the hither shore, asking whether Pertaric was
in that ship ; and the answer was given, " Pertaric
is here." Then the voice cried, " Tell him he may
return to his own land, for Grunvald departed from
this life three days ago." Surely this must have
been the ghost of Grimvald himself, arrived at the
point of his sea transit. Perhaps he could not pass
over until he had made tliis reparation for the injury
done.

Now, in all these stories I see evidence that the
myth of the Sea of Death, which is, as we shall soon
see, a universal Indo-European myth, had become spe-
cially locahsed at tliis spot. But I see no reason for
acceding to Welcker's suggestion that the story of the
Phseakians was adopted from a German or a Celtic
source. For Odysseus' journey to the Earthly Para-
dise is as natural, as thoroughly Greek, as any other
of the adventures of his voyage, and the whole of this
voyage is in its mythical aspect a journey upon the
Sea of Death. It is to be expected that the same
myth, associated always with a western sea, should
settle upon such an extreme point of the continent
as the northern coast of Gaul, extremum qud
pandit Gallia littus. I have met with a legend

'■<' "Gest. Long.," V, 3->, 33.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 73

closely analogous with the story of Procopius, among
the natives of Brittany at the present day,'^^ and the
men of Cape Raz in Finisterre still call the bay
below this point, the most westerly in France, " la
baie des trepasses," the bay of the dead.^'^

The peculiar feature of Odysseus' case is that he
is not a dead man who has come to Paradise, but a
living man, the first who has made the journey.
" Nor until now have we ever had dealing with other
mortals." Many before him had reached the undis-
covered country ; but up till now no traveller had
returned. Odysseus does return, and hence we
have the Odyssey. He comes back in the ships of
the Phaeakians, wliich, like Hermes previously, reverse
theu' usual office for liis sake. They have generally
carried souls from the cities and ways of men ; now
they are about to bear the hero back in one night
over the Death Sea. Entering a black sliip, vr)l
fxeXaLprj,^^ he falls a,sleep. "And there as he lay,
anon deep sleep weighed down his eyehds, a sweet
un wakeful sleep most hke to death." And as in the
morning Hermes had long before, when he was in
Kalypso's Island, come to him with a message of life,
so now he wakes to find himself once again upon
the famihar coast. " Then as arose the one bright
star, the messenger of dawn, the ship touched the
shore of Ithaca. "^^

Dante did not accept the Greek story of Odysseus'
return. In the twenty-sixth Canto it is that the poet
meets Uhsses, and learns from him the narrative of

^" Macquoid, " Pictm-es and Legends in Nonnandy and Brittany."
^^ Cambry " Voyage dans la Finisterre."
••"> " Od." VIII, 405.
♦» " Od.^' XIII, 74.

74 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

his death. The same motive influenced this UHsses —
and this is most interesting — to venture into the
Atlantic, which doubtless Dante knew had influenced
many sailors of his own time — the hope to find a new
land away in the West. ''When I left Chce," the
nauch-enduring Greek says, " when I left Circe, who
held me a year or more near Gaeta — before iEneas
had given that place its name — neither my fondness
for my son, nor piety towards my aged father, nor
the love with which I should have hghtened the
heart of Penelope, could conquer the strong desire
which swayed me to gain knowledge of the world
and of human wickedness and worth. So I set forth
upon the open sea with that small band by whom I
had never been deserted. One shore and the other
I saw, as far as Spain and Morocco, and the Island
of Sardinia, and other islands which the sea washes
round. I and my companions were old and slow
when we gained the narrow strait where Hercules
has set up his sign-posts, that men should not
venture beyond. On the right I passed Seville, I
had already passed Ceuta on the left. ' Oh ! my
brothers,' I cried, ' who through a hundred thousand
dangers have reached the West, refuse not to this
brief vigil of your senses which is left, the knowledge
of the unpeopled world beyond the sun. Consider
yoiu- descent ; ye were not made to live the life of
brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge.' I made
my comrades with this short speech so eager for the
voyage, that had I wished it I could scarce have held
them back, and turning our backs upon the morning
and bearing always towards the left we made our
oars wings for our fbohsh flight. Night showed us

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 75

already the other pole and all its stars, and our pole
80 low that it did not rise above the ocean floor.
Five times relit and quenched as often had been the
light which the moon sheds below, since we entered
on the steep way, when there appeared before us a
mountain, dim with distance, which seemed so high
as I had never seen mountain before. We rejoiced ;
but our joy was soon turned to grieving, for from the
land came a tempest which struck the forepart of our
vessel. Thrice it whirled her round with all its
w^aters, and the fourth time the poop rose up and the
prow turned downwards — such was the will of God —
and the sea closed over us."

Dante, we see, had no sympathy with the hopes of
those who sought the Earthly Paradise in the West.
He calls it " the unpeopled land beyond the sun";
for he was upon the side of orthodoxy, and in his
confession of Ulisses doubtless meant to cast reproach
upon those obstinate ones, who, against the teaching
of Scripture, still hoped to find a place where they
could avoid death. The mountain which he places
in the Atlantic, the high mountain, hruna 2)er la
distanza, which UHsses sees, is the mountain of Pur-
gatory ; other land he recognises none there. But he
bears witness to the belief that the West was not un-
peopled ; how without such a belief could the
Traveller have been urged to seek the West by a
desire of knowing more of human wickedness and
worth.

The story which at this time was most influential
in sending men upon Ulissean voyages was probably
that to which allusion has been already made, the
legend of St. Brandan. The myth seems in its origin

7Q THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

to have been a Celtic one,'*^ for St. Brandan was an
Irish monk, who, hearing from a traveller of the
Paradise in the East, set sail with twelve of his
monks, and after a long probation was brought to the
happy place. St. Brandan's Paradise became a
sporadic growth, now placed among the Canaries,
now visible at certain seasons from the west coast
of Ireland. And it is not very easy to tell which
among all the places \dsited by the saint was fixed
upon in popular tradition as St. Brandan's Island ;
for while the land to which he comes at last is not an
island at all, the places which the saint meets upon
his journey are like a succession of Paradises, each
having some of the attributes of the Earthly Paradise
of the Greeks. One is the " Ylonde of Shepe " — we
think of Odysseus' in Sicily — " where is never cold
weder, but ever sommer, and that causeth the shepe
to be so grete and wliite ;" another island contains an
abbey of twenty-four monks, "and in tliis londe,"
the monks tell St. Brandon, "is ever fayre weder,
and none of us hath been seke syth we came
hyther." But I take the following to be one of the
best descriptions of an Earthly Paradise to be found
in middle-age romance. It is the Paradise of Bu'ds :
" But soone after, as God wold, they saw a fayre
ylonde, full of floures and herbes and trees, whereof
they thanked God of his good grace, and anone they
went inlonde. And when they had gone longe in
this, they founde a full fayre well and thereby stode
a tree full of bowes, and on every bow sate a fayre

■" The name Brandau is probably allied to Bran, the Celtic hero
—and sun-god ? For him, see Matthew Arnold, " Celt. Lit." The
word means chief or head ; it is the same as Brennus.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 77

byrde, and they sate so thicke on the tree that lui-
neath ony lefe of the tree might be seen, the nombre
of them was so grete, and they sange so meryly that it

was an heavenly noyse to hear And

than anone one of the byrdes fledde fro the tree to
Saynt Brandon, and he, with flickeringe of his wings
made a full merye noyse lyke a fydle, that the saynt
he herde never so joyfull a melody e. And than
Saynt Brandon commaunded the byrde to tell him the
cause why they sate so thycke on the tree and sange
so meryly. And than the byrde sayd, ' Sometime
we were aungels in heven, but whan our mayster
Lucyfer fell down into hell for his high pryde, we
fell with hym for our oftences, some liyther and some
lower, after the qualite of their trespace."^^

This might be a fall from heaven, but it was a rise
from earth. A place suited to the character of any
who were, like these angels, of a temporismg nature.
For such the Earthly Paradise existed, for it was the
creation of their own brain. They did not judge
themselves so severely as Dante does. He, too, shows
us the same angels who fell "for no great trespace,"
but he calls them — -

II cattivo coro,
Degli angeli —

" The caitiff choir of angels, who were neither
rebellious nor faithful to God, but were for them-
selves " —

A Dio spiacenti et a nemici siii,

"Hateful to God and to his enemies." . . . .
Were that our present concern I could, I think, show

*"- " The Legend of St. Brandou,'' Percy Soc. Trs., Vol. XIV.

78 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

that Purgatory is nothing else than a survival of the
Greek Hades or Norse Helheim into the creed of
Christendom, to the mmd of ivhich the terrors of the
heathen place of punishment seemed to offer but an
inadequate representation of Hell. Just so the pro-
bationary Paradise of Birds is the truer survival of
the heathen heaven than the Eastern Paradise to
which Saint Brandon at last attains.

This legend 1 take to be one of the Imgering foot-
prints of a past Celtic mythology; other traces of it in
this matter of the Earthly Paradise and the Sea of
Death are those stories which we gathered from
Procopius and Claudian of a journey by souls from
the west of France over sea to oiu* island.*^ It is
fortunate that though the Celtic mythology is lost
to us, so much can be gleaned therefrom. The same
notion survives again in the account of the last days
of Arthur, though it is pitched rather in a tragic
than a hopeful key. The battle where he is
wounded is — according to Malory — on the downs
beside Sahsbury, not far from the sea-side ; and
at the end Arthur tells Sh Belvidere to carry him
down to the water's edge, and there it is that he
is met by the barge bearing the " many faire ladyes.'^
They wept and shrieked when they saw the king.
"Oh, dear brother," said the queen, "why have ye
taried so long from me 1 Alas ! this wound on your
head hath taken over much cold."*^ Oger le Danois
is a more cheerful tale ; but evidently drawn straight
from the legend of Arthur, albeit the hero is a

" The same belief remained iu middle-age Germany, and was
associated with the name England which was read Engel-land.
*' Sir T. Malory, Mori (T Art/acre, c. 168.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 79

Teuton and not a Celt. The Paradise is the same
that Arthur goes to, Avalon, the "Isle of Apples. "^^

And for the love and country thou hast won ;
Know thou that thou art come to Avalon,
That is both thine and mine ; and as for me
Morgan le Fay men call me commonly,
Within the world ; but fairer names than this,
Have 1 for thee and me, 'twixt kiss and kiss/*'

And in the old French romance Oger le .Dannoys
— rendered into prose from a poem of the 13th
century^" — we read : —

"Tant nagea le basteau sur mer qu'il arriva pres le
chasteau d'Aymant qu'on nomme le chasteau Daualon qui
nest guerre par de9a Paradis Terrestre, la ou furent raui en
une raye de feu Helye et Enoch, et la ou estait Morgue la
Faie, qui a sa naissance lui auvoyent donne de grans
dons."

And Morgue says to the Paladin :

" Es vous y laisse vos vaillances en guerre a prendre vous
soulas avec les dames ; or puis je vous tiens par de9a je vous
meneray a Aualon, la vous verrey la plus belle noblesse du
monde."

So much for the Earthly Paradise of Celtic my-
thology.

As we get farther to the North, whether it be
owing to the gloomy character of the people or the
greater inclemency of northern seas, the bright side

*^ A Celtic, not Teuton word. We cannot help comparing this land
of apples with the gardens of the Hesperidse.

^« "The Earthly Paradise." Ogier the Dane.

*' The prose version of Oger le Dannoys is taken from the metrical
version of Adenez, chief minstrel at the court of Henry III of Bavaria
(1248-1261), and for his i^re-emineuce in his art, surnamed le Roy, or
king of all. The best of his poems which have come down to us is the
" Cleomeues," the origin of Chaucer's unfinished " Squire's Tale."

80 THE EARTHLY PAEADISE OF

of the myth of death tends to disappear. But the
primitive idea of the Sea of Death remains in all its
force. The Norseman's picture of the earth and the
sea suiTOunding it corresponds most literally with
the Greek representation of Okeanos flowing round
the habitable earth, and the entrance to Hades
lying upon its other shore. In the middle of the
world, so we learn in the Eddas, stands a high moun-
tain on which is the city Asgaard, the strong place of
the gods. Below hes the green and fruitful earth
niannheim, the home of men ; outside this flows or
extends the mid-earth ocean. At times this sea is per-
sonified as a devouring monster, the mid-gaard worm
Jormungandr, whose moving makes the firm earth
shake : he is brother to Hel, the goddess of Death.
Beyond the mid-gaard sea is Jotunlieim, giants' home,
dark as the Kimmerian land, and peopled with
monsters weird and terrible as the Kyklops or the
Gorgons.*^ Jotunheim, then, and all the race of giants
are associated with the kmgdoms of death ; not very
clearly perhaps, but then no more is it clearly shown
in the Odyssey, how the entrance to Hades lies
far away beyond Okeanos, though Hades is be-
neath the earth on which we stand. In either case
the connection between the western land and the
underground kingdom is understandable enough if
we are ready to make some allowance for the shift-
ing lights of mythology.

North legend has preserved in its purest
form the great original sun-myth out of which
all subsequent images of death and a future state

« "Edda Snorra " Dajmisogiir, 8, 10, 16, 33, 34, 51. " Voluspa," 19,
32, 33, 42, &c. Cf. Simrock " Handb. der deut. Myth.," § 118.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 81

do in a manner take their rise : we have seen
what was the nature of the connection between
them. The story which foUoAvs the course of
the sun sinking behind the western sea, is re-
produced in the beautiful myth of the Burning of
Baldur. The tale tells how, when the brightest
best-beloved god of Asgaard fell down, shot
through the heart by his blind brother Hodur (dark),
all the gods assembled to do honour to his funeral and
to prepare his pyre. They took his own favourite
ship Hringhorn — the largest in the world — and
laid upon it much wood and fine clothing and
armour, and Baldur's horse, and last of all the body
of Baldur hunself And when Nanna his wife saw
it, her heart brake with grief, and she too was placed
upon the pile. Then Thor hallowed it with his
hammer, and setting fire to the ship they j^ushed it
out to sea.'*'^ Thence it drifted, burning, into the
west ; the true image of a burning sunset. To be
complete the story should tell how Baldur reawoke
in a new Heaven. But the Teutons had a great
love of tragedy ; so we find that the god has
not reached any islands of the blessed, but only the
land of Hades, Helheim. Whether there was
not at one tune a myth of Paradise connected with
this myth of death, I am much inclined to doubt.
The funeral here bestowed on Baldur was much
coveted by Norse heroes and Vikings, and one which
they often received. I cannot but believe that they
deemed they would m this way go to join the sun-
god in some far-off happy land. In truth I am
wrong in saying that there is no trace in the Eddas

■'^ "Edda SnoiT.-i" Dsemisaga, 49.
VOL. XII. G

82 THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF

that Baldnr has gone not to Helheim, but to Para-
dise. For in one poem — the finest of all — we are
told how long hence when the other gods have died
in a battle with the giants and all the powers of
death, then a new earth will arise from ocean, a new
and deathless race of men will be placed upon it,
and thither Baldur shall return to reign over this
renovated world. ^*^ Can we fail to see in this the
likeness on the one hand to the myths of Arthur or of
Ogier returning from Paradise, on the other to
the story of fair-haired Phadamanthus reigning in
the islands of the blessed ?

And one thinof more let us notice before we bring-
our investigation to a close ; namely, that the
German mythology — or at least the middle-age folk-
lore of Germany proper — is very full of the myths of
heroes who have come from some unknown land and
are first found asleep in a boat upon the shore in the
country of their adoption. Sometimes they come as
children, sometimes as fully equipped knights : no
one knows whence they have sprung, except them-
selves perhaps, and they are generally, like Lohen-
grin, forbidden to tell. But we know. They have
come from the Earthly Paradise. There is Scef or
Skeaf, who appears in English, Danish, and Lom-
bardic tradition as coming to the land a new-born
child, lying in a skiff, girt round with treasures, and
wafted thither by the winds. He grows to be a great
hero and stamm-vater , founder of a famous line ;
and at his death (or before it ; the tradition varies)
he is carried down to the same ship, placed in it and
once again entrusted to the waves. Lohengrin is

=» " Voluspa," 60.

EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY. 83

only one of the countless German tales which
repeat this ancient legend ; now it is a knight drawn
by fairy hands, now a saint who is borne by miracu-
lous powers up the Rhine until his body finds a
proper resting place. ^^

It is a stranjxe fact too that in the North even
burials — not burnings only — took place in a ship ;
for the coffin was made in the form of one.''^ There-
fore the idea of the voyage of the soul must be
counted more primitive than the separation of the
two modes of interment.

In this brief glance over the beliefs of Heathen
Europe we have been able to gather from
almost every land traces of a great and ancient myth
concerning the future of the soul after death. So
widespread is it, and so ancient, that we judge it to
1)6 Indo-European, that is to say, to have been born
in the early cradle of the Eiu^opean races. The
picture has, it is true, much faded from its original
hues. Our task has been like that of tracing the
design upon some long-neglected fresco. Here and
there the colours may retain a part of their old
brightness : more often they have left behind them
nothing but faint lines, and we are enabled to get a
notion of the original only by a careful, and even a
tedious examination, by slowly piecing together a

=' In Beowulf (89, &c.), Scyld is confused with Sc6f. Ethelw. Ill, 3,
and William of Malmesbury tell tlie story of the right person. For
stories resembling that of Lohengrin, see Grimm " Deutsche Sagen,"
pj). 256, 276. St. Martin and St. Emmeranus are among those whose
bodies were miraculously conveyed by water. Panzer " Bayarische
Sagen u Briiuche," I, 222. Simi'ock " Handb. der D. Myth.," p. 285.
Sigmund takes the body of Sinfiotli to the sea-shore and sets it afloat.
Spem. 170.

" Grimm " Deut. Myth.," II, 693, 4th Ed. " Jarlm. saga," c. 45.

G 2

84 EUROPEAN MYTHOLOGY.

multitude of disjointed fragments. As time passes
on and middle-age thought, with its last relics of
heathenism, fades before the advance of the new
learning, this belief of the Earthly Paradise fades with
it. Like the elves and fairies fleeino- ' ' from the
presence of the sun," it flies round the globe to escape
out of the way of inquiry and exact investigation.
When the western lands of Europe are known too
well, it crosses the Atlantic and for a while finds a
home in the new w^orld. At last it dies altogether
out of the region of belief, and rises again in the
world of fiction, as a New Atlantis, an Utopia. But
Utopia is, alas, Ou-topos, the land of No-where.

C. F. KEARY.

THE RUBENS CENTENARY AND THE
ANTWERP ART CONGRESS.

BY C. H. E. CARMICHAEL, M.A.

(Eead Jan. 8, 1879.)

When the City of Antwerp resolved, for the second
time withhi the same century, to celebrate a
Festival in honour of her renowned citizen, Peter
Paul Rubens, she threw herself into the work of
rejoicing with an ardour that few great mercantile
centres would display for such an object, and with a
good taste that still fewer could rival.

The great secret of the success of the Rubens Fes-
tival and Art Congress of 1877 seems to me to have
been tiiat the Festival was everybody's Festival, and
that all ranks of Antwerp Society, and even both the
great parties which so sharply divide Belgian politics
and Belgian society, united in showing their common
respect for the memory of Rubens.

How strong a hold that memory has on the
Belgian mind, nothing could more strikingly testify
than this universality of celebration, which was so
characteristic of the Centenary of 1877. That it
should have been determined to make an Art
Congress one of the leading features of the Festival
will be accepted as most suitable to the occasion.

86 THE RUBENS CENTENARY

Its success was greatly due to tLe same widely
diffused energy of which I have already spoken.
Taken up heartily by the highest office-bearers in
the municipality, under the honorary presidency of
the overworked, but ever-courteous Burgomaster of
Antwerp, M. Leopold de Wael, and the able chair-
manship of the President of the Cercle Artistique,
M. Edouard Pecher, the Antwerp Art Congress
played a conspicuous part in the more serious
features of the Rubens Centenary. Of the Belgian
members it may be sufficient to say that some of the
most distinguished had held and are now holding
high place in the Councils of the Nation. M. De
Wael, returned to the Chambers yet again as Deputy
for Antwerp at the last elections, is one of the Vice-
Presidents of the new Chamber, and M. Rolin-
Jacquemyns, one of the Honorary Presidents of the
Legislative Section, was at the same period returned
for Ghent, and is holding the important Portfolio of
the Interior, in the present Belgian Administration.

The effective President of the Legislative Section,
M. Louis Hymans, of Brussels, had himself been a
Member of the House of Bepresentatives, and had
been chosen by the House to report to it on the last
attempt at Art Copyright Legislation, which had
engaged the attention of the Chambers. As an
author, M. Hymans is held in high esteem for his
valuable History of the Belgian Parliament. Several,
both of the native and foreign members of the
Antwerp Art Congress, have since taken prominent
positions in other International gatherings. M.
Dognee, of Liege, was one of the most active
members of the Legislative Section of the recent

AND THE ANTWERP ART CONGRESS. 87

International Literary Congress in Paris, of which I
hope to give some account to this Society on another
occasion, and he was at the same time one of the
Commissioners for Belgium at the Paris Exhibition.
M. Meissonnier, of the Institute, who naturally took
a leading part in our discussions at Antwerp^ has
since presided over an International Art Copyright
Congress in Paris. Others, among whom I maj'
name Belgian, Swedish, German, and English
members, the thoughtful and original Antwerp
artist, Charles Verlat ; the accomplislied represen-
tative of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts at
Stockholm, Count Von Rosen ; the genial Kunst-
Direktor Stetfeck of Berlin ; and one of our own
familiar friends of Burlington House, the Acade-
mician Calderon, have been decorated by the French
Government since the close of the International
Exhibition. I have been thus particular in giving
some account of the composition of the Antwerp
Art Congress, in order that those of us who did not
follow its proceedings at the time may form their
judgment as to the general calibre of its members.
And as I cannot attempt to carry you with me
throuo-h all the manifold details of the discussions
of even one Section, but must content myself with
dwelling upon some of the more widely interesting
general features of the Congress and Festival, I have
been desirous that you should know thus much at
least of who we were, before I proceeded to say
something about what we did. If I commence by
saying that we discussed Rubens from pretty nearly
every possible point of view, and that we tried to
get some light thrown upon every kind of influence

88 THE RUBEXS CENTENARY

tha,t he exercised over his contemporaries, and that
his contemporaries exercised over him, I do not thmk
I shall give you a bad general idea of what we tried
to do. How far we succeeded is a questioD which, I
think, cannot yet be fully answered, foi- the after-
results of such discussions are slow in developing
themselves, and the influence of the mere fact of
such a gathering for such an object is not to be
measured by the number or quality of the papers
read, or opinions sustained. I incline to believe that
the questions proposed on such occasions, and
circulated throughout the leng-th and breadth of the
Literary and Artistic World, produce an effect in
stimulating research and quickening thought of which
the full power will only be known perhaps to after-
times, when research shall have resulted in the
acknowledgment of facts hitherto ignored, or in the
setting of well-known facts in a new light, and when
thought shall have been quickened into action. No
one, I think, can study the heads of discussion pro-
posed at Antwerp in 1877, without feeling that
although on many points no satisfactory solution
could be expected during the sittings of the Congress,
much would be gained by the very clash of opinions,
and still more by their full and temperate expression.
Questions which to the British mind are apt to
appear unpractical, may have, it seems to me, a very
practical value in countries whose Parliamentary
institutions are still in their mfancy, but whose
people prize the constitutional liberties which either
they themselves, or theu' fathers, have not long won
— when such a people discuss the influence of
" Democracy in Art," Ancient Greece and Mediaeval

AND THE ANTWERP AKT CONGRESS. 8 'J

Italy seem to enter the lists, and modern Belcrium
seems to be once more the '' cockpit of Europe," but
this time the strife, though keen, is conducted with
the harmlessness of a tournament", where the object is
to unhorse, not to slay the opposing knight.

It may serve as some illustration of the general
character of the discussions on " questions brulantes"
of the day which entered into the programme of the
Antwerp Congress, if I give a few extracts from the
debates on the " Influence of Democracy in Art ;"
for here, if anywhere, was the rock upon which the
Congress might be expected to split. I do not mean
to deny that a greater amount of warmth charac-
terised these sittings than some others in which the
topics were less exciting, but it is, I think, only just
to Belgium to state that the discussion was opened
by an Antwerp Art-Pi-ofessor, M. Van den Bussche,
in very temperate language, and that one of the re-
presentatives of what might be called the Autho-
ritative or Aristocratic, as opposed to the Democratic,
Theory, Herr Schaepman, of Dribergen, admitted
that if by Democracy was meant the whole people, in
all the various manifestations of the national life, he
was ready to acknowledge the influence of Democracy
in Art. For " Art,'' he said, " springs from the people,
and belongs to their whole life."' Yet this was the
language held by one who professed to believe that
the Artist is " by nature Aristocratic, and inchned
towards Authority." Let us hsten for a moment to
the words of a moderate exponent of the opposite
view\

M. Van den Bussche, in his opening speech, gave a
brief glance, very necessary to the true understand-

90 THE RUBEN^S CENTENARY

ing of the question under discussion, at the various
meanings of the word Democracy. It were much
to be wished that one of our most recent Enghsh
writers on this thorny subject, Sir T. Erskine May,
had always kept these various meanings in view in
the course of his elaborate work on Democracy in
Europe, Now it is evidently true, as M. Van den
Bussche observed, that Democracy in the Ancient
World was a different thing from Modern Democracy,
and it is further true that Greek Democracy differed
from that of Rome. Yet again. Mediaeval Democracy
differed alike from its predecessors and successors, and,
in the present day, American Democracy is widely
different from that which manifests itself on the
Continent of Europe, under various forms which are
the outcome of European Society and a European
Past. According to the view of M. Van den Bussche,
Art should be a BeacoD, lighting the way of the
Nations, and it ouglit therefore to guide Democracy,
not to be guided by it. This may appear to some to
be a compromise between the two views of Art ; if so,
it is, at any rate to my mind, a compromise embodying,
and not giving up, Truth, It is also perfectly re-
concilable with the expressions of Dr, Schaepman ;
for that which, in his view, springs from the people,
and is an integral part of their life in all its various
manifestations, is surely best fitted to be unto the
people as a Beacon, lighting the way of the Nations,
In this manner we may, I think, harmonise the
seemingly conflicting theories upon the influence of
Democracy in Art without giving up anything which
is essential. And it seems to me that there was
enough Truth on both sides for the members of the

AND THE ANTWERP ART CONGRESS. 91

^Esthetic Section of the Antwerp Congress to be able
to separate, as they did, with their friendly feelings
towards each other increased rather than diminished.

But it must not be supposed that the Congress
only treated questions of Theory. Not to speak of
the Legislative Section, which discussed the possi-
bihty of framing an International Art Copyright Law,
and the basis of whose discussions was to my mind
more practical than that adopted by some more recent
Congresses, the labours of the Historical Section
deserve our attention. The question before it
being " what elements do we possess for a history of
the works of Rubens ? " the Section came to the con-
clusion that these elements, which were numerous,
but scattered over Europe, ought to be brought
together and published in a collective form, and
edited by a Committee to be named by the commu-
nal authorities, under the appropriate title of "Codex
Diplomaticus Rubenianus," It is proposed that the
volumes constituting this " Codex " should embrace
all official and other material documents, reafisters,
&c., illustrating the history of Hubens, as well as a
complete collection of his correspondence, comjorising
letters addressed to him no less than those written
by him ; biographies, when founded on official docu-
ments, and drawn up not more than a century after
his death ; extracts from contemporary historians and
chroniclers, and generally everything that may seem
likely to throw a light upon the life and works of
Rubens.

This is, it will be seen, both a comprehensive and
a practical scheme. It is one which, in this Society
at least, must meet with well-wishers, as offering the

92 THE RUBENS CENTENARY

promise of a substantive addition to the Literary
History of Art, in the full story of a great Artist who
was widely known and highly esteemed in England.
It is quite probable that not only our State Paper
Office but also private collections may contain among
their yet uncalendared stores some documents which
ought to find a place in this proposed publication.
And we may well believe that the town of Antwerp,
which received its English visitors with such hearty
as well as magnificent hospitality, would appreciate a
return which should take the shape of assistance in
the illustration of the history of her great citizen.
I should, for my own part, gladly receive and transmit
to Antwerp any information, whether from public or
private sources, tending to aid the Antwerp Com-
mittee in making the " Codex Diplomaticus Rubeni-
anus " a work worthy of the occasion which gave rise
to it. We may be quite sure that the city of the
Plantin Press will do all honour to its Typographical
no less than to its other Artistic memories. For in
the wonderful procession which wound its way by
torchlight as well as by sunlight through the pictu-
resque streets of old Antwerp, and down the broad
boulevards of modern Antwerp, the j^rinting press of
the famous house of Plantin had its place along with
the principal works of E-ubens. And with the
Plantin-Moretus printing press, says a description of
the Historical Procession, widely circulated during
the Festival,^ ends the representation of Intellectual
Antwerp. Here endeth " Verlichte Antwerpen."
The Maison Plantin itself, restored by the loving

' "Beschrijving van den Grooten Historischeu Knnstoptocht," &c.
Flemish and French. Antwerp, 1877. Printed by Mees and Co.

AND THE ANTWERP ART CONGRESS. 93

care of a special committee of the municipality, to a
condition as nearly as possible reproducing the palmy
days of the great Antwerp printers, formed the
subject of a separate publication, by M. Gustave
Lagye,- himself the editor of the principal Art Journal
of Antwerp, " La Federation Artistique." In this
wonderful treasure-house. Art is represented under
manifold forms, by Manuscripts, early products of
the press, engravings and paintings of great Flemish
Masters. The Album of the house of Moretus contains
no less than three hundred designs by master hands,
and among the contributors to its riches are found
Van Noort, Van Orley, Rubens, and Van Dyck. As
M. Lagye jnstly observes, this Album is a fortune in
itself And when the visitor enters the quadrangle
and looks up at the mullioned windows, he knows that
he is no longer in the Nineteenth Century, but among
the men of the Kenaissance, fitting symbols of which
meet him at every corner in the Golden Compass of
the House of Plantin, accompanied by their motto,.
" Lahore et Constantia." The autograph letters in
the Plantin collection are said to number more than
eleven thousand. They show this illustrious family to
have been in correspondence with some of the greatest
names of their day in Literature, Science, and Art.
Justus Lipsius, Baronius, Ortehus, Clusius,
Bellarmine, Borromeo, Henschenius, the Blaeus and
the Elzevirs — all have added to this rich store of
inedited manuscripts. I am sorry to say that the
contents of this collection do not appear to have been
as yet completely catalogued. But I liope, from M.

- " La Maison Plautin," par Gastave Lagye. Autwerj). Mees and
Co., 1877.

94 THE RUBENS CENTENARY

Lagye's language, that the learned Librarian of the
Town Library at Ghent, M. Yanderhaegen, who seems
to have gone through a large portion of the Plantin
Letters, will finish his most useful labours, and give
to the world a " Catalogus Epistolarum Plant inien-
sium," as a worthy pendent to the proposed " Codex
Diplomaticus Kubenianus." My necessarily briet
and imperfect sketch of the Ptubens Festival of 1877
would be still more imperfect than it is, were I not
to lay before you some of the interesting eulogies
passed on the great Flemish Master by the foreign
representatives of the world of Art, who came to do
his memory honour in his own city. Conspicuous
among these must stand out the carefully weighed
judgment of the veteran Charles Blanc, of the
Institute of France, who standing by the newly
unveiled Bust of Bubens^ in the Hall of the Museum,
spoke to this effect : "' Like a musician showing his
superiority alike in the invention of a theme, in its
.composition, in its rendering on the stage, and in its
vocalisation, Bubens is at once an admirable composer
and the most brilliant of virtuosi. One of the things
most astonishino; to the sesthetical sense is that the
Low Countries, the most distant province of the
Empire of Art, the farthest from its first home, should
have seen the birth of the great painters who were to
carry eloquence of colouring and chiaroscuro to their
highest pitch. Far from imitating the French Artists
of the fifteenth century, who owed nothing to
foreign influence, Bubens went abroad to seek

^ This bust was from the chisel of the distinguished Antwerp
sculptor, M. Jules Pecher, brother of the President of the Cercle
Artistique and of the Art Congress.

AND THE ANTWERP ART CONGRESS. 95

inspiration and ideas. Had he never quitted his own
country he would perhaps have been but another
Jordaens. His travels gave breadth and loftiness to
his genius. His journeyings in Italy and France, to
Madrid and Windsor, his youth passed among the
wits of the Court of Mantua, his diplomatic relations
with the Grandees of Spain, with Marie de Medicis
and with Charles I. made him pre-eminently the
gentleman Artist (le gentilhomme de la peinture).
It was through studying Titian and Veronese in
Venice, and the Farnese Palace and Sixtine Chapel
in Rome, that he seemed to see everything, even
colouring, on a great scale. It is because Rubens never
became simply local in his Art conceptions that he
has given strangers a right to come and take part in
a Festival to which his spirit of Universality seemed
to invite them."

What Rubens found to study in Italy, and how he
studied it, has been well told in an interesting Paper
by M. Edgar Baes, which gained the prize of the
Section for Fine A.rts of the Royal Belgian Academy
in 1877.^^ Had Rubens never gone to Italy, says M.
Charles Blanc, he would probably have been but
another Jordaens. Had Rubens never returned from
Italy, says M. Baes, he would have become, m all pro-
bability, a Flemish Caracci. Happily, continues M.
Baes, " Fate willed that he should remain Rubens."
And, whatever may be our personal preferences for
one school or one artist over another, I think we
must agree with the Belgian historian of his rela-

■* " Memoires Com-onnes et autres Memoiies publits par I'Acadcmie
Eoyale des Sciences, des Lettres et des Beaux Arts de Belgiqne."
Tom. XXVIII. (Brussels, July, 1878.)

96 THE RUBENS CENTENARY

tions with Italy, and be glad tbat Rubens became
neither a Jordaens nor a Caracci, but remained
Rubens.

Time will not admit of my citing more of the
arguments with which M. Edgar Baes enforces his
views concerning the influence of Italian Art on
Rubens and Van Dyck. What I have quoted may
suifice to show his general conclusions as to the
independent attitude of Rubens towards the Art of
his day in the cradle and home of all Western Art.

It is a far cry from Belgium to Sweden. But as
some token of the appreciation in distant lands of
that sphit of Universality which M. Charles Blanc
found in Rubens, I may cite a few of the words
spoken by the Delegate of the Royal Academy of Fine
Arts at Stockholm. " Every Swede," said Count
von Rosen, "who has learned to read has also learned
to venerate the name of Rubens, and to know some-
thing of his titles to renown, if only in the shape of
the ten or twelve masterpieces which we are proud
to possess from the brush of an Artist who was the
living embodiment of the Art of an ej)och at once
brilliant and militant, and whose name is one of the
privileged band of names that hght up the darkness
of the ages."

If the good people of Antwerp ever doubted
whether the merits of their great Artist were properly
recognised throughout Europe, they must have been
amply satisfied with the " Hulde an Rubens" which
so njany countries vied with each other in brmging
as their offering to the Festival of 1877.

Rhetoric paid its tribute in the language which
I have cited, and in much more which I have not

AND THE ANTWERP ART CONGRESS. 97

space to cite. Painting, Engraving, Photography,
contributed their share in the interesting specimens
of Pubens and other Masters, and reproductions of
the works of Pubens in the Galleries of Germany,
Italy, Spain and other countries, gathered together
in Antwerp during the Festival. That Music, too,
had her part, and that no unimportant one, in the
glorification of Pubens, is a fact which I must not
omit to commemorate. And, indeed, those who
looked upon the vast throng filling the picturesque
Place Verte, and heard the rhythmic rismg and falling
of the strophes of the Pubens Cantata composed by
Pierre Benoit,^ are not likely to forget the part that
Music played in the Rubens Centenary of 1 877. In
this Cantata there came before us m turns the " lonely
pine-tree in the cold North land," and the "Palm-tree
'mid the burning sands of the Morning-land," for in
each and every one of these lands, Art has scattered
her peace-bringing blessings broadcast. Therefore
Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia, America, all took
part in the March of the Nations ; all brought their
" Hulde an Pubens." And these all united in the
song of the Peoples of the Earth, singing with vary-
ino- words ever the same sonof, " Oh Belofium. hold
fast thy Freedom and thine Art." I conclude in
M. de Geyter's own stirring words : —

" Que riiomme soit libre, la ou il erre, la ou il demeure !
Libre, comme la ou miirmure I'Escaut !

* * * * * its-

Grand, comme la ou I'Escaut poursuit son cours !

^ " La Cantate-Eubeus." Paroles de J. De Geyter, Musique de
Pierre Benoit. Antwerp : Mees and Co., 1877.

VOL. XII. H

98 THE RUBENS CENTENARY.

Liberie et Science, I'art vous couronne !
Que I'art liabite les cliaumieres et briUe sur les tr6nes !
De la lumiere pour I'esprit et de I'air pour le cceur !
Des joies plus douces et des douleurs moins ameres !
De I'art nourri h la forte nature, de I'art qui cr6e et qui

enflamme !
De I'art comme la ou I'Escaut roule ses ondes !"

ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND VARIE-
TIES OF TURKISH POETRY.

ILLUSTRATED BY SELECTIONS IN THE ORIGINAL, AND

IN ENGLISH PARAPHRASE, WITH A NOTICE OF

THE ISLAMIC DOCTRINE OF THE IMMORTALITY

OF woman's SOUL IN THE FUTURE STATE.

BY J. W. REDHOUSE, ESQ., M.R.A.S., HON. M.R.S.L., &C.

(Eead Febriiary 12t.h, 1879.)

The " Pleasures of Imagination " are the inheritance
of the whole human race, barbarous or civihzed.
None are so untutored as not to indulece in reverie.
By some authors, poetry has been said to be the
elder sister of prose.

Europe has long been aware that the poets of
Greece and Rome were not the first on earth to
versify their thoughts.

Classical culture, however, to the virtual exclusion
of ahnost every other branch of study from our
schools, colleges, and universities for a long course
of centuries, trained the mmd of modern Europe,
notwithstanding national and linguistical divergences,
into a single system of poetical conception ; and
hence, the poetry of every modem European people
is cast in one unvarymg fundamental mould ; makes
use of the same imagery ; repeats, in spite of the
profession of Christianity, the same old pagan myths ;

h 2

100 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

and follows the same methods of rhymes and metres.
Consequently, the barriers of idiom and grammar
once surmounted, an Enghsh reader, for example,
has generally no difficulty in understanding the
poets of France, Italy, Spain, Germany, Scandinavia,
or even Eussia.

When Sir Charles Wilkins and Sh- Wilham
Jones, nearly a centmy back, first opened the eyes
of the West to the existence of Sanscrit poetry, it
was found that Greece had not been the teacher of
the whole world in what, for want of a more appropri-
ate term, we are constrained to speak of as the belles
lettres. But it was also seen that a not very remote
community of race between the authors of the
Vedas, &c., and the ^^Titer or writers of the IHad,
&c., had had, as one effect, the natural consequence,
that, on the whole, the ideas and methods of the
two branches, eastern and western, of inditing verse,
were not so radically different as to create for Eiu-o-
pean students any great difficulty in understanding
and admiring the productions of those hitherto un-
knowTi Eastern cousins, who, beginning with allusions
and metaphors drawn from regions of ice and snow,
ended m descriptions of tropical scenery and prac-
tices.

The study of Hebrew had abeady revealed, in
some of the books of the Old Testament, a style of
poetry very different, in form and matter, from
what had come down from the pagan authors of
Greece and Rome. Leaving out the form, such
portions of the matter of those books as were found
appropriate have been, more or less, turned to ac-
count, and incorporated in modern European Htera-

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 101

ture, sacred and profane. But those materials are
too scant, and their students too few, besides that
these are ah-eady meradicably tinged with the ideas
and methods of Greece and Kome, for any notable
hnpression to have been stamped on recent secular
verse throuo-h this shof'ht mtermixture.

o o

Arabian poetry has been studied with success for
several centuries ; especially in its more archaic and
pagan stages. A certam celebrity has thus been
given to it in Em'ope, as one branch of the fruits of
mental activity shown by the primitive followers of
Islam and their more immediate forefathers. The
Mu'allaqat {Suspended Poems, though the actual
meaning of the term is a subject of doubt), the Ha-
masa {Odes on Courage, (&c.), and the Agaiii {Songs),
are the best known ; others have, however, been
noticed by Western scholars.

Persian poetry has also been, to a certam very
limited extent, examined by European students.
The Shahnama {Book of Kings) of Firdawsi,- — an im-
mense mythical liistory of Persia from soon after the
Deluge to the advent of Islam, in between fifty and
sixty thousand couplets, the prose and poetical
writings of Sa'di, and the Odes of Hafiz, are those
most quoted. These authors died, respectively, m
A.D. 1020, 1292, and 1395. The fii-st is an epic, the
second a didactic, and the third an outwardlv bac-
chanalian or anacreontic, but inwardly a religious
mystic, whose writmgs must be interpreted as our
Song of Solomon. Every word m the Odes of Hafiz
has a deep, recondite, inner meaning, the natural
parallels being systematically kept up between the
details of the inward and spiritual with those of the

102 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

outward and visible, as to things and actions. To
understand this poet fully, therefore, a complete in-
sight into the mysteries of dervish-doctrine, Sufiism —
mysticism, as it is commonly called^ — must be pos-
sessed by the inquirer. Of this doctrine, a spiritual
union of man with his Maker, through man's love for
God, is the central idea, about which all others
grow and cluster. The Dervishes may be considered
a sort of Freemasons of Islam.

The Turks, the Ottoman Turks, the Tirrkish-
speaking and Turkish-writing Muslim Ottomans,
who have so vexed the soul of all Eiu"ope for the last
six centuries, who have for the last fifty years been
themselves rapidly becoming Europeanized in general
education, as in laws, naval and military science^ and
industrial enterprise ; but who, with no fault of their
own, have been so much misunderstood and mis-
represented of late by political hypocrisy, rehgious
bigotry, and classical bias, have been at all times as
successful in the poetical and literary lines as they
have been great m war and politics. Notices have
not been wanting in European writers, from time to
time, of the fact that poetry and literature were and
are successfully cultivated by the Ottoman Turks.
Their talents have frequently been spoken of in
terms of very high praise ; and specimens have been
given, with translations of some of their poets. Yon
Hammer,^ in particular, has pubhshed in German a
special work in six volumes, with extracts from more
than two thousand of them ; and again, in his history
of the Ottoman Empire, mentions at the end of

* " Hammer-Purgstall, Geschichte der Osmanischen Dichtkuust, &,c.,
with translated extracts from 2,200 Poets." Pesth, 1826-31.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 103

every reign the most conspicuous sons of verse of the
period, among whom the deceased Sultan himself has
frequently been included. Several of these sovereigns
have been poets of the liighest class ; as, for instance,
Sultan Selim I, the conqueror of Syria and Egypt,
m A.D. 1517, the &st Cahph-Sultan. His father,
Bayezid II, his grandfather, Muhammed II, the
conqueror of Constantinople m a.d, 1453, and the
highly talented and noble-minded, but misguided,
rebel prince Jem, brother of Bayezid, and poisoned
by the pope Alexander Borgia, were poets also ; and,
perhaps, of no less merit. The gift has not departed
from the Imperial line. Mahmud II was a poet, and
bore the hterary pseudonym — nom de plume — of
'Adli. His yomigest son, the late Sultan 'Abdu-'l-
'Aziz, possessed the lyric vein, and wrote an auto-
grapliic impromptu in Turkish verse m Her Majesty's
album on board the royal yacht at Spithead, on the
occasion of the naval review held there in his honour
in 1867. The friend who related the incident, and
had read the verses after they were written, could
not remember, in their entu-ety, the exact words re-
corded. The sense of then' conclusion, as fiu"nished
at the time, was simply this : " As a memento have
I inscribed my name in this book."

His Imperial Majesty's talented Minister of
Foreign Affairs, Fu'ad Pasha, who was in the suite
of his Sovereign during that joiu-ney, was a jDoet of
distmction, as was also liis father, 'Izzet Molla, one
of the Vice-ChanceUors of the Empke m the time of
Sultan Mahmiid. At some tune durmg the calami-
tous days of the Greek msurrection, before the epoch
of the destruction of the Janissaries, Navarino, and

104 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

the Russian War that led to the treaty of Adrianople
— naraely, at about the date when the Prmce, after-
wards the Sultan 'Abdu-'l-Majid was born, in 1823 or
1824 — 'Izzet Molla had incurred the displeasure of a
powerful colleague, and had been banished from Con
stantinople to the town of Keshan, situated between
Rodosto and the Lower Maritza. At his death, a
poem of about seven thousand couplets, and entitled,

according as its name, Ia^:^, niay be read or
understood, "The Suffering One," "The Sufferers,"
or "The Sufferings of Keshan," was found among
his papers, and was pul:)hshed by his grandson,
Nazim Bey, son of Fu'ad Pasha. From tliis poem,
which contains the chronogram of the birth of Sultan
'Abdu-'l-Majid, a.h. 1238, a few selections are given
among the paraphrases that illustrate this paper.
Another Turkish impromptu, here given also —
No. 1 2 of the series — was composed by Fu'ad Pasha
himself, and written by him in the album of Her
Royal Highness the Princess of Wales. The dehcacy
of appreciation and refinement of epigrammatic ex-
pression contained in this poetic gem can hardly be
surpassed.

The tender pathos of the " Elegy on a Lady," by
Fazil, found among the paraphrases — No. 2 of the
series — is of so sweetly graceful a character, that
few such productions are to be hoped for in any
language, ancient or modern. Its address to the
"Trusted Seraph," the archangel Gabriel, to "wel-
come her with smiles," is m itself a sufficient refuta-
tion to the erroneous idea so current m most Euro-
pean circles, and pointedly repeated in an address^

^ " The Gospel in the Ottoman Empire.'' A Paper read at the Meet-

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 105

read on the 2ncl of October last, at Milwaukee, to
the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign
Missions, to the effect that " the faith of Islam teaches
its followers that woman does not possess a soul."
Sale, in a paragraph of the fourth section in the
prehminary discourse to his translation of the
Qur'an,^ has long since shown this notion to be
false, and has referred to a series of texts in that
book to prove his assertion. It would be nothing
less than infamous, wilfully to make such unfounded
statements with a guilty knowledge of their falsity ;
it is still a sm and a crime to spread them abroad
thoughtlessly, wrongfully, mischievously, in ignor-
ance of their erroneous nature. The following
passages from the '*' Qiu-'an " are conclusive on the
subject : —

" God liath promised to the hypocrites and hypocri-
tesses and to the blasphemers, the fire of hell, wherein
they shall be for ever." (Chap, ix, v. 69.)

" God hath promised to the behevers and believeresses,
gardens through which rivers flow ; wherein they shall be
for ever." (Chap, ix, v. 73.)

ing of the A.B.C.F.M., at Milwaukee, October 2ud, 1878. By Rev.
N. G. Clark, D.D., Foreign Secretary of the Board. Cambridge :
Printed at the Riverside Press, 1878. (See p. 8, par. 3.)

■■' The Chandos Classics. " The Koran," &c,, by George Sale. (See
p. 80, 1. 11.) Unfortunately, the verses in the Chapters had not then
been numbered. Reference is, therefore, next to impossible. For this
reason I give the original, with chapter and verse in each case.

106 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

" These are they who shall have the perpetuity of the

mansion, the gardens of Eden, which they shall enter, and

they who have been righteous from among their fathers, and
their wives, and their offspring." (Chap, xiii, v. 22-23.)

«C-*^ •* ^ O'JC.— ^ / ^ o-^u-^

cuiy^u] J i^^uT^^ c^L-jilfT^ c^iiouT^ c^'bj'uiTj

Udic lys-l J iybU *^ all\ Acl c^M^^JJl J ^^^

" Verily for the believers and beHeveresses, the faithful
men and faithful women, the devout men and devout
women, the veracious men and veracious women, the patient
men and patient women, the meek men and meek women, the
almsgiving men and almsgiving women, the fasting men and
fasting women, they who preserve custody over their secret
parts, men and women, the frequent invokers of God, men
and women, hath God prepared forgiveness and a great
reward." (Chap, xxxiii, v. 35.)

" They and their wives, in shady places, reclining on
couches." (Chap, xxxvi, v, 56.)

" Enter into paradise, ye and your wives ; you shall be
gladdened." (Chap, xhii, v. 70.)

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 107

" That He may cause the men who have faith, and the
women who have faith, to enter into gardens through which
the rivers flow, to be therein for ever." (Chap, xlviii,
V. 5.)

" And that He may inflict torment on the hypocrites and
hypocritesses, on tlie men and women who attribute partners
unto God, the unjust towards God in their wicked imagination."
(Cliap. xlviii, v. 6.)

"On a day when thou shalt behold the believers and
believeresses, whose light shall go before them, and on
their right hand {the salutation unto them shall he) : Your glad
tidings tliis day (is) : Gardens through which rivers flow, to be
therein for ever." (Chap. Ivii, v. 12.)

c:-^:sr^ liJl^ l?j] 'i\y%\ J -y i1^l Ijyi^ t:;:'.'^ ^ ^^ S-V'

" God hath offered, as a parable for them who blasiDheme, the
wife of Noah and the wife of Lot, which two M^omen where
wedded to two righteous men, servants from among our
servants, towards whom they were disobedient, so that the
two men were of no avail for them with God : and it was
said : Enter you two into hell-fire, with them who enter."
(Chap. Ixvi, V. 10.)

108 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

" He shall roast in a flaming fire, and his wife shall be the
carrier of its firewood, with a rope of palm-fibre round her
neck." (Chap, cxi, v. 3-5.)

Another passage of the Quran, not so exphcit in
words, but equally decisive in sense, is found in the
11th and 12th verses of the 66th chapter, already
mentioned, which are as follows : —

" God hath also propounded, as an example of those who
have believed, the woman of Pharaoh ; for she said : My Lord
build Thou for me a chamber by thee in paradise, and dehver
Thou me from Pharaoh and his works, and deliver Thou me
from the unjust people ; and also Mary,* the daughter of
'Imran, who kept herself a chaste virgin, and into whose
womb We breathed of our spirit, who held for true the
words of her Lord, and His scriptures, and who was one of
the devout."

Apostohc tradition, as related concerning the
sayings and doings of Muhanunad by his personal
disciples, and handed down by successions of trusted
witnesses, is equally strong on this subject, and is
second in authority, with Musluns, only to the
Qur'an itself. For instance, he is thus reported to
have informed his followers, as pomts of incontest-
able knowledge divinely revealed to him, that

* The Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 109

certain of his deceased friends, about a dozen in
number at different times, had already been re-
warded for their earthly virtues by admission mto
the joys of heaven. Among these was his first wife,
the faithful and devoted Khadija, his first convert,
of whom he is related to have declared :

"I have been commanded to gladden Khadija with the
good tidings of a chamber of hollow pearl, in which is no
clamour and no fatigue."^

An apostolic injunction, similarly reported, and
regularly carried out as a constant practice in
the divine worship of Islam, repeated five times
daily, at least, as an incumbent duty, is that, on the
conclusion of the prescribed form of service, each
worshipper, male or female, shall offer up a voluntary
prayer, a collect, for the forgiveness of the sins of
the supphcant, and of his or her " two parents."
This is the more remarkable, since Muhammad is
reported to have declared himself expressly for-
bidden to pray for his own parents, they having
died pagans in his childhood. He wept over his
mother's grave on visiting it m his old age, but he
was inhibited from praying for God's mercy on her.

Noah and Abraham are mentioned in the Qur'an
(xiv, 42, and Ixxi, 29) as having so prayed for their
"two parents."

Another institution of Muhammad, continued to
this day, is the solemn address or sermon named

» Wustenfeld's " Ibnu-Hisham/' Vol. I, p. 156, 1. 2-3.

110 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

Khutba,*' djj-^^ and pronounced every Friday at
noon, in two parts, after the congregational service,
in every cathedral mosque, by a special functionary
(there are no ^^ priests'' in Islam), thence called

Khatib, i^^-jda^sJ^ . In the second part of this ad-
dress, a special clause is always inserted, praying for
the bestowal of the divine mercy and grace on
Fatima (Muhammad's daughter, his only child that
survived him), on his two first wives, Khadija and
'A'isha, (all three by name), on all his other wives
(without mention of their names), and on "all
resigned and believing women, living or dead."

In imitation of these two practices, it is a very
general custom for authors and copyists, Mushms,
on completing a work, to add a colophon, in which
they praise God for the mercy, and offer a prayer
for the pardon of their sins, with the extension of
mercy and grace to them in the life to come, and to
" both their parents." To this is sometimes added :
" also to my elders, to my brethren in God (whose
name be glorified), to all resigned men (muslimin)
and resigned women (muslimat), to all believing
men (mu'minin), and beheving women (mu'minat),
living or dead ; Amen ; " thus : ''

y yy "Cj "-O y -^ f^ y y y y y ^"C* «0 yy y

The following is a paragraph from the Burial

« Lane's "Modern Egy])tians ;" London, 1860, p. 89, 1. 1-7.
' From an old manuscript in my possession.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. Ill

Service of Islam, as recited over every adult female
on interment : ^

'' ■' ' '' ^ ^ ^

" 0 God, pardon Thou our living and our dead, those of us
looking on and those of us absent, our little ones and our
adults, our males and our females.

" 0 God, unto whomsoever Thou grant life, cause Thou him
to live resigned to Thy will (a Muslim) ; and whomsoever
Thou call away, make Thou him to die in the faith (a
Mu'min).

" Cause Thou this departed one to possess the solace and
the ease, the mercy and the grace.

" 0 God, if she have been a worker of good works, then do
Thou add unto her good works. And if she have been an
evil-doer, do Thou pass it over. And may security and glad
tidings surround her, with honour and privilege. And free
Thou her from the torment of the grave and of heU-fires,
causing her to dwell in the abode of the paradises, with her
children. 0 God, make Thou her tomb a garden of the
gardens of heaven ; and let not her grave be a pit of the pits

* " MawqufatI, Commentary on the Multaqa," vol. i, p. 148, 1. 14-19.

112 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

of perdition. For Thy mercy's sake, 0 Thou most compas-
sionate of the merciful."

When the defunct is an infant, a non-adult, not a
stillborn corpse, a different prayer is used, as follows;
no prayer for pardon being needed for one not re-
sponsible : —

" 0 God, make Thou her unto us a fore-runner, a means of
reward and of future provision, and an intercessor whose
supplication is acceded to."

That the idea of the coequal immortality of the souls
of women with, those of men is an ever-living prin-
ciple of faith among Muslims, is further strikingly
evidenced on the tombstones of deceased Muslim
women, which everywhere, and throughout the
whole thirteen centuries that have elapsed since the
promulgation of the faith of Islam, contain inscrip-
tions parallel to those graven over the tombs of men,
ending, hke these, with the appeal to passers-by,
that they will offer up to the throne of grace a
recitation of the " Opening Chapter " of the Qur an,

'i=^\si^\ , as a " pious work " for the benefit of the

soul of the departed one.

As a special instance of the vivacity of this belief
among Muslims in the immortality of women's
souls, it may be considered interesting if I here add
tbe original and a versified translation of a very
remarkable passage in the Biistan of Sa'di, one of
the greatest of Persia's modern poets, who died at
his native town of Shiraz in a.d. 1292, at the age

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 113

of a hundred and twenty, after having been for a
time a prisoner of Avar, a galley-slave, m the hands
of the Crusaders in Syria : —

c o >- OxO^ o y /00>^C— o -J -• c o^ o o / o-» CO ox o ^ o o^

O^ O (

Jjjjk>^j 1-j_^AjIj ij^^-V" 5 '^r: i-^^^^i--^ L::-->x-lb <i.^ '->^]

" Be ashamed, my Brother, to work deeds of sin ;
Or rebuked thou'lt be in the face of good men.
On the day thou'lt be question'd of thought, word, and deed,
E'en the righteous will quake from just dread of their meed.
In that court where the saints may w^ell crouch with dismay,
What excuse wilt thou give for thy sins ? Come now ; say !
Devout women, the Lord God who've faithfully serv'd,
Shall high precedence hold over men that have swerv'd.
Hast no shame, thou, a man, as thou call'st thyself now.
That then women shall o'er thee a preference know ?
Spite their physical hindrances, women shall then,
Here and there, through devotion, take rank before men.
Thou, excuseless, shalt there, woman-like, stand apart.
Plume thee not as a man ! Less than woman, dejDart ! " ^

Beturn we now to our Ottoman poetry.

The remaining paraphrases have, like the " Elegy
on a Lady," been taken from a treatise on Rhetoric
in Turkish, by Sulayman Pasha, the unsuccessful
general of the Sultan's forces in Rumelia dming the

» Graf's "Boustau de Saadi," p. 419, 1. 1-6.
VOL. XII. I

114 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

late war, composed by liim when a Professor in the
Military Academy of Constantinople. Two, how-
ever, must be excepted, the " Epitaph on an Officer
killed in Battle," and the address " To a Lady, with
the writer's photograph." These were furnished by
a friend, and are quite recent.

Poetry never having been an especial object of my
past research or predilection, though a choice passage
always had a high value in my esteem, I must
tender an apology to the able ^t: iters whose ideas I
have ventured to clothe in words of an alien tongue
utterly incapable to convey the many charms which
a good poet always knows so well how to blend with
his diction. The excuse for my undertakmg is to be
sought in my wish to remove from the pubhc mind
the idea that the Ottoman Turks are an ignorant,
untutored set of barbarians, void of literature, desti-
tute of poets, and lacking of statesmen, as has been
set forth of late by sundry of our public speakers.

I do not know who may have been the orator, that,
according to a letter printed in the Supplement to
the Allgemeine Zeitung, No. 194, of Friday, 13th
July, 1877, being himself "a lord who passes for
both learned and talented," communicated to his con-
stitutents the weighty information that the Turks are
a barbarous people, since they have no literature, and
have never had any poets, &c., &c. ''Da hatten wir
das erqnickende Schauspiel einen flir gelehrt und
geistreich geltenden Lord zu sehen, der seinen Wiih-
lern die wichtige Mittheilung machte : ' die Tlirken
seien audi schon desshalb ein barbarischees Volk, weil
sie gar keine Literatur besitzen, nie Dichter gehabt
haben ; u.s.w.' " I do know, however, that the

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 115

Turks possess, and have long possessed, both before
and since the foundation of the Ottoman Empire, a
body of very learned, erudite men of letters, as deeply
read as the best of our University Professors ; a
voluminous literatiue in poetry, history, science, and
fiction ; and a succession of talented statesmen, of
whom any nation might feel proud. That " learned
and talented Lord " must have relied upon the lack
of information of his audience when he gave ex-
pression to the proposition above set forth.

The remote ancestors of the Turks were, possibly,
not only the first nation that worked iron, steel, and
all metals ; but were also, perhaps, the very inventors
of writing, or its introducers into the west of Asia.
The oldest cuneiform inscriptions are in a Turanian
language, the science contained in which was so
highly valued by the neighbouring monarchs as to be
translated at theu* command into the primitive
Semitic, at a date when the Greeks were still un-
lettered barbarians. In modern times, the observa-
tory erected by order of Ulug-Beg (sometimes
written "Ulugh Beigh "), grandson of Timur, at
Samarkand, in about the year 14.30-40, where the
twelve hundred and odd stars contained in Ptolemy's
catalogue, except a few of the most southern ones,
invisible there, were re-observed and re-catalogued,
was a Turkish tribute to science. The " A Iphonsine
Tables," the first astronomical tables prepared in
Europe, between 1250 and 1284, and even then from
Arabian sources, were not published [read, printed)
until 1483 ; ^"^ while Tycho Brahes catalogue of only
777 stars was first given to the world in 1602.

" Mem. "Roy. Astr. Soc, Vol. xiii : London, 1843, p. 30, footnote (*).

I 2

116 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

Timur, though he nearly ruined the fortunes of
the Ottoman dynasty in 1402, by his defeat and
capture of Sultan Bayezid I " the Thunderbolt,"

*jjaL, was a Turk himself, and was a great patron of

learning. His " Laws " are still extant in his native
tongue, the Turkish.

Babur, his great-great-great-grandson, the con-
queror of India in 1525, was founder of the dynasty
that, erroneously known in Europe as the line of the
" Great Moguls," ruled with dwindhng power in that
country to our day. He, too, was a Turk, and wrote
his own Memoirs in Turkish. These are now being
pubhshed in India,^^ in original and in translation.

Another Tiu'kish writer of the race of Timur, was
Nizamu-'d-Din 'Ali-Shir, well known as Mir Alishir,
and by his poetical pseudonym of Newa'i. He was
the Vazir of his cousin, Husayn Mirza, Sultan of
Herat, also a descendant from Timur. He died
about the year 1500 ; and has left numerous works
on various subjects, in Turkish and in Persian, in
prose and in verse, that are highly esteemed to this
day ; especially his " Trial of the Two Languages, "-^^
in which he weighs the respective merits of the
Turkish and Persian tongues for literary purposes,
and decides in favour of the former, — of the Tm^kish.

The Tatars, too, and the Turkmans, both Turkish -
speaking peoples, have had numberless writers and
poets. Of the former, besides 'Abii-'l-Gazi, Prmce
of Khiva (born a.d. 1605), and author of the

" d^\j 'Ij • The Autobiographical Memoii-s of the Emperor Babm\

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 117

" Genealogy of the Turks," ^^y *^^^ , I will

only instance Shrihin-Giray, the last of the Khilns,
sovereigns of the Crimea, a traitor to his own
suzeram and country, a tool and dupe of the licen-
tious Catherine II of Russia, assassin of her own
husband and sovereign. There may be seen, in
Vol. 18, New Series, for 1861, of the Journal of the
Koyal Asiatic Society of Great Britam and Ireland,
in original and in translation, a " Circular Ode," by
this prince, very ingenious in its arrangement. It
is accompanied by a summary of the history of
Catherine's treacherous and sangumary theft of
Shahin's dominions. Both these authors were de-
scendants of Jingiz. As to the Turkmans, there
has been published, at the expense of the " Oriental
Translation Fund," in London, in 1842, a metrical
romance, called " Kurroglu," in Enghsh translation,
by M. Chodzko, with specimens of the original. It
is one of countless similar ballads current amonsf the
Turkish-speaking peoples of the East. Its published
title of " Popular Poetry of Persia," is somewhat
misleadmg ; for the romance is composed in the pro-
vincial Tm^kish patois of the nomadic Turkmans —
not in Persian of any sort : of which, however, some
patois specimens are also added.

The Ottoman Turks have produced an uninter-
rupted succession of excellent writers from the
earliest times to the present. Besides tlieir nu-
merous poets of repute, among whom figure a certain
number of ladies, they have had a long hne of good
historians, and crowds of writers on law, theology,
tradition, ethics, philosophy, mathematics, astronomy.

118 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

and astrology, geography, medicine, materia medica,
biography, lexicology, fiction, &c. The works of
many Turkish authors on theologico-legal subjects
are wiitten in Arabic, and those of some are in Per-
sian, as the great mystical poem known as the Mas-
nawl or Mesnevi,^^ composed at Qonya (Iconium),
by Jelalu-'d-Din, commonly called Mevlana (our
Lord), the founder of the order of dervishes known
as the Dancing Dervishes.

That the Ottomans had, like all other Eastern
nations, for the last several centuries, been content
to rest on theu" oars while Europe has been ad-
vancmg, very gradually at first, but with a rapidity
in these latter days that has become marvellous, is
quite true. But during the last fifty years, intel-
lectual activity in respect to the appHed sciences has
again been awakened in Turkey ; newspapers have
everywhere multiphed in numerous languages, to
suit the heterogeneous races that populate the
empire ; schools and colleges on modern principles,
in addition to the old and ubiquitous church and
mosque schools, have been established in every pro-
vince, among every religious community ; the mih-
tary and naval Academies may be ranked on a par
with those of most other nations ; codes of laws on
European prmciples have been elaborated, while
lawyers and judges for the administration of the
same, on the basis of perfect equality for all religions,
have gradually been forming; a Constitution has
been proclaimed, and a Parhament assembled ;
material improvement m many branches of activity

(_-&j

■^.j^ ^y^

VARIETIES OF TUUKISH POETRY. 119

has been fostered ; and, though mistakes will natu-
rally have occurred in the hurry of eagerness to im-
prove, still to those who watch the inner workings
of the machine, it is clear that considerable progress
for good has been made, though wars and foreign
intrigues, as well as " vested mterests," have tended
to clog the wheels and retard the pace. Now that
England has undertaken the very complicated task
of assisting to guide with her good counsel the
future com'se of the still great Ottoman Empire,
with its population of thirty millions under the
direct rule of the Sultan, in the well-being of which
the dearest interests, moral and material, of all
western Em^ope are indissolubly bound up, we may
at least wish and hope that all fiu-ther calculatmg
mischief may be warded oif, and that, after a reason-
able mterval, the regenerated Ottoman Empire, with
all its varied populations, will be seen standing
proudly erect, in freedom, prosperity, and happiness,
serving as a firm centre from whence may be diffused
rays of Hght and comfort to more distant and less
happily cu-cumstanced peoples.

The specimens of Ottoman Turkish poetry here
offered, in paraphrase of English verse, are fom-teen
in number, and are of various ages, from the early
part of the sixteenth century to the present time.
In three or four centuries the Ottoman Turkish
language has not had to be modernised in expression,
as English, French, and German have been. The
language was as perfect then as it is now, in the
hands of masters ; but there is as much difierence
now as there was then in the respective vernaculars
of the capital and the various provinces.

120 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

The orthography of Arabic words, whether em-
ployed m the Arabic, the Persian, the Turkish, or
any other MusHm language, has never admitted or
required modification, from the pre-Islamic days
downwards. The spelling of the Persian has also
been unalterably fixed for the last thousand years or
so ; with the addition that, unlike Arabic words,
which permit no modification, the long vowels in
Persian vocables may be rejected for the sake of
metre, and interchanged to a certain extent for the
sake of rhjnue. The former privilege is utilized m
Persian words by Ottoman poets ; the latter is used
by, Persians only. The spelling of Turkish words by
Ottomans, and by their Eastern cousins, has not this
absolute fixity ; more especially as regards the use
of vowel-letters. These, which are not then always
long, as they are m Arabic and Persian, are more or
less optional, bemg sometimes inserted, and some-
times omitted, even by the same writer ; and
especially in poetry, for the sake of metre.

Unlike Enghsh, French, and other Western lan-
guages again, in which all Greek and Latin words,
adopted or compounded, are more or less divergently
modified in orthography and pronunciation, to suit
the usage of each, or for example, eVtcr/coTros, vescovo,
eveqiie, hischqf, bishop, &c. ; and unlike even the
Arabic, which, in adopting Persian or Turkish
words, always more or less modifies and disfigures
them, as does the Persian in adoptiag Turkish
words, the Persian takes all its Arabic words and
expressions, and the Turkish all its Arabic and
Persian words and expressions, exactly as found in
the originals, without altermg a suigle letter in any

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 121

one of them. We use Latiii and French or Itahan
words in this way to a certain very Hmited extent, as
when we employ such expressions as crux, lapis-lazuU,
lapsus lingucB, lusus natures, ad hoc, ij^se dixit, &c. ;
laissez-faire, &c. ; chiaroscuro, &c. ; but these are
then always marked as foreign importations.

What the Ottoman scholar does with his borrowed
Arabic and Persian words, exactly as educated
English people do with their Greek and Latm terms,
is to pronounce them in a way of liis own ; and
always so as to soften down the asperities of the
horribly guttural Arabic, and of the much vaunted,
but really very harsh Persian. The Ottoman Turkish
is a beautifully soft, melodious speech, with eleven
different short vowel soimds, most of which may be
made long also. This is a fuller supply of vowel
power than is possessed by any other tongue known
to me ; though, to judge from the written repre-
sentations, ancient Greek must have been rich m this
respect. Russian is perhaps the best off for vowels
of modern Eiu-opean languages ; though the French
vowel u is wantmg in it, as in Enghsh and Italian.
Russian, as Tiurkish, has eleven vowels ; or rather,
it has eleven vowel letters, while French has seven
vowel sounds, and Italian only five. Four of the
Hussian vowel letters are, however, mere duphcates
of four others, with a consonantal y somid preceding
the vowel. This adscititious sound of consonantal y
is much used in Turkish also, but only after the
letters k, ^, and ha7'd g, ^. It is of frequent
occurrence in English, too ; though, as in Turkish,
it has no written representative. Thus we write
tune, and pronounce tyune, &c.

122 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

Turkish poetry follows the system and very
numerous rules of metre and rhyme elaborated by
the Arabs, and added to by the Persians. The
metres are extremely multitudinous ; and the
" feet " are of much greater variety than in Greek
and Latin verse. The rhyming system has two
principal branches ; the one is of Arabian origin,
the other is, I think, Persian. In the Arabian

method, the terminations of all the distichs ( ,^i^^

l;:,-ooJ rhyme with one another and also, for the
most part, with the' termination of the first hemi-

^^^,-.2^, ^]/-^) of the opening distich. This

" opening distich," of which the two hemistichs
rhyme with one another, has a special technical name

«_iiu), f-i^)> i^ot borne by the opening distich of
a piece of poetry in which the two hemistichs do not
rhyme together, as is sometimes seen. In the Persian
system, on the contrary, the terminations of the
distichs do not rhyme with one another ; but those
of the two hemistichs in each distich are m rhyine.
This Persian arrangement bears the Arabic name

of Masnawi i^yxLA ; in Turkish, Mesne vi ; and this

means consisting of paired rhymes. This name is
applied, par excellence, to the great mystic poem by
Jelalu-'d-Din of Qonya lately mentioned. Arabian
poetry, as in Persian and Turkish pieces, is some-
times found without an " opening distich " in which
the hemistichs rhyme. Such pieces are styled

"fragments" (ijtlajj, ixki).

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 123

Metrical compositions bear various names, accord-
ing to their respective lengths. Thus, there is the

single metrical hemistich (cj^^j, in which rhyme

cannot, of course, be considered. Many a solitary
sentiment is thus expressed. Next comes the

distich or couplet Ic:-^), of two rhyming hemi-
stichs, and forming the complete expression of a
sentiment more or less compounded. Then we have

the tetrastich i^\ij), always in Arabian rhyme,

though sometimes the third hemistich rhymes pre-
ferentially also with the other three. Many beauti-
ful sentunents are expressed in this very favourite
form. Almost every poet's collected works contain

a chapter of tetrastichs ( cijU^Ij^ j. The " fragment "

has already been defined ; it may be of two or of

any greater number of distichs. The " Ode " ( ^\js^\

always in Arabian rhyme, with a regular openmg
distich, may contain from seven to twelve distichs,
in the last of which the poet must give his name.

The " Idyl " (aJUw^'j, also in Arabian rhyme, is of
thu'teen distichs and upwards. There are, further-
more, poems arranged in strophes or stanzas, the
strophes consisting each of an equal number of
distichs, generally from five to ten, arranged in
Arabian metre with an opening distich : but the
various strophes need not be of the same rhyme.
Of the same metre they must be throughout any
one such poem ; and the last distichs of the several
strophes must rhyme with one another, something
like oxvc '' chornsJ' This rhyme may be the same

124 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

with that of the first strophe, though this is
not obhgatory ; and the last distichs of aU the
strophes may be repetitions of the same words in
each ; though tliis, too, is optional. A separate
special name is given, technically, to such poem
according to the reciurence or non-recurrence of the
same words in these last distichs of the strophes

According to the subjects, there are epics and
lyrics, songs (,^_s^"» dj^i ^^j^j, anacreontics, eulo-
giums ( a;Ajs-.v< j, satires i^), lampoons, elegies, dirges
(<uo^V anthems (,^^■'0, ballads, epigrams, chrono-
grams (*C;bK enigmas (l^t^j, facetiae (c:-;Ulj5>j, and

what not, in as great profusion and variety as in
any other known tongue. This is not, however, the
place for an exhaustive survey of the subject.
Enough has already been said, perhaps, to convict
of very unguarded venturesomeness, the " learned
and talented " orator who had denied to a gifted
nation its meed of well-deserved literary reputa-
tion, and who deduced from his false premises
the unfounded and utterly irrelevant conclusion
that " they are therefore a barbarous people." In-
stances are by no means lacking among ourselves to
show that learning and talent do not always " soften
manners." It would not, then, be mse or true to
retort that " because the Turks possess a voluminous
literature, as old at least as that of England's ver-
nacular, and because they have now, as they always
have had, poets by the score, therefore they are a

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 125

civilized race." Civilization, after all, is something
like orthodoxy : " Mine is genuine ; all others are
spurious." Learned Turks, Persians, Chinese, &c.,
in theu' isolation and pride of pedantry, usually look
upon us Europeans as unlettered savages, because we
do not speak, read, and write their languages. Ought
we, cosmopolitan as we fondly think ourselves, and
as we really are in comparison, to show ourselves as
narrow in our views, as unjust, and as uncharitable,
as they undoubtedly are in this respect ?

I have met with a very pertinent anecdote in
D'Herbelot's " Bibliotheque Orientale," voce " Ah-
med Basha," which shows to what an extent, and
in what olden time, poetry was commonly cultivated
among the Ottoman Turks, and employed on all
manners of occasions.

" Ahmed Pasha, known as Hersek-Oglu, from his
being a son of the Christian prmce, Stephen, Duke of
Bosnia, was brought up as a Turkish Muslim. He
became son-in-law to Sultan Bayezid the Second, one
of whose generals he was," and was four times Grand
Vazir. " He was a good Turkish poet. Being one
day in a public bath, where he was waited on by a
number of handsome young slaves, a satirist there
present composed a lampoon to this effect :

" Le Ciel est maintenant bien deshonore,
Puisque les Anges soiit obliges de servir le Diable.

" The Pasha avenged himself, poetically, by answer-
ing with the following squib :

" Le Ciel etait aveugle ; et il est maintenant devenu sourd ;
Car il n'est plus reste de niuets dans le monde, depuis
qn' un cliacun se mele de faire des vers."

126 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

It were devoutly to be wished that D'Herbelot
had given the original Turkish, as he sometimes does
with Arabic and Persian sentences and verses.

Proceed we now to our specimens, beginning with
the oldest.

I. — Concluding Strophe of an Elegy on Sultan
Sehm I ; by his contemporary, 'Ashiq-Pasha-Zada.
(This monarch reigned less than nine years, and
died A.D. 1520.)

o c- * -^ -» ^ o o '

o
o

v^^*^ C_^'^i J>J c!y'> LJ^ CJv^^ui iJ^*a-: oAjI^^*.;:^:^^,'.^

^^*j J ^L' (iKj\ ^^j^\\ j^ ^^i j^\ j<^ al>J^" j _lj

C ^ A OCX /C-* / o oo ' ^ o o c^

C O ox /O-x XO O^ C -^Ox /Cx X o

O O O -» X O Ox Ox o-»''»^ 0-*0 OxOx^

O Ox 0-*XO^ Oxx Ox O OOx xxOxO^ OCX

111 energy an ardent youth, in prudence an old man ;

Of sword, the lord, in figlit ; successful each adopted plan.'*

1^ Lit. "Loixl of the sword, hitting of plan"; i.e., a warrior and a
statesman.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 127

With armed hosts, a strategist : a Solon in debate ;

No captain needed, but himself ; no Councillor of State.

His hand a trenchant falchion was; his tongue, a dagger's

blade ;
A lance's beam, his arm ; his finger dread as arrow's shade.
In briefest space wide conquests made ; his word as law was

met ;
Sun of his age ; — but ev'ning's sun, long-shadow'd, soon to set.
Of crown and throne most princes boast, and pomp of outward

pow'r ;
His diadem and seat rejoic'd to own him his short hour.
His heart's core revel' d in that grand and solemn festival.
Where trumpets sound the charge, and swords play out their

carnival.
In bus'ness of the battle-field, in pleasure of the feast.
His like the spheres have ne'er beheld, from greatest down to

least.
When striding forth to banquet-hall, a radiant sun he shone ;
When rushing to the scene of strife, his voice the lion's tone.
As evermore the shouts of war : Seize ! Hold ! roll o'er the

bourn,
The sabre shall recall him ; still, with tears of blood him mourn.
Alas for Sultan Selim ! Ha ! And yet again, Alas !
Let poet's pen deplore his death ; and war's blade weep his

loss !

This is no bad specimen of an elegy. Like some
of our ancient heroes, Selim v^as " wise in council,
valiant in the field " ; like champions of old, he was
"potent in fight and feast." But the whole strophe
is, furthermore, beyond its plain verbal meaning, a
very model of those parallels of sense and assonance
so mucli prized in the East. Every sentence is
nicely balanced ; each word has its counterpart.
The passage deserves careful study as an exquisite
example of the best style of Turkish poetry. Its

128 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

date is seventy years before that of Spenser's
" Faerie Queene."

II. — Elegy on a Lady ; by Fazil.

^^^^ ^j?j ^^ '^l^ LAi,V ^^'^ U^^^ u.':^!; i-?^

Alas ! Thou'st laid her low, malicious Deatli ! — enjoyment's

cup yet half unquafF'd ;
The hour-glass out, thou'st cut her off, disporting still in life's

young spring !
0 Earth! Ail-fondly cradle her. Thou, Trusted Seraph,

welcome her with smiles !
For this fair pearl the soul's love was, of one who is a wide

world's king.

For tender pathos, this is the gem of the selection.
If poetic power were an antidote to fierce and hate-
ful passions, nothing " unspeakable " or " anti-
human " could have been looked for in the breast
of the master who could pen such sweetness. In
the original, Death is apostrophized as the " Cup-
bearer of the Spheres," with a double allusion. Like
Hebe of old, a cup-bearer is supposed to be young
and beautiful, capricious, and cold-blooded ; often
breaking the heart of one who might fall in love
with him or her ; and also, as sometimes oflering a
lethal cup. Death, then, is Fortune and Fate in
one. The " Trusted Seraph " is the archangel
Gabriel, held to be trusted by God with all His

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 129

revelations to the prophets, and to hold the ofEce
of receiving and introducing saints to heaven.
Hence, he is kindly to receive the deceased, and
conduct her to her allotted place in paradise. But
the address to the Earth — our " cold earth " — how
beautifully is the grave turned into a tender, loving
mother's lap or bosom, where the lately romping,
now sleeping child is to be kept nice and cozy,
fondly, as befits also the much-prized, beloved bride
of a great monarch.

III. — A Quotation ; by 'Izari.

C / O ^^ - -•' -^^_ ^A X O Ox O O C -* xA X O

I W -«0 X XX x'Ji X X- O^-" X OxOxO

Tormenting, threatening, here, .stands my deep love for her :
There, jealous rivals spy my ev'ry breath ;
With which to grapple first, I know not well :
" From battle, murder, and from sudden death,

Good Lord, deliver us ! "

The original passage, which I have paraphrased
from om' Litany, is taken from the Qur'an, ch. II,
V. 197 : " Save thou us from the torment of hell-fire,
O our Lord ! " May I hope that my quotation may ap-
pear sufiiciently apt, though perhaps less incisive than
the origmal ? The Scylla and Charybdis of fire, from
which the poet prays for deliverance, are the " fire of
love, on one side," and the burning irritation caused
"on the other side," by the "jealous rivals" who
seek to supplant him. There is an ingenious play
upon the original Avord here rendered by " gi'apple."
In Turkish it has two meanings, to catch Jive and to
stntggle with another. Both senses are apposite ;

VOL. XII. K

130 ON THE HISTORY; SYSTEM, AND

but I have not found a word in Englisli that will
convey them both at once : "In wliich fire shall I
biu-n 1 " or, " With wliich shall I grapple 1 "

IV. — A Simile criticised ; by Husni.

C ^ ^ O -» O'' o ^ o / o -» o o ^ ^ ^ y

il)^ \\ LjJ-V J^1*^J^ U^r^"^^ f**^.*^ S-^^ (J^-^ ^Vl ^— ^

I liken'd the lips of my love to the ruddy corneHan stone.
My critical friends thus objected, — 'twas relish'd, forsooth, by

not one :
" A dry fragment of flint is this latter, in Arabia Petrsea so rife ;
" The former's the ever fresh margin around the one Fountain

of Life."

An instance of the rhetorical figure by which
praise is added to and heightened, when a different
intention is foreshadowed. The " Fountain of Life,
Water, Stream, River of Life," is an Oriental myth,
made use of m Revelation xxii, ver, 1. We shall
see it alluded to again in No. 9. This " Fountain "
or " Water " is supposed to exist in a land of " Dark-
ness," and to have been \T.sited by Alexander the
Great, or by his Eastern " double," known as the

" Two-Horned One," .^ Ji]^ . J, in a journey to the
extreme East, though he was diverted from drinking
thereof, and so acquiring immortahty as Elias had
done. A lover may well be supposed to liken
his sweetheart's lips to the margin around a life-
giving fount, when the word of consent, his " Stream
of Life," is hoped or wished for from her mouth.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 131

V. — The Alternative ; by 'Akif Pasha.

Should disappointment track my fondest wish,

Then, let this mocking universal wheel

Into perdition's gulf chaotic reel ;

Its sun, its moon, its stars, in one fell swoop^

Losing all semblance of identity,

May crash away to sheer nonentity !

'Akif Pasha was Minister for Foreign Affairs
about the year 1836, and sent to prison, for trial,
an English merchant, resident in a suburb of Con-
stantinople, who had accidentally, but very incau-
tiously, wounded a Turkish child, by firing through
the fence or hedge of his garden, while shooting
birds there. The child was feeding a pet lamb in
the lane, a pubhc thoroughfare. The matter was
taken up by the Ambassador ; the Pasha was dis-
missed, and the merchant substantially indemnified.
As to the child — perhaps.

This couplet is an instance of the great amount of
meaning that can be condensed mto a few Turkish
words of intense power.

VI. — An Imprecation ; by Fazli.

O y "Ci-* ox 0''0-*v* o^ X ^ Ox o

^..j) '-'^ t^ ^"^ C^Hr" ^.J jy^-^ ^J^ o'^ Jr^rl

c o

K 2

132 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

c
o

Fall down, thou dome of highest heaven ;

Die out, 0 Sun, from th' azure vault ;
Break up, thou elemental leaven ;

Eound of the seasons, be at fault I

Flee, countless host of ghtt'ring stars ;

Eclipse thyself with speed, 0 moon ;
Weep, cloud ; — thy tears the raindrop showers ;

Eoar, thunderclaps ; — growl, mutter, moan !

Break, dawn ; — 0 burst thy heartstrings downright ;

Drown, morn, thy bosom in blood's bloom ;
In weeds of mourning drape thyself, night.

And shroud thy face in deepest gloom ! ^^

This piece is rendered line for line. It is arranged
in stanzas, in the paraphrase, as being better suited
for the extent of the composition. The scenery will
be admitted to be grand and the antitheses most
appropriate.

I have now completed my selections from the
treatise on Rhetoric, and proceed to give some longer
specimens from the poem by Tzzet Molla. They are
of a much higher grade of intellectual power, and
are excellent examples of the deep religious mys-

« Compare ScliiUer's " Wilhelm TeU," iv, 1 :

"Easet, ihr Winde ! Flammt herab, ihr Blitze !
Ihr Wolken, bei-stet ! Giesst lierunter, Strome
Des Himinels, uud ersiiuft das Land ! Zerstbrt
Im Keim die ungeboreueu Geschlechter !
Ihr wilden Elemente, werdet Hen- ! "

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 133

ticism that pervades so much of the poetry of Persia
and Tiu'key.

VII.— The MhTor ; by 'Izzet MoUa.

0^0

o So

C Ox uJ Ox XO Ox Ox X

0^0 Ox OOX O^ X Ox xxOx^

O X X -*Ox xOX XO-* X 0-*x

j^ljl?^ t-^r^' f-i-^ iU>u*^-. ij;W.'^ S-'yV

O So ox o ox OxxOx Owi Ox x

My mirror shows that matter's forms are but a passing shade ;
With its mute tongue it inculcates the truth that all must fade.
So purely bright, it takes no stain from glint of outward

things ;
My mirror thus may adumbrate the souls of virtue's kings.

134 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

As sage of old, my mirror's sheen, proceeding from one Source,
Expounds to me the mystic theme : All nature runs its

course !
A candid friend, it ever proves its ore's integrity ;
The mirror pictures to my mind nought else but verity.
For man's inconstant moods and states, to praise or blame the

spheres.
Is folly ; — not the mirror, 'tis the face one loves, reveres.
No trace remains for long from good or evil work of man ;
The mirror's still an emblem true for his life of a span.
Like poet's heart, confronted with a thing of beauty, bright,
His mirror instantly evolves a counterpart, of light.

Can anything be conceived more philosophically
poetical than the unages offered in this beautiful
ode ? The Turkish words used are as choice and
sublhxie as the theme and sentiments demand. My
paraphrase is lameness itself in comparison, as even
the best versions of good poetry ever must be.
" Vu'tue's kings " is my forced rendering for the
author's " men of ecstacy ;" by which is meant true
dervishes, spiritual dervishes, — men who, through
striving after God alone, mth all their soul and all
their strength, are utterly unpressionless to outward
visitations of weal or woe. The term "ore," in the
seventh line, refers to the olden fact of metallic
mirrors ; though, of com'se, a silvered glass mirror
has equally its " ore," from which it is made. The
" integrity " is its freedom from impujrity, flaw, or
defect of any kind. The " spheres " are supersti-
tiously held by many to exercise " influences " on
mundane and human affairs. The world, the
material world, is here the " mirror " m which thmgs
and events witnessed, are but the percej^tible re-
flexions of a face, which is the divine power of God,

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 135

— is God liimself, the "Causer of Causes (c_-ou--*
^->U-;^JT V" the Ultimate Cause of all. The poet no

sooner perceives a thing that excites his adroiration,
than he celebrates it m song.

If the men, — and women, too, now-a-days, — who
" S23eak Tiu'kish fluently," who have been " long
resident m the country," or " born in the country,"
and from whom our casual travellers, even though
" learned and talented," necessarily derive their
imperfect or utterly erroneous information, could
read a word of any Turkish writing, or could com-
prehend the phrases of such Turkish compositions as
tliis beautiful poem, when read to them by another,
theu^ communications to travellers would wear
another aspect ; and both the tales of travellers, and
letters of correspondents, would have a better chance
of coinciding with facts and truth, than now comes
witliin the sphere of their consciousness. Alas !
written Turkish, the language of Turkish men of
education, is to almost all Europeans, as it is to
nearly the whole of the native Christian population,
an mistudied, unknown tongue ; not even excepting
our official mterpreters, as a general rule.

VIII. — The Brook and the Tree ; by Tzzet Molla.

\xiy>- SSjJlI^ (_>jli.l>- ivs}iJji_cl ^'
,\ij_^ ^-(j^ ^'i.^^ 'ULiLz lJ^^ a*^^'
ifjb i^\ J\^j J^ Jj^ j^j ^^-^

136 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

X>i,y>- i'ioSii\ i^_^'} ^J7!•^ ^4;-' ^-?

,,Jt, ,^ , fi^l^-j t^jJil iJ.A>- Oai

.Ijl)»J?" ifJui'L) ^^x^ ^^jJj^ij! j\(U

<^ y L, y CO/^ ^ OO.' 0-»0>'

.Ijo»5^ :fJaj '-r'^j^ ^^.y u^^^^

Apace my tears flow'd as I scann'd the scene.
So gush'd a babbling brook in meadow green ;
Whose waters purl'd and murmur'd as they mov'd,
In circles round about a tree it lov'd.

From thence till now, each spring, in season, yields
Sweet recollection of yon brook, tree, fields.
A wand'rer then I was, distraught with woes ;
That streamlet seem'd to writhe in mazy throes.

Like trickling sap from wood in oven cast,
]\ly tears the outpour of a llaming breast.

VAEIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 137

Hast never witness'd such ? A hearth survey.
Its ashes symbolize my heart's decay.

A rosebud maid, indifF'rent to my pain,

Drew forth my tears. The log, for native plain

Weeps, burning ; — an exile, from forest torn.

Both shame the brook ; — we laugh its stream to scorn.

Or else, perchance, that river rose, a host,
To sliield the frontiers of a land, else lost,
Bursting all barriers, like my tearful tides,
Afield ; its flood time past, like them subsides ; —

A headstrong bully in spring's overflow ;
A humble mendicant in summer's glow. —
Know, poet ! as that brook thus seeks its Source,
It does but mimic thy pen's streaming course.

The poetical idea of a brook loving and courting
a tree, a cypress, growing on its bank, recalls Moore's
pretty verse :

" If I were yonder wave, my dear,

And thou the isle it clasps around,
I would not let a foot come near
My land of bliss, my fairy ground."

This, and a construing the meanderings of the
stream into the agony of an impatient or jealous
lover ; the poetical exaggeration in comparing tears
and the sap-drops of burning firev^ood to a river ;
and the clunax of darkly alluding to the origin of
the brook, through the ram-cloud, in the distant
ocean, to v^hich it hastes to return, with a comparison
of this to the action of the poet's pen, which, in all
its copious effusions, seeks but to render tribute to
the great hidden Source of all entity, form the very
striking motives of this beautiful poem. In the

138 ON THE HISTOilY, SYSTEM, AND

passage rendered : " Bursting all barriers," there is,
in the original, a clever play on the word hag, which
in Turkish means a bond, hand, tie, tether, chain,
fetter, but in Persian a garden, park, ivoodland.
The river b\u"sts from the wooded hills, the poet's
tears, like a chained madman in confinement, burst
their bonds, and both escape on their wilful course.

IX. — Eulogy of the Pen ; by 'Izzet Molla.

^_\j (*i^ ijlx.il o-^J j^4^ iidi-jlj S-'j^j^ '■^y J <— '^ (^

Jill J ^&^\^ ^^s:i-\j£ ^'i i^'^j'^'^ iJuuL|T ^

^^A^Uui (JJ^AJX-jI y^^ j^^\ i^'^ ^ '-r'^ jl j^ J^'->

O Ov*OxO-* Oxv# ^^ o 0-*0x Oxx ^ ^

Cxx O OxOxO Ox Oxx Ox O Ox OxOx

O x^ Ox OxxO O X Ox O -» Ox // o-^ O ^-^ ^

^Uj»-y J;t.-;1 ^U y& J^?^ uW=r LJ^^ (^ ^"^J J-^-J^

^ J ^ ijjjbj JLl jti *xa11 ^j ^ ;j:yjto jj jl

^ X Oxx ox O O OX / XXX OXXO x O x ^ o ' x

A^^ ( J.U^ Jjbl ^ *J^ J^-c cUi'lj J^i^^l jl^is^ e/^"^

-xox xxOx xOx o XX Ox-^ xo ^x (/ Oxx

OxxOxO OxO X OxOx Ox Ox- C x O x O x

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 139

^l<xx3 j^iAJjil .Wi-* jjJl CT^J J^T^ O*^' i;^.^ J^

00^ ^O-* 'O^O "-* Ox OOXXO-* O-J 0"ilxyJx

By seraph " Pen " at Nature's birth,

On " Tablet " of God's providence

All inefiaceably inscribed,

The fiat of Omnipotence

Was : " Be ! " Hence rose this wond'rous chain.

God, in His sacred scripture, swears, —
Nor vainly swears, — thus : " By the Pen I "
That Pen the centre was, we see,
Of being. Otherwise our ken
Had not existed. All were vain.

God then proceeds to swear once more :

" By what they write ! " The reed pens now

140 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

Are made the " Darkness," whence comes forth
The " Stream of Life," whose waters flow
From inkhorn fount, drawn by man's brain.

The fluid of that sacred source,
Transform'd by genius into fire
Of spirit-stuTing words, the fruits
Of lofty thoughts, man's noblest hire,
Wells up and overflows amain.

Not ev'ry Alexander may
Achieve a taste of that blest spring ;
Th' elect alone, the favour'd few,
Its waters to their lips may bring,
To send it forth a living train.

Though swart its hue, the dark reed pen
Diffuses light, — a glorious sun ;
No climes but what its fruits enjoy,
No land but where its workings run.
Maturing still sweet wisdom's grain.

No time but where the pen records
Th' events or tales that mark its course,
The sov'reign's triumphs, battles, feasts.
It speaks aU tongues with equal force ;
No " Truchman's " aid need it retain.

It travels far, is prized by all, —
This son of Persia's torrid shore,
The judge it is whose firm decrees
Respected stand for evermore ; —
Its mandates legists must maintain.

The pen's a patron, in the sense
That from it flows or " Yea " or " Nay."
Dumb it remains with worthless wights :
Grows eloquent, wit's flashes play.
When talent prompts the fervid strain.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 141

With awkward scribblers, one and all,
It splutters, blurts, befouls the page ;
Like well-train'd courser, on it speeds,
Wlien guided by a master sage.
Who knows to check or slack the rein.

Capricious, true, its moods are found, —
Now garrulous, now taciturn ; —
At times dilates on tresses dark,
As wishing ev'ry curl to learn ;
At times one hair will give it pain.

None dare dispute the pen's great pow'r ;
The author notes, obeys its rules.
Contemporary with each age,
It settles all disputes of schools ;
None, of its judgments, e'er complain.

Tongue cannot tell its magic force ;
Its powers no mind can well conceive.
The pen's throughout the world renow^n'd ;
All men, with thanks, its gifts receive ;
And all its debtors must remain.

Its stream sometimes will fail at need ;
The pen will flag through lack of food ;
Nor can its strength recruited be.
Save by renewal of ink's flood.
Then it resumes its work again.

Taking no thought about itself.
The parent stork to callow brood
Its blood gives up. Just so the pen
To paper yields its store of food,
A tribe of ofispring to sustain.

Nay, more ; — if but a trace be left
Of moisture, this the scribe will sue ;
His greedy lip claims as a fee,
What justly is the wiper's due.
So, authors, fares your scanty gain.

142 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

God bless the poet who has said,
To paint this subject with due care :
" The public voice a proverb has :
" ' The more man shows of talent rare,
" ' Less daily bread may he obtain.' "

The composition of this poem appears to have
been called for by the author's admiration of a
panegyric he had just before indited in praise of
Saltan MahmCid, through which he had hoped to
obtain his recall from banishment, but in which hope
he was as yet for some months doomed to disappoint-
ment. The " Eulogy of the Pen " exhibits a great
exuberance of imagination ; but its subject was only
half worked out, as our next specimen, the " Answer
of the Pen," will show.

The religious myth, with allusion to which the
poem commences, of the " Pen," the " Tablet," and
the " Fiat,'" is based, partly on the text, eight times
repeated m the Qur'an (ch. ii, v, 3 ; iii, 42, 52 ;
vi, 72 ; xvi, 42 ; xix, 36 ; xxxvi, 82 ; and xl,
70), of; "Be; and it is": — a parallel to the
biblical text : He spake ; and it was clone " (Ps.
xxxiii, 9) ; where " done " is prmted in itaUcs, as
not being in the original Hebrew ; partly on the
first verse of the sixty-eighth chapter of that volume :
" By the Pen ! And, by what they write ! " and
partly, again, on sundry other texts dispersed over
the book. The myth is as follows : God, in all
eternity, contemplated the perfection of a saint,
entertained a divine love for the conception, resolved
upon realizing it, and issued His fiat : " Be."
Hereupon, the potential essence of the prophet,

Muhammad, the "Beloved of God (i^\ k^ju^j

VARIETIES OF TUHKISH POETRY. 143

before all worlds, the seraphic " Pen," and the
" Hidden Tablet," starting into an eternal existence,
the Pen inscribed the fiat on the Tablet, and thus
became the means of all created existences, — "this
wondrous chain " of spiritual and material beings, —
that were called from non-entity in order to the pro-
duction and glorification of that saintly conception.
By that Pen does God swear in the passage men-
tioned. The actors indicated in the second clause of
the oath : " By what they write ! " is by some ex-
plained as the transcribers of the Qur'an, by others as
the " Recording Angels," who note do^vn men's
thoughts, words, and deeds, for use at the final
judgment.

Of the " Stream of Life " and the " Darkness "
I have spoken before, in No. 4. But here, in con-
nection with the " pen," ink is made a " stream of
life," the inkhorn its " fount," the pen its channel,
and writings its branches, carrying intellectual Hfe
everywhere. The mention of Alexander is also
explained in No. 4.

" Truchman" was, in bygone days, the accepted
form of the title now written drogman or dragoman.
All three are corruptions of the word terjinndn,
"(IrJ' which the Egyptians pronounce with hard g :
targiimdn, and which signifies an interpreter.
This word tei^jiimdn is Arabic, but derived from the
Syriac or Hebrew. It is used in all Muslim lan-
guages. The drogmans in Turkey and elsewhere,
other than those of some of the embassies, are
usually a very ignorant race, who jabber a kind of
broken hngo that is taken for fluent speakmg by
the uninitiated. Of the first rudiments of reading

144 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

and writing the various Muslim tongues they are
entirely innocent, even when born in the country.

The reed pens used all over the world of Islam
for writing, are brought from Persia and carried
everywhere by itinerant merchants of that country.
The " hair " in a pen's nib is a well-known source
of annoyance to writers. It makes a pen " sick."

The ink used in the East is very different from
what we are acquainted with. It is more of the
nature of " Indian ink," and is a compound of lamp-
black, gum, and water. The inkstand is provided
with a certain quantity of the rougher fibres of silk
found on the exterior of cocoons. This absorbs the
ink, prevents its too rapid evaporation, and makes
it somewhat portable in special inkstands. The silk
further forms a soft cushion, on which the trans-
versely truncated nib of the reed pen impinges in
dipping for ink, and is so shielded from becoming
bruised against the silver, brass, china, or earthen-
ware bottom of the inkstand. The ink will, how-
ever, from time to time, become too thick. It then
requires the addition of a few drops of water to
restore its requisite degree of fluidity. The very-
common trick of " sucking " a pen is cleverly turned
to account ; as also the mere vehicular function of
the pen itself With the sly poke at patrons and
pubhshers, not to forget their satellites, many an
author will be found to sympathize all over the
world.

X. — The Pen's answer to the Poet.

uy^'-i

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 145

»• COx O-^ OxO

c^'^jij^- j

O /^ y y -.* O y'O ^ (^ y y ^ y y <.j y ^y y y^ OX-'

^l|j :*l>IaS' (J-'^^ ^^\i ^J Li^'l'l* ci-o.jy' £U*,'il;^ ^fi

C O-^ -'Olx' -^Oo^ .: yy L> O y L'Ci y y C/OC-' ^

y -^ y - '^yy ^^ y

c^:^ U^^ J;^ J-9.^^.| ^-^ t^J-' o^^''^-' C>^ ^""""^.^ S^^-"

K^y OvJ^v* O y^L>yyf^yyL,y xO -^ <^ y Oj^

1a:5- j^K ^^^ i_fS:S.^ Aj \SX!\ tU*.*.!^^ J^-^"* '''O'^J

ii^^'^j* j^ j^iLfel^ ^jj (^i^j\h i ^^ sx'i^^ \^^jj^j>' ^-'**M

y y y y ^ y ^ y y* y

O y y (^ ^ i^ y L, O ^o-*0-» O-"-^ O xo^Oy'

CI^'l^^A-Clajoi^J Jw\,*l^ l^_.rsn.3 '■^'^-s- t-Jl o-V^jI; ii^jllX^u^J

o -i^ ^ ^ C O -^ — ^ O J^ '^ /■' " '■'''' '-' ^

j_j-r ^-'^' (J^- j J-^ o'^-^j^ j_j-jS' ^j^} aJU^j jiL |^_<^'-^

o /o ^o /o V c,-»^ 0*^0 o oo <^ y' L. y

L-S\ :ijhj J A.,^^^ ^S.*jJt L^^ L-j\^\ L^d^A fjL^\ .As^ A>-

o o

VOL. XII. L

146 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

'-' -^ o « / O-^O/ ^ O O -^ O-^ L, y y L> y O -^yf^y f^yy

CO JO

o^--"0 i o o^^ ^ o^-' '- ^o ^joo^

Your praises, poet, touch my heart :
They're proofs of kindest favour felt ;
Could envious railers silenced be.
By disappointment on them dealt,
'Twould be a happy end attain'd.

What virtue is there in me found, —
A stick, a straw, of no account ?
With humble broom I might be rank'd ;
But men of talent made me mount,
And gave a worth, not else retain'd.

I never should have found my tongue,
Had I been left in native pool ;
Could I have learnt each word, each term,
That noble science makes her tool,
Had I a rustic still remain'd ?

What thing am I to have a pow'r ?
My strength is in the guiding hand
Of genius. Ye, men, lend us fame.
The only true lords of the land
Are they who have the right maintain'd.

How many of my fellow reeds
Are to the weaver's web confin'd !
Wliilst thou, my poet, teaching me, —
By God to thy fair charge consign'd, —
Far nobler duties hast explain'd.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 147

Tliou'st set me free from abject use ;
Thus bow I down on wisdom's floor,
Bathing my head in hallow'd rill,
That sanctifies me to adore
The Pow'r before whom all must bend.

Prostrate, with forehead in the dust, —
As on pray'r-mat, on paper prone, —
My soul pours forth in words of fire ; —
I beg for humble needs alone,
Or glory give where justly claim'd.

Did not the scribe me first baptize

In font of learning, had I zest

To oft repeat the " Word of God,"

Or formulate the soul's behest

In prayers, from Saints of old retain'd ?

By yielding service to the wise,

I've 'scap'd the doom of roasting-spit.

Or fuel for consuming fire.

That men with me had gladly lit.

My flaming soul hadst thou not train'd.

The fen's dank soil prov'd not a charm
To save me from my parch'd estate ;
Still young and green, in jungle bed,
Scorch'd, burnt each summer, — such my fate, —
My thirst no water-drop restrain'd.

What wonder, then, that now I serve,

With willing steadfastness, the hand

Of ev'ry son of genius, kind.

Who ministers to my demand

Deep nectar-draughts, in ink contain'd ?

Had they not seen my latent gifts.
And put me to a higher use,
I'd been, perchance, a walkingstick.
Child's hobby-horse, some fool's abuse,
Or urg'd some slave, to toil constrain'd.

148 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

My fellows, here and there, are flutes,
In dervish hands, at sacred dance ;
Whose hopes or fears, loves, joys or cares,
Are whisper'd, in ecstatic trance.
To loyal breasts that ne'er have feign'd.

The vulgar see in us but reeds ;
Those mystics make us confidants ;
Pouring their secrets in our ears.
Confiding all their inmost wants ; —
A double solace thus is gain'd.

Through them we join in holy choir,
We're sanctified in their bless'd throng.
Those warbling notes thus raise our kind ; —
Cherish'd we are like birds of song,
Who, else, as outcasts were disdain'd.

Though but mere waifs, our little ones

Are fondly tended, put to bed,

A home provided by their friends,

At fitting season duly fed,

Cleans'd, trimm'd and fashion'd ; so ordain 'd.

Their house, cup, cradle, all in one.
The inkhorn is, — our source of fame.
Poor weeds we are, all valueless ;
Pow'r we have none, except in name ;
Through man we rule, by him sustain'd.

To " envious railers " among his rivals did the
poet attribute his exile, more than to any poUtical
enemies. By the exei'tions of hterary friends was
he ultimately recalled.

A characteristic instance of the ingenuity with
which homonyms can be used in Turkish, occm"S at
the beginrung of the fifth couplet of the original of
this poem, and is repeated at the beginning of the

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 149

last couplet in a modified form. The figure of
homonymy — the pun, — of which Addison said : "it
can be no more engraven than it can be translated,"
may consist, in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish, of one
or more words, taken again as one or more words,
similarly or differently subdivided, but having a
different meaning. It is of various degrees, from
perfect identity of spelling, pronunciation, and sub-
division, to mere etymological suggestion, and affords
a rich field for the secondary embellishment of
primarily beautiful poetry. For, though it is looked
upon, in the East also, as " a loiv hind of ivit " in
itself, it is deservedly considered a legitimate adorn-
ment of such language as is essentially all ornamen-
tation. Turkish is richer in this faculty than Arabic
or Persian ; if not, as Mir 'Alishir asserted, in its
own native vocabulary, it is so in its literary full-
ness ; since it may employ a word in its Arabic,
Persian, and Turkish meaning, provided that the
sentence in which it is found suits those various
senses. Turkish grammar, even, applied to words
of either of those languages, may convert them into
homonyms with a new signification. The old and
vulgar Latin-English pun of " Quid rides " may help
to explain. The original Turkish in the fifth couplet,
rendered in the opening line of my fourth stanza by
" What thing am I ? " is ne-yim ; where ne means
" ivhat," im means " / am," and, by reason of the
interrogative, " am I " ; while the y is intercalated .
grammatically, exactly as the t in the French a-t-il,
and for the same reason, — to separate two vowels
that would otherwise, by phrasal construction, be
Ijrought accidentally together. But, on the other

150 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

hand, the Persian word ney, much used in Turkish,
means a reed, and also a Jlute ; the letter y being
already an integral part of its orthography, and of
itself a consonant. On adding to this the Turkish
verb 1711, as before, we have ney-im instead of ne-
yim ; the meaning now being / am a reed. Either
of the two senses — What am I, and / am a reed, is
appHcable to the remainder of the plirase. Had I
adopted the second, the hne would have had to be
rendered : " I am a reed, and God for/end that I
shoidd be so presumptuous as to claim a possession
of 'power r

"Weavers" use ^' reeds" as bobbins in their
shuttles. The poet here made his weavers women,
or perhaps he intended rather the spinsters than the
weavers ; for neither word is expHcitly given ; on
the contrary, he greatly heightens the beauty of the
line by making those bobbin-reeds " captives in the
threads of the tyranny of luomen," — hapless lovers,
hopeless slaves, victims of unrequited love.

As the Mushm must perform an " ablution " before
divine service (which with him is not "prayer," but
"praise"), and before touching or reciting the
" Word of God," i.e., the Qur'an, so also must the
" pen " be metaphorically " baptized " in ink. ere it
can perform its office, which is often that of " repeat-
ing " the " Word," by transcribing it. With Mus-
Ihns, manuscript is greatly preferred to printing for
all books of a religious nature ; though even the
Qur'an itself is now printed and used by them.

" Flutes, in dervish hands " is an allusion to the
religious ceremonies of the " dancing dervishes," so
well-known to travellers who have paid a visit to

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 151

their establishment near the European suburb of
Constantinople. Theii- " waltz " is performed to
the accompaniment of reed " flutes," to which they
are devotedly and sentimentally attached. They
are of the " order " founded at Qonya by the great
mystical poet Jelalu-'d-Din, already mentioned.

XI.— The Mufti of Ergena^^ ; by Tzzet MoUa.
(A specimen of Hght banter.)

aj^j\ lA-tJ j)^ ^jkiS^J '^'^}\ ij^i^ /♦^J ^ji.,^Aj\

•^j (^ 0 •'O ^ ^ O O ^-* 'Civ* ^^ O C ^c^ o ^^

C •-•■ O -^ / .*. C •- Ox- •'(^ / O-^ -^ o ^ ^

jij^T o'Ai' i-^j^ u;^^- j-*^^* '-r-^^.^ ^^'' ;^*5j^^-»

C / O ^ O --'-^ y ^ f^ ■^ O -J

ttbil^ *<ulj ^-'j^j^ u?*^.^ CJ-tll? i);:..^ ^-'^'^l^ i— JJiUa.

'^ Ergena (Erkeneh on the maps) is the town, about twenty miles
south of Adrianople, on the large Thracian stream that joins the Marizza
from the east, and is there crossed by a very long bridge, Jisri-
Ergena (Bridge of Ergena) otherwise Uzun-Kyupri (Long Bridge).

152 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

jl* ^ jIj i:jJ:Ai_ («iil-i) <-->^l^ j^vV ^'^'^^■'^^ j^ ("^)y ^
, saT JjUS" 1-ilJJ ^fljLj , s-o ,UL::^.3 < — ?»ir ^JiJ,^

^^^^ ^ ^ ^ '" \m^\^ ^ y • -• • -• ^>> -^

(^T^ /^^^-**i'*^ (*^^V L;:!^ ^li'Ji jJu: *^-^^r^««i ^A:.3u^
,^^^^^ .A.;l I .>j.^' tl^^fj^jT ^^^ JkJs.l-i (»?-^r!^ \^s^

O -J C'' X X ^ (_, A C -J OX Ox C X O ^ X

Ox Ox X X ox X Ox Ox O -» o '• ^ x->

O X x-*x ^ X *> O X O O xOx X O X X

OxO O^x 0-»O^^OxO O '^ O--* C-J-*

Ox^ ^^C.-^ xOx X O-- OxxO-'O'* OO-^

l::-5UI^ ^^.<s^\ ^jcJLas- cijli-tf i c:JL^ a.L)j^ J^j ^^i^S^j^

O X xO-» ox o ^ -^ O 0-» X O XX O O O A o xO **

Mufti of Ergeua ; — I'd heard his fame :

" In age, to look smart bachelor, his game ;

His chin and cheeks had ne'er been grac'd with beard ;

' Youthful for ever, then' — his motto heard ;

Fierce janissary like, his turban shawl,

Extinguisher to hide his science all."

Casting in mind this youthful, beardless face,
Desii'e to see Lim in my heart took place.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 153

Trusting a ready Mercury to meet,
This tetrasticli I wrote the sage to greet :

" Dear Mufti, whiskerless, Ijut learn'd in law ;
Of luckless 'Izzet know, with ne'er a flaw,
That he has pin'd for thee, sad, eve and morn.
These months, since Keshan is his jail, forlorn."

A friend just then on journeying intent,
Serv'd as my messenger ; my missive went.
My pen, like drinking-fount with waters sweet,
Was welcom'd in its invitation meet. •

In Sha'ban's month my billet was sent forth ;

In Eamazan he reach'd me from the north.

Great my surprise I A marvel of the age !

His ev'ry turban-fold of hearts a cage !

As bashful youth he took a seat down low ;

Moustache and eyebrows, each like archer's bow.

Girded on waist his sword, — our foes' affright, —

Made me conceive 'twas Eustem come to light.

His silver-mounted Arnaut pistols gleam'd.

And Moscow's awe-struck hosts to menace seem'd.

His speech gave evidence of talent keen ;

Belied, however, by his fatuous mien.

In troth, well versed he was in ev'ry " art " ; —

No " crib " of learning, nor from fashion's mart.

A Dervish-Chief, — Rufa'i's order 'tis

Wliose precepts, rites, to teach, to act, were his.

His second nature, equity and law ;

Of outward show the world him careless saw.

Two days, or three, he lodg'd with me, a guest ;

Departing then, at home he sought his rest.

Ne'er had I met before such garb, sucli feature ;—

A genuine laughing-stock of human nature.

The stars had never twinkl'd on his peer ; —

To see him and not smile ? — 0, never fear !

Should any son of learning, man of taste,

154 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

Hear this, though unconcern'd in land of Thrace,
Of Beys and Pashas let him make but light,
And straightway visit this most wond'rous wight.

A " Mufti " is an equivalent to our " Queen's
Counsel." One is appointed in every district in
Turkey by the Government. It is his duty to fur-
nish all applicants, on payment of the fees, with a
Mrritten " legal opinion " on any case submitted to
him in general terms. He is not a judge of facts.
The judge's office is filled by the Qadhi (Cadi), who
applies the law, as furnished by the Mufti, to any
particular case investigated judicially by himself.
It is unusual for the members of the body of the
■'Ulema, — the Learned [scil., in the Law), who are
lawyers (not priests — for there are no priests in
Islam, where everyone is a priest unto himself), to
wear " shawl " turbans. They generally wind white
muslin sashes round their caps, exchanged for green
if they are descended from Muliammad through his
daughter Fatima, and sometimes for black, if they
belong to certain dervish orders.

Sha'ban is the eighth, Ramazan the ninth lunar
month of the canonical year of Islam. During the
latter, a strict fast is observed every day from the
beginning of the " True Dawn " until sunset. To
partake of food, to drink one drop of water, to
smoke, take snufP, or even smell at a flower, within
the prescribed hours, is sinful, save in cases of travel
or sickness. The "False Dawn," which becomes
visible before the " True Dawn," is the Zodiacal
Light, and must not be heeded for worship-time or
fasting.

In all countries of the East, courtesy and etiquette

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 155

compel the strictest attention to the place one occu-
pies in sitting down in an assembly. The seat of
honour is generally one of the two corners, some-
times the middle, of that end of the room most
remote from the entrance door. This custom is
alluded to in Luke xiv, 10 . " Friend, go up higher :
then shalt thou have worship in the presence of
them that sit at meat with thee." The etiquette is
not observed " at meat " alone, but on all occasions ;
when even two persons sit down together in a room.

" E/Ustem " is the Hercules or Koland of Persian
mythology. Like " Jack the Giant-killer," he per-
formed wonderful feats in the good old days of
Cyrus, Darius, and Xerxes, as is detailed in the
" Book of Kings " by Firdawsi. Arnaut means
Albanian ; and Albanian fire-arms are, as a rule,
beautifully inlaid or overlaid with gold or silver
work. The Rufa'i dervishes are those so irreverently
mentioned by Enghsh travellers as the "Howling
Dervishes," from their rite of sitting in ckcles to
ejaculate the name of Jehovah, Allah Hti, ^ i^\ a
great number of times ; for which see Lane's
" Modern Egyptians. "^^

This is my last selection from the poetry of the
Vice- Chancellor on the present occasion. I proceed,
therefore, to the impromptu of his son, Fu ad Pasha,
addressed to Her Royal Highness the Prmcess of
Wales.

XH. — Impromptu ; by Fuad Pasha.
(Written in the album of H.E.H. the Princess of
Wales.)

•' Fifth Edition, Murray, London, 1860, p. 456.

156 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

x--* ^L> Ox/ xO 0-*0-» o''xO>' O-*

l^i-^ (^l^ iJ^jT jj!j^ CX'li-l ^j^j^s^

y^ O A Ox OxO X Ox-»0 xox

Thy countenance a radiant mirror is, wherein
The fairest beauties of the mind resplendent glow.
Could artist's pencil truly paint thy crowning worth,
No other semblance would the charming picture show.

Comment is needless as to the sense. But an
agreeable play is made npon the word which I have
rendered by " countenance " and " semblance," Hter-
ally meanmg form. A lady's form or figure, and a
lawyer's form for a will, &c., might be made into a
similar pun by a competent artist.

XIII. — To a Lady, with the writer's photograph.

O O O*^ O xO X O^O O^ 0'«x X X

o
Ai^jSJif f^jr^j^ \J^ J^-^^ i_>^*''^ C.'y-^'^^

With mortal pang I tore myself that morn from thee,
Corporeally ; — my willing heart remain'd behind.
This effigy, inanimate, memento-wise,
Accept thou now ; — me shall it serve to keep in mind.

This and the following piece. No. 14, the last of
my present collection, were lately given me by a
friend, their respective authors being unknown to
him. In the second hemistich above, an ingenious
little verbal artifice is carried through, that is quite
lost in my paraphrase. By the peculiar arrangement

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 157

selected for the original words that signify re-
spectively, " ^jS^'Oy," " body," and " inanimate" the
poet has managed, not really saying so, to make it
appear that his body had become lifeless, the " in-
animate" thing being, of course, the photograph.
The suggestion so cleverly made is, " Away from
thee I am dead ; therefore I now send an effigy of
my lifeless corpse."

XIV. — Epitaph on an Officer killed in battle.

^}'

J^\^

^jjJ

iJ:^,£.

^.,\

J A^\i

^ L. ^

^ ^

^ u

o ^c -^o -^

^}^

<djjl

i^Ul)

u^^

izJ:^\

j*j^,jkljL

Lf^^^^ (

U^c)

^_J^rsa=^ ijb

•J ^i^y CO.

My proud name I've recorded in blood

Upon History's scroll of the brave ;

In the cause of my country my life

As a martyr I gloriously gave.

Though my corse, deck'd with wounds as its fiow'rs,

Lies now mouldering 'neatli the green sward,

All my comrades' firm hearts are consol'd, —

For they know I've gain'd Heav'n as reward.

Having thus concluded my self-imjDosed task of
combatmg the notion that the Tui^ks " have never
had poets," I have only to beg permission to call the
attention of my readers to the fact that a para-
phrase is not a translation. In the foregoing pieces
I have given the spirit rather than the letter of the
originals, whenever the matter, or the metre, or the
rhyme, appeared to me so to require. In thus acting,
my trust is that I have not iiTetrievably damaged.

158 ON THE HISTORY, SYSTEM, AND

to English minds, the beautiful productions of
Eastern genius which I have endeavoured to make
intelligible to my countrymen.

P.S. — Since penning the foregoing remarks, an
instance has occurred which seems to demonstrate
the common good sense of, I hope, the generahty of
EngHshmen, in presupposing the existence of Turkish
poetry. It has taken, however, the rather hazardous
form of further preopining that a foreigner can put
an English epigram into a presentable form of
Turkish verse. At our pubHc schools it is custom-
ary, as is well known, to exercise boys in making
Latin and Greek verses. Could the old Romans
and Athenians look over these productions, smiles
would probably be observable on their features.
This practice, however, presiunably led my corres-
pondent to propose the task to me. It gratified me
more than the total denial of the " learned and
talented Lord " had surprised me. I did my best,
therefore, to meet the wish ; and thence has resulted
the following, my first, as it probably will be my
last, attempt at Turkish versification. I will not
guarantee the correctness of the metre, but the
sense I will answer for. Poets will, peradventure,
overlook my shortcoming out of regard for my
motive.

VARIETIES OF TURKISH POETRY. 3 59

On the Accession of Pope Leo XIII.
(An Epigram after S. Malaclii.)

Through the Cross on Cross of Pius,
As through Mary's Dolours Seven,
Lo! from Death what Life emerges,
Joy from Anguish, Light from Heaven.

^ o

J. W. REDHOUSE.

London, December, 1878.

ON AN UNRECORDED EVENT IN THE
LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE.

BY E. W. BRABROOK, F.S.A.
(Read Februaiy 26tli, 1879.)

I Alvi persuaded that anything relating to the career
of the distinguished author of " Utopia " must
possess particular interest for the Royal Society of
Literature. Practically, he has had but two
original biographers, his son-in-law Roper, and
his descendant, Cresacre More. Subsequent bio-
graphers have derived their main facts from the
materials afforded by these. As I believe that I
have come across a fact to which neither of these
biographers makes the slightest reference, I hope
I may be permitted to make it known to the
Society.

Neither Roper nor Cresacre More is a scientific
biographer. It is extremely difficult by their means
to get at the precise dates and sequence of events.
More was born in February, 1478/ educated at St.
Anthony's School in Threadneedle Street, brought
up as a page in the household of Cardinal Morton,
sent by his patron to Canterbury College, Oxford,

1 This date was established by Mr. W. Aldys Wright in " Notes and
Queries," 17 Oct., 1868, by extracts from a MS. in the library of Trinity
College, Cambridge. See Seebohm's " Oxford Eeformere." Appx. c. It
is confirmed by the statement in the Lambeth MS. 179, that when More
was elected to Parliament he was of the age of 26 or 27.

AN UNRECORDED EVENT OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 161

and in 1503 obtained a seat in Parliament. The
precise dates of the intervening steps are not stated.

He became a member of New Inn, an Inn of
Chancery, and thence in the usual course he pro-
ceeded to Lincoln's Inn, then as now one of the
four great Inns of Court. Both biographers
enlarge on his attachment to that learned Society.
Cresacre More says that " while he was at Lincoln's
Inn his whole mind was set on his book. For his
allowance his father kept him very short, suffering
him scarcely to have so much money in his own
custody as would pay for the mending of his apparel ;
which course he would often speak of with praise in
his riper years."

From the Black Book of Lincoln's Inn, an
unimpeachable record, it appears that he became a
member of that Society in 1496, w4ien he was of the
early age of 18. " In little time he attained to that
degree which his elders in many years' study could
not achieve — to be an utter barrister. Now is the
common law of this realm so intricate, various and
obscure as it would require a whole and entire man
all his lifetime, or most part thereof, to come to any
excellency therein. After this, by the whole bench
of Lincoln's Inn, it was thought meet to make him
reader in Furnival's Inn, wherein he spent three
years and more to great profit of divers.""" He
married his first wife in 1505, at the age of 27.
Roper says of him that, notwithstanding his
marriage, he never the more discontinued his study
of the lav.' at Lincoln's Inn, but applied himself still

-MS. at LamLelh Palace, 179. See Woixlswoitlrs " Eccle.siastieal
Biogi-aphy."

VOL. XII. M

162 ox AN UNRECORDED EVENT

to the same till he was called to the Bench and
had read there twice. His call to the Bench and
first reading at Lincoln's Inn took place in 1511,
the year of his first wife's death, when he was 33
years old. His second reading took place in 1516,
when he was 38.

These dates are complicated by the statement made
by both biographers, that he spent four years in
seclusion " in " (C. More says " near ") the Charter-
house, without taking vows — a kind of prolonged
retreat, which, I suspect, is exaggerated either in
duration or severity. At what period of his history
are we to fit in this long parenthesis ? If anywhere,
it must be between his entry at Lincoln's Inn in
1496 and his election to Parliament : though the
writer of the MS. in Lambeth Palace signed " Eo.
Ba." says it was after his reading at Furnival's Inn,
which, if it lasted three years, would bring us at
least to 1502. In 1497, Erasmus made his ac-
quaintance and writes in glowing terms about his
accomplishments. On December 5 in that year, after
eulogising the learning of Colet, Grocyn, and Linacre^
he says : " nor did nature ever form anything more
elegant, exquisite, and better accomplished than
More." Such terms as these, used of a boy of 19, in
comparison with others greatly his seniors, must
convince every one of the remarkable qualities he
possessed.

There is no room for the four years' seclusion
after the time when this " beardless boy," in his
place in Parliament, defeated the King's applica-
tion for an aid of three-fifteenths on the marriage of

3 Foss, "Lives of the Judges," V. 205.

IN THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. IT) 3

his daughter Margaret with the King of Scots. The
bill was introduced in the Session of 1504, and
More "used such arguments and reasons there-
against, that the King's demands were thereby clean
overthrown."^ As More was married in 1505, the
residence in the Charterhouse cannot have been
consequent on the disfavour at Court which his
action in this matter had incurred.

It cannot have happened during his first marriage,
which his biographers declare to have been most
happy, and which was terminated by the death of
his wife in 1511. Nor is there any subsequent
period of his biography into which we can fit these
four years, for on September 3rd, 1510, he was made
Under-SherifF of London. He held that office,
which involved the duties of Judge of the SheriflPs
Court, continuously, until he entered the King's
service. It is simply impossible that he should
have spent any of the time in retreat from the
world. Roper himself, speaking of this time in
More's life, says, " I have heard him say that, by his
office of Under-Sheriff and his learning together, he
gained without grief not so little as £400 by the
year " a sum equivalent to ten times as much now.
" There was, at that time, in none of the Prince's
Courts of the Laws of the Realm any matter of
importance in controversy wherein he was not with
the one party of counsel. For his learning, wisdom,
and knowledge, men had him in such estimation, that
before he was come to the service of King Henry
Vni, at the suit and instance of the English
merchants, he was by the King's consent made twice

* Eojier.

M 2

164 ON AN UNRECORDED EVENT

Ambassador in certain great causes between them
and the merchants of the Steelyard, whose wise and
discreet deahng therein^ to his high commendation,
coming to the King's understanding, provoked his
Highness to cause Cardinal Wolsey to procure him
to his service."

Entries in the records of the City of London
enable us to fix a date for these two Embassies. On
May 8th, 1514, it was agreed by the Common
Council "that Thomas More, gentleman, one of the
Under-Sheriffs of London, should occupy his office and
chamber by a sufficient deputy, during his absence
as the King's Ambassador in Flanders."^ A similar
licence was granted to him in 1515.'' The citizens
describe him as Ambassador of the King, but if
Roper's description is to be trusted, he was rather
the representative (acting with the King's consent)
of the London merchants.

However that may be, I cannot help thinking
that his experience of the occupation of an
Ambassador on this his first mission in May 1514, and
some ambition to distinguish himself in that career"
led to his taking the step which neither of his biogra-
phers refers to, and the evidence of which I have
accidentally met with, of enrolling himself among the
professors of Civil Law, which, being the law

= Sir J. Mackintosh, "Life of More," pp. 18, 109.

^ Foss, p. 209.

' It is tnie that the biographers say, " he neither desii'ed nor liked to
be employed in such offices, for he was wont to say, he liked not to be
banished from his own countiy ; and he would merrily say, that there
was a great difference between a lajonan and a priest to be sent in
ambassage, for a priest need not to be disquieted for wife, children, and
family " (Lambeth MS., 179, p. 203) ; but the fact remains that he was
often sent ambassador, and justifies the language of the text.

/fo

IN THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 165

practised in continental countries, was a necessary
study for an Ambassador, by becoming a member of
the Society of Advocates, commonly called Doctors'
Commons.

The register and obligation book of that Society
from the 15th century to its dissolution in our own
time consists of a single volume, now in the fitting
custody of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury
at Lambeth Palace. It forms one of the most
valuable collections of autographs, as well as one of
the most interesting historical records, anywhere to
be met with. I should like to say, in passing, how
mucli it is to be wished that my learned friend,
Mr. Coote, would undertake the editino- of this

volume, and thus complete the work attempted with
so much success by his distinguished father. Dr.
Coote, in his privately printed "Sketches of the
Lives and Characters of eminent English Civihans."
(London, 1804.)

This book contains the following entry, of which I
exhibit a tracing : —

" Ego T. Moms, 3° die decembris a" a Christo nato
1514*°, admissus sii in banc societate et pollicitor
me solutfir, in annis singuhs, s. 6, d. 8."

This was the obligation signed by each member of
Doctors' Commons on his admission to the College,
binding him to the observance of the rules and the
annual payment of 6s. 8d., a sum which, if we take
it to be equivalent to three guineas in our
own day, serves to show that the Society of Ad-
vocates was a very inexpensive club to belong to.
They met then, I suppose, at the original house in

166 ON AN UNRECORDED EVENT

Paternoster Row, where Dean Bodewelle first or-
ganised them.

If the T. Moras in the entry I have read was the
then Under-Sheriff of London and future Chancellor,
freshly returned from his first successful mission to
Flanders, warm in the recollection of the delightful
intimacies he had formed there with the learned jurists
and civilians of the Continent, I am not surprised
that he should make it his business to seek member-
ship of the Society of Professors of the Civil Law in
this country, the more so that, according to the
custom of those times, they were the persons who,
for obvious reasons, were most usually selected as
Ambassadors or to accompany Embassies.

The strano'eness of the omission of this is the more
marked, that both biographers refer, as a turning
point in More's fortunes, to his successful resistance
to the King's claim for the forfeiture of a ship
belonging to the Pope, which had been seized at
Southampton.^ The trial took place in the Star
Chamber, it would seem, but it is so obviously
analogous to an action in rem in the Court of
Admiralty that one can hardly think otherwise than
that More was counsel in the case because he was a
person qualified to plead in the Admiralty Court as
bemg a member of Doctors' Commons.^ Though, in
this instance, More was counsel against the King, yet
we are told " the erudition which he disjDlayed, and
his powerful arguments in the cause, so jDleased the

8 Foss, loc. ciL, 211.

' " The Pope's ambassador then resident in the realm, upon suit got a
grant of the king to retain for his master some learned in the laws and
customs of the realm. Among all the lawyers, choice was made of Mi*.
More as one not partial and very skilful in these affairs." Lambeth MS

IN THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 167

King that he would Hsten to no further excuses, but
at once retained More in his service," and he was
sworn in a member of the Privy Council. This took
place in May 1522, and he was at the same time re-
warded with a grant of manors and lands.

About this time, too, the biographers say that he
was made Master of the Requests/" The Court of
Bequests had been instituted either in the reign of
Henry VII. or Henry YIII. and was, according to
Mr. Foss,^^ " something similar to the Court of
Chancery, but for matters of minor importance."
Having assumed too great pow(3rs, and been found to
be burdensome to the people, it was dissolved by Stat.
16 and 17 Car. I. c. 10. In the course of its
existence, however, its masters were usually — like the
Masters in Chancery of that time — either ecclesiastics
or ecclesiastical lawyers, and the circumstance that he
held this office seems to confirm the inference, not-
withstanding the silence of the biographers, that he
was really a member of Doctors' Commons.

As a member of Lincoln's Tnn myself, I heartily
sympathise with the biographers in the warmth with
which they describe Sir Thomas More's affection for
the Society of which he became a member so early in
hfe and to which he always displayed the most
devoted attachment. That Society may well be
proud of him as one of its noblest members and one
of the purest and brightest characters in English
annals. Yet it is odd that the biographers should
not have recorded the fact that he belonged to

'" Less than a mouth Ijefore liis beiug luade a Privy Councillor ami
knighted, says the author of the Lambeth MS., 179.
" V. 83.

168 ON AN UNRECORDED EVENT

another society of jurists, and that his membership
of it quahfied him for those missions in which he
gained most renown and those forensic triumphs
which contributed most to his favour with his Prince.
As an Equity Judge he won the high commendation
embodied in the jinghng verses —

" Wlien More some years had Chancellor been,

No more suits did remain ;
The like shall never more be seen,

Till More be there again."

But it is not only in the practice of Equity, but in
that of International Law, that he gained laurels.
Moreover, he always showed a marked predilection
for the other branch of law cultivated at Doctors'
Commons, viz. : Ecclesiastical Law. His mind was
tinged witli a shade of superstition. His birth is said
to have been attended with portents. However that
may be, he was all his life very much addicted to the
study of ecclesiastical subjects, and a large portion of
his voluminous works is devoted to topics either of
ecclesiastical law or of devotion. It is true he could
not become an ecclesiatic, because he was not only a
mari'ied man with a family, but also a bigamist, in
the sense in which the canonists used the term, that
is, he had married a second wife after the death of
the first.

I have already pointed out the coincidence of the
entry in the Doctors' Commons book with his retiurn
from his first mission to Flanders. His second
embassy took place in 1515, also to Flanders. In
April 1520 he was one of four commissioners to
settle provisions in the Treaty of Commerce with
Charles V ; and in June of the same year one of

IN THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 169

those to accommodate certain questions with the
" Socios of the Hanse Towns. He appears from his
correspondence with Erasmus to have been for a long
time stationed at Calais for the convenience of con-
tinental negociations. He accompanied Wolsey in
his ostentatious embassy to France in 1527 ; and it
was probably on this occasion that the Cardinal, on
asking him to point out anything that was objection-
able in the Treaty he had prepared, flew into a rage
because More ventured to suggest some amendment,
concluding his violence by saying ' By the Mass, tliou
art the veriest fool in all the Council.' More, smiling,
answered simply, ' God be thanked the King our
master hath but one fool in his Council.' His last
mission was two years afterwards (1529) to Cambray
in conjunction with his old friend Bishop Tunstall, as
Ambassador to the Emperor. "^^

Such was his career as a diplomatist, and I venture
to think it aifords confirmation of the fact pointed at
by the entry in the Doctors' Commons book that he
associated himself at the outset of it with the
recognised body of Professors of Civil Law. If this
fiict, now for the first time, so far as I know, made
public, be taken to be established, as I think it must
be, by the considerations I have adduced, we get
thrown into strong light the many sidedness of More's
character. ^^

'^ Foss, sub nom.

'^The ingenious anonymous author of a work called "Philomorus"
(London, 1878) says with gi-eat force :— "One of the remarkable traits in
Su- Thomas More's character was the vigoiu- of his mind and the faculty
which he possessed of exercising it upon a veiy wide range of subjects.
He would lecture in the church of St. Lawrence upon the treatise De
Civitate Dei of Augustine ; administer law to the citizens of Loudon in

170 ON AN UNRECORDED EVENT

I may illustrate this by a quotation from liis
best known work the "Utopia," where he speaks of the
principles of toleration laid down by CJtopus. " He
made a law that every man might be of what religion
he pleased, and might endeavour to draw others to it
by the force of argument, and by amicable and
modest ways, but without bitterness against those of
other opinions ; but that he ought to use no other
force but that of persuasion ; and was neither to mix
with it reproaches nor violence ; and such as did
otherwise were to be condemned to banishment or
slavery. This law was made by Utopus, not only for
preserving the pubHc peace, which he saw suffered
much by daily contentions and irreconcilable heats,
but because he thought the interest of religion itself
required it. He judged it not fit to determine any-
thing rashly : and seemed to doubt whether those
different forms of religion might not all come from
God, who might inspire men in a different manner,
and be pleased with this variety ; he therefore
thought it indecent and foolish for any man to
threaten and terrify another to make him believe
what did not appear to him to be true. And
supposing that only one religion was really true, and
the rest false, he imagined that the native force of
truth would at last break forth and shine bright, if

the capacity of Uuder-Sheriff ; write smart epigrams upon the follies
and absurdities which he saw around him ; turn a debate in the House
of Commons ; arrange questions of international law with the Flemish
merchants of Bruges : wi'ite despatches to Wolsey and others when
acting as the King's secretary ; charm with his ready wit the supper
table ^of the King and Queen Katharine ; write theological treatises
against Tyndale and Luther ; and discharge the duties of his office as
Chancellor with assiduity and skill."

IN THE LIFE OF SIR THOMAS MORE. 171

supported only by the strength of argument and
attended to with a gentle and unprejudiced mind ;
while, on the other hand, if such debates were carried
on with violence and tumults as the most wicked are
always the most obstinate, so the best and most holy
religion might be choked with superstition, as corn
is with briars and thorns ; he therefore left men
wholly to their liberty, that they might be free to
beheve as they should see cause," only drawing the
line at absolute materialism.

That the author of sentiments so lofty and catholic
(in the best sense of the word) as these should be a
man who, by his own confession, imprisoned and
beat Protestants, and who died for the worst of all
possible causes— that of the re-establishment of the
Pope's authority in this country^* — is so strange an
inconsistency that his being at the same time a civilian
and a common lawj er is small beside it. It was
said of Dr. Thomas Ryves, Advocate-General to
Charles I, that he " understood the Common Law as
well as his own." Of More, I take it, the converse
might be said — that he understood the Civil Law
as well as his own Common Law.

If the cause for which he died was a bad one, the
putting him to death for it was infinitely worse.
There is no story in our annals more melancholy than
that of his trial. He was arraigned on four charges,
not one of wdiich amounted even to a misdemeanour.

'* The Lambeth MS. 179, calls him "the protomart}T of Euglaud in
the degi-ee of the laity that suffered for the defence of the union of the
CathoUc Chiuxh." The offence for which the King resolved to put him
to death was, no doubt, his opposition to the King's marriage ; that of
which he was convicted by Rich's evidence was his denial of the King's
supremacy.

172 AX UNRECORDED EVENT OF SIR THOMAS MORE.

Nothing worthy of the name of evidence was
adduced even in support of these, for no candid
mind could accept E-ich's perjuries in the face of
Mores indignant denial. Yet, on this unsubstantial
charge, which would have been no crime if proved,
but was not proved at all, a British jury retired for
15 mmutes, and then brought in a verdict of "guilty,"
and the fiendish sentence then awarded to those
convicted of treason was passed in due form, though
afterwards commuted to beheading. His only crime
was differmg in opinion from King Henry the Eighth,
and if the King called that treason, treason it was so
far as the jury were concerned. The particular
opinion which he held and for which he died — that God
had made the Pope head of the Church and that
therefore the English Parliament could not put Henry
in that place — ^was false enough, for it implied a denial
of the rights of the nation to self-government and of
the individual to free thought : but, though he was
wrong and Henry right on the theoretical question at
issue, any one who had the choice would rather
occupy the place in history filled by Thomas More
than that devoted to his murderer.

E. W. BPABROOK.

/1^

WHAT IS POETRY ?

BY GEORGE WASHINGTON MOON.

(Bead April 23, 1879.)

In the following paper there is little that is original
except the poetry. I merely bring before you the
opinions of the writers best qualified to answer the
question, "What is poetry?" and endeavour to illustrate
those opinions by a few original compositions for
which I claim your kind indulgence, poetry not being
my forte, though it is one of my greatest delights.

" What is poetry V is a question which has often
been asked ; and many are the brief definitions of it
that have been given : each expressing some phase
or quality of it, but none comprehensive enough to
embrace the whole.

It is as difficult briefly to answer the question
" What is poetry ?" as it would be, in a few words, to
define " life," or " truth," or " beauty ;" for poetry
may be said to be all these.

There must be " life " in that which we call poetry,
or it is unworthy of the name. It may be quiet life,
or be life heroic ; but there must be life, there must
be soul, or it is

" Words, mere words."

So, also, there must be in it " truth," not necessa-

174 WHAT IS POETRY?

rily truth of narrative as to facts ; it may be fact, or
it may be fiction ; that is immaterial ; but in its every
utterance it must be true to Nature, true to the
essential characteristics of tliat which it describes.

And as to its third element, *' beauty," this is as
necessarily and inalienably a part of all poetry, as is
either " life" or ''truth." Were I asked to personify
poetry, I should say that " truth " is its body ;
" life " is its very soul ; and " beauty " is its bright
adornment.

" Poetry," says Campbell, " is the eloquence of
truth."

"Poetry," says Ebenezer Elliott, " is impassioned
truth."

" Poetry," says a writer in the " Eclectic Peview,"
" is love, pure, refined, insatiable affection for the
beautiful — for the beautiful forms of this material
universe, for the beautiful feelings of the human soul,
for the beautiful passages in the history of the past,
for the beautiful prospects which expand before us in
the future.

" Such love, burning to passion, attired in imagery
and speaking in music, is the essence and the soul
of poetry. It is that w^hich makes personification the
life of poetry. The poet looks upon Nature, not as
one who is merely a philosopher looks upon it, re-
garding it as composed of certain abstractions, certain
cold material laws- — the poet breathes upon them, and
they quicken into jitirsonal life, and become objects,
as it were, of personal attachment." The winds with
him are not cold currents of air, they are messengers
of love, now bearing on their wings the mighty
clouds to refresh the parched earth, and anon

WHAT IS rOETRY ? 175

wafting the incense of the flowers to some object of
their adoration.

To the Hebrew poet, David, the thunder was not
a noise produced by the concussion of the atmosphere.
He regarded it, truly, as an effect caused by the
lightning ; but what was that effect ? He says : —
" His lightnings enlightened the world ; the earth
saw, and trembled." This is true poetry.

The stars may be distant worlds, but to the poet
they are something more than that ; they are eyes
looking down on man, with intelligence, with sym-
pathy and with love : he sings of them thus : — calling
them

EYES OF LOVE.

The sunny smile of day is past,

The flowers close tlieir lovely eyes,
The song of birds is hushed at last,

And all the scene in slumber lies ;
But 'midst the deep'ning shades of night

There shine, through drifting clouds above.
Glad stars whose beauteous souls of light

Beam brightly forth through eyes of love.

And so, when griefs night gathers o'er,

And life's sweet joys, like flowers sleep.
And hope's glad song is heard no more,

And shadows round our path lie deep ;
How often through the gloom of night

There shineth, as from heaven above,
Some star whose beauteous soul of light

Beams kindly forth through eyes of love.

G. W. M.

To the poet, creation has a conscious existence.

17G WHAT IS POETRY?

Never is Nature mute ; each leafy bower
Has gentle speech the poet's soul can hear.
Yes, the rich perfume of each beauteous flower,
Is the sweet eloquence of love most dear.
There is a language in the dew-drop's tear ;
There is expression in each herb and tree ;
There's harmony in heaven's starry sphere,
And on the earth, and in the bounding sea ;
For Nature's heart, Great God, doth ever worship Thee.

Tlie lordly mountains sleeping in the sun ;
The lowly mosses lying at their feet ;
The sturdy oaks with ivy over-run ;
And the frail bind-weed round a stalk of wheat ;
Yea, all things, from the orb whose light and heat
Make flowers of beauty from the world to rise.
To the small dew-drops which the flowers greet
As sister-spirits from the starry skies.
All worship Him whose love their daily life supplies.

The gentle murmur of each rippling rill.
The roar of torrents rushing to the main ;
The wind's lone wailings over vale and hill,
The dew's soft footfall on the grassy plain,
The sigh of autumn leaves, the sound of rain,
And deep-toned thunder with its awful chime ;
All are but grace-notes in an anthem's strain
Prom Nature's wild eeolian harp sublime.
Sounding God's ceaseless j)raise throughout the course
of time.

G. W. M.

" This perpetual personification springs from that
principle of love which teaches the poet not only to
regard all men as his brethren, but to regard the
whole earth as his home, and to throw the excess of
his soul into dumb, deaf and dead things, and to find

WHAT IS POETRY? 177

even in them, subjects of his sympathy. It was in
this spirit that poor Burns did not disdain to address,
as his fellow- mortal, the mouse running from his
ploughshare ; and to express his sympathy for the
ill-fated daisy which the same ploughshare destroyed,
or rather, transplanted into the garden of never-
dying song."

One of the most sublime personifications of inani-
mate natui'e that we have in our language is
Coleridge's Address to Mont Blanc ; indeed, it is in
its personification that the secret of its thrilling
interest lies.

Poetry is language in its highest attainable perfec-
tion, winning the ear by the harmony of its cadence,
warming the heart by the glow of its diction, stimu-
lating thought by the grandeur of its imagery, and
commanding the passions in the dignity of its
march.

" Poetry,'" says Shelley, " is the record of the best
and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.
Poetry makes immortal all that is best and most
beautiful in the world. Poetry redeems from decay
the visitations of the divinity in man. Poetry turns
all things to loveliness ; it exalts the beauty of that
which is most beautiful, and it adds beauty to that
which is most deformed. It transmutes all that it
touches ; and every form moving within the radiance
of its presence is changed by wondrous sympathy to
an incarnation of the spirit which it breathes."

" Poetry," says Hazlitt, "is the universal language
with which the heart holds converse with Nature and
with itself. Wherever there is a sense of beauty, or
power, or harmony, as in the motion of a wave of the

VOL. XII. N

178 WHAT IS POETRY?

sea, or in the growth of a flower that ' spreads its
sweet leaves to the air, and dedicates its beauty to
the sun ' — there is poetry in its birth."

"Poetry," says Wordsworth, "is the breath and
finer spirit of all knowledge ; it is the impassioned
expression which is in the countenance of all
science."

" No man," says Coleridge, " was ever yet a great
poet without being, at the same time, a profound
philosopher ; for poetry is the blossom and the
fragrance of all human knowledge, human thoughts,
human passions, emotions, and language."

" There is," says the late Henry Eeed, " no great
philosopher in whose genius imagination is not an
active element ; and there is no great poet into whose
character the philosophic element does not largely
enter."

Willmott says : — "Whatever of beautiful, instruc-
tive or alluring, belongs to pliilosophy, history or fic-
tion, is w^rajiped up m poetry. Poetry multiplies and
refines our pleasures, endears loneliness, embellishes
the common, and irradiates the lovely. It is the
natural religion of literature ; and next to the beauty
of its language is the charm of its voice."

Poetry makes love to the ear, and wins the heart
by its music ; for the symj)athy of its melodies thrills
the finest chords of our being, making them vibrate
in harmony with the song, till the heart is carried
away captive by the ecstasy of its own feelings.
But poetry, to reach the heart, must come from
the heart. From such a source came the following
lines : —

WHAT IS POETRY ? 179

THE LOVEliS.

The silvery moonlight, chequered by the trees,

Falls, as in worship, dearest, at thy feet ;
And, with the breath of flowers, the evening breeze

Wafts to us distant music, low and sweet

As the sweet voice of love. In this retreat,
So cahn and peaceful, let me, dearest, own

My heart's deep love, and hear thy lips repeat
Those words more sweet than music's sweetest tone,
Telling my loving heart that thou art mine alone.

Thy beauteous eyes — love's messengers to me —

Look into mine and read love's language there.
And, as I kiss thee, our hearts seem to be

Mingling their very life's-blood in one prayer
For love, more love ! Oh, ever thus to share,

Each other's fond affection, and to feel,
That neither time nor death itself can e'er

Dissolve the union of our souls, or seal
The fountain of that love we each to each reveal.

G. W. M.

" The poet is a translator of the inner life of man,
with its wonder-world of thonghts and feelings — its
unspeakable love and sorrow, its hopes and aspira-
tions, temptations and lonely wrestlings, darings and
doubts, grim passions and gentle affections, its smiles
and tears — which in their changefiil lights or gloomy
grandeur play out the great drama of the human
heart."!

Coleridge, speaking of poetry, says, in the closing
paragraph of the preface to his Poems : — " I expect
neither profit nor general fame by my wTitings ; and

> " North British Review," No. 55.

N 2

180 WHAT IS POETRY?

I consider myself as being amply repaid without
either. Poetry has been to me its own exceeding great
reward; it has soothed my afflictions, it has multipUed
and refined my enjoyments, it has endeared soHtude,
and it has given me the habit of wishing to discover
the good and the beautiful in all that meets and
surrounds me."

" Such," says Symington, " is also the experience
of every sincere lover of poetry ; for to all who are
capable of appreciating its fakest flowers, whether by
the golden river of Shakspeare's thought, broad and
deep, or by the crystal well of Burns, it is an influ-
ence for good — ' a thing of beauty,' and therefore ' a
joy for ever.'

" Its ministrations to whatever is noblest, brightest,
and best in humanity, whether in sorrow or in joy,
are only second in their universality and efficiency to
the teachings of Christianity itself, and are never
more winning or potent than when conjoined there-
with ; for ' religion,' it has been said, ' exhibits the
beauty of holiness ; and poetry the holiness of
beauty.' "

There is in "Rasselas" an admirable dissertation
upon poetry, showing very truthfully the studies
necessary to enable the Poet to give expression to
the exalted feelings of his nature. The passage is as
follows : —

" Wherever I went," says Imlac, " I found that
poetry was considered as the highest learning, arrd
regarded with a veneration somewhat approaching to
that which man would pay to the angelic nature. . . .
I was desirous to add my name to this illustrious
fraternity. I read all the poets of Persia and Arabia,

WHAT IS POETRY ? 181

and was able to repeat from memory the volmnes
that are suspended in the mosque of Mecca. But I
soon found that no man was ever great by imitation.
My desire of excellence impelled me to transfer my
attention to Nature and to life. Nature was to be my
subject, and men to be my auditors. I could never
describe what I had not seen ; I could not hope to
move those with delights or with terror whose
interests and opinions I did not understand.

" Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw every-
thing with a new purpose ; my sphere of attentimi
was suddenly magnified ; no kind of knowledge was
to be overlooked. I ranged mountains and deserts
for images and resemblances, and pictured upon my
mind every tree of the forest and flower of the
valley. I observed with equal care the crags of the
rock and the pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes I
wandered along the mazes of the rivulet, and some-
times watched the changes of the summer clouds.
To a poet, nothing can be useless. Whatever is
beautiful, and whatever is dreadful, must be familiar
to his imagination ; he must be conversant with all
that is awfully vast or elegantly little. The plants
of the garden, and the meteors of the sky must all
concur to store liis mind with inexhaustible variety ;
for every idea is useful for the enforcement or
for the decoration of moral or of religious truth ;
and he who knows most will have most power
of diversifying his scenes, and of gratifying his
readers with remote allusions and unexpected in-
struction.

" All the appearances of Nature I was therefore
careful to study, and every country which I have

182 WHAT IS POETRY ?

surveyed has contributed something to my poetical
powers."

" In so "wide a survey," said the Prince, " you
must surely have left much unobserved ; for I have
lived till now witliin thecu'cuit of these mountains,
and yet cannot walk abroad without the sight of
something which I had never before beheld, or never
heeded."

" The business of the poet," said Tmlac, "is to
examine not the individual but the species ; to
remark general properties and large appearances.
He does not number the streaks of the tuhp, or
describe the different shades in the verdm^e of the
forest. He is to exhibit in his portraits of Nature
such prominent and striking features as recall the
original to every mind, and must neglect the minuter
discriminations which one may have remarked and
another have neglected, for those characteristics
which are ahke obvious to vigilance and to careless-
ness.

" But the knowledge of Nature is only half the
task of the poet : he must be acquainted with all
the modes of life. His character requires that he
estimate the happiness and misery of every condi-
tion, observe the power of all the passions in all their
combinations, and trace the changes of the human
mind as they are modified by various institutions,
and accidental influences of climate or custom, from
the sprightliness of infancy to the despondency of
decrepitude. He must divest himself of the pre-
judices of his age or country ; he must consider right
and wrong in their abstracted and invariable state ;
he must disregard present laws and opinions, and

WHAT IS POETRY 1 183

rise to general and transcendental truths which will
always be the same. He must, therefore, content
himself with the slow progress of his name, contemn
the applause of his own time, and commit his claims
to the justice of posterity. He must write as the
interpreter of Nature and the legislator of mankind,
and consider himself as presiding over the thoughts
and manners of future generations, as a being
superior to time and place.

" His labour is not vet at an end : he must know
many languages and many sciences ; and, that his
style may be worthy of his thoughts, must, by
incessant practice, famiharise to himself every
delicacy of speech and grace of harmony,"

Such was Dr. Johnson's opinion of what is
necessary for the education of a poet. The standard
which Coleridge fixed is equally high. He says, in
a letter to Cottle : — " Observe the march of Milton ;
his severe appHcation, his laborious polish ; his deep
metaphysical research, his prayer to God before
he began his great work. All that could lift and
swell his great work became his daily food. I
should not think," says Coleridge, " of devoting less
than twenty years to an epic poem ; ten years to
collect materials and warm my mind with universal
science : I would be a tolerable mathematician ; I
would thoroughly understand mechanics, hydro-
statics, optics, and astronomy ; botany, metallurgy,
fossilism, chemistry, geology, anatomy, medicine ; the
mind of man in all travels, voyages, and histories ;
so I would spend ten years. The next five I would
spend in the composition of the poem, and the last
five in the correction of it. So would \ write, haply

184 WHAT IS POETRY ?

not unhearing of that divino and mighty whispering
voice which speaks to mighty minds of predestined
garlands, starry and un withering."

But a knowledere of the sciences must not be
obtruded to the forefront in poetry ; it must ever be
in subjection to the beautiful : to which it bows, just
as the chivalrous knight-errant of the Middle Ages
bowed in willing subjection to the lady of liis love.

In the following simple little poem are remote
scientific allusions to the crystallization of water, to
the nebulosity of certain stars, and to the facts that
sound is owing to the vibration of the atmosphere,
and that hght flows to us in waves ; but all is
in subjection to the spirituality of the poem.

THE MEECIES OF GOD.

"His tender mercies are over all His works."— Ps. cxlv, 9.

Wouldst thou count all the mercies of God ?

Vain the task ! — Count the waves of the sea ;
Count the grass-blades on every sod,

And the leaves uj)on every tree.

Count the atoms that float in the sun ;

Count the bright drops of rain as they fall ;
Still, thy task is as yet but begun,

For God's mercies outnumber them all.

Count the crystals of frost in the snow.

The vibrations of sound in the air,
And the wavelets of light as they flow ; —

God in mercy appointed them there.

Add the cycles of time unto those

Of eternity, past and to come ;
(Jount till Heav'n on thine eyes shall unclose,

And thy lips with mute rapture are dumb.

WHAT IS POETRY? 185

Then unfold thou tliy bright wings and fly

Wheresoever thy .spirit can soar ;
Far through space to where starry worlds lie

Strewn like gems on Infinity's shore.

On, still on, till the deepening blue

Fades away into blackness of night,
Where no nebulous star's ray e'er threw

E'en the faintest pulsation of light.

Still, God's universe stretches afar ;

And around thee, beneath, and above.
Though thine eye sees nor sun, moon, or star.

There is fathomless, infinite love.

We may count the green blades on each sod ;

Count the sound-waves in ocean's hoarse roar ;
But, concerning the mercies of God,

We can only in silence adore.

G. W. M.

" A well stored mind," says the Kev. James Pycroft,"
" is indispensable for poetical composition. Invention
means little more tlian new combinations ; and unless
the mental kaleidoscope be furnished with many bril-
Hant pieces, no power of genius can ever produce a
variety of magic pictures."

*' Imagination and invention," says Johnson, " are
useless without knowledge ; Nature gives in vain
the power of combination, unless study and observa-
tion supply the materials."

Professor Craik says :^ — " The greatest poets have
all been complete men, with the sense of beauty,
indeed, strong and exquisite, and crowning all their

2 " Ways aud Words of Men of Letters," p. 25.
^ " Manual of English Literature," p. 229.

186 WHAT IS POETRY?

other endowments, which is what makes them the
greatest ; but also with all other passions and powers
correspondingly vigorous and active. Homer, Dante,
Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Goethe,
were all manifestly capable of achieving success in
any other field besides poetry. They were not only
poetically, but in all other respects, the most gifted
intelhgences of their times ; men of the largest sense,
of the most penetrating insight, of the most
general research and information, nay, even in the
most worldly acts and dexterities, able to cope with
the ablest whenever they chose to throw themselves
into that game. They may not, any of them, have
attained the highest degree of what is called worldly
success ; some of them may have even been crushed
by the force of circumstances or evil days. Milton
may have died in obscurity ; Dante in exile ; ' the
vision and the faculty divine ' may have been all the
light that cheered, all the estate that sustained, the
old age of Homer ; but no one can suppose that in
any of these cases it was want of the requisite skill
or talent that denied a different fortune."

Nor can we imagine one who is truly in heart and
soul a poet, and worthy of the name, ever murmuring
at his misfortunes. Not that he is insensible to
suffering ; far from it : the sensorium of the poet,
both for sorrow and for joy, is infinitely more delicate
than that of other men ; but his delight in the
beautiful, and his realization of the Uxseen lift his
soul above the griefs which otherwise would be too
great for his finer nature to bear ; and in the exalta-
tion and exultation of his soul, he turns his very
sorrows into song.

WHAT IS POETRY ?

STILL WITH THEE.

'When I awake, I am still with Tnj,E."~Psa. cxxxix, 18.

Though riches should depart,
And friends all turn away,
No grief shall crush my heart
If Thou with me wilt stay ;
For Thou my God, art aU in all to me,
And life's most rapturous thought is
" StiU with Thee." "

What though I be bereft

Of all that most I need ?
If Thou to me art left,
I still am rich indeed ;
For Thou, my God, art all in all to me.
And life's most rapturous thought is
" Stm with Thee."

The world may coldly frown ;

My heart's in Heaven above :
I wear a nobler crown
Than merely human love ;
For Thou, my God art aU in aU to me.
And life's most raptm-ous thought is
" Still with Thee." '^

Not that I e'er despise

The love of earthly friends ;
But from all earthly ties,
My soul to Thee ascends ;
For Thou my God, art aU in aU to me,
And life's most rapturous thought is
" Still with Thee." ^

187

188 WHAT IS POETRY?

Mine eyes, with many a tear

Of sorrow, oft are wet ;
But when I feel Thee near.
My griefs I soon forget ;
For Thou, my God, art all in all to me,
And life's most rapturous thought is
" Still with Thee."

Oh, then, while here I stay,
Be this my one request ;
My stricken heart to lay
Upon Thy loving breast ;
For Thou, my God, art all in all to me.
And life's most rapturous thought is
" Stm with Thee."

And when I hence depart.

Grant me in Heaven a place ;
And he it near Thy heart,
And let me see Thy face ;
For Thou, my God, art all in all to me.
And life's most rapturous thought is
" Still with Thee."

G. W. M.

" The public of our day, as indeed of all days,
appreciate only poetry that has a heart in it. The
people — using the word in its widest sense — have no
toleration for the mere filigree-work and froth of
unscholarly or scholarly fancy. They are not to be put
off with words. They require poetry to be strong,
simple, and passionate ; to speak to their souls, their
hearts, and theu' understandings ; and to be equally
inspiriting and ennobhng in each of these manifesta-
tions of the divine inbreathing. They do not want
rhymes only, but thoughts. And, more than that, they

WHAT IS POETRY? 189

do not want thoughts only, but thoughts that may
comfort them in sorrow, invigorate them in peril, link
them to the sympathies of their kind, and exalt
their manhood in all the twists and turns of capricious
and unmerited fortune ; and the bestowal of such
thoughts has ever been the delight of all true poets."

• • • How mauy a goklen thought
Of theirs illumines the dark night of time !
We are their debtors, truly. They have wrought
A good work in the world. Have not men fought
For truth more bravely through their words subHme ?

Has not the memory of verses heard

In happy childhood kept thy soul from wrong ?
Has not the poet's voice thy steps deterred
From sHding into sin, thy heart being stirred
To nobler deeds by his inspiring song ?

Has he not comforted the loved and lost

In their last moments by some pious lay ?
Singing his words of hope, they bravely crossed
The sea of death ; and we, though tempest-tossed,
May, by his words, be strengthened as were they.

G. W. M.

" Poetry must be broad and human if it would meet
with wide acceptance and exercise a growing and a
permanent power. It must not confine itself to
gentle murmurs and soft whispers in the drawing-
room or the study, but must speak with trumpet-tone
in the cottages of the poor, in the fields of labour,
and in the workshops of cities. It must appeal to
the heart of humanity, or the heart of humanity will
yield it no response."*

* "Illustrated London Xews," Xov. 12, 1859. Leading article.

190 WHAT IS POETEY?

The Bev. Charles Kingsley says, in his " Miscel-
lanies," very truly : — " What man wants, what art
wants, perhaps what the Maker of them both wants,
is a poet Avho shall begin by confessing that he is as
other men are, and shall sing about things which
concern all men, in language which all men can
understand."

A writer in the " North British Beview "^ from
whom I have previously quoted, says : — " The first
condition of being a poet is to be a man speaking to
men. He who is to image humanity must at least be
able to stand on a common level with it, and by liis
many sympathies enrich his special experience with all
that is universal : thus losing the poverty of the indi-
vidual in the wealth of the species. The charm will be
in the common human experience bemg rendered in
his subtler light, and coloured in the prism of his
own personaHty. But he must steadfastly abide by
the true elements of poetry, and all those positive
influences which yet live in our human nature ; and
holding fast by these, bring poetry and the readers
of poetry back to nature, by touching that nature
which runs through the hearts of all.

" If poetry is to get home to us with its better
influences, to hearten us in the struggles of Hfe,
beguile us of our glooms, take us gently from the
dusty high-road, where we have borne the burden in
the heat of the day, into the pastures where the grass
is green and grateful to the tired feet, the au'
fragrant and the shadows are refreshing, and the
influences of the scene draw us delicately up to loftier

5 " North British Review," No. 55.

WHAT IS POETRY ? 191

heights of being, we must have songs set to the
music of the faithful heart ; — we must have poetry
for men who work and think and suffer, and whose
hearts would feel faint and their souls grow lean if
they fed on such deliciousness and confectionery trifle
as is too frequently offered them ; — we must have
poetry in which natural emotions flow, real passions
move in clash and conflict, poetry in which our higher
aims and aspirations are represented with all that
reality of daily life which goes on around us, in its
strength and sweetness, its sternness and softness,
wearing the smiles of rejoicing, and weeping the
bitter tears of pain."

The noblest poetry is that which stirs the soul to
noblest domg. It maybe very simple in its language,
but if it does this work, it does God's work ; and
what is Godlike is best. Far rather would I be
the author of some little poem that should live in
the hearts of men and influence theu^ lives for good,
nerving them to bear and to do bravely and honoiu--
ably in the battle of life, than be the author of the
statehest epic that ever was written. In poetry, as
in religion, our motto should be " Deeds, not
Words."

DEEDS, NOT WOEDS.

" Why call ye me, Lord, Lord, aud do not the things which I say ?"

Luhe vi, 46.

Not for ever on tliy knees,

Would Jehovah have thee fovmd ;

There are griefs Jehovah sees ;

There are burdens thou canst ease ;
Look around.

192 WHAT IS POETRY ?

Work is prayer if done for God,

Prayer which God delighted hears.
See beside yon uptm-ned sod,
One bowed 'neath affliction's rod,

Dry her tears.

Not long prayers, but earnest zeal ;

This is what is wanted more : —
Put thy shoulder to the wheel ;
Bread unto the famished deal

Prom thy store.

Not high-sounding words of praise,

Does God want, 'neath some grand dome ;

But that thou the fallen raise ;

Bring the poor from life's highways
To thy home.

Worship God by doing good ;

Works, not words ; kind acts, not creeds ;
He who loves God as he should,
Makes his heart's love understood

By kind deeds.

Deeds are powerful ; mere words weak,

Batt'ring at high Heaven's door.
Let thy love by actions speak ;
Wipe the tear from sorrow's cheek ;

Clothe the poor.

Be it thine life's cares to smother.

And to brighten eyes now dim ;
Kind deeds done to one anotlier,
God accepts as done, my brother,

Unto HIM.

G. W. M.

'' By far the most powerful and encliantiiig poetry
is that which depends for its effect upon the just

WHAT IS POETRY ? 193

representation of common feelings and common
situations ; and not on the strangeness of its inci-
dents or the novelty or exotic splendour of its scenes
and characters.

" The difficulty, no doubt, is to give the requisite
force, elegance, and dignity to these ordinary sub-
jects, and to will a way for them to the heart, by
that true and concise expression of natural emotion
which is among the rarest gifts of inspu^ation. To
accomplish this, the poet must do much ; and the
reader something. The one must practise enchant-
ment, and the other submit to it. The one must
purify his conceptions from all that is low or arti-
ficial ; and the other must lend himself gently to
the unpression, and refrain from disturbing it by
any movements of worldly vanity, derision, or hard
heartedness."^

Speaking of a subject for a poem, a writer in
" Blackwood's Magazine " for July 1860, says :— " Of
all subjects in the world, none is so interesting as man.
We come back to him with renewed cordiality after
every excursion otherwheres into wliich we have been
seduced for the moment. He is always new in his
perennial identity. It was not by any philosophic
delineations of the supreme Spirit, but by so many
broad and simple pictures of the primitive inter-
course between a personal God and an actual man^
that the first revelation came. By the divine extra-
ordinary history of a man's life and death came the
gospel.

" God has acknowledged and countenanced by all

^ "Jeffrey's Contributions," Vol. ii, \). 125.
VOL. XII. O

194 WHAT IS POETRY?

modes — by history, by parable, and greatest of all, by
incarnation — that infallible means of getting at the
human heart and mterest. It is, perhaps, the only
means by which the universal understanding can be
thoroughly reached and penetrated. Philosophy has
its school, and there is a limited audience for the
higher expositions of thought ; but all mankind can
be touched, can be roused, can be interested by the
history of men." "^

The poet who knows how to express and paint the
affections and passions of the soul, will always be
read with greater delight than the most exact
observer of inanimate nature ; for, no truths come
home to us so forcibly as those which are breathed
to us through the medium of a human experience.
It is the knowledge of this fact which gives the poet
his reasons for so largely employing personification,
and imparting to uianimate creation an ideal conscious
existence, endowing the beautiful forms of Nature
with human sympathies ; as I have endeavoured to
do in the following poem.

A CHEISTMAS REVERIE.

I sat and gazed into the flickering fire,

And watched the embers fall beneath the grate

And die, as oft in life our hopes expire,

And leave our hearts and hearths all desolate.

Still fainter waned the fire, until no ray
Of light athwart the darkened room was cast

And then my thoughts went wandering away
Back into memories of scenes long past.

■ " Blackwood's Magazine," No. 537.

WHAT IS POETRY? 195

I was, inethought, reclining 'neatli a tree
Whose drooping branches, kissing the green glade,

Half hid the distant view of rocks and sea,
And spread aronnd a softened, pleasant shade.

But here and there the sunlight struggled through
The boughs and leaves, and fell like golden rain

Upon the grass and violets which grew
In lowly beauty there, and not in vain.

They were the pictures in life's lesson-book,

Wherein I learned to read, long, long ago,
The story of God's love. The sparkling brook

Flashed the same truths, too, from the vale below.

And these were still my teachers in that hour
Of loneliness ; and seemed with me to chat,

In kindly wisdom, of God's hidden power.
As 'neath that canopy of leaves I sat.

" God's hidden pow'r ; ah ! can e'en that restore

The blessedness of bygone joys ? " I said :
" Can it bring back the sunny days of yore,

Or others give, as happy, in their stead ? "

The violet looked up with tearful eye,

As if in sadness at my mournful strain ;
And spoke to me of Springs in years gone by.

And Springs to come, when it should bloom again.

The humble grass, too, told how, year by year.
Its flowers perished 'neath the mower's blade ;

But, by this suffering, although severe,

Its lowly leaflets were more numerous made.

" Yes," said the stream, " there is a hidden Power

Of recompense ; but, 'tis a law divine
That we must give to gain. Give, and some shower

Will flood thee with what once thou didst resign.

o 2

196 WHAT IS POETRY ?

" I give my tribute to the mighty sea ;

The sea its vapours yields to clouds above ;
While clouds descend in grateful show'rs. Thus we,

Giving, receive back from the hand of Love.

" Yes," said the stream, for still it babbled on,
" There is a hidden Power that blesseth all ;

0 thou whose faith and hope are well-nigh gone,
Do others good, and good to thee shall fall."

1 listened, — but the voice no longer spoke ;
Nor could I see the sunny glade or stream ;

And then I unto consciousness awoke.

And found I'd heard the voices in a dream.

G. W. M.

Lynch^ says : — " To unite earthly love and celestial,
to reconcile time and eternity, to harmonise our
instinctive longings for the definite and the infinite
in the ideal perfect, to read creation as a book of
the human heart both plain and mystical and
divinely written ; such is the office fulfilled by the
best-loved poets.

" Their ladder of celestial ascent is fixed on earth as
its base, and its top rests securely on heaven, for
they make the ordinary circumstances of daily life a
trelhs-work over which they train a flowerage of
thought blossoming in sentiment, fair and odorous
for the health, as well as a pleasure of the eye and
of the soul, which is thus hfted in loving praise to
the Author of all beauty.

" The strains of poetry are parts and presage of
universal harmony. It still refines its disciples, but
strengthens as it refines. It stirs to activity, and

8 The author of " The Memorials of Theophihis TiiDal,' &e.

WHAT IS POETRY : 197

supplies repose. It has its psalms solemn as stars
and its songs light as thistledown."

Here is one of such sono-s — a serenade : —

SLEEPING AND DEEMIING OF LOVE AND
DELIGHT.

A Serenade.

Moonhglit in beauty falls

O'er the old castle walls ;

Hushed is sweet Nature's voice,

Yet doth her heart rejoice.

Silence, itself, seemeth sleeping to-night,
Sleeping and dreaming of love and delight.

Thou, too, 0 maiden fair.

Haloed with golden hair,

Slumber thine eyes hath sealed,

Yet is their love revealed.

Beauty's own self is entranced to-night.
Sleeping and dreaming of love and delight.

Let my song's music be

Lost in thine ecstasy.

Yet let it softly swell,

Lest it should break the speU.

Beauty and Silence, twin sleepers to-night.
Sleeping and dreaming of love and dehght.

G. W. M.

Here is a song of a different spirit ; for the poet
must be a man of all moods. He must be able to
write not only songs which have a voice gentle as
the evenmg zephyr, but also songs with a voice
sonorous as the blast of a trumpet ; — songs of war
and of defiance, as well as songs of peace and love.

198

WHAT m POETRY ?

THE LAND OF FEEEDOM.

Lo 1 from England's sea-girt ramparts

Freedom's banner proudly waves,
Foes may hmi their hosts against her ;

Smiling, she their fury braves,
GrOD is her defence ! Her watchword —
" Britons never shall be slaves !"
(Chorus) G-od is our defence I Our watchword —

" Britons never shall be slaves I"

Freedom doth her sons ennoble ;

Servitude her serfs depraves.
This oiM* glory — we are free-men !
Free, for God our country saves.
God is our defence ! Our watchword —
" Britons never shall be slaves I"
(Chorus) God is our defence ! Our watchword —

" Britons never shall be slaves !"

Hark ! as with the voice of ocean

Thundering in mighty caves.
Englishmen, to threatening tyrants.

Send defiance o'er the waves.
God is their defence ! Their watchword —
" Britons never shall be slaves !"
(Chorus) God is our defence ! Our watchword —

" Britons never shall be slaves !"

By the ashes of our fathers,

By the love their memory craves,
By their Hfe's-blood shed for freedom,

We will fill no cowards' graves.
God is our defence ! Our watchword —
" Britons never shall be slaves !"'
(Chorus) God is our defence I Our watchword —

" Britons never shall be slaves 1"

G. W. M.

WHAT IS POETRY ? 199

I began this paper by stating that it is as difficult
briefly to answer the question, " What is poetry ?" as
it would be in a few words to define life, or truth, or
beauty.

I quoted Campbell's opinion, that '' poetry is the
eloquence of truth ;" I told you that Ebenezer Elliott
calls it " impassioned truth ;" that Shelley says it is
" the record of the best and happiest moments of the
happiest and best minds ;" that Hazlitt says " it is
the universal language with which the heart holds
converse with Nature and with itself ;" that
Wordsworth calls it " the breath and finer spirit
of all knowledge ;'" and that Coleridge says " it is the
blossom and the fragrance of all human knowledge,
human thoughts, human passions, emotions and
language. "

1 showed you that one of its chief characteristics is
personification, and one of its essential quahties is
smiplicity of language combined with dignity of
thought and wealth of expression.

I quoted Dr. Johnson's opinion as to the necessary
(jualifications of a poet, and supported that opinion
by a quotation from the writings of Coleridge, show-
ing that though it is undoubtedly true that the poet,
as such, is born, not made, yet if his writings are to
be a power on the earth, there must be superadded
to his natural endowments a vnde-spread knowledge
of Nature and of man.

I spoke of the extensive range of poetry, that it
has " its psalms solemn as stars, and its songs light
as thistledown." I gave an example of one of the
latter, and I will, with your permission, now conclude
this paper by giving you one of the former. It is

200 WHAT IS POETRY '^■

the introduction to an epic poem of mine entitled
" Elijah the Prophet," and is an attempt to describe
the awakenino- of Nature at sunrise, and the influence
of the voice of nature on the heart of the poet.

ELIJAH THE PEOPHET.

Invocation.

One lovely star still lingers in the sky,
As if entranced in worship at God's throne ;
Unconscious that the bhssful moments fly,
And she, so beauteous, shineth there alone.
Her heaving jewelled breast to earth makes known
The trembhng love that lureth her to stay,
And God's great goodness rapturously own ;
But, gently roused by morning's earliest ray,
Her brow of light she veils from sight, and steals away.

Still gazing up with earnest eyes to trace
The silvery path that star of morn is taking ;
I see in brilliant azure heights of space.
Fair fleecy clouds from softest slumbers waking.
As if the waves of light o'er heaven breaking
Had dashed the blue with foam. No longer cold
The glorious scene appears ; for day is making
The beauteous sky its varied tints unfold,
AYliile sunbeams, with Ithuriel touch, turn all to gold.

The shadowy mists creep up the roseate mountains.
Dissolve, and fade away like waking dreams ;
For in the east, as if from sunny fountains.
Day's dazzling rays arise. Now dimpled streams
Answer with smiles heaven's smiling face which seems
To bend o'er earth with love ; and dew-drops bright
In beauty sparkle ; but the sun's pure beams
Kiss them, and lo ! they vanish from our sight.
O life too brief ! from flower and leaf they take their flight.

WHAT IS POETRY ? 201

Hark ! in the vale some little bird is singing,
And sweetly calls its fellows to awake ;
And now the lark, into the clear air springing,
Echoes the call ; while from each bush and brake
The happy-hearted songsters answering, make
The welkin ring with praise. Eicli odours rise
In worship from the fiow'rs ; and from the lake,
Eeflecting in its depths the o'erarching skies,
A curling vapour, as of incense, heavenward flies.

God's praise the foaming cataracts proclaim,
And, bowing in deep reverence, adore.
The echoing mountains, too, repeat His name,
Then veil their faces with the clouds once more.
His praise the billows sound from shore to shore ;
Wliile viewless winds, those spirits of the deep.
Exulting join the ocean's anthem-roar.
And time, to bounding waves' wild music, keep,
As ever in God's praise their solemn harps they sweep.

And when yon sun, wliich now is seen to rise.
Shall light at last creation's funeral pyre ;
And earth shall perish, and the azure skies
Become one awful wdnding-sheet of fire ;
While stars, like sparks, fly upward and expire,
Their elements dissolved by fervent heat ;
E'en then, throughout that dissolution dire,
When clouds in darkness surge beneath God's feet.
Chaos, m mighty thunders, shall His praise repeat.

And shall the universe of God resound
For ever with His high and glorious praise ;
Shall worship in the scent of flowers be found.
And adoration in each star's pure rays ;
Is there no dew-drop which in beauty lays
Its soft cheek on a rose-leaf, nor a spring
Nor mountain torrent, but whose glad life pays
Its Maker homage ; and shall / not bring
To Thee a tribute of my love, my God and King ?

202 WHAT IS POETRY ?

The worlds of splendour in the midnight sky,
Which gem-like shine so beautifully bright.
Are but Thy breath. Almighty God Most High,
Condensed whilst passing through primeval night
With these creative words — " Let there be light ! "
And Thou canst speak, and all that's dark in me.
At once shall take its everlasting iiight ;
And, like a star o'er life's tempestuous sea.
My song may haply guide some wandering one to Thee.

0 Spieit of unutterable love.
Of highest wisdom and unbounded grace,
Speak ! and, as sprang the stars in heaven above.
From deepest darkness of the realms of space.
To show for ever to the human race
Thy still unchanging goodness, here shall shine
Some starry truths which hearts will joy to trace ;
Uplifting them from earth to things divine ;
The peace and gladness ours ; the praise and glory Thine !

G. W. M.

(Ti

REPORT

OF THE

ffjjal Sotreto ai f iteratuw.

1879.

^ojjiil Sotictjj 0f f ittriitiut.

Geneeal

ANNIYEESARY MEETING.

April 30th, 1879.

The Chair was taken at half-past lour p.m. by
Sir Patrick de Colquhoun, Q.C., LL.D., V.P.,
owing to the unavoidable absence of the Presi-
dent, His Poyal Highness The Prince Leopold,
KG.

The Minutes of the General Anniversary
Meeting of 1878 having been read and signed,
the following Annual Report of the Society's
Proceedings, as prepared under the direction of
the Council, was read.

EEPOET OF THE COUNCIL.

April 30th, 1879.

[Members.] The Council of the Royal Society of Literature
have the honour to report to the Members of
the Society that, since the last Meeting, held
in the Society's House, on Wednesday, April
24th, 1878, there have been the following
changes in, and addition to, the Members of the
Society.

They have to announce with regret the death
of their Member

James Mudie Spence, Esq.

On the other hand, they have the pleasure of
announcing that the following thirteen gentle-
men have been elected Ordinary Memhei^s : —

James Johnson Bailey, Esq., M.D.

Eev. C. Cyril Williams.

Colonel the Honoueable J. B. Finlay, A.M.

Alfred Templeton Hawkins, Esq., LL.D.

207 ^

S. W. Ames, Esq.

J. W. Colston, Esq.

W. H. Garrett, Esq.

J. Abrahams, Esq.

J. C. Aldys Scott, Esq.

J. S. Phene, Esq., LL.D., F.S.A.

Cornelius Brown, Esq.

Thomas E. Gill, Esq.

The Eev. John Saywell.

And as .Foreign Honorary Members

Count Giovanni Cittadella, of Padua.
Cavalier Atilio Hortis, of Trieste.

They have, also, much pleasure m laying [Funds.j
before the Society the following report on the
state of the funds of the Society, from which it
will be perceived that : —

0-H'MC'?'0C50Ci'X000 OOO |C»

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The Council have further to report that Donations to [Donat.on..j
the Library have been received from—

The Eoyal Society.

The Eoyal Society of Edinburgh.

The Eoyal Asiatic Society.

The Eoyal Geogkaphical Society.

The Eoyal Institution of Geeat Britain.

The Eoyal Irish Academy.

The Eoyal College of Physicians.

The Society of Antiquaries

The Trustees of the British Museum.

The Anthropological Institute.

University College, London.
The London Institution.
The Victoria Institute.
The Zoological Society of London.
Numismatic Society of London.
Society of Biblical Archeology.
The East India Association.
The Philosophic.vl Society of Liverpool.
The Historical Soc^iety of Lancashire and
Cheshire.

VOL. XII.

210

The Fkee Libraries Committee, Birmingham.

The Canadian Institute.

The Public Free Libraries, M^vnchester.

EoYAL Society of New South Wales, Sydney.

The Government of New Zealand.

The Agent-General of New Zealand.

The Eegistrar-General of New Zealand.

The Smithsonian Institution, New York.

The Zoological Society of Philadelphia.

The Eoyal Academy of St. Petersburg.

The Royal Academy of Palermo.

The Royal Academy of Science, Turin.

The Royal Institute of Lombardy.

The Royal Academy of Lisbon.

The Royal Society of Northern Antiquaries,

Copenhagen.
The Royal Academy of Brussels.
The Proprietors of the Quarterly Review.
The Proprietors of the Edinburgh Review.
The Proprietors of the Scientific Review.
The Proprietors of Nature.
Karl Elze, Esq.

Tagore Sourendro Mohan, Mus. Doc.
James Hector, Esq, F.R.S.
R. C. Carrington, Esq.

211

E.. W. Steeatee, Esq.

EuPERT A. Kettle, Esq.

Colonel the Honoueable J. B. Einlay, A.M.,

LL.D.
Messes. Simpkin, Maeshall & Co.
S. M. Deach, Esq.
James Heney, Esq.
John Coutts, Esq.
The Eev. E. A. Paley.

E. GiLBEET HiGHTON, Esq.

P 2

212

[Papers.] XJie foUowing papers have been read at the
Society's Meetings since the last Anniversary : —

I. On a Gold Signet Ring, found by Dr.
Schliemann at Mycence. By J. H. Baynes,
Esq. Bead May 22nd, 1878.

II. 0)1 the Significations of the term " The
Turks:' By J. W. Redhouse, M.B.A.S., Hon.
M.B.S.L. Bead June 19th, 1878.

III. On the 3Iodern GreeJcs considered as a
Nationality. By Sir P. de Colquhoun, Q.C,
LL.D., V.P. Bead June 19th, 1878.

ly. On tivo Greek Inscriptions from Kamiros
and lalysus in Rhodes, respectively. By C T.
Newton, Esq., M.A., C.B. Bead June 19th,

1878.

V. On the Eai^thUj Paradise of European
Mythology. By C. F. Keary, Esq. Bead
November 27th, 1878.

213 ^

VI. On Ruhens and the Art-Congress at
Antwerp. By C. A. E. Carmichael, Esq.
Read January 8tli, 1879.

YII. On Ogham Inscriptions, a7id on the
Mushajjar Characters. By Capt. R. F.
Burton, M.R.A.S. Read January 22nd, 1879.

VIII. On the History, System, and Varieties
of Turkish Poetry, illustrated by selections in
the Original and in English Paraphrase, with
a notice of the Islamic Doctrine of the Im-
mortality of a Woman's Soul in the Future
State. By J. W. Redhouse, M.R.A.S., Hon.
M.R.S.L. Read February 12th, 1879.

IX. On an Unrecorded Event in the Life of
Sir Thomas More. By E. W. Brabrook, Esq.,
F.S.A. Read February 2Gth, 1879.

X. Oil early Italian Dramatic Literature.
By R. Davey, Esq. Read March 26th, 1879.

I'^

ADDEESS

OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE PKINCE LEOPOLD, K.G., K.T.

PEESIDENT,

TO THE SOCIETY.

Wednesday, April 30fh, 1879.

My Lords and Gentlemen,

In obedience to the usual custom of this Society,
I have now the pleasure of addressing to you a few
words on this our Anniversary Meeting.

And, in doing so, I have great satisfaction in con-
gratulating the Society on its continued prosperity, as
e%dnced by the number of new names which have been
added to it during the last year, to fill the place of any
losses we may have sustained by death ; while at the

218

same time, I have not to record the resignation of a smgle
Member. Our loss by death of our ordinary Members is
only one, the smallest loss, I believe, during the last
twenty-seven years, while, on the other hand, we have
elected thu^teen new Members. We have not, so far
as I am aware, lost any one of our Honorary Members,
Eno-Msh or foreign, while we have elected two Honorary
Foreign Members.

Owing to these fortunate circumstances, therefore, I
have not, on this occasion, to trouble you with any
biographical sketches; as, however, at several of our
Meetings, many papers of considerable interest or value
have been read, I propose, according to the usual
custom of the Society to give a brief outline or analysis
of them.

Thus :

To our Vice-President, Sir Patrick Colquhcun, Q.C.,
LL.D., we are indebted foi a paper entitled " The
Modern Greeks considered as a Nationality," in the
commencement of which, he pointed out that the 2^(^tois
popularly called " Modern Greek," and supposed by
many people to be a real language, is, after all, only

219

the present commercial language of the Eastern
Mediterranean, which has gradually superseded the
Italian, for so many centuries, owing to the domina-
tion of Venice and of the other Italian Eepublics, the
chief medium of inter-communication. Since the estab-
lishment of the Greek kingdom, this jargon has
been cultivated so as to become what it scarcely was
before, a written language ; the process whereby this
result has been obtained being wholly artificial, words
and expressions, never before heard in Eomaic, having
been borrowed from Classical authors and substituted
for the Turkish, Italian and other foreign words hereto-
fore in use. Its progress may be easily judged of, by
comparing the Ordinances and the Gazettes published
on the accession of King Otho, with those of the present
day. The population themselves used invariably, and
correctly, to be designated as Eomaioi (Poy/juaioi), that
is " Romans ;" the recent names of Hellenes ('EX\T]ve<i)
and Greeci (FpaiKOL) having been invented or adopted to
bolster up the new pretended assertion of descent from
the Hellenic tribes of Classical Antiquity. Yet that
tliis assertion is baseless, has been shown by many able
scholars of modern times, such as Ulrichs and Eoss
among the Germans, and by our own Fiiilay, none of
whom have been able to discover any trace or remnant

220

of the old Greek tribes. The fact simply is, that the
ancient Greek or Hellenic population, never really very
numerous within the old Greek area, became more and
more adulterated as time went on, till it was so com-
pletely expunged that it may be safely stated that
there is far less possible trace of it than of the Keltic
race in Saxon England. The language is manifestly
that of an intrusive people, who, originally, spoke
another tongue which they translated into Greek words,
retaining, at the same time, their own idioms, grammar,
and construction.

To our Honorary Member, J. W. Eedhouse, the
Society has been indebted for two Papers, the one " On
the Origin and Progress of the Turkish Pace"; the
other, " On the History, System, and Varieties of
Turkish Poetry, illustrated by selections in the original
and in English paraphrase, with a notice of the Islamic
Doctrine of the Immortality of a Woman's Soul in the
Future State." In the first, Mr. Eedhouse stated that
a branch of the Turkisli Pace, often termed by ethno-
logists " Turanian," and consisting of a vast agglomera-
tion of tribes and hordes from Chinese Tatary, 1,100
years ago, spread into the country west of the Oxus
and Sea of Aral, extending their power and name

221

almost from the shores of the Polar Sea to the confines
of India. Their language was and still is generally
called "Turh-dili," or the "Turkish Language," and,
notwithstanding the wide expanse it covers, its dialectic
differences are no impediment to its being generally
understood over the whole of this vast geographical
area. Mr. Eedhouse then showed the connection
between the Turk, the Tatar, and the Mongol, re-
spectively ; pointmg out, also, that, as a matter of fact,
the present Shah of Persia is really of a Turkish family,
and giving, at the same time, a general estimate of the
distribution and numbers of the existing population of
the Ottoman Empire.

In his second Paper, Mr. Eedhouse commenced by
stating that the poetry of Modern Europe, owing to the
predominant study of the Classical writings of Greece
and Eome, is cast into one unvarying mould, with the
same myths and imagery, and a similar system of
rhymes and metres. Hence, it differs essentially from
what has been enshrined in the Sanskrit, Hebrew,
Arabic, and Persian writings. The Turks, Mr. Eedhouse
added, have not been less successful than other Oriental
peoples in the cultivation of Poetry, many of their
works having been very carefully studied by European

7-'

222

scholars, and notably by Von Hammer Purgstall, of
Vienna.

Mr. Redhouse then gave fifteen specimens, ancient
(sixteenth century) and recent, in the original Turkish
and as paraphrased in English verse. One of the
former, a tetrastich elegy on a lady, by Fazil, will afford
a good example of the Turkish style : —

"Alas! Thou'st laid her low, malicious Death! — enjoyment's

cup yet half unquaflf 'd ;
The hour-glass out, thou'st cut her off, disporting still in life's

young spring !
O Earth ! Ail-fondly cradle her. Thou, Trusted Seraph,

welcome her with smiles !
For this fair pearl the soul's love was, of one who is a wide

world's king."

In commenting on the third line of the above, Mr.
Eedhouse pointed out the common error entertained in
Europe — that the faith of Islam denies to women the
possession of a soul ; and showed that this erroneous
idea is not due to recent times. It is, indeed, an old
error ; while it is also doubtful when it first arose.
Sale, in the preliminary Discourses to his English
translation of the Koran, published in 1734, mentions
the notion, and refutes it from that book. But error
and prejudice are almost ineradicable. Yet the facts of

223

the case have been abeady made known to EngHsh
readers by Sale and by the late eminent Orientalist,
E. W. Lane, in his " Modern Egyptians," and these are
clear enough for anyone who will take the trouble to
look into the matter. The Koran, the Scriptures of
Islam, has various passages that explicitly promise or
threaten the joys of heaven or the torments of hell to
women, " therein to dwell for ever." Such especially
are chs. ix, 69, 73 ; xiii, 23 ; xxxiii, 35 ; xxxvi, 56 ;
xliii, 70 ; xlviii, 5 and 6 ; Ivii, 12 ; Lxvi, 9, 10, 11 ; and
cxi, 4. That in ch. xlviii, 5 and 6, is in itself sufficient : —
" That he may cause the believers and the believeresses
to enter into paradises through which rivers flow, to dwell
therein for ever. And that He may punish the hypo-
crites and the hypocritesses, and the polytheists and the
polytheistesses, who imagine an evil conceit against
God." Noah and Abraham are also said in the Koran,
xiv, 42 ; Ixxi, 29, to have prayed for " both my parents."
The immortality of woman's soul was therefore taught
to the Pagan Arabians, not as a new doctrine, but as an
article of the faith of the Patriarchs, of which Islam was
but the renewal and completion. Again, the Burial
Service of Islam is the same, word for word, for women
as for men ; as is also that for infants, grammatical
variants excepted. The words are indeed singularly

224

distinct — "0 God," says the sendee over the woman,
" if she have been a worker of good works, then do Thou
add unto her good works. And if she have been an evil
doer, do Thou pass it over. And may security and glad
tidings surround her, with honour and privilege. And
free Thou her from the torment of the grave and of hell-
fires, causing her to dwell in the abode of the paradises
with her children," &c. On every Moslem woman's
tomb, as on those of the men, is an address, requesting
the pious passer-by to recite a certain passage from the
Koran as an act of charity for the benefit of her soul ;
and the great Persian poet Sa'di has expressed the faith
of his co-religionists in the well known distich,

" Devout women, the Lord God who've faithfully seiVd,
Shall high precedence hold over men that have swerved."

In conclusion, Mr. Eedhouse remarked that it was a
scandalous falsehood to state, as has been too frequently
asserted in recent times, and by writers and speakers
who had ample opportunity of ascertaining the truth,
that the Ottoman Turks were merely ignorant bar-
barians, devoid of any intellectual culture ; indeed, that,
so far from this, that they have had, before and since the
foundation of theii' Empire, a body of learned men of
letters, with a voluminous literature in poetry, history.

225

science, and fiction, such as would have done honour to
any Western population, and while equal to, if not
superior to what has been preserved to us in Arabic or
Persian.

Mr. C. H. E. Cakmichael read a Paper " On Eubens
and the Antwerp Art- Congress," in which, after de-
scribing the general characteristics of the festival held
in honour of this great Painter in the most historic city
of Flanders, and of the Art-Congress held in connection
with it, he proceeded to analyse some of the principal
discussions which then took place, referring, naturally,
for the most part to Ptubens himself, and to the art of
his times, and, at the same time expressed the hope, that
the most practical of the resolutions of the Congress,
the publication of a complete " Codex Diplomaticus
Piubenianus " would receive material assistance both
from the public and also from the private collections
preserved in this country.

Captain Burton contributed a Paper " On the Ogham
Eunes and El-Mushajjar " in which he discussed at
great length, and with much ability, the history aiid
origin of these curious forms of writing, and examined
the various theories which have been advanced in

VOL. XII. Q

226

recent times, especially by Dr. Graves, the Bishop of
Limerick, and Mr. Ehys, the Professor of Celtic in the
University of Oxford. The popular belief is, he stated,
that the inventors or adapters of the Ogham Alphabet
gave to its letters the names of different trees or plants ;
and there can be no doubt that the Arabic title El-
Mushajjar " the branched " or the " tree-like," arose
from the appearance of the letters. In the original
Eunic Alphabet, only two letters are called after two
trees, the thorn and the birch, respectively, and it is
worthy of note that the latter, the birch, and the poplar
(Piffal) are the only terms which have spread through
Europe with a direct derivation from the old Aryan
home (Bhurja). To the thorn and the birch, the more
developed Anglo-Saxon Alphabet added four, the yew,
the sedge, the oak, and the ash. The Bishop of Limerick
has strongly urged that the arrangement of the letters
clearly shows that this alphabet was constructed by
grammarians, and that it cannot be considered as a
genuine primitive alj)habet ; but with this view Captain
Burton is not satisfied, and it seems almost certain
that it cannot be maintained, at least to the extent the
Bishop would urge.

To Mr. T. H. Baynes, of Exeter College, Oxford, the

227

Society is indebted for an ingenious Paper " On a Gold
Signet Eing found by Dr. Scbliemann at Mycense," wliich
the discoverer has described and ligured at p. 354 of his
Account of liis Excavations there. In tliis Paper,
Mr. Baynes endeavoured to sliow that the curious
figures engraved on it, i7i intaglio represent, respectively,
Latona, Eileithyia and other attendant Deities, the
whole subject being the birth of Apollo in the Island of
Delos. The Paper showed a wide range of reading and
research, and was interesting as an attempt to solve
a problem which has exercised the learning of many
students, in this country as well as abroad.

Mr. Washington Moon read a Paper entitled "What
is Poetry ? " in which he said that it was as difiicult
briefly to answer this question as it would be to define
life, or truth, or beauty. He quoted Campbell's remark
that Poetry is " the eloquence of Truth," and Ebenezer
Elliott's definition that it is " impassioned Truth," re-
ferring, also, to Shelley's description of it as " tlie record
of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and
best minds," and Hazlitt's opinion that it is "the
universal language with which the heart liolds converse
with Nature and witli itself." He further stated that
Wordsworth calls it " the breath and finer spirit of all

Q 2

228

knowledge," and that Coleridge remarks of it that it is
" the blossom and fragrance of all human knowledge,
human thoughts, human passions, emotions, and lan-
ffuasre. He then showed that one of its chief character-
istics is personification, and one of its essential qualities
simplicity of language combined with dignity of
thought, and wealth of expression. He quoted also
Dr. Johnson's opinion as to the necessary qualifications
of a poet, and supported that judgment by a quotation
from the writings of Coleridge, to the effect that,
though it is undoubtedly true that a poet, as such,
is born not made, yet if his writings are to be a power
on the earth, there must be superadded to his natural
endowments a wide-spread knowledge of Nature and of
man.

Mr. E. W. Brabrook, F.S.A., read to the Society an
excellent Paper " On an Unrecorded Event in the Life of
Sir Thomas More,'"' viz. : that on December 10, 1514,
he enrolled himself among the Professors of Civil Law,
by becoming a member of the Society of Advocates,
commonly called Doctors' Commons. The proof of this
statement Mr. Brabrook showed, from a tracing of an
autograph of Sir Thomas More he had recently found in
the Kegister and Obligation Book of the Society, now

229

preserved in the Archiepiscopal Library at Lambeth, the
most appropriate place for it. The Register contains
the words : "Ego T. Morns, 3° die decembris a" a Christo
nato 1514'°, admissns sii in hanc societate et poUicitor
me solutiu', in annis singulis, s. 6, d. 8." Mr. Brabrook
argued that Sir T. More had probably been induced to
take tliis step owing to his constant employment on
embassies in foreign countries, where a knowledge of
the Civil Law was ahnost iadispensable, and where,
too. Professors of the Civil Law were most frequently
chosen for such offices.

Mr. Davey read a paper " On Early Italian Dramatic
Literature," in which he gave a clear account of its rise
and progress down to the commencement of the six-
teenth century, pointing out how it was gradually
developed from the rude reminiscences of the classical
drama, which had been preserved among the lower
orders, and for which the Church substituted the well-
known miracle plays, many of which, according to
modern ideas, would be considered very profane.

The Majji of Tuscany, which are rarely found in
print, Mr. Davey considered to be, in all probability,
an echo of these earlier dramatic performances. The
Drama, as a whole, was greatly affected by the rise of

230

the Eenaissance Period, and of the great works of Dante,
Petrarch, Boccacio, and others. Trissino was the author
of the first Italian tragedy of note, the Sophonisba,
some scenes of wliich, as tliat of the death-bed of the
Queen, Mr. Davey showed to have much dramatic
power. Another work of considerable merit was
Ruccellai's Rosmunda. Mr. Davey then referred to
the remarkable influences of Italian literature on the
English writers of the Elizabethan times, and expressed
his opinion that Shakespeare must have been ac-
quainted with the leading Italian writers of his day.
The character of the Renaissance Drama of Italy, he
added, was doubtless much affected by the cruel spirit
of the Renaissance itself, especially in Southern Europe.

To Mr. C. F. Keary, of the British Museum, we owe
a paper " On the Earthly Paradise of European Mytho-
logy," in which he proved satisfactorily, from the
evidence of the Mediaeval legends, the existence of a
long current tradition concerning the Earthly Paradise,
distinct from, and not seldom in opposition to, the
doctrines of Orthodox Catholicism, and, therefore, in
all probability, a survival of Heathen Mythology.

One peculiar feature of these Christian legends
pointed to an Eartlily Paradise lying in the West, and

231

only to be readied by passing over the sea. Mr. Keary
then proceeded to trace the belief through the Eartlily
European mythologies, and concluded that a myth
which had originally referred to the Journey of the
Soul after death, came in time to be treated in a more
literal and, in some degree, in a more prosaic manner,
thus giving rise to the story of an Earthly Paradise.
The earlier myth of the soul's journey probably took a
definite shape before the ancestors of the European
races had migrated from their original homes in
Asia.

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247

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^^1

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

BY RICHARD F. BURTON, M.R.A.S.

(Eeacl June 2:ird, 1880.)

Part T.

Notices of the Tribes of Midian, viz. : —

(I.) Huwaytdt ; (II.) Beni 'XJkbah ; (III.) Magdni or Maknawis ;
(IV.) Ma 'azah ; (V.) Baliyy, aud (VI.) Hutaym.

The land of " Madyan " (Proper) as the Arabs
universally call it, or " North Midian," as I have
proposed to term it, is the region extending from
Fort El-'Akabah, at the head of the gnlf of the
same name (N. lat. 29° 28'), to Fort El-Muwaylah,
(N. lat. 27° 40'). This tract, measuring a latitudinal
length of 108 miles (dir. geog.), contains three
distmct tribes of Bedawin, viz. : —

Huwaytat "]

Maknawi > bounded east by the Ma'azah.

Beni 'Ukbah J
They have been called Egypto- Arabs ; but it must
be noted that while the Beni 'Ukbah, like the
Ma'd,zah, have spread from Arabia to Egypt, the
Hnwaytdt and most of the Maknawi have migrated
out of Egypt into Arabia ; all have in fact trodden,
during past centuries, in inverse directions, that
great nomadic highway, the Isthmus of Suez. As

VOL. XII. s

250 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

a rule, those who settled in the Nile Valley, extended
their branches over Northern Africa, and some
reached even to utmost Morocco.

The district of about the same latitudinal extent,
from El-Muwaylah to^ the great "Wady Hamz (N.
lat. 25° 55' 15"), where Egypt ends, and where the
Hejaz, the Holy Land of the Moslems, begins, I
propose to call " South Midian," m lieu of the
confused terms locally used. This district, measuring
105 miles (dir. geog.), contains two chief tribes : —

Huwaytat "1 bounded east by the 'Anezah, and

Baliyy J south by the Juhaynah.

We may fitly compare these tribes with the
Semitic families scattered over North-western
Arabia in the days of the Hebrews, such as the
Moabites and Ammonites, the Amalekites, the
Kenites, and a host of others. But I would observe,
in limine, that none of the peoples now inhabiting
the land of Midian represent that gallant race, the
Midianites of old. From the earhest times of El-Islam
they have been held a " mixed (or impulse) multitude
[Klialtun mill el-NcU) ; m fact, ol e^w.

Yet they cannot be called modern ; two of them,
have la charme des origines, dating from at least as
far back as the days of the Byzantine Empire.
These two, the Beni 'Ukbah and the BaUyy, claim, as
will be seen, noble blood, Himyaritic and Kahtani-
yah (Joktanite). The Huwaytat and the Maknawis
are called Nuttat El-Ha}i: {" Wall-jumpers "), an
opprobrious term applied by the Bedawi, inir sang,
to villagers or settled Arabs. The Nejdi 'Anezah and
the Hejdzi Juhaynah will not be noticed, as they
live beyond the limits of " Midian," in its most

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIEflAN. 251

extended sense ; but I must not neglect the Pariah
or out-cast Hutaym, the fishmg race of the coast
and the pastors of the mterior.

These four chief famihes, Beni 'Ukbah and Bahyy,
Huwaytdt and Maknawi, not inchiding the Ma'azah
and the Hutaym, much resemble one another in
physical characteristics, in dress, in diet, and in mode of
life. With the exception, perhaps, of the Baliyy, all
speak without difference of vocabulary or accent
Bedawi Arabic, resembling that of the Sinai Penin-
sula, tainted with the Fellah-Egyptian jargon. The
six have been described with more or less correctness
of detail by Biu-ckhardt (pp. 412, 437, "Travels in
Syria." London : Murray, 1822), and in a later day
by Walhn, who after his pilgrimage was known to
the Arabs as Haji Wall (el-Din) ;^ he travelled from
El-Muwaylah to Meshhed Ah, thus nearly traversing
Arabia. He did not, however, remain long enough
in Midian to separate false reports from true ; and
his valuable notices tend only to perpetuate the
gross exaggerations of the Bedawin. The sole object
of the latter is to impose upon the pilgrim- caravans,
and to frighten the Governments of Egypt and
Syria into granting the greatest possible amount of
black-mail. The Huwaytat, for instance, assured
me on my first journey that they number, like the
Ma'azah, 5,000 males." I do not believe that those

• This learned Swede, Dr. George Augustus Wallin, after returning
from Arabia, was made Arabic Professor at the University of Helsing-
fors, where he died shortly afterwards. His work alluded to in these
pages is Notes taken during a Journey through part of Northern Arabia
in 1848. Eead April 22nd, 1850. Ai't. xxi., Journ. Eoy. Geog. Soc,
pp. 293-339. The journey took place in 1847-48.

2 I pubhshed the statement in (p. 150), "The Gold Mines of Midian,"'

S 2

252 THE ETHNOLOCxY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

dwelling in Midian can muster 500. During our
second marcli the Ma'azah declared that they could
put 2,000 matchlocks into the field, which may be
reduced, in the case of the section holding the east
of this province, to about the same proportion.
Lastly, the Bahyy, have succeeded in establishing
the greatest amount of exaggeration. *' A us dieser
Kiiste zahlen sie gegenwcirtig, 37,000 UKiffenftlliige
Manner," says my learned friend Sprenger.^ I think
that under 1,000 would be nearer the mark; and,
during our progress through their country we
certainly did not see 100 souls.

The immense division and subdivision of the tribes
into clans and septs, which must often consist of
single families ; and the exaggerated number of
chiefs, subserve the same purpose. The last Ex-
pedition which I had the honour to lead never
numbered less than three Shaykhs, each of whom
received for suit and service the usual honorarium of
$1 per diem. If I summoned a Shaykli, he was sure
to come escorted by three to five other " Shaykhs,"
brothers and cousins, who all had an eye upon
'* Bakhshish." In fact, every naked-footed feUow
a little above the common " cateran " would dub
himself " Shaykli," * and claim his " Mushdharah "
or monthly pay, showing immense indignation at,

&c. London : C. Kegan Pavil and Co., 1878. The second Expedition
gave me an excellent opportunity of correcting the mistakes of the first.
For instance, Beni (Sons of) was erroneously applied to the Huwaytdt,
to the Ma'4zah, and to the Baliyy ; when, throughout Midian, it is
confined to the (Beni) 'Ukbah.

^ P. 28, Die alte Geographic Arabien's. Bern. Huber u. Comp, 1875.

* Thus our gi^iide, 'Abd el-Nabi, of the Huwaytdt, persuaded me
during the first Expedition that he was a chief, when he was a mere
clansman ; and, of course, it was no one's business to correct me.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 253

and aiFecting to hold liiniself dishonoured by, my
refusal.

But this multiplication of " Shaykhs " has its
compensatmg advantage. It will be useful m dis-
oiphning the 'Orbdn,^ as the citizens call their wild
neighboiu's. The claimant to cliieftainship is always
a man of more substance than the common herd ; and
there is a hold upon him when he is engaged to hire
labour. Thus I expect scant difficulty in persuaduig
the tribesmen to do a fair day's work for a fair and
moderate wag-e. The Bedawin flocked to the Suez
Canal, took an active part in the diggmgs, and left
there a good name. They will become as valuable to
the mmes of Midian ; and so shall the venerable old
land escape the mortification of the " red-flannel-
shirted Jove and his golden shower," as the " rough "
of Europe is called by a contemporary reviewer.

The first tribe to be noticed is the Huwaytat, of
whom a short description was given in my book on
" The Gold Mines." The name occiu'S (p. 541) in
the Jehan-numa {Speculum inundi),^ the work of
Haji Khalifah, commonly called Katib Chelebi (the
"elegant writer") who died in a.h. 1068 (=:a.d.
1658). Of El-'Akabah, the station of the pilgrim
caravan, we read, " the Arabs settled there are of the
tribe of Huwaytat," The 'Alawiyyin^ Huwaytat,
who now claim the place and receive government
pay, ignore that they are a mere clan or branch ;
and Shaykli Mohammed ibn Jad, who styles himself

^ Or 'Urban, the plural of 'Arab. It is prefixed to the tribal aud
septal name, as 'Orbau Huwaytat, 'Orban Tagaygtit, aud so forth.

^ See Ajipendix, vol. ii., Wellsted, " Travels iu Arabia," &c. Loudou :
Murray, 1838.

' Prof. Palmer (p. 431) calls them " 'Alawiu."

254 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

lord of El-'Akabali, speaks of the connection as an
old and obsolete story.

My principal authority upon the subject of the
Huwaytdt and the tribes of North Midian, was
Shaykh Furayj bin Rafi'a, the 'Agid or military
leader and cousin of the head Chief 'AMyan el-
Tugaygi. According to this oral genealogist, a man
thoroughly to be trusted, the eponymus, or first
ancestor of the "people belonging to the httle
walls," was a lad named 'Alaydn. Travelling over the
Cairo- Suez line, afterwards occupied by the tribe, m
company with certain Shurafa, or descendants of the
Apostle, and, ey^go, held by his descendants to have
been also a Sherif, he fell sick on the way. At El-
'Akabah the stranger was taken in by 'Atiyah, Shaykh
of the then powerful Ma'azah tribe, who owned the
land upon which Sultan Selim's fort now stands.
Being able to read and write, he made himself useful
to his adopted father in superintending the amount
of stores and provisions supphed to the Hajj. The
Arabs, who before his coining peculated and em-
bezzled at discretion, called him by the nickname
El-Huwayti {J^i^^), the "Man of the Little Wall,"
Huivayt being the diminutive of Hayt, a wall or a
house, opjDosed to Bayt, a tent. They considered, in
fact, his learning a fence against their frauds. He was
subsequently sent for by his Egyptian friends, who
were baulked by a report of his death ; he married
his benefactor's daughter, and he became Shaykh
after the demise of his father-in-law. As time in-
creased his power he drove the Ma'azah from El-
'Akabah, and he left four sons, who are the progenitors
of the Midianite Huwaytat. Their names were : —

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 255

'Imran (^\;^,^
Suway'id (sxi^J), and
Sa'id (s^x^).

1. From the eldest son came the 'Alwani-Hnwaytat
clan, whose chief septs are : —

Diyab or 'Atish (jj1l-.Lj:) who hold the Edomite
Shera' range (the Mount Seir of the Hebrews)
between Forts 'Akabah and Ma'an, where they meet
Mohammed ibn Jdzi and his Beni Sakr.^ Both
chiefs receive pay for protectmg the Hajj about
El-'Akabah.

The narrow shp of Edom Proper is bounded
north by Kerak, the southern outpost of Moab ; south
by El-'Akabah of Midian ; east by the road of the
Damascus pilgrimage ; and west by the Wady
el-'Arabah. It is divided into two parts. The
northern is called El-Jibal (the "Mountains"),
answeringf to the Gebal of the Hebrews and the
Gebalene of the Bomans. The southern is known
as El- Sherd', containing the ancient capital, Sela
(Heb., the Bock), now Petra. Both, together with
Midian and the Northern Hejaz, were included in
the classical Nabathsea.

Nijad {^^) also called Nijad Mihimmid. They
extend, like the former, from El-'Akabah to the
Shera'. Their Shaykh, Hasan ibn Bashid, has lately

« Burckhardt (p. 512, "Travels in Syria," &c., London : Murray, 1822)
calls them the " Omran," and assigns to them the whole tract from El-
' Akabah to El-Muwaylah. Wellsted (vol. ii., p. 120, ^nd passim) also
terms the clan " Omran."

9 According to the Rev. Mr. H. B. Tristram ("The Land of Moab,"
Murray, 1878), the Beni Sakr are " true Midianites."

256 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MTDIAN.

denied that he is an 'Alwani, and has gone over to
MujaUi, chief of El-Kerak, an ahen family.

2. The descendants of Inn\an, whom Rlippell (p. 21)
calls die Emradi, suspecting them of being Jews,
and telling the queerest tales about them, form the
following four septs : —

Hamidat (ci;U-^)j
E,aba'iyyin (^,^^J),
'Abadilah (^-^l^) and
Siyahah (a^L^).

These Bedawin are all subject to one Shaykh,
Kliizr ibn Makbiil, assisted by his brother 'Brahim ;
the former usually camps in the Hisma, the latter in
the Wady el-Hakl — vulgo, Hagul, the Ancale of
Ptolemy (vi., 7).

The followmg two septs, also 'Imranis, are under
Salawat ibn Helayyil, who camps in the hilly and
plain ground to the east of the station El-'Akabah : —

Hawamidah (iXc^^s^)/*^
Asabi'n (^^-U^).

3. The descendants of Suway'id are numerous.
The list of 19 names, which I gave in my first
volume, contams only the posterity of the thu"d son :
my informants, being of the Tugaygat-Huwaytat
subdivision, politely ignored all the three brothers
who had not the honour of being their ancestors.
The Hst has been carefully corrected by the
genealogists,^^ who have added to it three septs : —

'* Not to be confounded with the Moabitic Beni Hamidah or the
Hamaidah — the latter the ownei"s and breaker of the celebrated
" Moabite Stone."

" The errors and the misprints are numerous. Amongst the former is

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 257

20. Fahamin (|^,-^U"j),

21. Shawamin {^r^^'^^) and

22. Muwayja'ilt (cijU^^^)-

In my list the Masii'id (sing. Mas'udi) has been
made No. 2 of the Suway'id-Huwaytat descent.
According to Wallm^^ (p. 303) they represent them-
selves as having originally came from a water-course
in Yemen, named Wady Lif. Of this province
I could hear nothing. But the genealogists agree in
representing that this decayed and spuitless clan,
now perforce affiUated to the Tugaygat-Huwaytat
for protection agamst the 'Imran, is at least as old as
the Beni 'Ukbah. Biippell, indeed, suspects {loc. cit.)
that the die, Musaiti are ein Judenstamm, but this
is distmctly denied. The clan, expelled m 1877
from Maghdu" Shu'ayb, its old possession, is confined
(1877-1878) to the parts about 'Aynimah, which
is safer for it than Makna. In former days it
extended to Egypt ; and it still has congeners at
El-Ghazzah (Gaza), and the Has el- Wady, near the

{ix 152) " Maghdrat " (for Maghdir) Shu'ayb : " Makhsab " (for Midh ■
assib) in p. 153, and in the same " Jebel" (for Wady) El-Jimm. The
misprints (p. 153) are "Suwayyah" (for El-Suwayyid, the Suweyid of
WaUin), "El-Ulayydt" iiov ' Ubeyijdt) ; " El-Zamahrah " (for El-Zam.
ahrah) ; and " Surhayldt " (with that intelligent compositor's vile British
" r ") for Suhayldt.

'2 WaUin (p. 302) in his list of septs mentions the " Dakikat " and
the " TahtkS,t " — " the last regarded by some as the noblest clan of the
tribe, by others as a separate tribe." Thus he makes it evident that he
means the " Tugaygat," whose name will presently be explained ; whilst
his " Dakik§,t " must be the Tagatkah of the Wady D4mah, tlie No. 7
in my list. As regards his " 'Ureindt " (for '' Arayndt) they are counted
as Hutaym, and live under the protection of the Huwaytat. His
" Sharm^n " is a small sept of the 'Amlrat clan, which WalUn miscalls}
'Umrat ; and of his " Sughayin " I could learn nothing.

2.58 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

Egyptian Tell el-Kebir. The Masa'id (s^L^) clan
is divided into two septs : —

Farahin {^j^j).

Masa'id Ahl el-Bada ; that is, the families who
formerly camped at Maghair Shu'ayb, the Madiama
of Ptolemy (vi,, 7).

The Shaykh of the Masa'id is dead ; and one
Agil, a greedy, foolish kind of fellow, who visited
and dunned me during my first journey, aspii'es to
the dignity and the profits of chieftainship.

4. The posterity of Sa'id, the fourth brother,
numbers, I am told, only one great clan, the Sa'diy-
yin, under their Shaykh ibn Negayz (j^sr) ; they
camp in the Wady 'Arabah and in the Tih or wilder-
ness to the west and the north-west of Midian.

The Huwaytat tribe is not only an mtruder ; it is
also the aggressive element in the Midianite family
of Bedawin. Of late years it has made large addi-
tions to its territory. Thus the Jehan-Numa,
written before the middle of our seventeenth cen-
tury, declares that " the permanent abode of the
Beni-Lam " Hes between the Hajj stations, El-Sharaf
and Maghdir Shu'ayb. In these days the Lam tribe,
which still musters strong in Mesopotamia, especially
about Kurneh (Goorna), at the confluence of the
Tigris and the Euphrates, has disappeared from
Midian ; indeed, Katfat Beni-Lam (the " cutting ofi:'
of the sons of Lam ") is a local saying to denote a
thing clean gone, that leaves not a trace beliind it.
Again, the Beni 'Ukbah, as will be seen, once occupied
the whole of Midian Proper, and extended through
South Midian as far as the Wady Damah. This

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 259

great valley is held to be a Hadiidah (" frontier-
divider ") which, in ancient days, separated the
'Ukbiyyah (" 'Ukbah-land ") to the north, from the
Balawiyyah (" Baliyy-land ") south of it. In our
times the intrusive Huwaytdt have absorbed almost
all the 'Ukbiyyah, and are fast encroaching upon
the northern Balawiyyah. At such a rate the
modern and adventitious tribe will, after a few
generations, either " eat up," as the Cape-Kafirs say,
all the other races ; or, by a more peaceful process,
assimilate them to tlieir own body. Statistics are
impossible in the present condition of Midian ; but
it will be most interesting to investigate the birth-
rate and the death-rate among the Huwaytdt and
then- neighbours.

I also consulted Shaykh Hasan el-'Ukbi and his
cousin, Ahmed, popularly known as " Abii Khar-
tum," concernmg the origin of their tribe, the Beni
'Ukbah, whom Wellsted (ii., p. 120) calls "Ugboot."''
According to Shaykh Furayj, the name means " Sons
of the Heel " ('Akab). During the early wars and
conquests of El-lslam, they fought by day on the
Moslems' side ; and at night, when going over to the
Nazarenes, they lost the " spoor," by wearing their
sandals heel foremost, and by shoeing their horses
the wrong way. All this they indignantly deny.
They declare that the tribal name is derived from
their ancestor 'Ukbah, and they are borne out
by the literary genealogists. El-Haradani says
"they are the sons of 'Ukbah, son of Maghrabah,

" In my vol. i., ]). 117, I have given a few details concerning the
Beni 'Ukbah, and a fanciful derivation of the tribal name, which need
not here be repeated.

260 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

son of Heram " ; and El-Kalkashendi in the fifteenth
century makes them " descendants of Gudhdm of
the Kahtanijyah " (Joctanite Arabs), some of the
noblest of Bedawi blood. They also assert that
they came to Midian from the south : that is, they
are of Hejazi descent ; and they look upon the
Huwaytat as mere parvenus, men of yesterday. At
fii'st called " El-Musalimah," they were lords of all
the broad lands extending southward between Shdmah
(Syria) to the Wady Damah, below the port of
Ziba ; and this fine valley still retains, I have said,
under its Huwayti occupants, the title of 'Ukbiyyah —
Ukbah-land. The author of " El-Tbar," Ibn Khaldiin,
makes their land " extend from El-Kerak to El-
Azlam in El-Hejaz ; and they are bound to seciu-e
the road (for pilgrims) between Egypt (Cairo ?) and
El-Medinah, and as far as El-Ghazzah (Gaza) in
Syria." Consequently they claim as "Milk," or
unahenable property, the Wadys Ghurr, Sharma,
'Aynunah and others ; whilst their right as " Ghu-
fara ("protectors") to the ground upon which Fort
El-Muwaylah is built has never been questioned.

The first notable event m the history of the Beni
'Ukbah was a quarrel that arose, about the beginning
of El Islam, between them and their brother tribes
the Beni 'Amr^^ ('Auiru;. The 'Ayn el-Tabbakliah,

•* Wallin (p. 300), who erroneously makes the Beni 'Ukbah extend
from Bada' to Ziba, has evidently heard j^art, and part only, of this
story. He terms the two large divisions, MusdUmah and Beni 'Amrl
(pronounced 'Amr), and derives them from a common ancestor, named
Ma'rdf. He also speaks of the domestic feuds between the Shaykhs,
which ended in the expulsion of the Beni 'Amr, by the Musalimah from
the neighbourhood of El-Muwaylah. Finally, he notices their taking
"refuge with the Hejdya tribe, about Tafilah, near Ma'au, with whom

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 2G1

the fine water of Wady Madyan, now called Wady
Makna, was discovered by a Hutaymi shepherd of
the Beni 'Ah clan, while tending his flocks ; others
say that the lucky man was a hunter following a
gazelle. However that may be, the find was re-
ported to the Shaykh of the Musulimah (Beni
'Ukbah) who had married 'Ayayfah, the sister of the
Beni 'Amr chief, Ali ibn el-Nejdi, whilst the latter
had also taken his brother-in-law's sister to wife.
The discoverer was promised a Jinu or Sabdtah'^
(date-bunch) from each palm-tree, and the rival
claimants waxed hot upon the subject. The
Musahmah declared that they would never yield
their rights, a certain ancestor, 'Asaylah, having
first pitched tent upon the Rughamat Makna or
white "horse " of Makna. A furious quarrel ensued,
and, as usual in Arabia, both claimants prepared to
fight it out.

To repeat the words of our genealogist, Fura}^ :
" Now when the wife of the Shaykh of the Musah-
mah had heard and understood what Satan was
tempting her husband to do against her tribe, she
rose up and sent a secret message to her brother of
the Beni 'Amr, warning him that a certain person
(fuldn) was about to lay violent hands on the Valley.
Hearing this, the Beni 'Amr mustered their young
men, and mounted theu* horses and dromedaries,
and rode forth with jingling arms ; and at mid-
night they found their opponents asleep m El-

tliey have ever since formed one tribe ; but they still retain their
animosity towards their kindred clan" (the Musdlimah).

" Jand-a, in classical Arabic, would be "gathered fruit" ; Subatah :
rubbish, sweepings.

262 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

Khabt (a region to the north-west of 'Ayniinah),
with their beasts tied up by then- sides. So they
cut the cords of the camels, and having gagged the
hunter who guided the attack, they threatened hun
with death, and they carried him away with them
towards Makna.

" When the Musahmah awoke, they discovered
the deceit, and securing their camels they hastened
after the enemy, following his track hke 'Azrail.
Both met at Makna, where a battle took place,
and Allah incHned the balance towards the Beni
'Amr. The Musahmah therefore became exiles, and
took refuge in Egypt. And m the flow of days it
so happened that the Shaykh of the Beni 'Amr
awoke suddenly at midnight and heard his wife, as
she sat grmding at the quern, sing this

Quatrain.

" If the hand-mill (of Fatej grind down onr tribe
We will bear it, 0 Thou (Allah) that aidest to Lear !
But if the hand-mill grind down the foeman tribe
We will pound and pound them as thin as flour."

" Whereupon the Shaykh, m his wrath, took up a
stone and cast it at his wife and knocked out one
of her front teeth. She said nothing, but took
the tooth and wrapped it in a rag, and sent it with
a message to her brother, the Shaykh of the
Musahmah. But this chief was unable to revenge
his sister single-handed, so he travelled to Syida and
threw himself at the feet of the Great Shaykh of the
Wuhaydi tribe, who was a Sherif.

" The Wuhaydi despatched his host together
with the warriors of Musjilimah, and both went off

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 2G3

to battle with the Beni 'Amr. The latter being
camped in a valley near 'Aynunah, tethered their
dogS; and some say left behind theii' old people/^ and
lit huge bonfires : whence the name of the place is
Wady Urum Niran (the " Mother of Fires") to this
day. Before early dawn they had reached in flight
the Wady 'Arawwah of the Jibdl el-Tehamah. In
the morning the Musalimah and the Wuhaydi,
finding that a trick had been practised upon them,
followed the foe and beat him in the Wady
'Arawwah, killing the Shaykh ; and the Chief of
the Musalimah gave his widowed sister as wife to the
Wuhaydi, and settled with his people in their old
homes. The Beni Amr fled to the Hismd, and exiled
themselves to Kerak in Syria, where they stiU dwell,
owning the plain called Ganan Shabib."'^

The second event in the history of the tribe, the
tale of Abii Bish, shall also be told in the words of
Furayj : "After the coiu'se of time the Beni 'Ukbah,
aided by the Ma'azah, made war against the
Shurafa (descendants of the Apostle), and plundered
them, and drove them from their lands. The victors
were headed by one Salamah, a Huwayti, who dwelt
at El-Akabah, and who had become their sfuest.^^

" In those ages the daughters of the tribe were
wont to ride before the host in their Hawjidig

■® This act would disgrace an Arab tribe, and of course it is denied
by the Beni 'Ukbah.

•' There is now peace between the Beni 'Ukbah and the Beni 'Amrd ;
at least, so I was assured by the Shaykhs, although Walliu (p. 300)
heard t le reverse. The remnant of the tribe has never heard of its
settlements, reported by books, in Western Tripoli, or in the far West
of North Africa.

" The modern Beni 'Ukbah ignore the story of Abti Rish, not
wishing to confess their obligations to the HuM'ayt^t.

2G4 TITE ETIINOLOCY OF MODERN MIUIAN.

(camel-litters), singing the war-song to make the
warriors brave. As Salamah was the chief Mubariz
("champion" in single combat), the girls begged
hlni to wear a white ostrich feather in his turban
when fighting, that they might note his deeds and
sing his name; hence his surname "Abu Ki'sh" —
the Father of a Featlier.'" The Shorifs being beaten,
made peace, taking the lands (South Midian)
between Wady Daniah and El-Hejaz, whilst the
Beni 'Ukbah occupied North Midian (Madyan Proper),
between Dtlmah and Shamali (Syria).

" Abu llish, who was a friend to both victor and
vanquished, settled among the Shorifs, and in the Sirr
country, south of Wady Dilmah. He had received
to wife, as a reward for his bravery, the daughter of
the Shaykh of the Beni 'Ukbah, and she bare him
a son, 'Id, whose tomb is in the Wady Ghiil, between
Zihd and El-Muwaylah. On the seventh day after
its birth, the mother of 'Id followed the custom of
the Arabs, and presented the babe to her father,
who made over in free gift Wady 'Aynunah to his
fi)\st-born grandson. 'Id used to lead caravans to
Cairo, for the purpose of buying provisions ; and
he was often plundered by the Ma'ilzah, who had
occupied in force the Wadys Sharma, Tiryam, and
Surr of El-Muwaylah.

This 'Id ibn Salamah left, by a Huwayti woman,
a son 'A lay an, surnamed Abii Takikalr° (Father of a

" Tims, probably we must explain Walliu (p. 303) : — " The Huweitat
give the name of Eeishy to the ancestor of their tribe, but in the Arab
genealogies which I had an o})portunity of seeing, I could not find any
notice, at le;xst any direct notice, eitlier of him or of his descendants."

*" In classical Arabic ^jL (Takh) means a i-attle, a clatter, like our
" tick-tack."

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 265

Scar), from a sabre cut in the forehead ; he was the
founder of the Tugaygat-Huwaytat clan, and his
descendants still swear by his name. Once upon a
time, when leading the caravan, he reached the
Wady 'Afal, and he learned that his hereditary
enemies, the Ma'azah, and the black slaves who
gamsoned El-Muwaylah, were Im-king in the Wady
Marayr f^ so he left his loads imder a strong giiai^d,
and he hastened with the Huwaytat to the Hisma,
where the Ma'azah had left theii' camels undefended.
These he drove off and rejoined his cai'avan rejoicing.
The Ma'azah, heaiing of their disaster, hurried inland
to find out the extent of the loss, lea\'ing the black
slaves who were still determined to plunder the
Kafilah. "Ala van was apprised of their project ;
and, reachino" the Wady Umm Gehavlah, he left his
caravan under a guard, and secretly posted fifty
matchlock men in the Wady el-Suwayrah, east of
the walls of El-Muwaylah ; he then (behold the
cimning ! ) tethered between the two hosts, at a
place called Zil'ah (tuLi), east of the tomb of
Shaykh Abdullah," ten camel-colts without theii'
dams. Pioused bv their bleatino- the negro slaves
followed the sound and fell into the ambush, and
were all slain.

" 'Alayan returned to the Sut country, when his
tribe, the Huwa}i:at said to him ' Hayyu ! (up !) to
battle with these Ma'azah and Beni 'Ukbah : either
they uproot us, or we uproot them I " So he

-' Oi', more correctly, from a plant, Centaurea calcitrapa. Forskal
(Descriptiones, etc., p. Isviii) also translates " Marayr," Hieracium uni-
Horum. The valley lies north of El-Muwaylah.

^ The tomb on a hillock north of El-Muwaylah.

VOL. XTL T

266 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

gathered the clan, and marched to a place called
El-Bayza (south east of El-Muwayldh), where he
found the foe in his front. On the next day the
battle began, and it was fought out from Friday to
Friday. A truce w^as then made, and it covenanted
to last between evening and morning ; but at mid-
night the enemy arose, left their tents, and lied to
the Hisma. 'Alayan followed them, came up with
them in the Wady Sadr, and broke them to pieces.
Upon this they fled to Egypt and Syria.

" After a time the Beni 'Ukbah retui'ned, and
obtained pardon from 'Alayan, the Huwayti, w^ho
imposed upon them six conditions. Fii'stly, having
lost all right to the land, they thus became
Akhwan {" brothers," i.e., serviles) ; secondly, they
must give up the privilege of escorting the Hajj-
caravan ; thii^dly, if a Huwayti were proved to
have plundered a pilgrim, his tribe must make good
the loss ; but if the thief escaped detection, the Beni
'Ukbah should be Hable to pay the value of the
stolen goods, either in com or in kind ; foiu'thly,
they were bound not to receive as guests any tribe
(enumerating a score or so) at enmity with the
Huwaytdt ; fifthly, if a Shaykh of Huwaytat
fancied a dromedary belonging to one of the Beni
'Ukbah, the latter was bound to sell it under cost ;
and sixthly, the Beni 'Ukbah were not allowed to
w^ear the 'Aba or Arab cloak. " "^^

'Jlie Beni 'Ukbah were again attacked and w^orsted
in the days of Sultan Selim, by theii' hereditary foe,
the Ma'azah. They complained at Cairo, and the

-^ These hard conditions were actually renewed some 25 years ago ;
now they are forgotten.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 267

Mamluk Beys sent down an army which beat the
enemy in the Wady Suit of El-Muwaylah. They
had many quarrels with their southern neighbours,
the BaHyy. At last peace was made, and the land
was divided ; the Beni 'Ukbah taking the tract
between Wadys Damah and Muzayrib.^^ Since that
time the tril^e has been much encroached upon by
the Huwaytat. It still claims, however, as has
been said, all the lands between El-Muwaylah and
Makn^, where they have settlements, and the Jebel
Harb where they feed their camels. They number
some 25 to 30 tents,^^ boasting: that thev have hun-
dreds. And, as will appear, their Shaykh, Hasan
El-'Ukbi, amuses himself by occasionally attacking
and plundering the Maknawi or people of Makna, a
tribe weaker than his own.

I also made inquiries concerning the Beni Wasil
el-'Ukbah, children of Wasil, son of 'Ukbah, whom
Ibn Khaldun, the author of El-Tbar, makes "a
branch of the Sons of 'Ukbah, son of Maghrabah, son
of Gudham (Juzam), brother of Lakhm, of the Kah-
taniyah, dwelling in Egypt." El Hamdani says
that part of them occupy " Aja and Selmd, the two
celebrated granitic ranges of Tayy " (part of the
Jebel Shammar) ; and the author of the Mesd^lik el-
Absar (" Ways of Sight "), speaks of them in the
Hejaz. Wallin, who gives these details, adds : " The
only place in which I met with the Beni Wdsil was
at Sharm, of the Sina Peninsula, where two of the
(MMzdjnah) fishermen I have mentioned, said they

^* I presume this place is " Mezarib," the pilgi'im-statiou of the
Damascus caravan in the Haur4n Valley.

^ In 1848, Wallin numbered them at 40-50 about El-MuwayUh.

T 2

268 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

belonged to that tribe, and used to entertain me
with stories of the former grandeur of their ancestors.
In the mountains of Tay, m Gabal Shammar, I did
not happen to hear of them." The oral genealogists
of Midian assured me that the Beni Wasil are still
to be found in the mountains behind Tur harbour,
and there only. Prof Palmer (Joe. cit., 339) also
mentions the Beni Wasil as a branch of the Tawarah
or Turi Arabs. He thus repeats Burckhardt
(p. 556, " Travels in Syria"), who speaks of some 16
families living with the Muzaynah near Sharm,
ranking as Tawarah, but claiming to have come from
Barbary and to have brethren in Upper Egypt.

During a week's halt at Maknd (Jan. 25 — Feb.
2, 1878), I had an opportunity of collecting details
concerning its pecuKar tribe : it is described in my
first volume (p. 341), with various inaccuracies.
These men are not of ancient race nor of noble blood ;
and their speech differs in nothing from the Arabs
around them. There can be no greater mistake than
to suppose that they represent in any way the ancient
Nabathsean Midianites. In features, complexion, and
dress they resemble the half-settled Bedawin. The
Magdni,'^^ to whom only the southern clump of huts at
Makna belongs, call themselves Fawa'idah, Zubaidah,
and Ramazani, after noble families of Juhayni blood ;
and the Fawd'idah have, by descent, some title to
the name. They are, however, considered to be
Khadddmin (" serviles "), like the Hutaym, by their
neighbours, who gave the following account of their
origin. An Egyptian silk-seller, who accompanied
the Hajj -caravan, happened to fall asleep at Kubazah,

2" Tlie singular is INFaknawi, pronounced Magndwi.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 269

between the stations of 'Ayniinah and Magluiir
Shu ayb. His companions went on, and he, fearing
to follow them alone, made his way to Makna, where
he married and settled. Admii*mg the fertility of
the soil he sent to his native country for Fellahin —
cultivateurs and peasants — who were collected from
every part of Egypt. The new comers were
compelled to pay one-half of their harvest by way of
Akhawah (or " brother-tax "), a sign of subjugation to
the Beni 'Ukbah, the owners of the soil. Hence
Wallm (p. 303) calls them a " tribe of nomadic
Fellahs who, in the same manner as the Gabaliye
(Jebeliyyah) m the Sina Mountams (Sinai), associate
themselves wdth the Bedooin ow^ners of the planta-
tions, and receive for theii' labour and care m culti-
vating them a certam proportion of the dates
annually produced."

The Magani have gradually acquired Milk (" title ")
to the ground. According to some they first settled
at Makna during the days of the Beni 'Amr, whom
they subsequently accompanied to the Hisma, when
flying from the victorious Musalimah. After peace
was made they were compelled to pay one-fourth
of the date-harvest by way of brother-tax to the
'Inn:an-Huwaytat and to the Ma'azah, wliilst the
Tagaygat-Huwaytat claimed a Bursh, or "mat of
fine reeds," as a poll-tax upon every head of man.
Under these hard conditions they were left un-
molested ; and everything taken from them was
restored by the chiefs who received their tribute.
They have no Shaykh, although one Sahm ibn
Ju way fill claims the title.

Before 1 866 the Magani numbered about a

270 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

hundred tents ; tlie Wady Makna was then a
garden, and its cultivators were remarkable for their
goodness and hospitcdity to strangers. But in that
year a feud with the Beni 'Ukbah broke out, caused,
as often happens in Midian and elsewhere, by the
helli teterrima causa. The women quarrelled with one
another, saying : " Thy husband is a slave to my
husband," and so forth. The little tribe hoisted two
flags of red and white calico, with green palm-fronds
for staves ; and dared the foe to attack it. But
after a loss of four killed and sundry wounded, the
survivors ran away, leaving their goods at the mercy
of the victors. Shaykh Hasan el-'Ukbi was assisted
by the Ma'dzah in looting their huts, and in carrying
off their camels ; while Shaykh Furayj vainly
attempted conciliation. Shortly afterwards the
Maknawis went in a body to beg aid from Hammdd
el-Sofi, Shaykh of the Turabin tribe, which extends
from El-Ghazzah (Gaza) westwards to Egypt.
Marching with a host of armed followers he took
possession of the palm-huts belonging to the Beni
'Ukbah, when the owners fled, leaving behind their
women and children. Furayj hastened from
'Aynunah to settle the quarrel, and at last the Sofi
said to him, " Whilst I protect the Magani, do thou
protect the Beni 'Ukbah." Thereupon the latter
returned from their mountain refuge to El-Muwaylah.
The Magani, at the present time, are mostly camped
about ' Aynunah, and only some fifteen old men and
women and boys, who did not take part in the fight,
and who Hve by fishing, remain under the protection
of the Beni 'Ukbah at Makna. Hence the waters are
waste and the fields are mostlv unhoed.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 271

Such is the normal condition of Arabia and the
Arabs. What one does, the other undoes ; what
this creates, that destroys. Professor Palmer tells us
("Desert of the Exodus," p. 79) : " Another miscon-
ception is that all Arabs are habitual thieves and
murderers." But he was speaking of the Tawarah,
or Sinaitic Bedawin, a race which, bad as bad could
be in the early quarter of the present century, has
been thoroughly tamed and cowed by the " fear of
Allah and the Consul." It is only by building forts,
and by holding the land militarily, that we can hope
to tame this vermin. Yet I repeat my conviction
that the charming Makna Valley is fated to see happy
days ; and that the Wild Man who, wdien ruled by
an iron hand, is ever ready to do a fair day's work
for a fau' wage (especially victuals), will presently
sit under the shadow of liis own secular vmes and
jQg-trees.

The next tribe which comes under our notice are
the turbulent Ma'azah (sing. Ma'azi), who dwell
inland of those before mentioned. It is another race
which has extended high up the Nile Valley, and it
is still found in the Wady Miisa (of Suez) and on
the Gallala Mountains or Za'afaranah Block. It is
the chief tribe in the Eastern Desert between the
Nile and the Gulf of Suez, and the Ababdah call it
Atauni (sing. Atweni). It extends far to the north.
These were the " very unprepossessing gang of half-
naked savages " who on Mount Hor accused Prof.
Palmer (p. 43.5) of having visited the " Prophet
Aaron " by stealth ; swore that they would confis-
cate one of his camels, and otherwise made them-
selves objectionable. Combining with the Arabs of

272 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

Ghazzah (Gaza) they have invaded the southern
borders of Palestine for the sake of the pastiu-age ;
and have fought bloody battles with the rightfid
owners of the soil. Even in Egypt the Ma'dzah are
troublesome and dangerous; the men are profes-
sional robbers, and then- treachery is uncontrolled by
the Bedawi law of honour : they will eat bread and
salt with the traveller whom they intend to rob or
slay. For many years it was unsafe to visit their
camps within sight of Suez walls, until a compulsory
residence at head-quarters taught the Shaykhs better
manners.

The habitat of the Ma'azah in Arabia stretches
north from the Wady Musd of Petra, where they
are kinsmen of the Tiyahah, or Bedawin of the Tih-
desert, and through Fort Ma'd.n, as far as the
Bkkat el-Mu'azzamah, south of Tabuk. Between
the two latter stations is their Madrak, or " district
of escorting pilgrims." They trade chiefly with
Mezdrib, in the Hauran Valley ; I have heard of
their caravans going to Ghazzah (Gaza), where they
buy the Syrian cereals, which are held to be harder
and of superior quahty. During the annual passage
to and fro of the "Damascus Pilgrimage," the
Shaykhs await it at Tabuk ; whose site they claim,
and threaten to cut off the road unless liberally
supphed with pensions and presents of rations and
raiment. The Muratibah (" honorarium ") con-
tributed by El-Sham (Syria) would be about $100
in ready money to the head man, diminishing with
the recipient's degree to $1 per annum : this woidd
not include "free gifts" by frightened pilgrims.
Finally, the Ma'azah occupy the greater part of

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 273

the Hisma, where they are mixed with the Iliiway-
td,t in the north ; and of the H arrah, where the
Kuwala meet them on the east, and the Baliyy to
the south-east. The Hismil is that longf thin hne of
New Red Sandstone extending from a Httle south of
Fort Ma'an to the parallel of El-Muwaylah : a length
of 170 direct geographical miles ; in breadth, it
varies from one to three days' march. Running
along the two great chains which form the sub-
maritime region, it probably represents a remnant of
the old terrace, the westernmost edge of the great
plateau of Central Arabia, El-Nejd (the " High-
lands ") opposed to El-Tdijimah (the "Lowlands"). It
has been torn to pieces, by the plutonic upheavals to
the west and by the volcanic outbreaks to the east.
The latter are called " El-Harrah " : they are of far
more importance than has hitherto been suspected.
Wallin's map shows a small parallelogram, diagonally
disposed from north-west to south-east, and not ex-
ceeding m length 60 miles (north lat. 28° — 27°).
I have seen it as far south as El-Haura (Leuke
Kdme) in north lat. 25° 6' ; and 1 am assiu-ed that
under various names it stretches inland to El-
Medinah, and even to Yambu' (24° 6').

The bandit Ma'azah claim the bluest of blue blood.
Accordmg to one of their cliiefs, Mohammed bin
'Atiyyah, whom we named El-Kalb ("the Hound"),
their forefather. Wail (Jj.y, left by his descendants
two great tribes. The first and eldest took a name
from their Ma'dz (he-goats), while the junior called
themselves after the 'Anndz (she-goats). From the
latter sprang the great 'Anezah family, which occupies
the largest and the choicest provinces of the Arabian

274 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

peninsula. ^^ Meanwhile professional Arab genea-
logists wholly ignore the Ma azah, who are, probably,
ignoble Syrians.

Wallin (p. 310) would divide the tribe into two,
the Ma'azah and the " 'Atiya." Of the latter in
this region I could hear nothing, except that the
'Atiyat (ci:l-kz) here represent the kinsmen of the
Shaykli Mohammed bin 'Atiyyah. Further north
the clan is separate and distinct. We find " Benoo
Ateeyah"in maps like that of Crichton's (" Hist,
of Arabia," 1834J ; the Ma'azah being placed south
of it. The Beni 'Atiyyah are powerfid on the
borders of Moab, where theu' razzias are greatly
dreaded. The Eev. Mr. Tristram, whose ornithology
is better than his ethnology, ignores {loc. cit.) the
fact that ''the dreaded Beni 'Atiyeh, a new tribe
from Arabia," are kinsmen of the " Ma'az, a tribe of
similar habits." My informants declare that their
number of fighting men may be 2,000 (200 ?), and
that they are separated only by allegiance to two
rival Shaykhs. The greater half, under Ibn Hermas,
is distributed into the five following clans : —

1. Khumaysah, who consist of two septs, the
Zuyufiyyah (a;J^--i) and the Tugara (Tujara). Wal-
lin (loc. cit.), who also gives a total of ten clans,
including the Beni 'Atiyyah, makes the two latter
distract, but he omits the first name : —

2' The 'Anezah descending (Pococke, Spec, pp. 46-47) from Asad bin
Eabi', b. Nazd,r, b. Ma'd, b. 'Adndn of the posterity of Ismd'il (Ishmael),
claim to be 'Adndniyyah or Ismdillyyah. They originally held the
whole of north-western Arabia, till it was conquered from them by the
intrusive Kaht^niyyah (Joktanites), the Juhaynah, Baliyy, and Beni
'Ukbah, who migrated from the south. And now the Ishmaelitic
Adndnlyyah-' Anezah are in their turn driving their old conquerors intu
the mountains, and skirts of the desert.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 275

2. Ru])aylat,

3. Shimalah (not in Wallin),

4. Jimd,'dt (do.),

5. Agaylat (^Sj^:^^, do.).

Under Shaykh Mohammed ibn 'Atiyyah (El-Kalb)
are also five clans, viz. : —

1 . Sulaymjit,

2. Khuzara (^.„,i^),

3. Sa'daniyym,

4. Hayayinah (not in Wallin),

5. The Subiit (ci:^->-c) or Beni Sabt.

Wallin remarks that the latter, whose name would
signify " Sabbaths " or " Sons of the Sabbath,"
that is, Saturday, have been supposed to be of
Jewish origin. At the same time he found that

the clan uniformly derives its name from an
ancestor called Subaytan,^®— a common Bedawi P.N.
We noticed nothing to distinguish them from their
neighbours, save the ringing of the large bell,
suspended to the middle tent-pole of the Shaykhs
and wealthier clansmen, at sunset, to " hail the
return of the camels and the mystic hour of return-
ing night." I was assured that this old custom is
still maintained because it confers a Barakat
{'' blessing ") upon the flocks and herds. Certainly
there is nothing of the Bedawi in this practice, and
it is distinctly opposed to the tradition of El- Islam ;
yet many such survivals hold their ground. Of

*' He states that the only clan mentioned in the Arabian genealogies
is the Subl'it, " which may probably be the same as the Subtit stated by
El-Kalkashendi to be 'derived from Lebid of Sulaym, of the Adna-
niyyah dwelling in the land of El-Burkah.'"

276 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

Wallin's 'Aliyyin and 'Amriyyin I could learn
nothing.

The Ma'azah of the Hismd,' used formerly to visit
El-Muwaylah. In 1848, according to Wallin, one
of its chief clans was supphed by the steward of the
Castle, on account of the Egyptian Government,
with rice and corn on credit, to the amount of 1,500
Spanish dollars. For the last ten to twelve years
not a tribesman has appeared on the seaboard of
Midian. They are under the sham rule of miserable
Syria : that is, under no rule at all. They are
supposed to be tributary to, when in reality they
demand tribute from, the Porte. Nothing can be
more pronounced than the contrast of the Bedawin
who are subject to the Egyptian, and those who are
governed by the Ottoman. As Wallin himself — like
Burckhardt, an amateur Bedawi — very mildly puts it
(p. 300), " the Bedooins here at El-Muwaylah, as
in other places under the Egyptian Goverimaent,
although the right fid Arabian mhabitants of the
town (?) have no share in the administration of its
affairs ; while in the towns (?) on the Syrian road
their full rights have been preserved to them. There,
also, as throughout the greater part of Arabia, the
primitive and time-sanctioned nomadic laws and
customs of the desert are observed ; but here the
system of Islam jurisprudence is established and
administered by Turkish officers."

The Mines of Midian, I am convmced, camiot be
worked until this den of thieves is cleared out. It
is an asylum for every murderer and bandit who can
make his way there ; a centre of turbulence which
spreads trouble all around it. Happily for their

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 277

neighbours, there will be no difficulty in dealing
with this tribe : it is surrounded by enemies, and it
has lately been compelled to pay " brother- tax " to
the RuwaU-'Anezah, as a defence against bemg
plundered. On the north, as far as Fort Ma'an,
the Ma'azah meet the hostile Beni Sakr, under
their chief Mohammed ibn Jilzi. Eastward are the
'Anezah and the warlike Shararat-Hutaym, who
ever covet their 2,000 camels. South-eastwards the
Bahyy, commanded by Shaykh Mohammed 'Afndn,
are on terms of " blood " with them. Westward lie
then- hereditary foes, the Huwaytat, whose tacticians
have often proposed a general onslaught of their
tribesmen by a simultaneous movement up the
Wadys Surr, Sadr, 'Urnub and 'Afal. Finally, a
small disciplined force, marching along the Damascus-
Medinah line, and co-operating with the Huwaytat
on the west, would place this plague between two
fires.

The whole of our third or southern journey lay
through the lands of the Baliyy ; and a few words
concerning this ancient and noble tribe may
here be given. It is called die Balyy by Sprenger
(p. 28) ; by Wellsted, Bili ; by WaUin, Beni Bely ;
and by others Billi and Billee ; and the patrial
name is Balawiy. Although they apparently
retain no traditions of their origin, they are well
known to genealogists as Kahtaniyyah or Joktanites,
Hke the Beni 'Ukbah. This branch of the Beni
Kuda'h (Qodha'a)"^ some fifteen centuries ago emi-

^' El-Kuda'h was son of Himyar bin Sabd, b. Yashhab, b. Ya'rab, b.
Kahtdn (Joktan), b. 'Adbar (Eber), b. Sdlih oi- Shalih, b. Arfakhshad,
b. Sd,m (Shem), bin Nrih (Noab). — (Pococke, Spec, p. 42.)

278 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

grated from Southern Arabia, and eventually exter-
minated the Thamudites. They thus date from the
early days of the Byzantine Empire, to which they
made over part of their seaboard. Their " Epony-
mus " was Baliyy, son of 'Amr ('Amrii), son of El-
Haris, son of Kuda'h. Wellsted (ii., 185) makes
their principal Shaykh, Amir, command a tract of six
days' journey inland and coast- wise from Shaykh
" Morablt " (Muraybat) to the southward as far as
"Hasdni" (Hassdni) and El-Haiu-d. If this was
true in 1833, they have now been driven some 50
miles north to the Wady Hamz, north lat. 25° 55' :
the line where the Juhaynah begin. They still,
however, claim the ground as far north as the Wady
Damah, a little south of the parallel of Zibd, in north
lat. 27° 20'. I have noted their northern and
southern frontiers. To the north-east they are
bounded by the vicious Ma'azah and the Ruwala-
'Anezahs, and to the south-east by the Alayd^n-
'Anezah, under Shaykh Mutlak. Like their northern
nomadic neighbours they have passed over to Egypt,
says the Masalik el-Absar ; and even the guide-
books speak of the Billi or Billee in the Valley of
the Nile and about " Cosseir."

The Baliyy modestly rate their numbers at 4,000
muskets — Wellsted says upwards of 7,000 — by
which understand 1,000 is in South Midian. Yet
they divide themselves into a multitude of clans.
Oar companion, the Wakil Mohammed Shahddah,
could enumerate them by the score ; and I wrote
down the 23 principal, which are common both to
South Midian and to Egypt. These are : —

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 279

1. Buraykat,

'Aradat (Wallin's 'Ard,ddt),

Wdbisah (.^^j^^.),

Fawdzlah (^.U^y),
5. Huruf,

Jawa'in (j^-.^!^^),

Sahamah (i^^js^S),

Mawahib (Wallin's Muwd,hib),

Zubbalah,

10. Humraii (^^^a^),

Hmnur (;'♦■=-),

Rumut,

Wahashah (ci>^c=-j),

Furay'd,t (lu\xj^),
15, Hilban,

Ma akilah (diJl^), (Wallin's Mu'dkHah),

Makdbilah (aIAl^),

Mutarifah (cU^Ak^),

Siba'at (cjU--.),
20. Rawasliidah,

Ahamidah (va,<W1),

Nawdjiliah {<i^^\^:), and

Jimaydali.^°

It is curious, but all assert as a fact, that each of
these clans is divided into at least four, and some
into six septs.

The chief Shaykh, Mohammed 'Afnan ibn 'Ammdr,
can reckon backwards seven generations, beginning

" I could hear nothing of the Beni-L6t, whom Wallin locates near the
Wady Fera', between El-Wijh and the Wady Azlam.

280 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

from a certain Shaykh Sultan. Beyond that he
knows nothing. The tribe has a modern as well as
an ancient history. In 1833 the Fort Garrison and
the Bedawui were on bad terms ; and, without being
accompanied by the Shaykh, no traveller could proceed
into the interior, or even a few hundred yards from
the seaboard. About ten years ago 'Afnan allowed
his " merry men " to indulge in such dangerous
amusements as "cutting the road," and plmidering
merchants. It is even asserted privily (by them-
selves) that they captiu-ed the Fort of El-Wijh, by
bribing the Turkish Topji or head-gunner to fire
high, hke the half-caste artilleryman who com-
manded the Talpur cannoneers at Sir Charles
Napier's battle of " Meeanee." A regiment of 800
bayonets was sent from Egypt, and the Shaykli was
secured by a " Hilah " or stratagem : that is, by a
gross act of treachery. He was promised safe con-
duct ; he trusted himself like a fool ; he was seized,
clapped in irons, and sent to gaol m the citadel of
Cairo. Here he remained seven months in carcere
duro, daily expecting death, when Fate suddenly
turned in his favour ; he was summoned by the
authorities, pardoned for the past, cautioned for the
future, and restored to his home with a " Muratti-
l^ah " (regular pension) of 800 piastres per mensem,
besides rations and raiment. The remedy was, like
cutting off the nose of a wicked Hindu wife, sharp
but effective. Shaykh 'Afnan and his tribe are now
models of courtesy to strangers ; and the traveller
must devoutly wish that every Shaykh in Arabia
should be subjected to the same discipline.

The Balijry are a good study of an Arab tribe in

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 281

the rough. The Huwaytat, for instance, know their
way to Suez and to Cairo. They have seen civihsation ;
they have learned, after a fashion, the outlandish ways
of the Frank, the Fellah, and the Turk. The Bahyy
have to be taught all the rudiments of such useful
knowledge. Cunning, tricky, and "dodgy" hke all
the Wild-man race, they lie like children. It is
enough to look in theu^ faces : they are such bad
actors that they cannot conceal thought ; and yet
they keep up the game, deceiving nobody. For
instance, hours and miles are of course unknown to
them ; but they began with us by aflPecting an
extreme ignorance of comparative distances : they
could not, or rather they would not, adopt as a
standard the two short hours' march between the
Port, and the uiland Fort of El-Wijh, But when the
trick was pointed out to them they marvelled at
our sagacity ; instantly threw aside as useless the
old trick, and tried another. No pretext was too
flimsy to shorten a stage, or to cause a halt ; the
Northerners did the same, but with them we had
Shaykh Fiu^ayj.

Like the citizens, they hate our manner of travel-
ling ; they love to sit up and chat through half the
night ; and to rise before dawn is an abomination to
them. The Arab ever prefers to march during the
houi's of darkness, thus enabling his half-starved
camels to graze through the day, and to avoid hard
work in the sun. Hence they have their own stages
and halting-places, the " Mahattat el-'Urban " which,
being determined, as in Africa, by the water supply,
vary between four and five hours of " dawdling "
work ; but T was determiued not to humour their

VOL. XIL u

282 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

preferences, however venerable, at the average rate of
£6 per diem.

At first then- manners, gentle and pliable, contrast
pleasantly with the roughness of the half-breds
Huwaytdt and Maknawi, who have many of the
demerits of the Fellah, without acquuing the
merits of the Bedawi, As camel-men they were
not difficult to deal with. They have been praised
for " that profuse hospitality which distinguishes
the Bedawin of the interior from their neighbours
on the outskirts of the desert"; and for the
•'vivacitv and hghtness of mind so common
among the iiorthern Arabs, but so foreign to the
custom and rigid manners of the Wahhabiyyah."
Presently they turned out to be " poor devils," badly
armed and not trained, Hke the Bawaridah
(" gunners ") of the North, to the use of the match-
lock. Their want of energy, to quote one instance,
in beating the bushes and in providing forage for
their camels, compared with that of the Northerners,
struck us strongly. On the other hand, they seem to
preserve a flavour of ancient civilisation, which is
not easy to describe; and they certainly have inherited
the instincts and tastes of the old metal-workers, their
ancestors or their predecessors ; they are, in fact,
born miners. That sharpest of tests, the experience
of travel, at last suggested to us that the BaHyy is
too old a breed, and that its blue blood wants a
" racial baptism " ; a large infusion of something
newer and stronger.

According to Wallin, the chief family of the
Baliyy is the Muwahib (Mawahib), who supply the
Shaykh : in his day the latter was Ibn Damah. He

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 283

assigns to them a far too extensive habitat. They
hold the high cool Jaww, " where, without their
especial permission no other Bedouins have a right
to encamp, hence their lighter skins " ; and they may
hold one of its drains, the Wady 'Aurisli, '* where
they have long possessed date-plantations, and in
rainy years cultivate oats (?), barley (?), and maize "
(? holcus, ? millet). But they certainly do not
" claim the exclusive possession of the whole of the
land of El-Harrah," even in the confined sense of
the word. Their district may be " advantageously
situated between the shore of the Red Sea, the
Hejaz and the Nejd, and easily communicating with
El-Wijh and Tabuk and Tayma (south east of Tabiik),
and El-Medinah," but they move out of it not seldom.
Like other Bedawin, as summer approaches they
near the shore. He reports that droughts have
compelled them to seek water and pastm-e about
the neighbourhood of Damascus and Aleppo, where,
for instance, they passed the spring of 1846."^^
This migration, if it ever took place, is now
clean forgotten. They do claim to be a very
numerous tribe, and they had plenty of horses and
cattle (camels) before 1847 ; in that year the Beni-
Sakr^^ from AVady Musa, under the Shaykh ibn Jazi,
stole upon their pasture lands unawares, and managed
to drive off almost all their property. They are still
without horses, but they plunder their neighbours

^' So, according to Wallin, who borrows from the Ansdb ("gene-
alogies") of El-Sam'ani, the powerful tribe, El-Sulaym, the former
occupiers of El-Harrah, used to migrate north as far as Hums (Hemesa
or Emesa).

^^ Wallin (p. 323) says a " large party of the Huwaytdt of the clan
of Ibn al-G^z."

u 2

284 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

the Slmrdrat, the 'Anezah, the Juhaynah and others,
of whatever comes handy. Shortly before 1848, when
the aggressive Wahhabis were still powerful, the
Bahyy voluntarily joined the Puritan Confederacy,
by paying the Zakat (" obhgatory legal alms") ; they
have long since lapsed from grace. They still arrogate
the right of levying Akliawah (" brother-tribute ")
from Tayma, although its people, origmally Shammar
Arabs, are well able to resist them. They have the
same pretensions in the case of Ayla, south of El-
Hijr, whereas it is now in the hands of the 'Anezah,
and it is protected by the Turkish Governors of El-
Medinah. Their claim to the site of El-Wijh is
still admitted, and their Madrak (or " beat ") for
protecting pilgrims is on both lines. At Ziba they
reheve the Beni-'Ukbah, and travel as far as El-
Wijh. The Syrian caravan is, or rather was, pro-
tected by them between the Bu^kat el-Mu'azzamah
and El-Hijr.

Wallin notices their Arabic as follows : " The Bely
is the first tribe in this part whose dialect assimilates
to that of the inhabitants of Nejd, and the 'Anezahs,
which differs principally from that current in the
towns, and among Arabs of a less unmixed race,
by its frequent use of Tan win ('nunnation '), and
by certain grammatical forms and idiomatic expres-
sions from the ancient language ; and still more
strikingly by the peculiar pronunciation of the letters
h (kaf) and h (kaf), called Kashhasheh, by the
Arabian grammarians." This peculiarity he describes
as " pronouncing these letters when final, in certain
cases, as if written ' kash ' and ' kash ' " — which has
no meaning.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 285

The language of the Baliyy has less of the
Egyptian and Sinaitic-Bedawi than that of the
tribes to the north ; but it is by no means so pure
as that of the Juhaynah. As regards the classical
" nunnation," I never yet met, although I have often
heard of, an Arab race that habitually uses it.
With respect to the articulation of the guttural k
(as in "kappa)," and the still more bronchial k, to
Europe unknown, the Baliyy follow the Bedawi rule.
The fii'st is pronounced like ch ("church"), e.g.,
Kuffar ("infidels") becomes Chuff dr. The second
represents a hard g ("go"), e.g., Kaum (a razzia)
sounds like Gaum, but deejDer in the throat.

The last tribe upon my hst, the Hutaym or
Hitaym, though unnamed by Sprenger, is pecuharly
interesting to us. It is known to travellers,
Bm-ckhardt, for instance,^^ only as a low caste,
chiefly of fishermen. Wellsted (ii., 263), who seems to
have studied them well both in Africa and Western
Arabia, makes the barbarian "Huteimi" (=Hutaymi,
sing, of Hutaym), derive from the Ichthyophagi,
described by Diodorus Siculus, and other classical
geographers. He adds : " Several Arabian authors
notice them ; in one, the Kitab el-Mush Serif/*
they are styled Hootein, the descendants of Hooter,
a servant of Moses." He also relates (p. 259) a
Bedawi legend that the Apostle of Allah pronounced
them polluted, and forbade his followers to associate
or to intermarry with them, because when travel-
ing along the seashore he entered one of their-
camps, and was shocked and ofl'ended to see a dog

3^ " Notes on the Bedouins," vol. ii., p. 386.

•■'^ The name of the book is probably " El-Musharrif."

286 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

served up as food. A similar story of canine diet,
by-the-by, is told of the Egyptian Berabarah
(Berbers), who are not, however, regarded with
contempt and aversion. Others declare that they
opposed Mohammed when he was rebuilding the
Ka'bah of Meccah ; and thus drew down upon them-
selves the cm'se that they should be considered the
basest of the Arabs. These fables serve to prove one
thing : the antiquity of the race.

The Hutaym, meaning the "broken" (race), hold
in Egypt and Arabia the position of Pariahs, hke
the Akhdam (" helots " or " ser\ales ") of 'Omdn and
Yemen, Evidently we must here suspect an older
family, subjugated and partially assimilated by in-
truders. Even to the present day the Arabs con-
sider treating a Hutaymi as unmanly as to strike a
woman. When a Fellah says to another, " Tat'
hattim " ( = Tat'maskm, or Tat'zalli), he means
" Thou cringest, thou makest thyself contemptible
(as a Hutaymi)."

Hence the Hutaym must pay the tributary
"Akhawaf'to all the Bedawin tribes upon whose
lands they are allowed to settle, the annual sum
averaging per head $2, in coin or in kind ; besides
which they supply their patrons, who have no boats
of their own, with fish. Formerly, large quantities of
this salted provision were sent for sale to the Eastern
interior ; now the Ma'azah have stopped the market.

The Hutajan are as scattered as they are numer-
ous ; they are found in Upper Egypt, and they occupy
many parts of Nubia. About Bas Siyal, south of
Berenike, and around Sawdkin (Souakim), they form
an important item in the population. Wellsted

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MTDIAN. 287

(p. 262) describes meeting a Hutaymi family on the
Nubian sliore, near the Sharm called Mirza Helayb.
It consisted of an old man, a woman, and a young
girl : the former entii^ely nude, and the two latter
with clothmg barely sufficient for decency. At
fii'st they threw themselves at his feet, begging that
theii' lives might be spared ; presently they were
persuaded to accompany him on board. Their boat
had left the week before to catch turtle ; and for
three days they had lived only on raw shell-fish
gathered from the shore. They devoured with the
utmost voracity everything set before them, eating
the rice raw. Their finger-nails were almost de-
stroyed by digging the sands in search of food.

The Hutaym number few about the so-called
Sinaitic Peninsula and in Midian, using the latter
word m its extended sense. Wallin (p, 297) mentions
them in the " Peninsula of Pharan," and tells us
that some famihes who have boats had passed over
in 1847 to the opposite island of Tiran — in 1878 I
did not find a soul there. The 'Araynat, as has
been seen, are found among the northern Huwaytdt ;
they also dwell to the south of 'Aynunah Bay, near the
tidal islet TJmm Maksur. Wellsted (p. 161) visited
on the coast opposite " Reiman " islet, between Ras
Fartak (Shaykh Hamid) and 'Aynunah, a fishmg
village of these outcasts, who by paying tribute to
the lords of the soil were allowed to cultivate a few
date-trees. There are settlements about the hollow
called Istabl 'Antar. Sharm Dumayghah and the
barren lands around Sharm Jazai (not Jezzah ; Well-
sted, p. 183) also support a few families whilst the
fishing lasts. The Karaizah- Hutaym of Jebel Libn

288 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

or Libiii, claim as their kinsman the legendary hero
and poet 'Antar, who was probably a negro of the
noble or Semitico-Berber blood. A few are settled
in huts and tattered tents, near the quarantine-
town, El-Wijh, at the base of the overhangmg clitf
on the northern side. These were the only sites
where I had any opportunity of seeing the poor
Pariahs.

The Hutaym extend deep into the heart of Arabia.
The Shararat clan inhabits the lands bordering on
the great Wady Sirhan, east of the Dead Sea. The
Sulabd. are found in the mountains of Shammar, ex-
tending towards Meshhed 'Ali. Further south of
Midian they become an important item of the popu-
lation. About the village of Tuwdl in the Hejaz,
south of Habigh, the pilgrim station, they assist the
inhabitants in fishing for pearls. They are found in
various parts of the (Moslem) Holy Land, and have
some large encampments near Lays (Leyt), immedi-
ately south of Jeddah. The poorest classes wander
half naked about the shore, fishing and picking up
on the beach or amidst the rocks a scanty and
precarious meal of shell-fish. The wealthier, who
have rude boats, rove from place to place, also hving
like ichthyophagi, but at times obtaining better cheer
by what they receive in barter for pearls. Their
tents are awnings always open on the side next the
sun, and composed of black cloth woven by the women
from goats' -hair. The supports are six or seven
sticks ; the stuff, generally tattered and torn, being
fastened with small wooden skewers to the rope which
connects them. A bit of similar i^ag, hung down the
middle, divides the men from the women, cliildren,

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 289

and beasts. The wretched comfortless '•' shanties "
are pitched in some out-of-the-way place, for con-
cealment as well as for shelter ; they contain Httle
beyond fishing-tackle and the merest necessaries of
furniture, such as pots and grinding-stones. These
restless beings are necessarily meagre, squahd, and
pusillanimous.

In the Eastern regions the Hutaym form large
and powerful bodies. The cliief clans, according to
my informants, are the Sharardt, whose number and
gallantry secure for them the respect of their fight-
ing neighbours the equestrian Euwald-'Anezah ;
yet WaUin (p. 317), when at Tabuk, speaks of the
" poor and despised branch of the Hutaym clan of
El-Shardrat, called El-Suwayfilah." In p. 319 he
extends the title " wide-spread and much-despised
tribe " to aU the Shardnlt ; and he makes (p. 328)
the latter extend to El-Jauf, in the very heart
of Arabia, 5° to the N.N.E. A similar account
was given to me of their neighboiu-s, the Nawd,-
misah ; and I cannot help suspecting this clan of
being in some way connected with the stone-huts
and tombs, which the Arabs, in the so-caUed Sinaitic
Peninsula, call Naivdmis (sing. Ndmus), or '^mos-
quito-houses." The modern tradition is that the
children of Israel built these dwarf dweLhngfs as a
shelter from the swarming plague sent by heaven to
punish their sins of rebeUion.^*"

Like other Arabs, the Hutaym tribe is divided
into a multitude of clans, septs, and even single
households, each under its own Shaykh. The Be-
dawin recognise them by their look, by their peculiar

" See the " Desert of the Exodus" {passim).

290 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

accent, and by the use of certain words, as " Harr ! "
when doiikey-drivmg. Wellsted (p. 260) generally
knew them by the remarkable breadth of chin ; and
by the hair which, exposed to sun and salt-water,
changes its original black to a light red-yellow —
the latter, however, is characteristic of all the coast
fishermen.^*' But there is Httle resemblance between
the Bedawin and the maritime Hutaym, The fea-
tures of the latter are more sharpened, the cheeks
more hollow, and the eyes seated deeper in the
head ; the nose is long, thin, and beak-Uke ; and the
expression of the countenance is heavy and dull.
Some of the boys are remarkably pretty, but after
twenty their faces become wrinkled, and they show
signs of prematm^e decay. The spare but vigorous
form of the Bedawi is quite distinct from the lean,
unshapely, and squalid figure of the Helot. This is
the combined result, perhaps, of racial difference ;
certainly of a poor fish diet, the cramped position of
canoe-men, and exceeding uncleanhness of person and
clothing. Their rags are never washed, and they are
not changed till they fall to pieces. Consequently,
they sufier severely from cutaneous disease, which is
aggravated by exposure to weather, and by an un-
grateful mode of life. The women, who go about
unveiled, either through fear or old custom, never
refuse themselves to Arabs of higher blood.

The Bedawin and the citizens of Midian always
compare theu* Hutaym with that family of the Gypsy
race known to the Egyptians as the " Ghagar "
{Ghajar). It will be interesting to mqmre whether

^« I noticed this change of hue at El-Zibd and elsewhere. (" The
Gold Mines of Midian," i., p. 151).

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 291

these outcasts are a survival of the Indian and Cen-
tral Asian immigrants who, like many on the banks
of the Nile, have lost their Aryan tongue. In such
case they would descend from the wandering tribes
that worked the old ateliers, scattered in such
numbers over the surface of Midian ; and they would
be congeners of the men of the Bronze Age — the
earliest wave of Gypsy immigration into Europe,

The Hutaym clans of which I collected notices
are : —

'Araynat, living under the protection of the Hu-
waytat, in North Midian.

Beni 'Ah, mentioned m connection with the Beni
'Ukbah.

The Sharar^t, a pugnacious and powerful people,
dweUingf east of the Hismd,, and at war with the
Ma'azah. One of these septs, the Sufayfilah, is
mentioned by Wallin. Amongst the numerous sub-
divisions of the Shararat in Wady Sirhdn and in El-
Jauf, he met with one called " Al-Da'giioon " (Da'ki-
yun), after the Shaykh's family " Al-Da'ge " (Da'kah).
El-Kalkashendi declares that these are a branch of
the tribe of Tay, holding the country between Taymd,,
Khaybar, and Syria.

The Sulaba, according to WaUin, "the most
despised clan of the Hutaym, occupy in summer the
lands about Bir Tayim, north-east of El-Hail, the
capital of the Shammar country.

The Nawamisah, among the Ruwala.

The Karaizah, about and on Jel/el Libn.

My notes will not extend to the great Juhaynah
tribe, the Beni Kalb (" Dog's Sons ") of the Apostle's
day. Although they form on the coast of Midian

292 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

a comparatively large floating population, especially
during the season of pearl-fisliing, tlieir habitat is
wholly beyond the limits of the province. For full
information concerning these Kahtaniyyah (Jok-
taniti) kinsmen of the Baliyy — both being of Kuda'h
(Qodha'a), or South Arabian blood — the reader will
consult Sprenger's " Alte Geographie " (pp. 29-35).
Wellsted (ii., 197-207), says that this, "one of the
most celebrated Arab tribes, is little spoken of at
the present day." About YambiV, he remarks, the
Juhaynah " may be safely trusted," but I should not
advise the traveller to do so. The only thing to be
said in their praise is that they are not so bad as the
Harb tribe to the south.

Part II.

Manners and Customs of the Midianite Bedawin.

We will begin our '' agriological " notes by
following the Bedawi from his bu-th-hour to that
which restores him to Mother Earth.

In Midian, like in ancient Europe, the babe is
stih. swaddled, from the knees to the loins, with rags
of cotton or linen, shifted night and morning. It
is then placed in a cradle, or rather a bag. As in

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 293

many parts of India, tlie head is pressed into proper
shape. The eyes are painted with lamp-black or
with " Kohl," here meaning either antimony or
impure iron ; and tinsel ornaments and talismans of
brass ; silver and. copper coins, stones, and bits of
brass are hung round the neck, arms, and legs.

The first feast is held, as usual among Moslems, on
the seventh day after bu-th. The mother, having
purified herself and her babe, presents it to her
parents, relatives, and friends. A feast is made if it
be a boy — girls " don't count" — and the grandfather is
expected on these occasions to be liberal. There is
no fixed time for what some English travellers call
" the absurd and barbarous custom of tattooing." It
has always some object, although it was originally
suggested among nude races by the necessity of
hardenino- the skin. Thus the north-western Arabs
guard against cold by making incisions, almost to the
" quick," in the live leather forming their foot-soles,
and by exposing the latter to a broiling fire. The
Mashali of the Meccan citizens, three perpendicular
stripes about an inch wide, cut down both cheeks,
mark their birth-place ; and though forbidden by El-
Islam, they serve to prevent the ' ' holy children "
being kidnapped by pious but mistaken pilgrims.
Others, again, suppose that gashing the face prevents
the gathering of noxious humours about the eyes.
The " beauty spots " with which the Huway tiit men
mark their cheeks are probably derived from Egypt.

The next great feast is that of cu'cumcision. When
the appointed day comes, a tent is pitched, with as
many carpets and decorations as possible. Each one
of the relatives brings a lamb or some other item

294 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

of the picnic ; and these form the preHminaiy
banquet. At noon the 'Ajirah (i.e. hamstrung)
sheep is duly sacrificed, the tendons of the right hind-
leg having previously been cut. Meanwhile the small
patients are seated in a circle ; and a curtain
hanging before the tent-door defends them from the
Evil Eye ; care is also taken that their feet do not
touch the bare ground till the operation is over.
The mothers wash their bairns with the Ghusl,
or total ablution, and dress them with beads and
metal trinkets. They are then carried out upon the
men's shoulders ; a procession is headed by youths,
holding pans of smoking incense, firing guns and,
beating sticks together; it is also joined by the
mothers, after washing their own feet in the water
used by the boys. When the noisy crowd has thrice
circumambulated the tent, the patients are re-
arranged inside, and the operator asks formal per-
mission of each father, so as not to incur pains and
penalties in case of accidents. He performs the rite
in the usual Moslem way — the barbarous Salkh
{scarification) of the Asir, and other southern tribes
is here unknown. The sufferers are expected to bear
the pain without crying or even shrinking. A fee
is paid for each child ; and the day ends with a
jollification. The boy is now a man, and may no
longfer enter the harem.

Marriage customs differ among the tribes. The
wildest have a pecuhar practice thus noticed by
Wellsted (ii., 122) : " The father in the presence of
the daughter (a scandalous proceeding !) demands if
the suitor is wiUing to receive her as his wife, and his
answer in the affirmative is sufficiently binding ; a

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 295

small piece of wood is sometimes presented by tlie
father, and worn by the bridegroom for several weeks
after his marriage." Among the Sinaitic Muzaynah,
the girl is bound to run away from her father's tent,
and to hide in the mountains for three days. As the
sexes often meet in Bedawi-land, youths and maidens
have frequent opportunities of making acquaintance ;
and the mothers often connive at it, whilst the
fathers are kept, or affect to be kept, in ignorance.
As I have noted in my Pilgrimage, the sentimental
form of love is not unknown to the Bedawi ; and
ghis have suicided themselves rather than marry
men whom they disliked.

Usually, Coelebs, attended by five or six friends,
calls upon his intended father-in-law, who, if " agree-
able," sets before them food and coifee. Then, the
demand havmg been duly made, takes place the
debate concerning the dowry ; this weighty matter is
often not settled until infiuential friends lend a hand.
When the bargain ends, the usual jollifications begin ;
and the young men of the tribe amuse themselves with
displays of marksmanship and with sword play, of
which they have a rude system. If the clan boast of
a Khatib (" notary "), he pubhcly and officially
demands, three several times, the consent of the
father and of the bridegroom, warning the latter
that the sin will be " on his own neck " if he beat
or starve his wife. This concludes the betrothal.

The giii, meanwhile, is supposed not to know
anything of the transaction ; yet it can hardly escape
her notice. In the evening when she returns with
the sheej) and goats — the camels being in charge
of the males — she is surreptitiously fumigated with

296 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

incense, in order to defend her from El-'Ayn (the
"Evil Eye "). The bridegroom's 'Abu (camehne or
cloak) is then thrown over her head by the Khatib, or
some friend, who creeps up from behind exclaiming,
" Allah be with thee, 0 daughter (gu-l) ! none shall
have thee but such a one" — naming the "happy
man." Then a scene ensues. The bride elect, m
token of virgin modesty, shrieks for aid, calls upon
her father and mother, and tries to disentangle
herself and to escape. But as she is seized by the
women who collect around her, lulliloding shrilly
(Zaghdrit), and repeatuig the words in chorus,
Miss Prude is at last persuaded to be pacified. She
is then led to a tent, pitched for the purpose near her
father's, and sprinkled with the blood of a sheep
sacrificed in her honour. At the end of the third
dav, during which due attention has been paid to
her personal decorations, she is bathed by the
matrons in procession, and is led to the bridegroom's
quarters. Sheep are also sacrificed by kinsmen and
friends as a contribution to the feast, and they,
together with the women who have assisted at the
ceremony, expect small gifts from the bride's father.
The Bedawin preserve the ancient Jewish practice, to
which Isabel of Castile submitted on her marriage,
and which is still kept up by the Enghsh Gypsies.

If the bride be found unsatisfactory she is either
divorced at once, which may cause trouble, or she
is quietly put away to avoid scandal. The laws of
repudiation are those of the Koran, modified accord-
ing to Basm, or tribal custom, by the officer called
Kazi el-'Orbiin ("Judge of the Arabs"). The
punishment of adultery varies. The low caste

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAX. 297

tribes accept damages in money or camels, the sum
being assessed by an arbitrator. The higher races
put the women to death, and shoot the man ; this is
done by the " injured husband," as in the S^ir or
blood-revenge for homicide, whenever he has an
opportunity. Of course it gives rise to a fresh
feud.

Young guis are very scantily dressed even in the
wintry cold. Many of them have no other covering
but a single piece of tattered cloth thrown over the
body. The children are mostly nude, or furnished
with a strip of 'Abii, or a goat's skin turned whichever
way the wind blows. The general feminine dress is
that of the Tawarah, a loose amorphous garment of
dark, indigo-clyed cotton, covered in winter with an
outer cloak of the same material. All the tribes,
even the distant Bahyy, wear this true Egyptian
blue. The decorations are tattooed chins and lips ;
and the ornaments are silver bands, necklaces,
and bracelets, bangles, and anclets of beads and
bright cheap metal. Few wear the " nose-bag " ;
but all, except the very oldest, religiously cover, in
the presence of strangers, the mouth, the lower part
of the face, and the back of the head. The men do
not appear to be jealous, except where they have
learned from strangers that it is " respectable."

After death the body is taken out of the tent,
washed with the Ghusl el-Mayyit (the "general
ablution of the defunct"), and shrouded. The
women relatives also leave their homes, strip the
cloths off their heads in token of despair, and wail
loudly throughout the day. The Naddabah, "keener"
or hired mourner, is not known, but a noted amateur

VOL. XII. X

298 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

" waller " is in demand. The exercise is varied by
tearing hair, striking the face, and shrieking, '' 0 such
a one, where shall I meet thee ! " The graveyards
are often distant, in which case the corpse, escorted
by the family, is carried upon a camel ; the favourite
site is a hill-top, or the side of a slope, and the
Bedawin affect places which preserve signs of the
Mutakaddimin (the "Ancients"). Throughout
Midian the grave is left hollow, and not filled up
with earth, after the fashion of El-Islam ; it is
covered over merely with a slab : a favourable dis-
position for hysenas and skull-collectors. The earth
is heaped up, and two stones, rude or worked,
denote the position of the head and feet. The Wall
(" Santon ") has a covered tomb, built either of rude
masonry or a hut of palm-fronds, reeds, and mats.
The interior may contain a broken inscription or two,
but rarely the heterogeneous offerings of the more
civihsed Arabs. Poles are also planted to be hung
with rags near the graves of the commonalty.

The Moslem prayers for the dead, consisting of
72 prostrations, are never recited. I coidd not find
out if the Midianitish preserve the peculiar custom
of the Sinaitic Bedawm.'^^ The latter tap with a
small pick-axe at the head of the grave, and thus
address the deceased : " When the two green Angels
(Munkir and Nakir) shall question thee (the Ques-
tioning of the Tomb), then reply thou, ' The feaster
makes merry, the wolf prowls, and man's lot is still
the same (weal and woe) ; but I have done with all
these things.' The Sidr-tree (Jujube) is thy aunt,
and the Palm-tree is thy mother." Such a reply,

^7 See the " Desert of the Exodus," jx 94.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 299

according to Moslem ideas, would ensure a severe
application of the dreadful mace. The Walimah, or
funeral feast in honour of the deceased, concludes
the ceremonies. The property is then divided, and
another entertainment takes place in memoriam
after the fourth month.

The Midianite Arabs resemble in physique those
of the Smaitic Peninsula and the Nile Valley. The
tribes in the uplands are fairer and stouter, fleshier
and more muscular, by reason of a superior chmate
and sweeter, or rather less brackish water, than those
of the Tihamah or lowlands. The latter, mostly
fishermen, and a few cultivators, are darker and
slenderer. Some of the higher classes are decidedly
handsome, with lithe, erect, muscular figures, and
straight features ; lamp-black hair, and olive-coloured
skins ; their fine eyes restless and piercing as the
eagle's, with regular brows and the thickest lashes ;
their high noses and shapely lips, despite the
copper-coloured skin and cobweb beard, would be
admired in any part of the world. Our friend
Sayyid 'Abd el-Rahim, of El-Muwaylah, though
built upon a small scale, is perfectly well made ;
every limb might be modelled for a statue, and his
feet and hands are those of a Hindu. Longevity
is rare ; incessant fatigue and indifferent nourish-
ment, not to speak of wounds, want of cleanli-
ness, and sickness, must soon undermine health and
vigour.

The inner (Arab) man is not so easily described.
The chief characteristics seem to be strong social
affections, eternal suspiciousness, an ultra- Hibernian
pugnacity, and a proportional revengefulness. Pa-

X 2

300 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

rental love is strong, and discipline even stronger.
As in the days of Sully, the boy will not eat, or even
sit, before his father ; but the youth, when old enough
to provide for himself, treats liis " governor " as
lightly as an American lad, considering himself, if
not better, at any rate the equal to his sire. Socia-
bihty is pushed to the extreme ; and the Bedawin are
capable of making great sacrifices for one another.
Thus, when a man is attacked by the small-pox,
which in modern days has taken the place of the
horrible plague, he is always interned in a solitary
little hut, and cautiously suppHed with daily food
and water ; in many cases, his friends, and even liis
women, have voluntarily joined with his quarantine.
Murder being, as amongst all primitive peoples, a
private, not a public wrong, is avenged by the
nearest male relative of the slain ; and the softer sex
has been known to undertake the Kisds {" Lex Ta-
lionis"). The Diyat, hlut-geld, or blood-money, may
still be offered and accepted under certain circum-
stances, but $800 is a large sum. They are marvel-
lously ready, without the excuse of " cups," to quarrel
and fight, yet not to kill — at least any but stran-
gers. Excessively ceremonious and sensitive among
one another, they bear the petidance and ill-temper of
foreigners with a kindly good-humour. Like most
barbarians, they are formal when they meet. Rela-
tives and near kinsmen salute by kissing on either
cheek, repeating Tayyibin (" Are you well ?") to which
the answer is, Al-hamdu li-Ulah, Tayyibin ! (" Praise
be to Allah, we are well ! ") Friends and acquaint-
ances place the right hands on the opposite left
breasts ; this is not done wlien there is " bad blood "

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 301

—touching foreheads^ and simultaneously ejaculating
the Pax tecum, " Saldm."

The Shaykhs affect courteous and gentle, mild and
placid manners, which, however, do not withstand
the temptation of excitement. The Caterans, with
their noisy and violent gestures, and their furious
clamour, seem to live in a chronic storm of quarrel or
fierce debate. The same thhig is remarked of
Itahans by EngHshmen visiting them for the first
tune. Both chief and clansman will di^aw the sword
and load the matchlock without the least intention
of coming to blows.

These people love a joke ; but the stranger must
beware how he " chaffs " them ; on some points they
are tetchy as the Enghsh sailor. The higher classes
respect old age, and the wliite beard always com-
mands an attentive audience. There is little bigotry
amongst them, and, if they hate the Christians, it is
rather theoretically and nominally, than the result of
experience. ^^ Nature has put it out of their power
to practise the precepts of the Koran. Like all
nomads, they act upon the old saying — ^'^ We do not
fast the Ramazan, because we are half-starved all the
year round ; we never perform the Ghusl or Wuzu

^'' I note a general error in the English press. When discussing the
relative position of Christians and Moslems, throughout the Ottoman
Empire, it is almost universally assumed that a professed hatred
separates the creeds. My experience teaches me the reverse. The bad
feeling is simply the effect of Turkish, that is to say, of bad govern-
ment. The rulers model their rule upon the old saying, divide et
impera ; and govern by exciting and sedulously maintaining envy,
hatred, and malice. During the Massacres of Damascus and Syria,
caused, in 1860, by the selfish intrigues of the late Fu^d Pasha, the out-
lyingvillages of Moslems often mustered in arms to defend their Christian
neighbours from the bands of murderers sent by the capital.

302 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

(greater and lesser ceremonial ablutions), because we
want the water to drink ; and we never make the
Hajj (pilgrimage), because Allah is everywhere."

Yet they are not irreligious ; they do not show the
savage atheism of the African negro, while the sensus
niiminis is strongly implanted in the race. I never
saw but one Bedawi, Shaykh Furayj, who said his
prayers regularly ; and when asking a clansman,
"Art thou a Moslem or a Huwayti ? " {=■ Enghsh-
man or Christian?), the invariable reply was, "A
Huwayti ! " But this is the merest ignorance, which
might perhaps be matched amongst our city Arabs.
And they have a devotion after their own fashion ;
they often make simple ejaculations which seem to
come from the heart. Towards evening they will
become silent and contemplative ; and you may hear
them say — " I ask pardon of the great Rabb (Lord) ;
I ask pardon at the sunset, when every simier turns
to Him 1 " They will exclaim, " 0 Allah, provide for
me even as thou providest for the blind hysena ! "
And, ignoring the Koran, they yet use such Koranic
ejaculations as " I seek refuge with Allah from Satan
the pelted" {i.e., with stones by the angels) ; "I seek
guidance from Allah"; and so forth. Moreover, their
profound behef in charms and philters, and their
endless superstitious legends, denote that the race is
not irreverent. The Huwaytat boast of Fakihs
('Vierks") who have studied theology in Egypt,
but I was not fortunate enough to see a specimen.

The difficulty of securing their confidence is
immense. It is almost impossible to allay their
suspicions without the experience of years. Like
the Druzes they will try your sincerity by asking a

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 303

question, and by repeating it weeks or months after-
wards, carefully comparing tlie results. Englishmen
can manage them, Ottomans never. The latter are
always attempting to overreach the Wild Man, and
their finessing never deceives him.

The Arab's sentiment of nationality is strong. The
Bedawin hate the Turks and the Egyptians as much
as the latter despise them. " Shun the Arab and the
itch," says the Fellah. "AH are traitors in the land
of 'Ajam" (Egypt) retorts the Wild Man. In the
matter of meum and tuum they still belong to the days
when the Greek was not offended by being asked if
he was a thief or a pirate. They are plunderers, but
they plunder sword in hand, despising petty larceny.
Burckhardt (" Notes " &c., vol. i., pp. 137-157) clearly
distinguishes the Bedawi difference between taking
and stealing clandestinely. If they appropriate some
of the traveller's small gear which may be useful to
them, as a leather belt or a blanket, they hardly take
the trouble to hide it. The distinction of " mine "
and •' thine," in such trifles as these, is not thorouglily
recognised ; and they will say with much truth in jest
that as Sayyidnd (our Lord) Adam left no will, so all
things belong to all (Arab) men. A good sign is that
they will leave their slender gear inside the huts,
without fear of being plundered during the absence
of the owners. They are wreckers ; but so we were
in the outlying parts of Great Britain during the
early parts of the present century. And between
their hospitahty and theu" insatiable Semitic greed
of gain, there is little interval ; the great virtues
overlapping the great vices.

Each tribe, moreover, has moral chai/act eristics of its

304 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

own. The Huwaytat are considered a strong and by
no means a quiet tribe ; ill-conditioned, quarrelsome,
and on bad terms with all their neighbours. Md ya-
hibbun el- Nils (" They do not love mankind"), is the
verdict of the settled Arabs. Formerly they pushed
their razzias deep into El-Nejd ; and their warriors,
bold and expert, defended, moreover, by theu' moun-
tain fastnesses, had no fear of retahation. They
even ventured upon plundermg pilgrim caravans,
till the great Mohammed All's victorious campaigns
in the Hejaz ; and Ibrahim Pasha's successful invasion
of Wahhabi-land, struck them with terror. Prof.
Palmer {loc. cit., p. 419) found among the mountains
of the 'Azazimah in the far north a heap of stones
with the tribal mark of the Huwaytat, the record
of some border fray ; and about El- Sherd' he describes
them as a "powerful but very lawless tribe." In
conjunction with the Liydsiiiah, they have seized
Wady Musa, and have ejected its former owners, the
'Ammarin. Piippell, who judges their morals harshly,
mentions (p. 223) that shortly before his visit to El-
Muwaylah (1826) the Huwaytat had driven off all
the cattle belonging to the fort garrison ; and
when hotly pursued had cut the throats of the
sheep and goats. Wellsted (ii., 109) speaks in 1833
of the " indifferent characters of the Bedawins
who inhabit the barren and inhospitable shores of
the sea of 'Akabah." He found them a " wild
intractable race, much addicted to pilfering." On
one occasion, when his ship was in danger, they
manned the towering crags in great numbers " so as
to be ready for the wreck." Then theu^ chief, Shaykh
" 'Alc4yan of the Omnan " (Imrani-Huwaytat), after

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 305

receiving liim hospitably at Maknd, seized one of liis
men and, knave-like, demanded a ransom of $200.
The sum was paid, there being " no towns nor any
boats on which we (the Europeans) could retahate " ;
while more than once it appears both officers and
crew ran the risk of being taken prisoners and held
to ransom. Such were the Huwaytat, and such,
without the strong hand of Egypt, they woidd be
again. It is only fair to note that the Northerners,
who ever dwell in the presence of hereditary
enemies, are more turbulent than the southern
Huwaytdt, whose neighbours are comparatively
peaceful. Yet even amongst the latter the
young girls always ran away from our caravans.
As has been shown, the Ma'azah are the villains of
the Bedawi drama, while the Maknawis and
Hutaym are the " poor devils " ; and the Beni
'Ukbah and Baliyy are noble but old and decayed
breeds that greatly want crossing with strong new
blood.

The only cultivators, as well as fishermen, are
the coast peoples : I saw but a single attempt at a
gram-plot in the interior where the Jerafin-Huwaytat
dwell. The chief sites are at the Wady-mouths
and near the Forts, water being the cause in both
cases. The Mazari' or little fields, either open or
hedged with matting and bundles of bound palm-
frond, or with a snake fence of dry timber, and
watered by a raised course now almost always made
of earth, carry luxuriant crops of barley, holcus, and
Dukhn. The fruits are figs, pomegranates, melons,
limes, and the jujube (lihammis nebk) which is
here common, and grapes, which are equally rare.

306 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

The vegetables are radishes, mallows {Mulukhiyyah),
purslain (oleracea), and corchorus (triloculm^is '^.) ;
tobacco is of course a favoiirite. The date-palm is
the great stand-by. The trees are not thinned,
because, when in clmnps, they are defended, and
they defend the flocks, from the biting cold north
wind. For the same reason they are never trimmed,
although it is hard to see how, with the chevaux-de-
frise of drooping dead boughs, the cultivator can get
at the fruit. The dates when gathered are placed
in cu-cidar enclosures of mud and palm-frond, about
six feet liigh, perfectly sun-dried, packed in skins,
and sold. The stones, pounded in trmicated oven-
like cones of swish, are given to the animals as food.
I have not yet been able to assist at the celebrated
date fair of Makna, held in summer when the fruit
is ripe. Formerly this merry-making was celebrated
for the hospitahty of the Magani, who supphed the
stranger wdth provisions durmg his stay. The 200
huts were crowded ; and a promiscuous multitude of
some 4,000 souls (they say) met to do business, and
to settle their quarrels and disputes. The latter
were either decided on the spot, or referred to the
Shaykhs, the right of appeal to the elders of the
tribes being always retained. This annual gathering
has greatly fallen off since the wars began. When
water fails, the wretched coast people must retire to
the mountains of the interior, where the more abun-
dant rains produce better pasture, and gather for
sale the poor gum of the Samur-mimosa [Inga
unguis) or make charcoal of the Siyal (Acacia
seyal).

Another great industry is fishing ; the maritune

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 307

tribes are all equally expert with nets and lines.
The tackle is poor enough ; their hooks are generally
home-made, and their lines are bartered or boTight
from passing boatmen. Farther down south they
dive for Yusr (" black coral ") which, ugly as it is,
fetches a high price when turned into cigarette-
holders.^^ Along the seaboard of Michan a regular
pearl-fishery opens with the fine season ; its chief
object is the nacre^^ sold for furniture and fancy-
work in Egypt and Syria. At times pearls come to
hand ; they mostly have the fault of being slightly
yellow, yet I have heard of them costing £20 and
even £30. The merchants buy the shells by the
hundred, and take their chance of finding the pre-
cious stone. Of late years Europeans have taught
these people the trick of inserting a grain of sand
into the oyster.

The trade is by no means so precarious and ill-
paid as it was in the days of Wellsted (ii., 236) ;
the market is regular and the prices range high.
The merchants of Yambu' and Jeddah sometmies
send up theu* Sambiiks ; but the task of collecting
is mostly left to the Hutaym and the Juhaynah.
The fishermen await calm weather, when they pull
along the outer edges of the reefs until they discover
the oysters in three or four fathoms. During the
warm season the youngsters undergo a complete
course of training ; and they work till blood starts
from eyes, ears, and nose : the people report that

'* "Wellsted (ii., 23S) calls it " a species of neopJiite {sic !) found near
Jiddah," &c.

*" It is always from the pearl-oyster ; never, as iu the Balearic Islands
from the Pinna Mafjna or Giant Mussel.

308 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

they are not considered adepts until the drum of the
ear is actually ruptured (?). They dive with the aid
of a stone fastened to a rope ; the first is placed on
the former, and the latter is ^' payed down " as fast
as possible after the plunger ; a tug on the hne is the
signal for hauling once more to the surface.

Wellsted, who studied this subject, gives some
curious details concerning the extraordinary depths
which these Arabs reach ; it is regretable that he
says nothing about the maximum of time. Personal
observation in the Persian Gulf enabled him to
assert that there the fishermen rarely descend
beyond 11 or 12 fathoms, and even then they al-
ways show signs of great exhaustion. But in the
Red Sea, old Serur, his pilot, dived repeatedly to
25 fathoms, without the slightest symptoms of incon-
venience. He remained long enough under water to
saw off the copper bolts projecting from the timbers
of a ship sunk in 19 fathoms amongst the outer
shoals of Jeddah. Wellsted saw him often plunge
to 30 fathoms ; and heard that for a heavy wager he
had brought mud from the bottom at 35 fathoms. As
the Engfhsh sailor remarks, " How immense must
have been the pressure of the fluid by wliich he was
surrounded ! "

Neither Serur nor his sons, fau^ " chips of the old
block," appeared to fear the sharks : they asserted
that the dingy- coloured skin prevents the Arabs
being attacked by the "sea-lawyer"; whilst the
paleness of the European epidermis " usually proves
an irresistible bait to their epicurean palates." Yet
the old man bore on his arm a large scar which he
got in battle with the " sea-dog," and the latter does

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 309

not, as Forskal observed, confine itself to muddy
bottoms. When it was necessary for liim to clear
the anchor, Serur armed himself with a knife, which
was slung by a loop to his wrist, and " precipitated
himself fearlessly to the bottom." Wellsted does
not " attach imphcit credence to all we hear re-
specting men kiUing sharks single-handed in the
water." The monsters have prodigious strength
and quickness of sight : amongst the reefs they were
so numerous and voracious that they often bit in
two the large Coral-fish which had been hooked at
the bottom, and yet this Scicena, when caught, "flies
out and plunges to the end of the line with much
violence." Shark-meat is eaten in Midian ; but it is
not such a favourite food as at Maskat and Zanzibar,
where, moreover, it is considered aphrodisiac by the
Arabs. ^^

The Midianite tribes dwell both in tents and
huts ; the latter, mere succedanea for the former, are
used only in the hot season when the Bedawin afiect
the coast. Both are more wretched than the mean-
est clachan described,

" With roof-span flattened and with timbers tliin,
Cheerless without and comfortless within."'

They are all built much in the same way. Passing
through an enclosure of palm-fronds, where the
animals are kept, you enter, under a verandah,
atrium or porch, propped on date-trunks, a dirty
hovel built of mats and reeds. The interior is
divided into two by a screen of cotton cloth, con-
cealing the women on the right from the men to the

*' For the flavour of sharks' meat in these seas, see " The Land of
Midian fEe^npited)," chaj). viii.

310 THE ETHNOLOGY OE MODERN MIDIAN.

left/- The liome/^ the true abode of the Bedawi, is
the tent, pitched as usual in some sheltered valley,
or where a tree-clump defends it from the cold
winds. These abodes greatly vary, from the tattered
cloth thrown over a few peeled sticks, which shel-
ters the family and the few belongings of the poor
Hutaymi, to the large awnings of the Shaykhs,
which are always on the western side of the encamp-
ment C?),^ and which are known by the upright
lance planted alongside. Usually they are the
combinations of the poles, some ten feet long, and
the cloths of sheep and goats'-hair forming roof
and walls, familiar to every traveller in Syiia and
Bedawi-land. Here, however, the colour is more
often striped bro^\ai and white than the classical
black of Arab and Hebrew poetiy. The fm^niture is
sunple as the abode : tables, chants, and beds there
are none. The Shaykh sits on a camel-saddle whilst
the Cateran squats before him upon the groimd.
The former sleeps on a rug or Persian carpet ; the
latter on a mat, or that failing, on the bare floor. The
articles of furniture are hand-mills and rub-stones,
metal pots (Giclr), wooden milk-bowls (Kadah), and
butter-jars (bought, not made), mortars and pestles

*' I have described them at full length in my tliree volumes, " The
Gold Mines, &c.," and " The Land of Midian (Revisited)."

*^ Professor Palmer (" Desert of the Exodus," p. 75) says : " Ai'abic,
indeed, is almost the only language besides oiu- o^vti, in which the word
' home,' watan, can be expressed." Professor Vdmbery somewhere says
the same of " votan," the barbarized Turkish corruption. I must differ
from both these scholars. " Watan " is used simply as " bii'th-place,"
without a shade of the sentiment attached by the English to theii*
" home."

^^ So says Wellsted (ii., 200). I neglected to make inquiries on the
subject.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 311

for coffee, water-skins, tobacco, blagues of kid-skin,
canvas or mat bags for salt-fish and dates, camel-
gear, arms, and similar necessaries. In fact, the old-
fashioned Gypsy-tent of the English " tinkler " was a
good specimen of the Arab's abode. In Midian the
camps are not converted mto Dawdr by pitching
the tents in a circle fenced m with a low wall of dry
stones, or with an impenetrable hedge of the sharp-
thorned acacia and mimosa. These Kraals are the
biblical Hazeroth, the *' fenced enclosures " of the
pastoral tribes.

The picture of an evening scene at the Wild
Man's home is peculiarly characteristic of his life.
As sunset approaches the young men and boys
drive in from the hill pastiu-es the tardy camels and
asses browsmg by the way, while the flocks of sheep
and goats troop with tinkhng bells and more disci-
phne under the charge of blue-robed matron and
maiden. They are received by the lambs and kids
which, skipping and bleating their joy, rush from
the tents and single out their respective dams.
Whilst the younger milk their charges into large
wooden bowls, the elder prepare the 'Asha or
supper, this being the principal meal of the day.
Amongst the wealthy, menial work is mostly con-
signed to the negro and the negress. These slaves,
who are less numerous than in the south, are not
looked upon as inferior beings ; nor are they ex-
cluded from the right of intermarriage with the
free-born."^^ It usually consists, in wealthy tents, of
rice swamped with melted butter (Samn), and high-

« The Muwallid, or house-born slave, has become au important
element of society. See " The Gold Mines of Midian," p. 124.

312 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

piled in round platters ; the only form of bread is an
unleavened cake of holcus, either eaten simple or
mashed with onions and steeped with the water m
which meat has been boiled. The men first take
their seats round the food ; eat then- fill, and leave
the remainder to the women and children. It is a
busy scene before nightfall, and the encampment
resounds with the bellowing of camels, the bleating
of the flocks, the baying of the dogs, and the shouts
of the herdsmen ; the birds carol theu- last song,
and abeady the cry of the jackal is heard in the
wilds. The evenmg is spent in Kayf, squatting
either in the moonlight outside, or round the fires
inside, the tents ; and the Samrah or chat, aided by
an occasional cup of coffee and by perpetual pipes, is
kept up till a late hour. The bed-chamber is mostly
a la belle etoile.

Altogether it is a strange survival of those
patriarchal days which a curious freak of faith has
made famihar, through the writings of the Hebrew
bards and seers, to Europe in the nineteenth cen-
tury ; where (marvellous anachronism !) Shem still
dwells in the house of Japhet.

The oft-described abstemiousness of the Bedawi
rests upon a slender foundation of fact. He can
live upon what we should call " half-notliing," and
he often does live upon it. The dromedary-man will
start on a journey of ten to twelve days with his
water-skin and a bag of small cakes made of flour
kneaded with milk ; two of these morsels, or a few
boiled beans, form his daily bread ; and water is
drunk only twice during the 24 hours. Cases are
quoted of Arabs who for three years have not tasted

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 313

water nor solid food. The high-caste Nejdi will
boast that he can live for months, day by day, upon
a handful of dates and the milk of a single she-
camel. But, like the Spaniard and other peoples of
Southern Europe, the Arab never refuses good
cheer ; and it is " a caution " to see him feed alle
spalle altrui. His dietary is of course limited in
these beefless lands ; he prefers antelope to mutton,
because he hopes to sell the latter, or to barter it
for corn in Egypt ; and his meat is chiefly confined
to game, — ibex, gazelle, hares, and rarely birds. He
ignores poultry ; the tame gaUinaceoe being confined,
as far as I know, to lands that bear the cereals.
His grain must be imported, as it is not grown ; the
same is the case with his coffee ; and his vegetables,
like his simples, are mostly gathered in the Desert.
On the other hand, at certain seasons, dates, fish,
and milk are abundant, and he can afford to sell the
surplus of his clarified or liquified butter, the great
luxmy of the East. Spirits of course are unknown,
and such intoxicants as opium and hashish (Cannabis
nidica) are confined to the neighbourhood of the
Forts. The Bedawin here and there grow their own
tobacco ; but they dehght in a stronger article, and
cigars are in the highest repute. Cigarettes must
be made for them, as they cannot make them for
themselves. The pipe-bowl is made of steatite, and
those of Makna are the most celebrated ; the shape
of the bowl is a long cy finder, and the cost may be
$5 (=£1). The stick is long and hung with
various instruments, ii'on pincers, prickers, and so
forth.

In the matter of cookery the modern Midianites are

VOL. XII. Y

314 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

exceedingly unclean. They eat the entrails of animals
after dramng them through their fingers by way of
purification. Heads and " trotters " are prepared
by partially scraping off the hair, and broiling on the
embers — the utmost luxury would be boiling " in two
waters." The favourite style of roasting or rather
baking is primitive but effectual. A grave-like hole
is dug in the sand ; the sole and sides are luied with
stones, upon wliich a fire is kindled, and when the
oven is heated the embers and ashes are removed.
The meat, often a w^iole lamb or kid, is placed
inside, and the hole is filled with sand heaped
up as over a corpse. The " bake " takes from half
an hoiu" to two hoius. At a feast the Shaykh and
honoured guests sit apart before one or more dishes
containing the more dehcate morsels from this
" barbecue " ; the rest is eaten by the conmaoners
with a huge pile of boiled beans, rice, and flour,
mixed together and deluged with Ghi, The repast
is sometimes washed down -^^dth milk flavoiu'ed mth
Desert herbs. The poorer classes pomid their coffee
between two stones, instead of the wooden pestle and
mortar. Some use for the purpose an earthenware
pipkin. The apparatus is a bag to hold the beans ;
a round Tabah (" u'on plate ") for roasting and a
" Bukraj " or tm pot for boiling — also bought, not
made. As water is precious the uifusion is black
and strong, and consequently drunk out of Finjans
or small cups. The people dehght in sugar, w^iich
is rare ; but mixing milk or cream \^T.th coffee would
be considered the act of a very madman. A few
mouthfuls of this stimulant, even after excessive
fatigue, will enable the Bedawin to sit up chatting

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 315

about all kinds of tribal and trivial topics, camels
and flocks, the affairs of their neighbours, the events
of the past, and their plans and projects for the
future, till Lucifer appears in the Eastern sky.
The women are sent to sleep earlier ; they are the
working bees of the social hive, who must grind the
corn, cook the meal, clean the tent, and convert
goats' hair to cloth. The coast tribes live chiefly
on fish and shell- fish, milk and dates ; grain and
meat being reserved for festivals. The guest is
received with coffee, milk, and dates. Like all
nomads the Arabs never use fresh milk, wisely pre-
ferring to " turn " it in the pot rather than in the
stomach.

The Bedawi is not without a certain dignity of
bearing which is enhanced by his broad and flowing
raiment. The dress varies, like his abode, mth his
ways and means. The Shaykli is often a gorgeous
creature. A Kufiyah*'' (" head kerchief ") of silk and
cotton, made in Syria, or the Hejaz, is various in
colom^s, but usually striped with marigold-yellow on
a brick- dust ground ; it is always supplied with
tasselled fringe-cords to keep off the flies. This is
the best defence from heat and cold — many Euro-
peans have been wise enough to adopt it on the
desert road. It is worn without 'Arakiyyah (" white
cotton calotte "), over the Kurun (small " pig-tails ")
and the greasy locks which fall in plaits to the waist.
The Wahhdbis, when in power, opposed this old
custom and compelled the Bedawin to curtail their

*^ Wellsted (ii., 210) writes the word " Keifiyet," and marvellously
mistranslates it " convenience, comfort." He thus confuses Kfifiyah with
Kayf — difTereul and distinct roots.

Y 2

316 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

love-locks ; but these " croppies " presently returned
to the habits of their forefathers. The kerchief is
kept in place by an A'kal, or " fillet," and the
fashions of the latter, which in some cases dis-
tinguish the tribe, are innumerable, ranging between
a bit of rope and a comphcated affair of silk and
gold, wood, and mother-of-pearl. The body-dress is
a pair of Sarwal ("loose drawers");*^ and a large
shirt of unbleached cotton, extending to the knees,
is secured at the waist by a leathern girdle carrying
the dagger, ammunition, and apparatus for striking
fire. The rich add a striped Egyptian caftan with
open sleeves. The outer garment is the inevitable
'Aba, or cloak, in India called " camaline." *^ The
material preferred by the highest classes is broadcloth,
English if possible, and red is ever the favourite
colour. The black come from the Hejaz, and are
therefore worn only by the rich ; the common article
is home-made of goats' haii', vertically striped white
and brown, and passably waterproof. The feet are
protected either by parti-coloured sandals or by
Khuff (" riding boots ") of red morocco leather. The
latter is also the favourite cover for the sabre-sheath.
The Door must content themselves with an old head-
kerchief and a dirty shirt, whose long open sleeves
act, when knotted, like schoolboy's pockets ; a greasy
leather girdle or baldrick, and a coarse tattooed
'Aba. None are so poor as to walk about with-
out weapons ; even a quarter-staff (Nebiit) is better
than nothing. In the Hism^, where the wintry cold

'" Strictly speaking, these " bags," so general throughout the East,
are not Arab, and the true Bedawi looks upon them as elfeminate.
*' Probably derived from the Hindostaui word, Kamli (" blanket ").

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 317

is severe, the outer cloak is often lined with sheep-
skin.

The even tenour of the Bedawi's life is varied by
an occasional journey for trading purposes ; by a
campaign, or its unitation, the hunt ; and by at-
tending such festivals as the transit of the Hajj
caravan. As a rule, the Wild Men are not travellers ;
each tribe is confined within the strictest hmits ;
and many live and die, like French peasants, without
ever having wandered twenty miles from their
homes. But increased facility of intercourse has
mduced several of them to visit the grain-markets of
Egypt, Syria, the Nejd, and the Hejdz, w^ith the
object of bettering their condition. Success has not
often rewarded exertion. The Bedawi, like all bar-
barians, is cunning and " dodgy " to excess ; but he
wants capital ; he must borrow from the citizen, who
is wiher than hmiself ; and his labour often ends in
finding himself a hopeless debtor to the extent of
several hundred dollars. Once on the wrong side of
the merchant's books he can never expect to set him-
self right. Where money is concerned, the Arab
trader never hesitates to he and to cheat by every
means within his reach ; m fact, honesty, in the con-
fined sense of the word, is unknown to him. AYhen
the bargain is made the Bedawi's word may be
taken as his bond, unless he has travelled to Egypt,
or has had much to do with strangers at home. And
the Bedawi who has not " seen the world " retains
the noble prerogative of truth-tellmg ; he disdains and
abhors a he.

The Bedawi camel-man, hired by strangers, is as
noisy, insolent, and troublesome before setting out.

318 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

as he is civil and willing, patient and docile, after the
start. He instinctively wrangles and clamours over
the distribution of loads, v/ishing to spare his own
beast at the expense of his neighbour's. His
favoiu-ite marching tune is ever at night, when
the animals escape the sun, and can feed freely
during the day. Compelled by foreigners to travel
at hoiu's which he considers ridiculous, he submits
with a grumble to theii' rude un-Arab ways ; but he
will not proceed on foot. " The 'Orbdn can't walk/'
was the invariable reply whenever our Bedawin, after
loudly complainmg that the escort mounted their
overloaded camels, were found riding on the hne of
march. During the heat of the day they wrap
themselves in theu' ragged cloaks, cross theu* legs
beneath them, and sleep soundly, reckless of sun-
stroke ; wliilst the animal, here and there pausing to
browse, keeps up its monotonous tramp over the
lonely melancholy wilds.

Arrived at the camping-ground the beasts are
driven off to feed. An indispensable part of the
Bedawi's traveUing kit is the coarse roimd mat
(El-Khasaf), which is spread under the thorn-
trees, acacias, and mimosas, for the operation known
as El-Rama\ This is a severe and branch-breaking
'•' bashing " with the long stick [El-Murmdr or El-
MaJchhat), which brings down the flowers and the
young leaves. In Sinai the boughs are lopped off;
and in aU cases the vegetation is seriously injured.
The camels on the march should be fed with beans ;
but this refection is generally reserved for the men,
who eat a few handfids twice a day, washing them
down wdth sparmg draughts of water. Those who

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAX 319

can or who will afford better cheer, unbag at the
halting-place a little meal of barley ; knead it into
dough, thrust it into the fire, pull it out, and " break
bread." This copious meal is followed by a thimble-
ful of cofiee, and by imHmited pipes of hay-like
tobacco. Diu-mg the evening they sit round the
camp-fire, matchlock between knees, with an ap-
parently immovable gravity, which any disputed
question at once converts into a scene of violent
excitement. For the night, when the cold is un-
usual, they clear away the embers from the fii-e-
place, scrape up a few inches of soil, and he in the
heated hollow, which must have suggested the
warming-pan of civihsation. Under such privations
it is not to be wondered at if the travelhng Bedawi
at tunes sufiers from sickness.

The Wild Man is born hale, sound, and hearty,
otherwise he dies in earhest infancy ; and, if de-
formed, he is usually disposed of by some form of
"euthanasia." A native of a dry land, he is not
subject to the j^etite sante which afflicts his race — for
instance, the Arabs of Zanzibar — in the reeking heats
of the tropics. I never saw a case of the ophthalmia,
almost universal in Egypt ; nor of the guinea- worm, so
common down coast ; as he rarely, if ever, washes
in fresh water, the Vena Medinensis has no chance.
Equally unknown are leg ulcers and the terrible
lielcoma of El- Yemen, especially Aden. But he has
nothing, save his sound constitution, to defend him
from the fierce alternations of heat and cold. Hence
come agues and fevers, asthma and neuralgia, pleurisy
and dysentery, not to speak of such imported pests
as the " yellow wmd " (plague) and small-pox, while

320 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

extreme personal uncleanliness induces a coliort of
cutaneous diseases. His pharmacopoeia consists of a
multitude of simples gathered in the wilds ; coffee
with spices and pepper, and even 'Raki and Cognac are
recognised as potent remedies. He practises fumiga-
tion and, above all things, counter-UTitation by the
actual cautery ; one of liis sayings is, " The end of all
physic is fire." The cure in highest repute for
rheumatism is extensive scarification of the body and
limbs with a red-hot iron ; anunals are also treated in
the same way. A deep incision counteracts the bites
of venomous snakes. Almost all the men after a
certain age bear signs of wounds, more or less
honourable ; in such cases shnple life in the open air
is a certam cure.

The Bedawi is an excellent sportsman. His
sharp eyes follow the spoor over the stoniest ground,
and, as with his forefathers, El-Kiyafah (''tracking")
is still an instinct. He has endless, mdefatigable
|)atience ; and, an acute observer of small details,
he is perfectly acquainted with the habits and the
haunts of his game. When a hare or a partridge
takes to the bush he walks round it for some time,
well knowing that the frightened ardmal will rather
watch him than rise. Each tribe has a few Siduki,
bastard greyhounds, with feathery tails. I never
saw these animals in a state of training like the
fine shepherd-dogs ; they seem good only to start,
and vainly pursue the ibex, the gazelle, and the
httle long-eared hare. The Midianite kills his
small deer, coneys, ducks and partridges by sphtting
the bullet into four ; and, although the big slugs
nearly blow the Httle body to pieces, the meat is

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 321

not less fit to eat. The "queen of weapons," as
we used to call " Brown Bess," is with him the
long-barrelled matchlock ; and for a good specimen
he will pay $70, or £14, fully equal to 60 guineas
in oiu" country. Double-barrels are not wholly un-
known, but guns and pistols are confined to the
chiefs. The short spear, some eight feet long
and pointed at both ends, is not used by the
Midianite, though common in the south. The
favourite weapon is the sword, a single-edged sabre,
kept sharp as a razor ; even the boys are armed
with blades almost as long as themselves, and on
one good old specimen I read the favourite legend.
Pro Deo et Patria. The chiefs affect what we call
the Damascus blade. The crooked jambiyyah or
poniard, that serviceable dudgeon which serves
equally well to slay a foe or to flay a sheep, is not
universally used, as in other parts of Arabia.

Where every man is weaponed, and where every
member of a strange tribe is looked upon as a possible
Dushman (enemy) /^ " personal affau^s " are by no
means rare ; and these often end in a kmd of battle -
royal. As Europe has now fully adopted the national
army and the levee en masse, which Bobespierre
revived, if he did not invent it, we might do worse
than to borrow a wrinkle from the Bedawin, even as
we have copied the Chinese Mandarins in the
important matter of competitive examinations. At
the end of a campaign in Arabia, both belligerents
count the sum total of their dead ; and the side
which has lost most receives blood-money for the
excess. Thus the battles are a series of skirmishes,

« The Eev. Mr. Tristram's " Tisclimans " (" Moab," p. 278).

322 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

and the object is to place men hors de combat
rather than to slaughter. During the Great Festival
there is generally an 'Atwah ("truce") between the
combatant tribes, however violent. This armistice
serves for the better plundering of the pilgrims.

Besides family and private feasts the Midianites
have not a few pubhc festivals. The date gathering
at Makna, already alluded to, is one of them ; but
the grand occasion of the twelve months, the "year-
market," as the Germans call it, is the arrival of the
Hajj. At such times the tribes pitch near the forts
and hold a regular fair. The chiefs attend to
receive their annual stipends of coin, clothes,
and corn, in return for which they guarantee free
passage to the caravan, and safe- conduct for the
suppHes conveyed to and from the depots. The
poorer classes assemble from all quarters, bringing
sheep and goats, milk and buttei; forage and firewood,
and, sometimes, the aromatic honey foimd in the
hollows of the rocks. These they sell or barter for
grain, chiefly holcus, cloth, sulphur, gunpowder, and
articles of luxury which they cannot make for
themselves. Minor festivals consist chiefly of
gatherings at the tombs of their Santons, each of
whom has his day ; for instance, Shaykh Biikir, near
El-Akabah, andSkaykh 'Abdullah, near El-Muwaylah.
Here they still practise the rite of sacrifice, wliich
the Koran woidd hmit to pilgrimage-season at
Mecca. The animals, whose blood has been
sprinkled on the door-posts, are boiled and eaten in
pubhc; lamps are then ht ; Bukhur ("incense")
is burnt ; there is much chatting and chafihig, and
the evening ends with a Musdmirah, the whole

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 323

assembly singing in chorus some such poetry as
this : — ■

" 0 Sliaykh Sahh, we seek thy protection ;
Save the brave, and we will visit thee every year ! "

I never heard m Midian the Rabdbah or native
hite, and yet the songs of our negro escort, and the
excruciating blasts of the bugler, seemed to aiford
unmitigated satisfaction. Elsewhere I have given
my reasons for beheving that the rite is old ; and
even that the sites of these visitations belong to
pagan times and races whose very names are utterly
forgotten. ^"^

The passing stranger is apt to suppose that the
" leonine society " of the Bedawin ignores or rather
despises every form of government ; and that the
Arab is free as the wuid that blows over him. But
a longer experience shows that the Shaykhs have
considerable power, especially over the poor; and that
'^pubhc opinion" is strong enough to compel
obedience to the law by banishing the refractory one
from the society of his fellows. The principal officers
of each tribe number three ; and the privilege and
profits descend in direct fine from sire to son.
The Shaykh is the ruler in civil matters, and he
administers the criminal code, such as it is. He is
the agent who represents his followers in all dealings
with the Government ; he is the arbitrator of disputes
amongst fellow- clansmen ; and, as his decisions are
usually just and impartial, they are readily accepted.
He also stipulates for and collects the hire of camels,
receiving in return a small commission ; but as a
rule he must not like out his own annuals. In cases

'» "Tlie Gold Mines of Midian," p. 133.

324 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

of theft, which is considered a civil rather than a
criminal matter, he inquires the value assigned to
the stolen goods by their owner ; lays down a fair
compensation, and, in case of the thief refusing to pay,
authorises the plaintiif to seize and sell the defendant's
possessions, not exceeding, however, the amount fixed
upon.

The 'Agid ('A kid) is the military officer, the
African " captain of war," who during campaigns
conducts the fighting men. Among the Sinaitic
Tawarah this hereditary commander-in-chief has
authority over the whole race. In Midian he merely
commands the tribe, unless others accept him of
their own free will ; he lays down the fines of the
attack, whose principal object is plunder ; and, besides
being a brave warrior, a swordsman of repute, and a
dead shot, he must be great at surprises, ambuscades,
and what is generically called Hilah, " arts and strate-
gems," some of them unjustifiable enough. Hence
cattle wantonly slaughtered, and date-trees roasted to
death by fire. His authority extends only to military
operations as long as they last : in time of peace he
becomes a mere Shaykh, respected or not according
to merit or demerit, success or failure.

The third is the Kazi el-'Orban (" Judge of the
Arabs"). He is generally a sharp-witted greybeard,
who has at his fingers' ends the traditions, the
precedents, and the immemorial Rasm ("custom")
of the tribe ; usually he is a man of good repute,
but not a few Kdzis are freely charged, like their
more civilized brethren, with " eatmg bribes." His
principal and most troublesome duty is that of
recovering debts ; disputes upon this subject cause

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 325

an infinite amount of bad blood. The mode of
procedure is as follows : — When payment is refused,
and the defendant as well as the plaintiff agree to
contest the matter, the claimant appears before the
judge, and deposits a pledge equal in amount to the
simi demanded ; the recusant does the same, and the
cause is pleaded freely and fully by both parties.
When the Kazi has decided, appeal may be made to
the elders of the tribe, but a fresh pledge must be
deposited ; and, if the defendant finally refuse to pay,
the plaintiff is authorised by the general voice to
levy execution by force or fraud.

The superstitions of the Bedawi are simply
innumerable, many of them are of course connected
with beasts and birds. Forskal, the naturalist, gives
the names of half-a-dozen animals which appear to
be partly the creation of a lively fancy.^^ The Nimr
(leopard) is a man translated. The same is the case
with the Wabr {fell similis, sine caudd, herbi-
phagus, monticola ; caro incolis eclulis) ; they call
this coney " man's brother," and point in proof
of its transformation to the shape of the hands and
feec. The Tawarah of Sinai refuse its flesh, declaring
that if a man were to do so he would never look
upon his parents again. The Midianites set the
rabbit-like incisors, by way of ornament, in the
stocks of their matchlocks. The hysena's brain is
secretly administered as a sedative to jealous
husbands, and the boiled flesh of the " Zaba' " is a
specific for various diseases.

5> For instance, El-'Ai'j (a hyajna) ; El-Ya'ar, resembling an ass in ears
and stature ; El-Sliausm-, a cat-like animal that eats poultry and makes
a noise when walkiufj.

326 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

There are many stories concerning Abii'l-Husayn
(the " Father of the Fortlet "), as they call the fox ;
the latter catches hares by tickling them with its
brush, and fastening upon their throats. The Hud-
hud or Hoopoe (Upupa e'pops), is respected on
account of its connection with Solomon. The owl
is a bird of many tales : its burnt feathers are used
for charms, and its death- signifying cry " Fat, fat,"
near a sick man's tent, is interpreted " He's gone,
he's gone." In Sinai a favourite charm is made
from the Hakham {percnopter, vulture), " tinted by
the hand of the Prophet's daughter," that is, when
the breast is variegated. After the body has been
biu-ied for 40 days, the remains are boiled, and the
white bone, which sticks up the highest in the pot, is
taken to a retired spot, far from men and dogs. The
wicked Jinns — spirits created of pure smokeless fire,
not of red clayey earth like men — then appear and
frighten the adept ; if he be stout of heart they
make way for the good Jinns, whose revelations are
as marvellous as any recounted by ancient or modern
spirituahsm. This bone is also an efficacious love-
charm ; rubbed against a girl's dress it is as efficacious
as kissing the " Blarney-stone."^'- Snakes are some-
times seen fighting for a bead or a gem ; this
valuable protects the wearer from the bites and
stings of all poisonous animals. There are no pro-
fessional serpent-charmers, but each tribe will have
one or more H4wi (" snakers ") who, besides bemg
venom-proof, can stamich wounds and cure hurts by
breathing upon them. In Sinai the Cross is a potent
charm worn by the Bedawin in their turbans, caiTying

" See " The Desert of the Exodus," p. 98.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN. 327

it in their religious processions, and sometimes
placing it at their tomb-heads. In Midian I found
the emblem used only in the Wusiim or tribal
marks.

The Bedawin are deficient, like all barbarians, in
the generalizing faculty, and, consequently, in its
expression ; for instance, they have no term for the
Ked Sea, or the Western Ghdts. Yet every natural
object, momitain or rock, ravine or valley, has at
least one name, and the nomenclature should care-
fully be preserved ; it is well-sounding and singularly
pertinent in describing physical aspects. As is the case
with most races in the same stage of civilization, the
people are unwilling to retain expressions which they
themselves cannot understand ; and these are modi-
fied to make them mteUigible. There are, however,
many terms that have no sense, or whose original
meaning has been forgotten, e.g., no Arab could
explain to me why the httle quarantine port is
caUed El-Wijh el-Bahr or, *' The Face of the Sea."
Yet, as I have before remarked, when they do retain
a name, pure or corrupted, as El-Khaulan for Hawilah
and Es-Saba for Sheba, we may safely rely upon it.

I do not beheve, with the Archbishop of Dub-
l"n. that Arab tradition, fossilised in theu' nomen-
clatm^e, " often furnishes undying testimony to the
truth of Scripture." In Egypt and Sinai the tradi-
tions of Moses, for instance, are clearly derived from
the early Christians, and consequently are of no value.
The "Saturday Review" (May 25th, 1878), in a
notice of my first volume on Midian, remarks : " The
Arabs talk of some (?) Nazarenes, and a ' King of
the Franks ' havinof built the stone huts and the

328 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDI AN.

tombs in a neiglibouring cemetery ('Aynunah). But
there can be no local tradition worth repeating in
this instance." Here we differ completely, and
those will agree with me who know how immutable,
and in some cases imperishable, Arab tradition is.
What strengthens the Christian legend is that it is
known to man, woman, and child throughout the
length and breadth of the land of Midian. The
Bedawin, who regard themselves as immigrant con-
querors from Arabia Proper, generally apply this
term to the former inhabitants. But in this case the
term " Nasard " was absolutely correct. We know
from history that Mohammed visiting (a.h. 9=a.d.
630) Tabiik, a large station on the eastern road,
preached a sermon of conversion to its Christian and
Jewish population. Fmally, our discoveries of coins
and inscriptions determined that these Nazarenes of
Midian were Nabathseans.

The Bedawm are unalphabetic ; consequently they
have no literature. Their only attempt at writing is
the Wasm (plural, Wusum) or tribal marks, straight
lines, rings and crosses, either simple or compound,
laboriously scraped upon hard stones. I made a
collection of these figures, which have been described
as " ancient astronomical signs " : they are sometimes
historically interesting. For instance, the sign of the
'Anezah is mostly a circle, the primitive form of the
letter Ayn in Arabic, Oin in Hebrew, which begins
the racial name. At present it would be uninteUi-
gible to a learned Moslem. We were often led far
out of our w^ay to inspect " writmgs " that turned
out to be nothing but Wasm : this suggests that
the art, wliich survives in Sinai, is here dying out.

THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN. 329

At the same time the common marks are still known
to the chiefs. Like the Gypsies of Southern Europe,
they can give notice of the road which they have
taken by drawing a line, called El-Jarrah, and
printing the naked foot upon it, with the toes point-
ing in the required direction.

The Midianites are still in the social state where
prose is unknown. All their compositions are in
verse, invariably rhymed ; and the improvvisatore
is not unknoMai. They consign to song everything
which strikes them by its novelty. For instance, my
fur peHsse procured me the honour of bemg addi^essed
as follows : —

" 0 Shaykh, O wearer of the costly fur,
Whither thou leadest us, thither we go ! "

They have love-songs, and especially war-songs : of
the latter I will offer these specunens :—

" Loose thy locks with a loosing (i.e., like a lion's mane),
And advance thy breast, all of it (i.e., opponite pcctora).

" 0 man of small mouth {i.e., mi miserable),
If we fail, who shall win ? "

" By thy eyes (I swear) 0 she-camel, if we go
(to the fray) and gird (the sword),

" We win. make it a sorrowful day to them and
avert from ourselves every ill."

Such, then, is the Bedawi of Midian, who resembles
in so many points his congeners in other parts of
Arabia. He is not an IshmaeHte ; but he has
inherited all the turbulence and the rapacity wliich

VOL. XII. z

330 THE ETHNOLOGY OF MODERN MIDIAN.

the ancient Hebrews (Genesis xvi., 12) attributed to
their elder brethren. The reformed doctrines of the
Wahhabis are not hkely, in these days, to travel so
far westward, and the only hope for the country,
quamdiu Arabes sua bona ignorant, is, I repeat, an
extension of the strong-handed rule of Egypt. Tliis
comparatively civilised form of government suits the
condition of the actual races. It is the first step in
the path of progress, and it will lead, when the rich
metalliferous deposits shall be worked, to the condi-
tions which the French have introduced mto Algeria.

'?'

THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY
CONGRESS, 1878, AND THE INTER-
NATIONAL LITERARY ASSOCIATION.

BY C. H. E. CARMICHAEL, M.A.

(Eead June 25th, 1879.)

The fact of the assembling in London this year of
the Second International Literary Congress seems to
render it desirable that I should take the ^^i^esent
opportimity for giving our Society some account of
the first Congress, which I attended m Faris last
year, as one of the delegates nommated by the
Council.

The idea of convoking such a meetmg originated,
we are informed, with the " Societe des Gens de
Lettres de France," which has its head-quarters
in Paris, and which has for its President one of
the most widely known of livmg French authors,
M. Edmond About. The work and the object of the
French " Societe des Gens de Lettres " alike differ in
several essential respects from our own. While the
Royal Society of Literature is, in the terms of its
Charter, a scientific, collegiate body, dealing with
Literature from its philosophical and theoretical
rather than its active side, the " Societe des Gens
de Lettres " seems to me, if I understand its constitu-
tion rightly, to be, in the main, a Society for the
protection of the rights of authors. Such an object

z 2

332 THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS.

is in itself, of course, a good one, and it may be more
or less necessary in particular countries that societies
should be constituted to carry it out. But it is work
of an entirely different kind from that which we
were founded to do ; and it is work which, as I read
our Charter, we could certainly not undertake
without an alteration in our constitution such as I
see no reason to urge upon this Society. I say this
much on the subject of the character of our Society
and the "Societe des Gens de Lettres,"in order that
my conception of their respective fields of work may
be made clear at the outset, and in order that it may
be seen at once that I shall throughout regard them,
and any societies founded through the agency of
either, as entirely distinct bodies, each with a good
work of its own to do. In so far as I need state my
personal opinion, it is to the effect that, whether as
regards the parent French Society, of which I have
first of all spoken, or the International Literary
Association, of which I shall presently speak, indepen-
dent action will be best for all parties.

I wish well to all good work that is done for
Literature from any one of its many sides, but I can
see no advantage in attempting to fuse separate
lines of thought and of action, which I believe likely
to produce better results by being kept apart.

Having thus defined the point of view from
which I shall consider the work of the Paris Literary
Congress, it may be well that I should introduce you
to some of its leading members, before proceeding to
give an account of the part they played in the
discussions, and of the subjects they brought before
our notice. "Facile princeps," I need scarcely say,

THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS. 333

stood the name and the fame of Victor Hugo, whose
oratory seemed to have all the fire of a renewed
youth, as he apostrophised the nations of the world,
and called up the memories of their literary glory
in the great public meeting at the Chatelet. Of
Edmond About, his versatile genius, and his keen
satire, it is hardly necessary to remind any one here
to-night. But, on the whole, it was rather the
practical side of his character, of which we had
evidence during our sessions in the hall of the
" Grand Orient " of France. One of the most
attractive figures in the gathering was undoubtedly
the venerable Ivan Tourgenieff, the Nestor of con-
temporary Russian literature. His patriarchal
appearance and his unvarying gentleness of manner
could not but make him one of the most charming
of colleagues. But his very gentleness, not being
supplemented by the firmness necessary to the
chairman of a mixed and often discordant meeting,
rendered his tenure of the presidential chau^ but
too often the sign for a Literary Babel. From half-
a-dozen points, at least, would rise the cry, " Je
demande la parole !" with perhaps opposing cries of
" Cloture !" according as our brethren of the Congress
either wanted to air their particular views, or to
stop the mouths of would-be orators by getting the
chairman to pronounce the discussion closed. To
cope with such stormy scenes was clearly beyond
the power of our Russian Vice-President ; he had
written powerfully of the " virgin soil " of his native
land, and had sown Thought broadcast over that soil ;
but the conduct of public meetings was evidently
a virgin soil which Tourgenieff could not prepare for

334 THE PARTS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS.

tlie harvest. When he had tinkled his presidential
bell, and made ineffectual appeals to our sense of
order, which rarely went beyond an expostulatory
" Mais, Messieurs !" despair seemed to settle down
on him, until M. About, or some other strong-minded
Vice-President, came to the rescue, and there was
once more peace in Israel. I am afraid you will
think from what I have been saying that we were a
very unruly team to be harnessed to the chariot of
Literature. I must admit that some of us did want
to be kept firmly in hand, more especially in the
General Meetings. But this was partly due, I think,
to a want of organisation, which pervaded the entire
arranofements of the Confess, as well as to the
inordinate length of time, as it would seem to English
minds, over which the sittings were spread. The
result was, I think it would not be inaccurate to say,
that nothing ever took place exactly as it was laid
down on the programme, and that nobody ever knew
exactly what was the question properly before the
meeting. Such a " decousu " in the debates as I have
felt obliged to confess, is entitled, under the circum-
stances, to a more lenient judgment than we might
otherwise feel bound to pass upon it. And since in
those debates " pars minima fui," I must ask you
to extend this leniency of judgment to myself and
my colleague at the First Literary Congress, and to
believe that the delegates of our Society, at least,
were not art and part in vexmg the gentle soul of
Ivan Tourgenieff. But it is sincerely to be hoped
that the experience gained in the first meeting will
not be lost upon the second, and that I may have
in that respect a different storj- to tell of the London

THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS. 335

Literary Congress.^ If I raay suppose myself of
sufficient importance to have been a source of vexa-
tion to any one at the Paris Literary Congress, I think
it must have been to the general body of members, who
could not at all understand, or who at least appeared
unable to understand, my reasons for abstaining from
any voting whatever in the public sessions. In the
sectional meetings which I attended, this line of
inaction, if I may so term it, was, I believe, rightly
appreciated. The fact was simply this, that having
clearly defined my position before starting as a dele-
gate " ad referendum," — to watch proceedings and
report upon them to this Society, — I did not feel that
I could consistently give votes on a number of very
complicated literary and juridical questions, most
of which are still under discussion, and upon none
of which would it have been desii^able even to seem
to bind this Society, unless I had been charged with
a distinct opinion which, under particular circum-
stances, the Society might have desired to express.
The section to which I attached myself, as being the
one most directly connected with the subject of
Copyright, contained within it, I think, the largest
proportion of members of the French Bar. They at
least, I believe, quite understood my line, as to
which, if I had been inclined to waver at aU, any
doubts would have been set at rest, so far as my own
mind was concerned, the moment my section took up

* I had wiitten this expression of my hopes before the London Con-
gress had commenced its sittings. I leave it in my text to show the
feelings with which I approached the Second Literaiy Congress, on the
practical question of orderliness in debate. I regi-et to be obliged to say
that in this respect the Congress, like certain exiled monai'chs of old,
had forgotten nothing, and learned nothing.

330 THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS.

the discussion of a proposition which it desired to
lay down as axiomatic, to the effect that Copyright is
'•' not a concession of the law, but one of the forms of
property which it is the duty of the legislative body
to protect."'" If language has any meaning other
than that of concealing thought, such a proposition
appears to me now, as it did then, to be in direct
conflict with the general doctrine of English law.
For amid the many ambiguities, and doubts and
uncertainties, which the report of the Royal Com-
mission on Copyright has brought to the surface,
one point at least seems to be free from doubt, and
that is, that our existing law of Copyright, whether
good, bad, or indifferent, is the creation of statute law,
and the same holds good, I think, with the United
States. I speak under correction, of course, upon such
a question, but such is the conclusion to which the
consideration of the Statute of Anne and of the Act
of Cono-ress of 1790, has led me. And even if that
conclusion were more doubtful than it may be held to
be, I yet feel, as I felt then, that I could not well do
more than listen to a discussion of the proposed
axiom that " the author's right," which we call
Copyright, is '' not created, but only assured by Law."
To lay down such a proposition at all was, in my
view, unnecessary, if not irrelevant, to the carrying
out of the work of the Congress. To make it
axiomatic was in all probability to alienate some who

^ I may add that an exactly identical doctrine has been laid down at
two subsequent International Congresses held in Paris in 1878, viz.,
the Art Copyright (Propriete Artistique), and Patent and Trade-mark
Congresses (Propriete Industrielle). It is therefore no isolated pheno-
menon, but an unmistakable indication of a powerful and wide-spread
school of thought.

THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS. 337

sympathised with the general objects of the meeting,
but who, like myself, were not prepared to fly in the
face of the existing jurisprudence of their respective
countries. I do not yet see how this difficulty is to
be met either by the Literary Congress, or by its
permanent representative, the International Literary
Association.

For the words of the resolution of the Paris Con-
gress on this head are very clear and emphatic.

" Le droit de I'auteur sur son oeuvre," so runs the
resolution, "constitue non une concession de let hi, mais
une des formes de la propriete que le legislate ur doit
garantir."

I cannot but think that there is here some con-
fusion of thought, viewing the question as one of
theory, and without reference to the countries in
which the right under discussion is, for practical
purposes at least, a " concession de la loi." I do not
myself see any abstract impossibility in the existence
of some forms of property created by positive law,
side by side with others created, if you like so to
put it, by the natural law. As a purely theoretical
question, it might, I think, have been asked whether
Copyright was not in its essence a right of property
derived from natural law. But it might also have
been asked, I conceive, (and this, I think I may say,
is the view to which, in such a speculative inquiry,
I should have inclined), whether the conception
of property and the lav>^ of property are not
coincident in date, i.e., whether we may not, or even
perhaps ought not, to say, that as soon as property
existed at all, whether tribal, communal, or
individual, there existed also the law of property.

338 THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS-

It would, from this point of view, have been quite
sufficient to ha^e laid down tliat " Copyright is one
of the forms of property which ought to be protected
by law." Having regard to the constant infractions
of the rights of authors, which are but too manifest
in the most widely distant portions of the world,
such a declaration would have been entirely within the
competence of the Congress, but it was not enough to
satisfy the majority of the members. Their very next
affirmation was, in my opinion, equally extravagant,
and shut me out quite as thoroughly as the previous
one from anything more than the attitude of a
listener, interested, indeed, but unable to acquiesce
in the march of events, or to help it on. When the
question of the duration of Copyright came to be
debated, the resolution of my section was framed in
the following uncompromising language.

" Le droit de I'auteur, de ses heritiers et de ses
ayauts-cause, est perpetuel."

When perpetuity has once been laid down it would
seem as if there were nothing more to be said. Yet
mv section saw what the Congress does not appear to
have seen, that Literature might be brought to a
sorry pass if the continuators of the legal " persona"
of an author, with their rights " in ssecula
s£eculorum," were to decline to pubhsh new editions
of the works of which they were the owners. So
the following rider was added : " Neanmoins, pourra
etre dechu de ses droits, I'heritier qui sera restd
vino't annees sans publier I'oeuvre dont il est pro-
prietaire." So that, after all, even the supporters
of the doctrine of the perpetuity of Copyright seem
to find that they must draw a line somewhere

THE PARTS IXTERXATIOXAL LITERARY CONGRESS. 339

These mitigations, however, did not find favour
with the general body of the members, for in voting
the resolutions of the first section, the paragraph
decreeing the loss of the heir's rights, if he should
have abstained for the space of twenty years from
publishing a work inherited by him, was omitted.
The text as finally settled, passes on at once to lay
down the principle that *' republication may take
place, on condition of paying a Eoyalty to the heirs,
immediately on the expiration of the period alloiued
for the authors rights by existing legislation."

It appears to me, on reviewing the proceedings of
the Paris Congress, that there was a conflict, though
perhaps an unconscious conflict, in the mmds of the
members between their strong desire to lay down
the perpetuity of the author's riglits, and their
equally strong desire to allow so much freedom of
reproduction as they could manage to make con-
sistent with that doctrine by means of the Royalty
system, which is that advocated by Sir Louis
Mallet, in his separate report as one of our Koyal
Commission on Copyright. So far as I can see, this
solution is not as yet in much favour among our-
selves, but it is undoubtedly both popular with many
continental jurists, and also embodied in the legisla-
tion of several continental countries. It has been
recently advocated, in a paper read before the Law
Amendment Society at one of their sessional
meetings,'^ by Mr. J. Leybourn Goddard, who was
Secretary of the Royal Commission, and who in his
paper seemed to make himself the advocate rather of

* Read June 9th, and printed in the " Sessional Proceedings" of the
Association (vol. xii, No. 10), for 30th June, 1879.

340 THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL IJTERARY CONGRESS.

Sir Louis Mallet's views than of those of the Com-
mission generally. The Royalty system has been
strongly advocated by Mr. Macfie of Dreghorn, both
in his evidence before the Commission, and in a book
which he has lately published,"* the whole tendency
of which is to support that system "'as a means for
cheapening books." I do not feel called upon either
myself to give an opinion here on the relative advan-
tages and disadvantages of the Royalty system, or to
ask our Society to record a corporate opinion thereon.
It will be sufficient for me to have drawn your
attention to it, as one of the principal solutions or
the Copyright question adopted by the Paris
Literary Congress. But I may very naturally be
asked to set before you what was the pt^actical result
of the Fii-st International Literary Congress, apart
from the passing of the various resolutions which I
have mentioned. To this question the answer appears
to me to be clearly this : The Congress founded a
permanent body to continue its w^ork, under the title
of the International Literary Association (Association
Litteraire Internationale), with Victor Hugo for its
Honorary President, and Frederic Thomas, and
Mendes Leal, Portuguese Minister in Paris, for the
Presidents of its Executive Committee, the head-
quarters of the Society being fixed in Paris. This
is the body which convoked the Second Literary
Congress, whose sittings in London have only ended
within the last few days, after much warm discussion
of the thorny subjects of Translation and Adaptation.
It would not be possible for me, in the time at our

* " Copp'iglit and Patents for Inventions," vol. i. " CopjTiglit," by
R A. Macfie. Edinburgh, T. and T. Clark, 1879.

THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS. 341

disposal, to enter upon a detailed account of the
London Congress, and I think that it is as yet too
fresh in our minds for us to be able to discuss its
proceedings with judicial calmness. But, on the
other hand, some account of the Society which has
undertaken, amongst its various tasks, the work of
educating the world up to the level of its doctrines
by means of Annual International Congresses, will
not be out of place, and may pave the w^ay to a right
appreciation of the labours of that recent gathering
at the rooms of the Society of Arts, during which,
as our Daily Press remarked, such very " lively "
scenes were enacted. The International Literary
Association, owing its origin to resolutions passed at
the Paris Literary Congress on the 28th Jiuie, 1878,
has for its object, " 1st, the defence of the principles
of Literary Property : 2nd, the organisation of
regular intercourse between Literary Societies and
authors (ecrivains) in all countries : 3rd, the initia-
tive of all foundations of an International Literary
character." So, at least, we read on p. 3 of the
4th No. of the "Bulletin" of the Association
for May — June, 1879. But there is an apparent
antinomy, which I pointed out to M. About on the
first day of the recent Congress in London, between
the account which I have cited from the 4th No. of
the " Bulletin," and the account of the nature and
objects of the Association printed on p. 8 of the
1st No. of the " Bulletin," pubhshed in Decem-
ber, 1878. We there read in the " Eeglement " of
the Association that its objects are, " 1st, to establish
permanent relations between the authors (ecrivains)
of all countries, to afPord aid and support to all its

342 THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS.

members and to facilitate the universal diffusion of
the Literatiu-es of the various countries : 2nd, to
defend and propagate the principles embodied (con-
sacres) in the decisions of the International Literary
Congress." It seemed to me at the time, and it still
seems to me, notwithstanding the explanations
kindly given by M. About and M. Lermina, that
there is an actual difference between these two
formulae, and that there might conceivably be a
very serious difference between " the principles of
Literary Property," and '* the principles embodied
in the decisions " of a partictdar Congress. The
explanations of M. About and M. Lermina practically
amounted to this, that we were " seekers after Truth "
in this matter of Literary Property, and presumably,
therefore, had not yet found it, and therefore, also,
had not as yet any fixed and unalterable formula.
Furthermore, we were told that each Congress was
sovereign during its corporate existence, and there-
fore, as I understand it, " autant de Congres, autant
de Souverains," is the nearest approach to a formula
which we can at present lay down. I think myself
that the language used in drawing up the original
deed of constitution, so to speak, at the First Inter-
national Literary Congress, is the only strictly
authoritative language to which we can refer, and I
also think that its terms admit of the interpretation
which I should like to see distinctly accepted, that
nobody is bound by the fact of membership to any
one special theory of Literary Property. It is
evident that, as a matter of fact, very different
opinions are held within the Association, and I do
not see how it can well be otherwise. What I do

THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS. 343

not like is the appearance of being bound to the
theory of the perpetuity of Copyright, which was
undoubtedly laid down as a fundamental principle
by the Paris Congress, though disputed by individual
members both at the Paris and London meetings.
I believe that the good work which the Association
has it in its power to do would be materially assisted
by the freedom of members on all questions of
theory concerning Literary Property, while they
should be united on the ground of practical useful-
ness which they have as a body taken up. This
ground, however, is necessarily a somewhat more
prosaic one than that which Victor Hugo has seen
the Association occupy, in his glowing visions of the
Future. " The race of men of letters," said their
distinguished President, in reply to a deputation
from the Association, " few in numbers, will lead ;
the nations will follow. Out of this vast spiritual
brotherhood will spring Universal Peace. Your work
is a great one, it will succeed. It cannot meet
with hostility, for it answers to the ideal of a com-
munity which all men ardently desire. You are
younger than I am, you will reap its fruits. I have
always tliought that out of the brotherhood of letters
would spring the pacification of souls."

It seems almost bathos to turn from this poetic
salutation of the International Literary Association
by one who may fairly be called the Nestor of French
Literature, to the dry details of the profitable busi-
ness which that Society thinks it sees its way to
securing. It aims, as I understand its programme,
at nothing less than becoming the one recognised
medium of Translation throughout the Republic of

344 THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS.

Letters. This is a tolerably wide programme, and a
sufficiently bold one. If it were to succeed, then,
doubtless, as M. Pierre Zaccone, one of its founders,
took occasion to observe at one of the earliest sittings
of the new body (I9tli October, 1878, reported in the
'^ Bulletin," No. 1, for December, 1878), 'Hhe rights
of Translation might become a source of profit to
members." A comfortable suggestion, and likely
perhaps to dispose some waverers to join, but it is
one which reveals an ideal many degi'ees less sublime
than " Universal Peace," and the " pacification of
souls."

In saying this I am far from undervaluing, or wishing
to seem to undervalue, the good work which such an
International Literary Association may do. I do
not, indeed, myself think that either the aims which
Victor Hugo dreams of, or the golden vision of a
sole recognised medium of Translation for all the
world, are likely to be realised by the Society. But
it is a good work to bring men of letters together
from the uttermost parts of the earth, even though
they should not hear the wisdom of Solomon when
they have come together. It is also a good thing to
gather up notices of the existing state of Literature
in the various countries of the world, as is done in
the " Bulletin " of the International Association.
Only I may be permitted to remark that, judging by
the want of editorial care which most sadly mars the
utility of the " Bulletin," the Association itself has
something to learn ere it can aspire to be accepted.
a,s an " arbiter elegantiarum " in the world of letters.
Until a considerable amendment makes itself mani-
fest in this department of the Society's work, it is

THE PAEIS IXTEEXATIOXAL LITEEARY C0XGEE5S. 345

scai'cely likely that autlioi-s will part with theii* ]\ISS.
for the purpose of secui'ing the simultaneous appear-
ance of theii' orio^inal and its translations throuofh
the medium of the Association. That such a bodv
should fiu'nish authors, pubHshere, and translatoi-s,
with all the information necessaiy to guard their
respective interests, is a reasonable and useful pro-
posal. That a translation, when pubhshed through
them, should bear the imprint " Sole Translation
authorised by the Author and by the International
Literary Association," is also a reasonable proposal.
But I fad to see that the author has any gi'eater
certainty of securinor a really o;ood translation throuofh
the International Literary Association than he might
obtain throuo-h his own knowledofe, or through an
ordinary pubhsher. The yalue of stating that a
giyen translation is authorised by the International
Association will clearly be proportionate to the yalue
which time may prove the imprimatur of the Associa-
tion to deserve. Let the International Literary
Association go on its way of practical usefulness,
bringing together men of letters from all pai'ts of
the world, and accumulating such information as
may be of value to them m their undertakings, and it
will establish a claim upon our liigh regard. Let
the Congresses which the International Association
year by year convenes be convened, not to support
this or that particular theor}-, not to make demands
which it is the height of improbability that any
Legislatui'e will ever grant, but to consider in
sobriety of spirit what amendments may from time
to time be proposed in Municipal Law, or in Inter-
national Conventions ; then indeed, the Association

VOL. XII. l! a

346 THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS.

will deserve the best thanks of men of letters. In
such a field of usefulness, I think I may say that the
hearty sympathy of the Royal Society of Literature
woidd be given to the work of the International
Literary Association. We shall, in any case, watch its
progress with interest, in so far as that progress may
be identified with the advance of Literature. For, as
Victor Hugo said, in his magnificent address to the
Paris Congress at the Chatelet Theatre, "Literature
and Civilisation are identical. Literature is the
mind of man setting forth on its travels. Civilisation
is the sequence of discoveries which the mind of
man makes at every step on its journey, i.e., Progress.
We all, you and I, are fellow-citizens of the State
Universal. We are assembled together for no per-
sonal or selfish interest, but for the interest of all.
The Nations are measured by their Literature, not
by their numbers. Armies perish : the Iliad remains.
Greece, small in point of territojy, is great through
^schylus. Rome is but a town : yet through
Tacitus, Lucretius, Virgil, Juvenal, that town fills the
world with her fame. We want light, always, every-
where ! give heed if you will, to the lighting of your
streets ; but give heed also, give heed above all, to
the lighting of your minds !" Thus spoke Victor
Hugo, recalling to mind at various points that lament
of Otto, the wonder of the world, which sings of the
world-capital, " 0 Rom ! du bist so klein," and those
last words of Goethe, in which he cried for "Light !
more light !" If Literature be in truth identical with
Civilisation, then the more we can do for Letters
the more shall we be advancing the interests of the
Civilised World. All who would work for this high

THE PARIS INTERNATIONAL LITERARY CONGRESS. 347

end must work for it in the spirit which the
Nestor of French Literature so well laid down in
one of the passages which I have cited, namely, as
^' citizens of the State Universal " — that " great state
of the Universe" of the Stoic Philosophy, whereof
*' all the isolated states on earth are but houses and
streets," and wherein is " no distinction between
Greek and barbarian, bond and free, except virtue."^
Such was the vision of the sao-es of old. The walls
of the city they dreamed of have not yet risen
before us. Many workers are doubtless needed for
the building. Let us ofPer ourselves, to do what we
can, and, waiting for the dawn of the day when
our eyes may see that vision in its beauty, let us at
least say, " Fiat Lux."

5 " North British Review," No. LXXXVIII, June, LS66 ; Art. I.
" The Roman Element in Civilisation."

2 A 2

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO
WOESHIR

BY C. F. KEARY, ESQ.

[Eead NoTember 26th, 1879.]

In the Greek images of the gods there is often so
little individuality that, if we took away some
external attributes or symbols which accompany the
fio-ures, and which are no more than a kind of labels to
them, we might be m danger of confoundmg one
divinity with another ; of mistaking Athene for
Hera, Hermes for Apollo, Poseidon or Hades for
Zeus. In the case of the Panathenaic Frieze, for
instance, that sculptured procession which once
adorned the second wall of the Parthenon, we do
really find ourselves in such a dilemma. In the
centre of the composition is a group of persons,
whom, by their superior size above the mortal
stature, we know to be intended for gods, but for
what particular ones among the Olympians, it is still
a matter of dispute. In the case of one or two we
are able to fall back upon the helping symbol — as
the shoes and petasos of Hermes ; the segis of
Athen^ ; the wings of Eros — but we shall never get
beyond a probable conjecture for the greater number.
The difficulty does not arise solely nor even chiefly
from the disfigurement of the faces in this case.
Some of them, at all events, are well preserved ; yet
we cannot say that these are distinguishable by the

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 849

countenance alone. Poseidon for all the character
wliich he displays might as well be Zeus.^

I do not say that in general the antiquarian is left
quite at a loss. His skill is to interpret small signs
which would be unnoticed by common observers ; to
read, as it were, the mind of the artist, and not look
from the position of those for whose sake the artist
wrought. But the existence of such means of dis-
crimination does not affect the general truth of the
proposition, that to the ordinary glance, to any one
not initiated mto the secrets of the worker, there
would be such a class likeness among certain orders of
the divine beings that no single individaahty woidd
seem to step out from among them. And if we take
this art to reflect — as art always seems to reflect
the best — the popular religion of the day, we must
confess that no very strong individuality would have
been felt to attach to any one among the gods.

But art itself comes late in the history of Greece,
and no condition of thought which existed then is
any proof of like thoughts m the heroic age, centuries
before, when as yet Greek sculpture was scarcely
born. The rehgion which finds such an expression
as in the sculpture of the days of Pheidias is very
different from the creed of primitive times. Poly-
theism is come near to its latter days when the gods
have grown so much alike, and when all seem to
express the same ideal. So far as the Greek gods
are now not men, so far as they contain some divine

» »S'ee" Guide to the Elgin Eoom, British Museum," by C. T. Newton.
IVOchaelis' " Parthenon," and Flasch's " Zum Parthenon." Some of the
points in dispute are very curious ; tlaat for example between the
maiden Artemis and tlie sad matron Demet^r as the bearer of the
torch.

350 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

nature in them, tliis nature is the same for all. And
the god-like idea, or, to put it more in the language
of pliilosophy, the abstract conception of a god, will
soon attach specially to some particular member of
the pantheon, who, like the later Zeus of the Greeks,
will thus become the god par excellence, 6 Oeo'^ ; then i

the monotheistic goal will have been reached. For J
when in character the gods have become much the f
same, the difference between one and another of
them must depend altogether on external sur-
roundings. Some have a greater majesty in the
eyes of their worshippers, and receive more reve-
rence ; but it is because their rule is wider, not
because they are in themselves different from their
brothers. But for the limit of their various domains
all the gods are alike ; they are many kings, whose
empires are not the same, yet still all kmgs. And
the most powerful anon becomes in heaven, as he
would become on earth, an over-king to all the
others, the hretwalda, as it were, until at last he
brings the rest under him, and reigns alone. He
is the single god; the other divine powers sink to
positions like those which occupy the saints of the
mediaeval calendar.

In truth, when we look closer at the Greek pan-
theon, the pantheon of sculpture and of all art, we
find that the process of absorption has already gone
far, and that the almost complete uniformity among
the divine faces has arisen from the constant ten-
dency to assunHate to one or two leading types.
Among the gods, for instance (and we will speak in
this place only of the male divmities), amid the
general likeness we discern two types, which are

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 351

certainly distinct ; there is at least the difference
between the bearded and the beardless god, the
mature god and the youthful ; in a word, between
Zeus and Apollo. And it is the Zeus and Apollo
faces which convert to a Hkeness of themselves the
types of the other deities. That fair young face which
we see in its dawn in archaic sculjDture and follow
downwards, as it grows continually in beauty and
dignity, is most often the face of an Apollo. Zeus is
just as much the ideal of the grave, mature ruler,
the divine counsellor and just judge, the yepcou, as it
were, of the heavenly assembly.- And if we fancy a
'Greek in the solitude of his chamber, or in the more
moving solitude of woods and meadows, stirred with
some sudden strong religious impulse, we may be
sure that among the faces of the gods, the face of one
of these two, the countenance of Zeus, or of his son,
would rise into his mind.

To what, then, did these two gods owe the per-
sistence of their characters ? Why was it that their
countenances were fashioned in a more divine form
than those of other Olympians ? When a religion is
in such a transition state as was the creed of historic
Greece, we may look two ways. We may look
forwards and turn our thoughts chiefly to the god-
idea which men have attained unto, and so regard
their belief as to all intents a monotheism. This is
to see it in its ethical or strictly religious bearing.
Oi' we may regard it in an aspect which is rather

* Not, of course, precisely the Spartan ytpccv, member of the yepovaia,
who must be sixty years of age. Zeus we might imagine from thirty-
five to forty. He would then be five to ten years above the lowest limit
for the Athenian /3ovXr/.

352 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

mythological than religious, and trace back the
different characters of the gods to the outward
experience whence they took their being, to the
natural phenomena out of which they have grown.
And looking upon the face of the Olympian Zeus,
whom Pheidias wrought in ivory and gold, we are at
once led backwards in this way to think of an earlier
Zeus who was not ideal at all, but a real part of the
world in which his worshippers had their dwelling.
Pheidias for his conception did not trust altogether to
his own imagination, nor to that of the age in which
he lived. In doubt, so Strabo tells us, what was the
truest and noblest representation of the King of
Heaven, his thoughts were turned by inspiration to
that passage in Homer where Zeus is described
inclining his head in answer to the prayer of Thetis,
while Heaven trembles at the sign :

"^H, KCii KvaverjCTLv irr o(l>pvcn vevcn Kpovtcov
'AixfipocTLaL 8' dpa -)(aLTaL eneppc^cravro avaKTO^
Kparog an dOavoLTOLO. [xeyav 8' iXeXi^ev 'OA-u/xttov.

Whether Pheidias or whether Homer even knew
it or not, in the picture of the nodding or frowning
Zeus, making the heavens tremble at his nod, while
the hair falls down over his shoulders, there is an
image of the sky itself at the moment of the thunder.
The hair of the god is nothing else than the clouds
which rush together, and as they meet there comes
the clap which shakes the earth and heaven.

So, too, do the locl^s of Apollo bespeak his natural
orio-in. These, which are in the early statues
always carefully, and in the later ones abundantly,
arranged, are the rays of the sun. For Apollo is in

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 353

the beginning a sun-god. And thus we see that these
two divinities, whose influence is the deepest upon the
relisfion of historic Greece, are likewise those who
bear about them the strongest aroma of their earlier
simpler state ; of the time when they were not
magnified men (natural or non-natural), but in very
truth the phenomena which afterwards they only
vaguely symboHzed ; when Zeus was liimself the
sky, and Apollo the sun.

We must not, if we would understand the nature
of polytheism, fancy that it sprang from the ima-
gination of a number of divme beings set to rule
over the various powers of nature, a sort of cabinet
council of Olympus, having each one his department,
this of the wind, that of the sea, a third of the sun.
If the gods had been fashioned in such a way, there
would have been nothing to give them their indi-
vidual characters ; nothmg at any rate more solid
than the flights of fancy. But no accepted creed
— I think it will be found so — was ever built upon
so airy a basis as mere fancy ; but has always laid its
foundation, in one way or another, upon experience.
The objects of worship in primitive days are not
beings in the likeness of men ; they are not the
rulers over the sunshine and the storm, they are the
sunshine and the storm themselves. The first gods
are these very phenomena. The sea-god — or let us
rather say the god-sea, remembering how Homer
keeps up the very same idea in such an expression
as aiOrip 8117, the divine air — the divine sea or air
must be like themselves, changing, gentle, or violent,
as the sea and air are. And so Zeus and Apollo, to
whatever height of power they at last attained, and

354 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

to whatever perfection tlieir characters grew, could
never have so developed, unless the elemental phe-
nomena out of which they came had had in them the
possibihty of such growth and attainment.

Now of Zeus the parentage and origin are well
known. He is akin to the Yedic Dyaus, the Latin
Jupiter (Dyaus-pitar, father Dyaus), the Zio or Tyr
of the Teutons. It often happens that the etymo-
logy of a word which has been lost from the other
Indo-European languages has been preserved in the
Sanskrit. This is the case with Dyaus. The other
names, Zeus and the rest, exist only as proper
names ; but Dyaus has beside a physical inter-
pretation, and signifies the sky, or the bright upper
air, which the Greeks called cether. The names of
this deity of heaven are more widely spread among
the Indo-European nations than those of any other
divinity. We may feel sure, therefore, that just
before the separation of the old Aryan stock he was
its chief god. He remamed the chief god of the
Greeks and Romans.

Originally, then, Zeus was the clear heaven, the
home of the sun. Dyaus is connected with a root div,
which means to shine. The name has no hmt of
clouds or of rain. It is as distinct from any such idea
as with the Greeks aWrjp was different from the
cloudy ar)p which stood near the earth. It is strange,
therefore, to find that in later forms Dyaus becomes
a god of rain and thunder ; yet such certainly is
the case. The mere connection of the words in such
a phrase as Jupiter pluvius would be impossible if
Jupiter had kept the meaning of brightness which
belonged to Dyaus-pitar. It will need no lengthened

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 355

proof to show that Zeus too is a god of rain far
more than of the clear air : but we shall return to
the proofs of this hereafter.

Dyaus, it has been said, was apparently the chief
divinity of the old Aryan stock before the dispersion
of the nations. But with most of them he soon
ceased to be so. In the Vedas the god is mentioned
many times, but generally slightingly ; he is rarely
invoked and scarcely ever alone ; his chief merit in
truth seems to be that he was the father of Indra,
That indeed is a claim to distinction, for Indra is by
far the greatest in aU the Indian pantheon ; and so
one hymn in the Vedas compliments Dyaus (as it
were) upon the noble deed he did in bringing Indra
into the world —

Thy father Dyaus did the best of things,
When he became thy father, Indra^ —

not remembering, doubtless, how that the son
was in truth a usurper and had dispossessed his
father from his throne, who might have exclaimed
"before Indra was I am." Now though the elder
divinity is by name most nearly alhed to Zeus and
Jupiter, Indi^a approaches them most in character.
He is the god of rain, the governor of aU the
atmospheric changes, the sender of lightning, the
divider of the cloud. It is this god who has super-
seded the one who represented the cloudless sky.
With another nation from the same stock, the
Teutons namely, their Dyaus, who was called Tyr or
Zio, fell as the Indian god did to a secondary place ;
he gave way to Odhinn or Wuotan. In the trilogy

' "E.V.," IV, 17, 3.

356 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

of German gods enumerated by Tacitus, and called
Ly him Mercury, Hercules and Mars,'* we easily
recognise Odhinn, Thorr,^ and Tvr ; and of these, the
historian says, they chiefly worship Mercury. Here
Tyr stands among the first three, but behind Odhimi
and Thorr. Adam of Bremen, however, describing
the greatest temple of Sweden, mentions as the
three deities there worshipped, Odhinn, Thorr, and
Freyr ; Tyr we see is left out and Freyr, a god of
spring, put in his stead. In another instance, too, Tyr
gives place to Freyr, ^ so that he was after a wdiile
far from holding a position of commanding importance.
Odhinn is the god of the wind, of the rushing
storm-blast chiefly, and when we remember what a
wild and solitary life the Teuton led, beside pitiless
northern seas or in a hard un cultivable land, w^e
cannot wonder that this wmd-god should leave a deep
impress upon his fancy. '^ The wild spirit of those
lonely lands was Odhinn, whom they heard and
felt rushing through the forest, bending the tree
tops or lashing the waves. His, too, was the
inner breath which taught the women prophecy and
stirred in the hearts of the men the battle-fury for

* Gerinania, c. 9.

* Or Donar. One should of course rather use the German names
Wuotan, Donar, Zio, for these gods described by Tacitui ; the relation-
ship of the Norse divinities being somewhat diflferent from that of the
German ones.

« Namely, in the fight at Eagnarok. The three great combats are
between Odhinn and Fenrir, Freyr and S'u-tui', and Thorr and
Jormungandr. See Voluspa, 53, 55.

' Tacitus specially notices the love the Germans had of a solitary life.
Nee pati inter sejunctas sedes ; coUmt discreti ac diversi" (Germ. c. 16),
and describes the land they inhabited, " aut sylvis horrida aut pahidibiis
fceda " (c. 5).

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 357

which they had a special name, herserksganrg , the
berserks-way.

We have, then, in the case of all these nations of
the Indo-Europeans, not excepting the Greeks and
ItaHans, a change passing over the belief and taking
the same direction in each instance. Always the
more active god is preferred above a more passive
one. Yet so much of a compromise is made with
the former faith that the new ruler is nearly related
to the deposed one : instead of a god of the sky we
have a divinity of the wind, a mover of clouds, a
sender of ram. In no case do we pass to quite a
new part of the phenomenal world ; and because of
this connection in nature the relationship of god to
god can always be expressed mythologically by a
kinship of father and son — Dyaus being the father
of Indra, and Kronos, who in many ways represents
the character of Dyaus, being the father of Zeus.

If we succeed in realizing the condition of that
purely natural religion when the deity is by name
identified with a sensuous object, sea or sky, or
whatever it may be, we can understand that to
become so deified the phenomenon must be constantly
present to the senses, or, if not so, that it must at least
occur so often and so regularly that the idea of its
existence is firmly impressed upon men's thoughts.
The sun is not always visible, but he rises and sets
with the most perfect regularity, and in fine climates
his face is rarely hidden by day. The san, therefore,
is fitted to stand among the greatest of the gods ;
yet even the sun is rarely a supreme god, often he
falls very far short of being so : and that he does
this is owing solely to the fact of his disappearance

358 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

at night. The sky, however, is always seen, by day
and by night as well. There is nothing, therefore,
more fit to be a supreme deity than the sky ; and it
will remain a supreme God so long as man needs to
associate the impression of some outward thing with
his idea of worship. When, however, belief has left
this phase, and the idea of personality creeps in, there
is no lono-er a need for the constant presence of a
god. Formerly, when the god and sky were one,
had the second disappeared for long the god would
have seemed to cease to exist. But when the
divinity is not quite identified with the phenomenon,
when the notion of his being an abstract existence
has in any degree been realized, this being can be
thought of without the aid of visible appearance ;
he may be sitting apart, he may peradventure be
sleeping or upon a journey ; and the personality
becomes more impressive if his deeds are somewhat
irregular and arbitrary. In climates such as those of
India or of Greece, unhke ours, the heaven is most
often seen in its garment of unblemished blue.
Nothing can certainly be more divine and impressive
than such a sight. But there is withal something
monotonous about it. This god has not his changing
fits, his passion and his kindness. He is too serene
to be very ardently loved or feared ; for such an
eternal calm can have small sympathy with the short
and troubled life of man. Indra is a different
person. He, as the storm-god, is an occasional
visitant to earth ; his coming is rare but it is terrible ;
it is beneficial too, for the thunder sends the rain to
the parched ground. In some of the Vedic hymns
Indra is worshipped only w^hen he is present and

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 359

active : he seems to be forgotten when he is not
there. ^ Bat thi'oughoiit the whole series we see
the awe which he inspires when he does come ; we
seem to watch with the eyes of the worshipper the
flash of Indra's arrows and hear the echo of his
blows.

In the Vedas another god has succeeded to some
of the attributes of Dyaus. This is Yaruna — the
embracer, as his name signifies'' — and therefore the
heaven : but chiefly perhaps the heaven of night.
In Varuna's character, of the calm watching sky of
night or day, we have a being naturally contrasted
with Indra ; and the result is that the Vedic hymns
show evident traces of a rivalry between the two.
In one case there is a dialogue between the two
kings, each setting forth his claims to preeminence and
then a few final words from the singer, who inclines
to Indra because of his greater present powers. In
the language which each one uses we see an echo of
two different phases of belief, the worship of the
calm self-contained one and the worship of the present
active god.

Vaeuxa speaks.^"
1. I am the kino-, to me belonoeth rule,

I, the life-giver of the heavenly host ;

The gods obey the bidding of Varuna,

I am the refuse of the human kind.

" De Gubeniatis, " Lettore sopra la Mitologia Vedica," p. 28.
' Or perhaps more truly the coverer, from root var (to cover, enclose,
keep). Cf. Skr. varana, Zend, varena, covering. This is very suitable
for the night sky, and like that image of Lady Macbeth's,

" Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry ' Hold, hold ! ' "
"> " E. V." IV, 42.

3G0 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

3. I am, oh Indra, Varuna, and mine are

The deep wide pair of worlds, the earth and heaven ;
Like a wise artist, made I all things living,
The heaven and the earth, I them sustain.

Indra speaks.

G. On me do call all men, the rich in horses,
Who through the hurry of the battle go,
I sow the dreadful slaughter there ; I, Indra,
In my great might stir up the dust of combat.

7. This have I done ; the might of all the immortals
Eestraineth never me, nor shall restrain.

The Poet speaks.

8. That this thou dost, know all men among mortals ;
This to Varuna makest thou known, oh ruler,
Indra, in thee, we praise the demon slayer.
Through whom the pent u]3 streams are free to flow.

The singer inclines to the side of Indra, because
he is this active warlike divinity, and because what-
ever Varuna may have done in times past 'tis he
now who lights the powers of darkness and unlocks
the fountains of rain. And for hke reasons here
and in other creeds the sky-god gives place to a
god of storms.

Yet the unmoved all-embracing heaven better
realizes some notions of a godhead than do the
other arbitrary powers. If a people change from
one to another, then- religion will lose somethmg of
its moral tone ; unless indeed the two gods be
amalgamated, and the character of the Dyaus be
transferred to the Indra in addition to his own
characteristics.

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WOESHIP. 361

At what point in the history of Greek and Latin
religions did the preference for a god like Indra
over a god like Dyaus first manifest itself ? This
we cannot say. But I much doubt whether Zeus
was originally the thunder-god which he afterwards
became ; Dyaus certainly was not ; his region was
above the thunder. Tyr among the Germans does
not wield the bolt; and those bolts which Zeus
carries are not quite the weapons with which primi-
tive man woidd picture the god deahng his strokes.
Far more natural is the conception of the German
Thorr strikmg about him with a hammer or club :
Indi^a has the same weapon. ^^ The Greek god who
corresponds to Thorr, and does so indeed most closely,
is Herakles. Probably Hephaestus too was a thun-
derer, for he hkewise carries a hammer ; and, as we
know, he forges the bolts of Zeus, Zeus, thus taking
on himself the attributes which had belonged to lesser
divinities, continues for a time to grow more — how
shall I say it ? — more personal and petty in his
activity, to become less the rider and more the
fighter than he should be.

It is surely needless to collect the many passages
in which Zeus is displayed as essentially a god of
the tempest, just as Indra is. The Greeks, for all the
beauties of their* sky and air, had many opportunities
for watching the storm, for their land is varied in its
character, subject to sudden atmospheric changes,
nursed on the bosoms of the two seas over which it
looks. Nor, I think, is there anything more noticeable
in Homer than the number and beauty of the similes
which he has gathered from such watching. Over

" " R.v." I, 83.
VOL. XII. • 2 B

362 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUSiAND APOLLO WORSHIP.

these appearances in heaven Zeus has as close and
special a control as Poseidon over the waves. He is
not the thunderer only but he is the cloud-collector
(v€(f)eX7)yepeTa : consider the force of such an address
as /cvSttrre, fxeyuaTe, KeXaLvecf)es, aiOepi vaicuv — Iliad II.
412) ; he ahke sends the prosperous wind to sailors,
or with his blast hurries the drifting- scud across
the face of the sea ; sometimes he raises a storm
on land like that which came from Ida to confound
the Greeks ; or, again, like Jehovah, he places his
bow in heaven, a sign to men ; or he makes the clouds
stand steadfast and calm upon the mountain-top
while the might of Boreas sleeps :

Ot Se Kol avTol
OvTe /Sid'^ Tpcocov uTreSetSecrav ovre lo)Ka<;
AXA.' efxevov vefj)eXrjcni> ioLKore^;, d? re KpoPLCop
Nr^ve/xtT^g ecrrrjCTev in aKpoTTokoicnv opecraiv
'Arpe/xa?, 6(j)p evSycn ixevo<^ Bopeao Kai aWcov
Za)(j)r)(x)v avip^cov . . . P

Such an aspect of the god is associated specially
^vith the Pelasgic Zeus, the nearest brother to
Jupiter, the god in fact of that primitive Graeco-
ItaHc stock out of which the Latins and the Hellenes
sprang. As traces of the Pelasgians were to be
found in almost all the lands inhabited by Hellenes,
so the influence of the proto-Greek divinity
survived everywhere, and passed on his attributes
to the more Hellenic Zeus Olympios. But he was
peculiarly the deity of the people of the West ; the
Olympian being the god of the Dorians, and tlu'ough
them of the Hellenes, the more civilised people of

'■' Iliad, V, 522. Cf. also, VII, 4 ; XI, 27 ; XII, 252 and 279 ;
wliere Zeus sends the snow.

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 363

the East. A stormy god would naturally be more
worshipped by the rude tribes of those coasts, where
the wind blowing landwards from the Mediterranean
rolled up great masses of clouds, which broke
upon the high ridges in the centre, upon such
mountains as Ithome of Messenia, or Lyka3on of
Arcadia : and some remains of fetichism existing
among these barbarous peoples, I doubt not that
the hills themselves, visible cloud-collectors as they
were, were often honoured as the images of the god.
On coins of Elis, we have a representation of the
Olympian Zeus, which belongs far less in reality
to him than to the earlier Pelasgic god, who was
worshipped on this side of the Peloponnese ;
another representation almost exactly the same
being to be seen at Ithome, and a tliird at
Megalopolis, a place under the shadow of the
greatest mountain of Arcadia, the Mount Lykseon.
In each of these pictures, the god is sitting upon a
hill. This Pelasgic god loved also, like Odhinn, to
dwell in woods ; the oak dedicated to the northern
god is his tree also. Zeus has one shrine in tlie
groves of Ehs, another in the more sacred ones of
Dodona ; the wind which whispered through the
oaks of Dodona brought his oracle. He is commonly
portrayed with a crown of oak-leaves.

These Pelasgi were half-savage men ; such a
god of tempests, of stormy heights or wind-grieved
forests answered well to their needs of worship, as
a like divinity did for the barbarous Norsemen. But
he could never have satisfied the religious wants of
Hellas. In the person of the Greeks, as has been
well said, humanity becomes for the first time

2 B 2

364 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

completely Imman ; before it was half bestial, like
the Satyrs of Arcadia, or the Kentaurs of Thrace,
its creed unformed and unsightly like its gods still
made of blocks of wood and stone.

As Greece grew to perfect manhood, the gods
became softened in nature, and the Pelasgic Zeus
himself merged into the god of Olympus, and
changed to become the true image of a king in
heaven. Yet this divinity could never have accom-
modated himself to the place he took in Hellenic
religion had he not kept by his side, as an inter-
preter between himself and man, a younger god,
Apollo namely, the special patron and champion of
those races who came from the foot of Mount
Olympus, and at last spread over the greater part of
Greece, bringing new life into the Greek character.

Apollo, as we have said, is a personification of the
sun. He is so, that is to say, in his origin ; but
before we see him he has put off the more simply
physical parts of his character. These have been
transferred to Helios. Homer would never speak of
Apollo, as he does of Helios, being unable to see
through a cloud. ^^ The greater divinity is in all
respects a person, not a thing, and only keeps, as
his statues do, in this or that feature, a trait of his
origin. This origin was, however, unquestionably
the sun. There are many ways in which a sun-god
must needs touch closely upon human sympathies,
and assume a more human aspect than do the other
nature-deities : but in two ways specially, as the
travelling god who goes each day from east to west,
and secondly, as the god who dies. All creeds have

'^ Iliad, XTV, 344.

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 365

their sun-god, and sometimes because of his human
nature, he sinks quite low in the pantheon, and
becomes Uttle better than a hero or demi-god. The
manhood of Apollo, however — and this is a very
important feature in the history of his worship^ — -
never brings him down to the level of men. He is
thus thoroughly in sympathy with man, and yet
never on a level with him ; fully human in
character, completely god-like in dignity. It was
through this refined and developed conception of
the sun-god, that the spread of his worship wrought
so powerful an effect upon the development of
Hellenic belief ; causing a change in it which was in
no way short of a revolution.

The revolution, however, was a quiet one ; like
those slow changes we learn to think of as
creating new worlds or new system^ of planets.
In the nebulous mass of the old Pelasgic
society, as yet without coherence or national
existence, a vortex of more eager life was set up ;
and this, ever widening, drew into itself the best
part of the race, until a new Hellas arose to take
the place of Greece.

The men among whom this wider and highei' life
began were the Dorians, at first a small tribe, not
worthy to be called a nation, who lived in the
extreme north of Greece, where Mount Olympus
separates Macedon from Thrace. They were Zeus
worshippers ; and by their conquests and settle-
ments they carried the cult of the Olympian Zeus
over the whole land of Greece ; and because
they worshipped Zeus, the old chief god of the
Pelasgians was never deposed from his throne.

366 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

But the Dorians were before all things the votaries
of the sun-god Apollo ; and with them the rehgion
of Apollo travelled wherever they went.

The outbreak of these men of the north from the
bosom of the Pelasgic world, was in some respects
like the outbreak upon the Koman Empire of
certain Teutonic peoples from the vast unexplored
forests of Germany, and from the shores of unknown
northern seas. Like the Scandinavians, from being
mountaineers, these men took to the sea, and
became pirates. They haimted the islands of the
Archipelago, and passing onward, sometimes resting
where they came, sometimes defeated and forced to
retire, they got at last to Crete, and founded the first
Dorian kingdom there. Under this rule— called the
kingdom of Minos — Crete obtained a hegemony or
more absolute sway over the ^gean Islands and the
coast of Asia Minor. Before this time, that is before
the Doric kingdom in Crete had put to silence the
older Doric rule in Olympus, the shrine of Apollo
had been founded upon Delos. In the full tide of
Cretan power, like shrines were established on the
coast of Asia Minor, whereof in after years the
deepest traces remained in Lycia and in the Troad.
And lastly the Dorian migrations, which took place
about the tenth century before our era, starting
from the Doric Tetrapolis — for to this neighbourhood
the Dorians of Olympus and Tempe had gradually
moved — carried the Delphic worship of the god over
the Peloponnese, and thence by example or more
direct enforcement over both shores of the ^gean,
and over all the islands which lay between. ^^

'* Through the " calf -breeding mainland and through the isles," as
the Homeric hjonn to Apollo sa;)s (v. 21).

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 367

The Pelasgic Zeus, the storm-god, chose for
his natural horae, the wmdy groves or moantain
summits ; but Apollo's dwelling was not in such
wild places ; his was a house built with hands,
to him were dedicated some of the earliest tem-
ples, and these placed generally upon a promon-
tory commanding a wide view over the sea. For
the thought of Apollo was naturally associated with
the beauties which sunlight and calm air can bestow ;
as it was of those other fashioned beauties which
are the aim of all artistic striving. The arts were
his special care ; architecture and sculpture, but
most of all music, that is to say, rhythmic movement
of limbs or of words with the harmony of sound
accompanying such movement, such as the Greek
understood in his music, and which meant for him
the very sum of all culture. Apollo first gave the
Greeks the need of passing beyond the shapeless
images which had been sufficient representatives of
the other deities. Among early sculptures the
statues of Apollo are by far the most frequent ; and
we must, as has before been said, consider the later
images of other youthful gods, of Hermes for example,
or the beardless Dionysus, as no more than varia-
tions upon the original Apollo type.

The wonderful ideal type of Greek manly beauty,
may thus in a manner be ascribed to the worship
of this sun-god ; for it were unreasonable to suppose
that the perfections of Greek sculjDture represented
the realities of actual life ; the manhood of the god
being always an exalted idealized manhood, which
never brings him down to the plain of mortals, as
happens to some other solar divinities. Others, such

368 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

for example as the Teutonic Baldur, or Thorr, or the
Greek Herakles seem to hover between a place as
high as any in the pantheon, and one which scarcely
admits them into the pantheon stall. Apollo never
varies between such extremes. In other cases, the
sun-god reappears in the part of a hero of folk-tales.
But Apollo has cast all this behind him, one can
recall scarcely anything in his history which would
place him beside such heroes as Sigurd or Achilles :
and where we do detect the appearance of a popular
story, in some event of his life, it exists in so
shadowy and unsubstantial a form as to show clearly
the remoteness of the god from such human
concerns. One example in point is the legend of his
being carried away soon after birth, on the backs of
swans, to the land of the Hyperboreans, where he
remains till the expiration of a year. This has in it
the germ of the common Teutonic legend of the
sivan-knight, who as a child is borne away by these
birds to some distant land, some Earthly Paradise,
and returns again brought back in the same fashion.
The tale lives on in nursery lore in the six swans of
Grimm's collection, and some other stories of a like
kind.

Another folk-tale connected with the sun-hero, by
far the favourite of all the series of popular lore, as
it is the most touching of all, is that wliich tells
of the hero hiding his greatness for a while in
a servile state, or beneath a beggar's gaberdine,
receiving the sneers and sHghts of his comrades
in patience, because he knows that his time
will come and he can afford to wait. This story,
too, does not quite pass over Apollo. We see

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 369

him condemned after the slaughter of the Python to
feed the horses of Admetus ; at another tune he
serves Laomedon. But the myth has a further and
a deeper meaning which we shall notice hereafter.

On the whole Apollo, though he condescends now
and then to share the lot of ordinary sun-gods, is
not only the greatest of all that class, he is in
early Greek poetry superior in character to almost
every other deity. True, in some early poetry he is
slightly mentioned. Hesiod scarcely speaks of him.
But in the Iliad, though Zeus is the most mighty
of the Gods, Apollo is certainly the more majestic
figure. There is something very suggestive in the
remoteness of Apollo from the passion of partizanship
which sways the other Olympians ; first the terror of
his coming to revenge a slight done to himself, and
then his withdrawal for a long time from all part in
the combat after that injury has been thoroughly
atoned for. Evidently Apollo was to the Homeric
poet far more reverend than Athene even. One
cannot help seeing a certain analogy in the
characters and positions of the chief actors in the
earthly drama, Agamemnon and Achilles and those
two heavenly spectators, Zeus and Aj)ollo.^'^ Zeus is
the king of gods, as Agamemnon of men, and,
despite the fact that the god sides with the Trojans,
there is a bond of union between these two.

Agamemnon always addresses himself first to Zeus,

»5 On the whole it must be noticed that Zevis and Apollo, unlike
Athene and Here, do not engage personally in the fight — Apollo does
so once or twice — but use their powers as nature-gods. Zeus especially
acts in this way : Apollo does so in the case of the demolition of the
Achaeans' wall (Bk. XII). See also the great fight of the gods in the
XXth book.

370 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

even to the Zeus who rules Ida, and when the Achfeans
are sacrificing some to one god, some to another,
his prayer is to the King of Heaven.^*' The hkeness
between Apollo and Achilles scarcely needs to be
pointed out. Achilles is a snn-hero and Apollo is a
sun-god; that is really all the difference between
them. Each is the ideal youth, the representative
one might fairly say of " young Greece," that which
was to become in after years Hellas. Achilles is
from the very primal Hellas, whence the whole
country eventually took its name. Apollo and
Achilles have the same sense of strength in reserve
and an abstinence from participation in the battle
going on around : each is provoked to do so only by
some very near personal injury.

No doubt this exaltation and refinement of
Apollo's character belongs to a later development
of his myth ; for he seems to have passed on to
Herakles most of those adventures wliich would
belonar to him in his lower nature. Thus the Doric
hero becomes a foil to the Doric god, acting the
human parts while the other plays the divme parts.
This is why Herakles sinks to be a demi-god and
not an Olympian : it is not because he is less of an
Aryan than the others. The Semitic elements in his
nature are accidental ; and this we may easily see
by comparing Herakles with the Norse Thorr and
seeing how closely they resemble one another ; for
Thorr could have drawn no part of his nature from
the Tyrian Melkarth. Now Herakles often takes
the place of Apollo even in those characters wliich
are most essentially Apollo's. The sun-god, we

'8 Cf. II, 403, 412 ; III, 276.

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 371

have seen, is the wanderer. It was Apollo we may-
be sure who led the Dorians upon their expedi-
tions in pre-historic times. Later on, to account for
these expeditions, a so-called return of the Heraklidse
is invented and placed under the special guidance of
Herakles. But as K.O. Miiller says, "everything
that is related concerning the exploits of Herakles
in the north of Greece, refers exclusively to the
history of the Dorians, and conversely all the actions
of the Doric race in their earlier settlements are
fabulously represented in the person of Herakles. "^^
A still more important act of the pre-historic
Apollo, which has been forgotten in the later legends
of him, is the descent into Hades. This adventure
is the essential feature in a sun-god's career, distin-
guishing liim from almost all other divinities. The
sun does visibly sink under the earth, and therefore
the god must for a while undergo death. There
are no parts of their lives in which Herakles and
Thorr more closely resemble one another than in their
going down to Hades and their doings there. Thorr
has to hft a cat, as Herakles has to brmg Cerberus
from the nether world ; the Scandinavian hero
wrestles with death, ^^ as the Greek hero does mth
Thanatos in Euripides' play. Apollo does not
altogether escape a like destiny. For Admetos,
as Miiller has shown, is in reality the same as

'■ " Dorians," Eng. Translation, p. 56.

>• Elsewhere (" Dawn of History," p. 226), I have given reasons for
believing that Thorr's journey to the house of Utgardhloki — related in
the Edda of Snorro, Dsemisogm- 44, 48 — was nothing else than a
descent into Hades, and that the old witch Elli, with whom he wrestles,
was originally none other than Hel, the daughter of Loki and Queen of
the Dead.

372 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

Hades, in fact a by-name of that god. Apollo, we
know, has to serve in the stables of Admetos when
he would purify himself from the blood of the
Python. No doubt but this is some relic of an
earlier myth, which gave to the great battle between
Apollo and the Serpent a different ending from that
now known us, making the god worsted and not
victorious in his fight with the powers of darkness.
Another indication of a descent to hell is found in
the share which Apollo takes in the restoration of
Alkestis

It is here that the likeness between the Greek
god and the Christian Saviour which has been
insisted on by many writers reaches its culminating
point. If the former did go down into the lower
world we may be sure he rose again ; and so evidently
is this the case that the myth of Alkestis shows us
a parallel to the famous Harrowing of Hell, when
Christ, after his descent there, brought up the
patriarchs to heaven. This story is not found in
revelation, but it was a part of popular mythology in
the middle ages ; it was a favourite subject for art,
and it has been made illustrious by the most splendid
poetry : —

lo era niiovo in questo loco,

Quando ci vidi venire un Possente,

Con segno di vittoria incorronato ;

Trassaci I'ombra del Primo Parente,

D'Abel suo figiio, e quella di Noe,

Di Moise legista, e ubbidiente

Abraam Patrarca, e David Ti6,

Israel con suo padre, co' sui nati,

E con Eachele per cui tanto fe'

Ed altri niolti ; e fecegii beati.

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WOKSHIP. 373

This particular act of Christ is of course mythical,
it finds no place in orthodox teaching, though, it was
such a favourite with the Christian world. And in
the same way, if we could carry ftu^ther our compari-
son between the phases of the worship of Zeus and
Apollo, which we have been following, and the
worship of Christ and God the Father in the middle
ages — the popular worship, that is, as illustrated by
the popular art of the time^ — ^we should find numerous
and remarkable points of similarity. We should
find numerous points of unhkeness too, which would
be not the less remarkable and instructive. And
this comparison would be in no sense strained or
arbitrary, because the same influences are at work in
either case ; the formation of the creed obeys in
either case the same wants of human nature. But
we can only glance at such a comparison here.

M. Didron, in his interesting work on Christian
iconography, gives us a sketch of the relative positions
in art occupied by the two first persons of the
Trinity, whence we can gather their positions in
popular behef, of which that art is the mouthpiece.
We find that at first God the Father never appears ;
His presence is indicated by a hand or by some other
symbol, He has no visible place in the picture ;
and when at last He takes a bodily shape. His form
is borrowed from that of His son. It is Christ who,
in the monuments of the fourth to the tenth centuries,
is generally portrayed performing those works which
in the Old Testament are ascribed to Jehovah ;
Christ makes the world, the sun and moon, and
raises Eve out of the side of Adam. After the tenth
century the type of Christ is a young man some
thh'ty years of age ; and then the Father begins to be

374 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

seen, fashioned in nearly tlie same manner, no older
and no younger than His son. This shows us that,
during the early ages of Christianity, Christ had
quite excluded the Father from the thoughts of most
men ; and I think we have only to read the literature
of this time— the profane literature especially, the
histories or memoirs — to see that this was the case.
The reason of this was that Christ was the active
divinity, the history of His life and death. His
labours and sufferings, was constantly before the
popular muid. He absorbed all characters of the
Truiity into His individual person.

This was like the change of belief which gave us
Indra or Zeus instead of Dyaus or Kronos ; but it
was not enacted to the same extent in the case of
Zeus and Apollo. This fact is attributable to the
universal character of Zeus worship, and to the more
narrow domain of Apollo worship. The former was
a god of all Greece ; the latter a god of the Dorians
only. If these last had worked out their history by
themselves, the changes of their religious opinions
might have shown a much closer analogy to that of
the Christian opmions. For the Doric Zeus was an
abstract and inactive god ; and he alone never
would have received, never did receive, great rehgious
honours. " The supreme deity, when connected
with Apollo, was neither born nor visible on earth,
and was perhaps never considered as having any
immediate influence on men." This is what Miiller
says of the Dorian Zeus and Apollo ;^^ and the descrip-
tion would apply almost exactlj'' to the relationship
of God the Father and Christ in the early Christian
belief

»" " Dorians," Eng. Translation.

SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP. 375

As this Doric religion met with the Pelasgic creed,
and the active and passive Zeus had to be rolled
into one, and the Apollo to conquer a place for him-
self in the belief of all Hellas, there was at first, I
doubt not, some conflict between the rival systems ;
much like that conflict between the earthly Agamem-
non and Achilles. Sometimes Apollo appears higher
and sometimes lower than Zeus. In Homer's picture
the father is far more susceptible of human passion,
far less self-contained and self-reliant, than his son :
but then on the other hand Hesiod, writing in the
mainland of Greece a century or two later, neglects
Apollo almost completely. So that the view which
Homer presents may have been exclusively an Ionic
one. And I think we can see that very late, as far
down for instance as the time of ^schylus, two very
diflerent pictures might be presented to the popular
mind, the one that of the usurping god of the
Prometheus, the other the Zeus to whom the suj)-
pliants pray.

We can then trace the history of these two deities
of Hellas through a series of changes corresponding
to certain definite phases of religious growth. The
first appearance of Zeus upon the scene — the Greek
Zeus I mean, as distinguished from the Indian Dyaus
— is indicative of the dawn of the anthropomorphic
spirit ; when the phenomenon which moves and acts
obliterates that which is constant. As yet there is
no question of an ideal man, no desire for ethic or
for any moral law ; all that is needed is that the god
should have that one human quality of will and power ;
and this the Pelasgic god essentially possesses.^"
Then comes in the rise of morality ; the gods have

376 SOME ASPECTS OF ZEUS AND APOLLO WORSHIP.

not only become men, but they have become ideal
men ; and in this change Apollo is the conspicnoiis
figure. The statues of Apollo express the very
perfecting of an anthropomorphic creed. But after a
while this in its turn fails to satisfy the needs of
men, for they require their divinity to be something
more than human, more even than ideal human
nature ; he must be an abstract being, an idea which
could find no embodiment in any visible form. And
with this wish arose again the old supreme god
of the whole Greek race to give a name to the
abstraction. The Zeus whom ^schylus' suppliants
invoke is neither the Zeus of the East nor of the
West, of grove nor temple, he is not the god of
Olympus any more than of Dodona, he is merely the
God, the King of Kings, like the Hebrews' Jehovah.

"King of Kings, happiest of the happy, and of
the perfect, perfect in might, blest Zeus."

And we know how the very priests of Dodona
called upon him in the same strain :

Zevs r)v, Zeu9 ecm, Zeu? eaaeTai &» jxeydXe Zev, " Oh
mighty Zeus, which was and is and is to be."

British Museum. C. F. KEAEY.

^o At first the god who represents merely the power of will, without
its i-esponsibilities, is morally a bad substitute for those early will-less
things, the deified phenomena of nature ; just as a child is a better thing
to contemplate than a young man under the sway of his passions in theii'
intensity. And so in the Prometheus Yinctus we have a beautiful
picture of the natm-e-god, Ocean, and the river-mists (which are
the nymphs) coming to sympathise with the Titan in his sufi"erings.
And as against Zeus (the usurper), Prometheus appeals to aU the
divinities, which are purely the expression of outward things, the swift-
winged breezes, the deep, uncounted, laughing waves, the all-seeing
eye of the sun, and earth, the mother of all.

!(\

A THEOEY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES
OF EUEOPE AND ASIA.

BY J. W. REDHOUSE, HON. MEMB. R.S.L.

(Read March 26th, 1880.)

A CONSIDERATION of the map and geology of the
Old World, of Europe, Asia, and Africa, assisted by
such fragmentary traditions of upheavals or sub-
sidences as have been more or less corruptly preserved
and handed down to us, makes it appear not im-
probable that this portion of the earth's surface
must, at some prehistorical date, have consisted in
several widely separated continents or archipelagos,
each of which had already undergone clivers previous
changes, by upheavals, volcanic eruptions, degrada-
tions, and denudations, alternating with dislocations
and partial or total submergences, from whence had
arisen various local legends of universal deluges.

Each one of those continents or archipelagos was
tenanted with a flora and fauna entirely or partially
pecuhar to itself; just as were America, Australia,
and New Zealand, when latterly discovered by
European explorers. Each was also, apparently,
inhabited by its own special, more or less sharply
differentiated, race or races of men. IIow these had
originated we need not here inquire. There is less
difiiculty, perhaps, on the whole, in a polygenetic,
than in a monogenetic view of the question.

VOL. XII. 2 c

378 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

That prehistorical date was a period of gradual
upheaval for most, if not all, the area in view ; and
also, for a proba,ble polar continent or archipelago,
continuous at one time, to some extent, with the
northern shores of America. Of this hypothetical
polar continent or archipelago, Greenland, Iceland,
Spitzbergen, with Nova-Zemlja, &c., are the remains,
left by subsidences that have occurred since the epoch
of which we have spoken.

At that period of the world's history, as fossils
show, a tropical cHmate reigned over the whole of
north Eiuope and Asia ; perhaps, over the ideal lost
continent or archipelago also. This latter could,
therefore, be peopled, hke the other lands, with a
race or races of men, a fauna, and a flora, although
its supposed remains have since been rediscovered,
uninhabited and desert, under a glacial temperature.

Western Europe, probably united to north-western
Africa, appears to have been one continent or archi-
pelago ; central Africa and Ethiopia, perhaps with
Arabia, another ; north India to Thrace, perhaps to
Ireland, on the one hand, and to western Tatary, to
Transoxiana^ to Pamir, on the other, a third ; south
India, a fourth ; China, with Indo- China, a fifth ; and
Turania, a sixth. These expressions must be accepted
in an elastic sense. We have no means to distinguish
the comparative dates of all the geological changes
that have since affected them.

Europe was then inhabited by an Iberia,n race or
races of men, now represented, perhaps, by the
Basques ; north A.frica, by the Berber, the old
Getulian race or races ; central Africa by the Semitic
races and others not here taken into account ; Arabia,

OF EUKOPE AND ASIA. 379

and perhaps Egypt, by an old pre-Semitic, pre-
Turanian race or races, some of whom were tro-
glodytes ; north India, to Thrace and western Tatary,
Transoxiana, by various lost or nearly lost races ;
south India, by the primitive Dravidian ; and Indo-
China, by various Chinese races. The Aryan races,
some dark, others fair, were then, possibly, as we
here suppose, the tenants of various parts of the
supposed polar continent or archipelago. Apparently,
no one human race, of the whole family then on
earth, had as yet discovered the use of iron and steel,
copper and brass. Their tools, weapons, and utensils
were of wood, stone, bone, shell, or pottery, with
perhaps gold, where found native.

The exact sequence of human and of geological
events in that old preliistoric period, will probably
never be satisfactorily made out. Some of the
suggestions here offered for consideration will cer-
tainly call for re-arrangement as knowledge of details
increases ; and others will have to be differently
explained, or altogether abandoned as groundless.
Early attempts of this nature cannot hope to prove
correct at all points ; and allowances will kindly be
made for flaws by considerate minds, should one only
of the suppositions now put forward be hereafter
fully substantiated.

When the sudden or gradual upheaval of land
Ijetween two or more of these h}^othetical continents
or archipelagos had sufficiently paved the way, there
would appear to have occurred a great invasion of
the Chinese races towards the west, with nearly
total annihilation of the older inhabitants, details of
which are entirely wanting, but to which the jade

2 c 2

380 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

weapons and implements found in various parts of
Europe are the mute witnesses. They were possibly
the builders of all the extant cyclopean masonry.

Whoever has seen a Chinaman or a Japanese of
the present day, and has examined, or will examine,
the pair of terra-cotta figures taken from an
Etruscan tomb and now preserved in the British
Museum, can hardly doubt that these are the effigies
of a man and woman of some Chinese race buried in
Etruiia. In other words, the Etruscans were a
people of a Chinese stock inhabiting a part of Italy
as their last home, until absorbed by the Turanian or
Aryan Komans or Latins, or annihilated by the later
destroyers of these.

The Samoyeds of north-western Kussia in Asia
are said to present the same features. Was, then,
the whole of Asia and of eastern Europe, as con-
figurated at that time, peopled by the Chinese races
alone, as autochthones or as conquerors, the whole
being one sole continent or archipelago ; and were
the Etruscans of early Koman times, are the present
Samoyeds, outlying remanets of those races, saved,
as by miracle, from geological and political cata-
strophes, as settlers from the first, or as subsequent
in-wanderers, the former m central Italy, and the
latter in northern Russia ?

It is an undoubted and a most melancholy fact in
the history of the world, that whenever a more potent
aUen race of mankind invades a country in sufficient
numbers, the conquered race is generally doomed to
ultimate extinction, unless some remnant of them
can find a retreat so poor, so distant, or so difficult
of access, that it is not worth the invaders' while to

OF EUROPE AND ASIA. 381

push their advantage to extremity. Destruction of
others is the prime law of organic existence.

Turania and prehistoric Arya appear to have been
out of the reach of that Chinese occupation; so also
were the Iberian and Berberian continent or archi-
pelago.

A time came when Turania found a passage to the
southern and western lands. Its races gradually
occupied these, almost or quite, at last, to the
destruction, as usual, of all former races, except in
the Chinese continent or archipelago proper, in
Etruria, and in the home of the Samoyeds. Iberia
and Berberia appear also to have been beyond their
reach, as well as primitive A rya.

Those old-world Turanians have left their mark
far and wide. They peopled all the north of Europe
and Asia, as then constituted. The lake-dwellinors
of Switzerland would appear to have been, some of
them, their homes. The Laplanders and Finlanders
of our day are their relics in northern Europe.
Siberia is almost exclusively tenanted by their
descendants. They, or even their Chinese pre-
decessors, much denationalized, perhaps, were the first
who built cities, cultivated astronomy, and used the
cuneiform writing in the Tigris and Eujohrates valley,
before the Semitic races intruded there. It is a
moot question whether even south India was not
entirely or largely occupied by their tribes, more or
less mixed with Chinese races, up to the time when
the Aryans dispossessed them in the north. That is,
the Dravidian races may have been offsets of those
primitive Turanians or Turano-Chinese. Some of the
more easterly of those old Turanian tribes may have

382 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

been the first workers in iron and steel ; or they may-
have been early pupils of the Chinese m working
those metals, as also copper and brass.

During some portion of that period, at any rate,
the north polar ocean communicated, by the White
Sea, with the Baltic, the Black Sea, the Caspian, and
the sea of Aral ; but the Bosphorus and Hellespont
were not yet opened. The British Channel, the
Irish Channel, and the North Sea, were dry land ;
England and Ireland being inhabited by peoples of
the Turanian races, equally with central Europe,
Thrace, Asia Minor, Syria, Mesopotamia, Persia,
India, and Siberia as far west as the Ural range.

A period supervened when Arabia became
separated from Africa by the Bed Sea, and joined to
Asia. The Turanian or Chinese races penetrated
there, and thoroughly occupied it. Later, the
Persian Gulf was formed, uniting with the- Red Sea
and Eastern Mediterranean north of Arabia and
north of the Sinaitic Peninsula, then an Island. It
further communicated with a Western Mediterranean,
the bed of which is now the Sahra, south of
Morocco, Algiers, and Tunis, that is, south of the
Atlas range. The Strait of Gibraltar was not yet
opened. The Po flowed down the present Adriatic.
The Thracian races of Turanians could thus stretch
unimpeded to the Atlantic shore of Ireland.

Arabia having thus become an island, the Semitic
races from the south or west, foimd an opportunity of
invading it. Ultimately, they entirely annihilated
its previous Turanian inhabitants. These were, may
be, the real races from whose primitive existence the
traditions of 'Ad and Thamud have descended, being

OF EUROPE AND ASIA. 383

preserved from oblivion through their wonderful
Cyclopean buildings and wells. Some of them were,
probably, the troglodytes already alluded to, the
men of Thamud of later legends.

The Canaanites of Syiia were, perhaps, of the
same races of Turanians. A portion of the Northern
Egyptians may also have belonged to them, driven
from their older homes when the Persian Gulf was
first formed by some sudden subsidence that gave
rise to the Mesopotamian legends respecting a
universal deluge, afterwards adopted, with modifica-
tions, by the Semitic races, and notably by Moses.

Abyssinia may at that period have been an
Island or Continent separated from Arabia when the
Red Sea was formed. There, in fact, would appear
to have been the cradle of the Semitic races, the
bulk of whom, pressed upon, perhaps, by black races
from the south and west when the island became
joined on to the continent of Africa, passed over
into Arabia by degrees.

In process of time Arabia became again united to
the south of Mesopotamia. The Semitic races, con-
tinually reinforced from Africa, advanced upon the
Turanians of the Tigris and Euphrates, who were
now being attacked in rear also by a new enemy. In
consequence of this remote assistance, of which they
themselves were perhaps unaware, the Semitic races
ultimately achieved an enth-e predominance in
Mesopotamia, pushing on as conquerors all over
Persia, and to an unknown extent in Transoxiana,
even to China.

The new enemy that thus assailed the rear of the
Turanians in central Asia, while the Semitic races

384 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

were attacking them from the south-west, were none
other than the Eastern Aryans, now beginning, for
the first time, to make their power seriously felt so
far to the south.

We have supposed the Aryan races to have
originally inhabited the now submerged north polar
continent or archipelago. Its tropical chmate, as
that of all the north of Asia and Europe, of what-
ever form these may then have partaken, was at
length brought to a close, and was succeeded by a
glacial period, when nearly the whole of Europe, and
a great part of Asia, were buried for ages under
snow and ice. Flora and fauna, nearly all was
gradually destroyed; the fittest, as usual, alone
escaping.

But great upheavals of land must have taken
place, also, as this cold period was setting in. A
passage or passages thus originated, by which the
Aryans, pinched out of their primeval home by the
yearly intensifying cold and famine, could effect, in
boats, by fordmg, or by land, an invasion of more
southern lands, equally suffering, in tlieir inhabitants,
from the same causes. Ultimately, the whole of the
Aryan races that had escaped from death by cold or
hunger, found themselves in possession of the north-
western seaboard of Asia, the northern promontory
of the Ural range. They were probably a mere
remnant. They may have found the coast deserted ;
they may have been hospitably received as guests,
refugees, labourers, by the Turanians estabhshed
there before them ; or they may have had to fight
their way from the first.

An internecine war, as usual upon earth, most

OF EUROPE AND ASIA. 385

likely eventuated between the two races, the older
Turanian and the intrusive Aryan. Both would still
be armed with weapons of wood, stone, bone, shell,
or pottery. The increasing cold and famine must
have continually diminished their numbers, until
both races were well-nigh exterminated, and the
whole land was an icy waste.

During this extremity of suffering, the balance of
endurance, on the whole, told in favour of the Aryan
races. They may have possessed and lost many a
germ of ci\'ilization imder the hard conditions of the
period ; but, that they did not lose aU traces of
husbandry is substantially proved by the presence of
the word ^' yoke," in an almost unaltered form, and
with one identical signification, in every ancient and
modern Aryan tongue, in Asia and in Europe. Their
language was one, or nearly one ; here they com-
menced their migrations towards the south and
towards the west ; but the dark and the fair branches
of their race or races were both preserved, both
represented in the remnant that now possessed the
northern portions of the Ural range, or the lower
lands between it and that Northern Mediterranean
that then covered nearly or quite the whole of
Modern Russia in Europe, uniting, as already
observed, the White Sea, the Baltic, the Black Sea,
the Caspian, and the Aral.

They now gradually pushed out branches further
and further south. The cold, after ages, had perhaps
begun slowly to decrease, and population to develop.
The earliest arrival, from their insignificant host, in
a country where their history, legendary at first, has
remained more or less consecutive ever since, was

386 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

the nucleus whence the Armenian people have
originated.

The few primary Armenian families, which later
national, perhaps Christian, legends make to be the
immediate descendants of Noah, and their languaofe
his language, settled in Southern Georgia, at the
foot of tlieir Mount Ararat. They had probably
reached that country in boats from the north-east,
as newly-forming islands, or the ice, enabled them to
cross the sea towards the west and the south. They
may have been the survivors of a local deluge ;
though modern geography avails us very little to
understand how this may have come about. It may
have been when the Caucasus was upheaved, and the
Caspian at length separated from the Black Sea.
That grand convulsion, again, may have synchronized
in its main features with the catastrophe that rent
open the Bosphorus and Hellespont, producing the
local deluge of Deucalion of the Greeks. The
Adriatic may have then become a sea also, separating
Magna Graecia from the Pelasgian main. The Greeks
were as yet unheard of.

The Armenians, though they have, as Christians,
adopted the Mosaic account of the Deluge and of the
repeophng of the earth, to a certam extent, refuse
to accept the Semitic locahty of the spot where the
ship, the ark, rested, from w^hence Noah and his
family descended to renew the human race. Ac-
cording to the Mesopotamian, that is, the Turanian
account of that event, more or less altered by sub-
sequent Semitic modifications, the outcome, perhaps,
of ever-weakening reminiscences of theu^ own, of
catastrophes really connected with Arabia or Africa,

OF EUROPE AND ASIA. 387

Noah's ark landed on a peak of Taurus, known as
Mount Judi, which lies a little to the north of
Mawsil (Mosul), near the town of Bezabde, the
modern Jazira, standing in the Tigris, on an island.
The Armenians, however, will have that event to
have occurred on the mountain at the foot of which
their own family was certamly first established when
they had set their foot in Georgian Armenia. This
mountain of the Armenians is to the north of the
town of Bayezid, and forms the apex where the
Russian, Ottoman, and Persian frontiers meet in a
point. The Armenians did not and do not call that
mountain " Ararat." This latter is the Mosaic
name. All Syrian and Mesopotamian Christians
apply it to the Semitic and Muslim Judi of Bez:abde.
The Armenians call their Georgian mountain " Mese-
zusar," said to mean Mountain of the Ship ; or, as
Tavernier renders it — " Montague de rA7xhe." The
Greek, i.e., the eastern Pvoman Church, after the
conversion of the Armenians, adopted their " Mese-
zusar" as the " Ararat" of Moses. It was in their
own territory ; whereas " Judi " was in the hands of
the Meso-Persians. Papal Rome followed that lead,
knowing no other ; and Europe, even Protestant
Europe, has ratified or acquiesced. But the Semites
will not give up their " Jiidi " as the true place
where Noah's ark rested.

The Armenians, then, established themselves, the
first of Aryan races, m (comparatively) Middle Asia
at a very remote period ; possibly, when the glacial
period of geology was passing away. They consider
themselves, they may almost be considered by others,
autochthones in their country. But the Kurds,

388 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HU]MAN RACES

probably Turanians, are also there to dispute that
point with them ; and have been, from the very
earhest historic times.

The Pelasgic races of the Aryan family, possibly
as old in southern irruption as the Armenians, or
nearly so, must have come from the north, westward
of the Black Sea, by land, througii Hungary, into
Western Greece and Macedonia. They occupied
the islands of the Archipelago, then part of the one
Europo-Asian continent ; spread into a portion of
Western Asia ; even into Pliihstia by sea ; into
South Italy, Magna Grsecia, then separated from
Greece merely by the estuary of the far-reacliing
Adriatic Po ; mto Sicily, and into part of North
Africa. They were unable to displace or destroy the
Thracians of Europe and of Asia Minor, a Turanian
race or set of races, whose very name appears but a
variant form of that of Turk. That other Turanians
were preserved for a long time in Italy, about Home,
among their later-come Latin neighbours, the myth
of the Trojan, Teucrian, Thracian, i.e., Turkish
^Eneas, and of his reception by them as their King,
as the ancestor of the Latin Romans, demonstrates
almost to evidence. They, as the Etruscans, dis-
appeared afterwards between the Latins and the
Pelasgians of Magna Grsecia.

Like the Armenians, the Pelasgians must have
crossed the northern, the Russian Mediterranean,
but further to the north than the former, when that
sea became more and more studded with islands,
joined in mnter by the ice.

Much later came the Greeks, an intrasive rnce or
races of Aryans upon Aryans. They probably

OF EUROPE AND ASIA. 389

reached Greece by sea, comiDg in small bodies, as
pirates and robbers, like the Northmen in later
times, further west. They could descend the now
formed or forming Eussian rivers, the Don, Dnieper,
Bug, and Dniester, as the Cossacks have so often
done since. They w^ould coast the shores of Thrace
on the one hand, of Asia Minor on the other, leaving
colonies where practicable, passing through the
recently opened Bosphorus and Hellespont, and
gradually taking root on the coasts and in the
islands — as they were now — of the country after-
w^ards known by theu' name ; or rather, by one
of the many names borne by their various jDlundering
hordes.

They were a gallant and an intellectual race, or
congeries of races. They borrowed the arts and
sciences from their neighbours all round, and carried
them to a very high pitch : never exceeded, if
indeed ever equalled, in sculpture. But they were
too few, too scattered, too tickle, too jealous, and too
cruel, to found any really permanent State. Nearly
always waring with one another, they ultimately
fell under the Pelasgian Philip of Macedon, whose
son Alexander, attaching the best of them to himself
by the magnet of his hitherto unmatched, warlike,
and organising genius, carried by means of their
language, not so much his own, as their name and
fame through western Asia, to its very centre, and
to the shores of the Indian Ocean.

They became irretrievably scattered by this effort,
and by a century of succeeding w^ars, to which their
originally small numbers had made them a fore-
doomed prey. In little more than a century and a

390 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

half from the death of Alexander, all his conquests
that were not reoccnpied by Asiatics, Aryans or
Turanians, were swallowed up by Rome. The very
names of Greek and Greece disappeared from history ;
those of Ptome and Koman took their place. These
latter alone are known in Asia to this day. Even
Alexander is there always mentioned as " Alexander
the Roman." The Ottoman Empire is designated by
all the rest of the East at this present time as the
Roman Empire ; an Ottoman Turk is there called a
Roman ; and the Ottoman Turkish language is
stjled by the modern Persians, eastern Turks, and
Indians, the Roman language.

After the conversion of Constantine to Christianity,
and the transference of the seat of empire to New
Rome, Constantinople, the Grecian language, already
bastardized by the influx of a hundred diflerent
races into the capital and provinces, acquired a new
importance as the language of the Eastern Church.
But as massacres were constant and fresh hordes
from all quarters were constantly pourmg in, the
language of the church books soon became imin-
telligible to the masses, who all styled themselves
Romans, and the result was the modern jargon
called by those mixed natives themselves the Roman
language, the Romaic, but which has been fondly
styled Greek by the rest of Europe.

While the Armenians first, next the Pelasgians,
then the Greeks, and after them the Celts, still
further north and west, with the Latins between,
were thus planting the prolific Aryan races on two
portions of comparatively southern lands in Western
Asia and in Eastern and Central Europe, a great

OF EUROPE AND ASIA. 391

branch of those races, pressed by the same causes,
cold, famine, redundant population, and perhaps by
ambition and love of adventure, as is still the case
to-day in the same locality, was forcing itself, as soon
as a road was open, along the shores of the Northern
Russian Mediterranean, gradually shrinking in ex-
tent until the Aral, the Caspian, and the Black Sea
were entirely separated from one another and from
the Baltic and White Seas. They advanced by the
eastern shore of the Aral until they met the Jaxartes,
and pushed forwaj'd into and past the very centre of
Asia.

It is from many considerations more probable,
perhaps, that two distinct Aryan invasions took
place, with a wide interval, in this direction. The
first, far more ancient, perhaps before the seas were
fully separated, advancing by the Jaxartes, as stated,
partly displaced the Turanians of Transoxiana ; and
still pushing on, perhaps still pushed on, ultimately
occupied all the plains of North India, to the
mountains which guard the Deccan. There these
Aryans totally destroyed the older Turanian in-
habitants, or drove some feeble remnants of them
into the more hilly fastnesses, where their descend-
ants, after perliaps four or five thousand years, are
still found. This branch of Aryans became the
Sanskrit-speaking, Braminical people, whose descend-
ants have, throughout the whole historical period,
been known to the rest of the world as the Indians,
the Hindus. Their oldest hymns speak of a le-
gendary passage of water that destroyed their pris-
tine country, and of a subsequent marvellous increase
of the numbers of their race. They knew the " yoke."

392 A THEOEY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

Those Aryans of India, during their gradual advance
southwards during several centuries, may have
learnt mnch. Adopting also the arts and sciences of
the Turanians they extirpated in India, they im-
proved upon the same to a much higher degree, at
first, than did afterwards their Greek cousins of
Europe. They never reached an equal degree of
eminence in the statuary's art ; but in all else they
distanced for a long time every competitor. The
Greeks, from the days of Pythagoras, even from the
much more ancient mythical era of Bacchus, were
fain to learn science, art, and civilization, with
mythology and philosophy, from India. When the
Hindus had become disciples of Buddha, from the
ninth century before Christ, the whole world of
civihzation, east and west, from the Pacific to the
Atlantic, caught many a maxim of grandeur, and
especially of mercy to others, the brightest gem of
theoretical Christianity, from the followers of that
mild sage, the greatest man, in some respects, that
has ever lived on earth.

The less ancient eastern Aryan intrusion into
Central Asia, starting from the same or neighbouring
northern regions, met with the Aral, apparently
on its western shore. They passed thence to the
banks of the Oxus, which then discharged its waters
into the Caspian. Arrived in Khurasan, they split
into two bands. One of these spread out east and
west until they met with sections of their cousins of
the former irruption in the first direction, and with
the Armenians in the latter. They did not recognise
either. Their speech, their clothing, their customs,
their religions, were more or less unlike; more or less

fi ^

-S?

f-l

't,.^

OF EUROPE AND ASIA. 393

strange to one another. Mutual slaughter, in view
of conquest, was the result. The invaders were
successful to a great extent for several centuries.
Their invasion it was that helped the Semitics to
the final conquest of Mesopotamia already mentioned.

The second band of this second intrusion pushed
on further south, and then took a westerly route
parallel to the Indian Ocean, so as ultimately to
occupy the modern j^^ovince of Fars, the original
Persia, where they took some ages to multiply and
grow into importance. The effects of the glacial
period may not have as yet been quite recovered
from in these parts.

Meanwhile, the Semitic races, having fully esta-
blished their predominance in Mesopotamia, began
to push on further to the east, and finally subjugated
the new North-Persian Aryans, with many a Tura-
ranian people in and beyond Transoxiana. These
were the older Babylonian and the Assyrian empu'es,
lasting altogether many centuries. This extension
of the Semitic sway, from the Mediterranean to
China and Tataria, for so long a period of time,
completely cut off all communication and all mutual
knowledge between the now southern Aryans of
India and Persia on the one hand, and the north-
eastern Aryans of the Ural, and Qipchaq on the
other. The south-western Aryans, from Armenia
westwards, wherever they had penetrated, had long
Jost, or had never had, since very early times, a
recollection or knowledge of those distant cousins.

The Semitic races at length fell in their turn into
decadence. A Median Arya arose and acquired im-
portance in northern Persia, at the time Avlien the

VOL. XII. 2 D

394 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

Greeks were extending. Newer Babylon cast, at
the same epoch, temporarily, a renewed Semitic glare
around. But under Cyrus, the southern Aryans of
Persia began an empii-e that extended, in a short
time, from Pamir nearly to the Adiiatic, and in-
cluded Syria, Arabia, and Egypt. When those
" Medes and Persians " came in contact with the
Hindus on the one hand, and with the Armenians,
Pelasgians, Scythians, and Greeks on the other, not
one of those races recognised another as kindred ;
each, termed the other barbarian s.

As before mentioned, that Persian empire was
overturned by the Pelasgian Alexander of Macedon.
Dm'ing the ages in which these events occurred, the
Latin races of Aryans, the nucleus of wliich has re-
mained to this day scattered along from the highest
Alps, across Hungary, Transylvania, and Dacia, to
the shores of the Black Sea, had long since sent out
colonies into Italy, perhaps before the Adriatic was,
and these had gradually amalgamated with their
neighbours, the Cliinese Etruscans, the Turanians of
Latium, and the Pelasgians of Magna Grsecia, to
build up the sturdy and politic Roman republic and
empire, that became the eventual heir to the
western half of Alexander's conquests. This Boman
extension to the east gave the opportunity, and first
a Parthian, then a Meso-Persic, Sasanian Empire
were re-established there by the Aryans of Persia,
who fought the Bomans with varying success, until
both were smitten down by the regenerated Semitic
followers of the successors to the Arabian prophet
and lawgiver, Muhammed.

Those Muslim warriors, at first a mere party in

OF EUKOPE AND ASIA. 395

the little town of Medina, with a few dozens of
refugees from Mekka, numbered but 314 men in
theii- first victorious fight against the Mekkans at
Bedr, in the year G23 a.d. Ere a century had
elapsed, their empire extended from the Pyrenees,
through North Africa, and all South Asia, to Pamir
and Hindustan.

While this empire of Islam was in progress of
formation, as for many centuries before that, the
North-Western Aryans, Celts, Goths, Teutons,
Slavs, etc., had been busy imitating theh- eastern
and southern cousins. They had gradually emerged
from the Ural, peopled all Russia, now dry land,
overrun Western Europe, with a portion of Asia
Minor, and had exterminated the bulk of the Tura-
nian races. They had penetrated into Scandinavia,
via Denmark, leaving only the Laplanders and Fins
to bear witness to what had been. They had ex-
terminated the Iberians and driven the Berbers to
the mountains or deserts. After many vicissitudes,
Latin Bome feU under theii' blows. The Thracian
races ceased to be recognisable, and Europe was
Aryan from the Ural to the Atlantic. A few
centuries later a new, a Prankish western empire
arose and the Church of Papal Eome was constituted.
Eastern or New Pome, the Lower Empire, struggled
on for 1,000 years under the successive blows of
Zoroastrian Meso-Persia, of Islam, of the barbaric
Northern Aryans, and of Papal Bome.

After a short period of Semitic Muslim ride in
Western Asia, the long-dispossessed Turanian races
from beyond Pamir and the Aral, at first introduced
as mercenaries or slaves, began anew to found prin-

2 I) 2

396 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

cipalities in the eastern parts of South-Western
Asia. These gTadually became kingdoms, empn^es,
includmg all Persia and part of India. They volun-
tarily adopted the religion of their mixed Semitic
and Aryan subjects, Islam. Later, Asia Minor fell
also under their sway, though still termed Home.

In the beginning of the thirteentli century, the
Turanian and Pagan Jengiz, from being a petty
chieftain in a part of tlie country lying between
Siberia and the great Chinese desert, founded a new
empire. This extended, at its zenith, from the
^ofsean to the eastern Pacific, includmgr all China
and nearly all Kussia, to the confines of Poland
and Germany, but excluding India, Arabia, and
Africa.

It did not last long ; the nucleus had been too
widely, too rapidly scattered. In less than a
century China was lost. The remainder, when the
successors of Jengiz had all adopted the religion of
Islam, was variously subdivided. In the beginning
of the fifteenth century, the Turanian, but Muslim
Timur almost rivalled Jengiz. He added Northern
India to the Empire of Islam and died on his road
to recover China. His family sat on the tlirone of
India to our day, erroneously known to Europe as
the Great Moguls. They were pure Turks.

At Timiir's death, all became chaos in Western
Asia, and after a while the Ottoman Empire, the
neo-Persian kingdom, the Uzbegs in Transoxiana,
and the so-called Grand Moo-uls — the house of Timiir
— in India, shared out South-Western Asia between
them.

The Western Prankish Empire in Europe had

OF EUROPE AND ASIA 397

gone to the clogs, all but in name ; and many king-
doms had taken its place. Poland and Sweden had
been ephemerally great, and Russia had come into
existence and power now in the very cradle of all the
Aryan races. The New World had been discovered,
the road to India round the Cape of Good Hope had
been turned to account ; the insular world of the
Indian and Pacific Oceans liad been explored.

In time, while Prussia and England grew, India,
Persia, and Turkey have dechned. Russia had
advanced to the south, threatening India by way of
Transoxiana, Persia by way of the Caspian and
Georgia, Turkey both in Europe and in Asia Minor.
Eno-land, meanwliile, has advanced into Bactria ;
and thus Aryan confronts Aryan on the old battle-
fields of the Pelasgian Alexander of Macedon ; the
prize, now, as then, is the Empire of V/estern Asia.

The Semitic, Asiatic Aryan, and Turanian races
are for the moment in decadence. China and Japan
appear to be on the move. Europe is groaning under
its own stifling panoply, and offers a spectacle, the
result of which time alone can show : — a grand, but
also a saddening spectacle, when considered as the
result of nearly two thousand years of civilisation and
of peace-preaching, but ever aggressive Christianity.

The foregoing sketch has offered many an ex-
ample of the rising again of a race to the re-posses-
sion of widely-extended empire. Is it, then, wise to
assert, as is now so often done, that an effete people
cannot be resuscitated '? A defunct kingdom may,
perhaps, never rise again ; but a race, until extinct,
has always within it a potentiahty of seizing power
anew.

398 A THEORY OF THE CHIEF HUMAN RACES

We cannot help calling special attention to the
divergence that exists between the origin of the
Aryan races as here suggested and that adopted by
Sanskrit and Zend scholars from the supposed indi-
cations of ancient hymns. However interesting,
from their great antiquity, those hymns cannot be
allowed to possess an authority greater than that
of the Mosaic record. These all give the result of
legendary lore, incorrectly conceived at first, incor-
rectly handed down, and incorrectly recorded ;
besides being also, perhaps, incorrectly understood.
There is no such error in the indications of geology,
though these too may for a time be misinterpreted,
and may frequently be modified by more recent dis-
coveries. The theories hitherto put forward appear
to me to contain impossibilities, which I have essayed
to explain away to my own satisfaction. The result
T ofier to the consideration of such as, like myself,
have felt doubt.

The scholars m question have selected the plateau
of Pamir as the cradle of the Aryan, or of the
human race. Pamir is a plateau at an elevation of
16,000 feet above the sea, necessarily covered with
snow and ice during the greater part of the year.
How could such a country be the cradle of any race ?
It is about 150 miles square, and is far removed
from any place where, in modern geological times, a
sea has been. The nearest is the great Chinese
desert. Did Noah or Manu come from China or
Turania across that sea to Pamir ? We will not ask
how the distribution of the races took place thence.
It would be hopeless. But, with regard to the
Aryans of Europe, we venture to press upon the

OF EUROPE AND ASIA. 399

serious consideration of all inquirers the following
facts.

Pamir lies in latitude about 36° to 38° N. In
that latitude the phenomenon of the zodiacal light is
a conspicuous object in the eastern sky before day-
dawn, and m the western sky after nightfall, for a
considerable period before and after the two
equinoxes, in the morning in the autumn, and in the
evening at the spring season. Shepherds, travellers,
guards, and armies, must see and notice the glaring
effulgence. Had the Aryans of Europe come from
Pamir, they would have carried with them in all
their wanderings a knowledge of that phenomenon,
provided they did not wander into high latitudes,
where it is, if at all, but dimly and rarely visible.

Now the Aryans of Europe, even after Alexander's
conquests and Ptolemy's residence in Egypt, re-
mained m entire io^norance of the existence of the
zodiacal light, until it was observed by an English-
man in London, in its springtide evening phase,
about the year 1640. In 1680 it was first named
the Zodiacal liglit by Cassini at Paris ; both which
places are far to the north of Pamir. The simple
conclusion we draw from these premisses is that the
ancestors of the Aryans of Europe were never at or
near Pamir, but came from a land far to the north ;
where that phenomenon is not visible. Their igno-
rance of it is hence naturally accounted for, and thus
we leave the question.

J. W. REDHOUSE.

London, March, 1880.

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

BY 11. DAVEY, ESQ.

(Read Marcli 26th, 1879.)

When upon the downfall of the Roman Empu'e,
the barbarians invaded Italy, they destroyed nearly
every vestige of the fine arts, and none suSered
more than the drama, which had so eminently
flourished under the ancients. In consequence, for
several centuries, if we except the reign of the
enlightened Theodoric, we find in Italian history,
scarcely any mention of the occurrence of theatrical
or spectacular representations. In one shape or other,
however, plays, enacted either by human beings, or
pujopets, Marionetti, were still common, but they
were of so deo-raded a character that the Church

discountenanced them.

As early as the fifth century, Cyrus, bishop of
Genoa, threatened all who attended theatres with
excommunication, and St. Isidore, in his homilies,
entreats all good Christians to shun playhouses " as
places of abomination, where Venus presides over
corruption and Mercury teaches iniquity." Three
centuries later, Athon II, bishop of Yercelli, issued a
pastoral against the theatres, and, to judge from the
description he gives of the performances, he was
justified in condemning them. The plays alluded to
by these worthies, as also by St. Thomas of Aquinas,

EARLY ITALIAN DEAMATIC LITERATURE. 401

are generally believed by learned Italians to have been
of the basest specimens of pagan histrionic art,
which, notwithstanding the progress of Christianity,
still survived among the "plebeians. ' The determined
attitude of the Popes and of the clergy in dis-
countenancing them, however, at last succeeded, and
they were finally replaced by the miracle plays and
sacred dramas which soon became general throughout
Europe. Among the most popular writers of this
latter class of composition was Rosweida, called " the
Nun of Gandersheim," whose works were written in
Latin and performed at a very early epoch all over
Italy. Six of these are mentioned by Fabricius in
his "Bibliotheca Latina," and are " The Conversion of
St. Paul;" "The Passion of St. Irene;" "Climachus;"
" Abraham;" "Mary Magdalen ; " and " Faith, Hope
and Charity." There is a controversy, at present,
concerning the genuineness of the works of this
Roswitha or Rosweida, of Gandersheim. While
the mysteries were delighting especially the pious
on Sunday and holiday afternoons, another class
of Italian plays, of a profane nature, were
attracting large audiences, notwithstanding the
censures of the clergy. Albertino Mussato assures
us that the most renowned deeds of history were
dramatized in the " vulgar tongue" at a very early
age, and he himself wrote in Italian, in imitation of
Seneca's style, a tragedy on the life and adventures
of Ezzelino. These plays, however, the accurate
Gingueny says, were for the most part improvised
by the actors, or at any rate, so lightly considered
for their literary merits, as not to be preserved in
any of the National Libraries. I imagine they are

402 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

the originals of the Maggi, still common in Tuscany,
amongst the peasantry.

A Maggio, is a regular dramatic poem of a tragico-
historic description, though sometimes enlivened with
comic scenes. It is declaimed to a peculiar rhythm.

Sappia il popolo romano
Che all' armi e sempre andato,
Si prepari andar sull' atto
Coutro il perfido Africano.

As the performeis are mostly peasants, and usually
illiterate, they are obliged to have the words repeated
to them over and over again, until they learn them
by heart. The authors of these plays are anonymous.
Occasionally a MS. or roughly printed copy of one
can be picked up at some old bookstall in an out-of-
the-way Italian city. The Lucchese is the part of
Tuscany wliere these plays are still acted with
something like enthusiasm. The performance usually
takes place in a barn. A sheet does duty for
scenery and the parts of the women are entrusted to
boys. 1 rather think the name of " Maggio" is given
to them because they are most frequently enacted in
the genial month of May. Many Italian writers
hold that they do not date beyond a hundred years,
but the more learned majority persist in believing
they belong to a period of remote antiquity.

But I do not intend wasting time with any
details concerning the Italian mystery plays. They
resemble in most points those familiar to all students
of literature, and the following sample from one of
them will suffice as an illustration of their merits, and
show how utterly unlit they would be for the modern
stage. Thus in the sacra farsa — sacred farce — of

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 403

" The Death and Resurrection of Lazarus" (1113) the
personages introduced are — The Almighty (Padre
Eterno), Jesus Christ, the Virgin, Martlia and Mary,
Lazarus, Pluto ! the Guardian Angel, the rich Dives,
the Devil, and an anonymous comic personage." This
" farce " is one of the oldest known, and is, to say
the least of it, very droU. In one scene an entire
epistle of St. Paul is read to the Devil, and in another
is the following speech made hy '^ the comic
personage" to the " Padre Eterno."

" What 1 Master Padre Etemio, will you save
that wretch Dives, that imp of Beelzebub, whose
whole time, when he was upon earth, was spent in
stuflBng himself with all kind of good things ? Why
my dear Padre Eterno, Carissmio Padre Eterno mio,
it would be tempting yourself to have anything to
do with a feUow w^ho only thinks of fat capons and
pretty girls. Abide by me and have nothing to do
with him. 1 see by the way you move your eyebrows
that you are already half of my way of thinking.
Be persuaded, my dear Padre Eterno, and you will
not repent following my advice ? " The " Padre "
follows it and to the delight of a squadron of extra
demons summoned for the purpose, and of the " comic
personage," Dives is forthwith sent to a safe but
warm abode.

The Benaissance is undoubtedly one of the most
important epochs in modern history. For two
hundred years before its sun had fuUy ascended the
horizon, a pale aurora announced its coming. Already
in the twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,
there were men in Italy familiar with much of the
lore of the ancients, and who lived, as it were, in

404 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

advance of the rest of the world. In the monasteries
dwelt learned persons conversant with the literature
of Greece and Kome. But tliey scarcely ventured to
expose their refined culture to the rude and turbulent)
and wrote for the learned only, either in Latin or
Greek. At last Dante Alighieri sang forth to the
people in their "vulgar language," his mighty poem,
the " Divina Commedia." It was the first time
that the "language of the vulgar" had been thus
nobly used. Hitherto the learned, as I have said,
wrote for the learned alone, but the genius of Dante
told him that the world was ripeniiig, and that the
time was rapidly coming when the people as well
as the select few, would be able to understand great
things. The " Divina Commedia" acted upon the
literary world like a mighty trumpet. It awakened
hundreds to imitate its creator. Petrarch wrote also
in modern Italian, and so did Boccaccio and a host
of others. In a few years the new language was
formed, and presently, when the illustrious house of
Medici became conspicuous for power and influence,
the Benaissance burst upon the world in radiant bril-
liance. The mere utterance of that word, that
magic word Benaissance, must enkindle your ima-
gination and bring before you, almost involuntarily, a
host of images and pictures brilliant as those on a
canvas of Paul Veronese or Tintoretto. Pictures of
the moonlit Orti Buccelai, the gardens of Bernardo
Buccelai, at whose suppers might have been heard
the delightful and sao^e talk of such men as Politian
Benivieni and Lorenzo di Medici, the philosophical
disputes of the versatile Pico deJla Mirandola, while
not far distant, in the Academy of St. Mark, the

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 405

chisels and hammers of Michael Angelo and Donatello
made the marble ring, and in the shadow of the
neighbouring monastery, Fra Bartolomeo della Porta
tanght Eaphael himself how to deepen the tones and
foreshadow the figures in his immortal paintings. The
Renaissance had caEed into life once more all the
Muses, and again Melpomene and her sister ThaHa
had their worshippers, and incense rose as of yore
before their shrines.

Towards the commencement of the fourteenth cen-
tury the sacred dramas began to give way to the pro-
fane. Mussato composed two Latin tragedies in imi-
tation of those of Seneca entitled, " Eccerimis " and
"Achilles"; later he wrote his still celebrated " Ezzi-
lino tyrant of Padua. " The revival — ' ' renaissance," of
classical literatiu*e — had already begun, and of course
its influence was soon felt upon the di^ama. Mussato
was presently rivalled by Giovanni Manzini della Motta,
who wrote a tragedy upon his gallant contemporary,
Antonio della Scala. It is perhaps a little known
fact that Petrarch also tried his hand at playwriting,
but, according to a letter, No. 7 — in the second
volume of his correspondence — his " La Philologia,"
was a comedy not worth preserving. Two other
plays are attributed in an old manuscript in the
Laurentine Library at Florence to this illustrious
poet. The subject of one of them is, Medea, but
it is uncertain whether it is not really by Mussato or
Mota.

The creation of a great dramatic literature in
Italy, dates, however, from the opening of the
fifteenth century. In the meantime, the Latin and
Greek tragedies and comedies were produced u})on

406 EARLY ITA.LIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

stages erected, for the purpose, in the palaces of the
various sovereigns who then ruled over Italy, and a
number of imitations of them were added to the
repertory, but always in the two great dead lan-
guages. They were not acted in regular theatres,
but in the court-yards of the palaces of the cardinals
and princes, or in the public squares upon state
occasions ; such, for instance, as the coronation of a
Pope, the arrival of an ambassador, or the marriage
of a prince.

Hercules T. Duke of Ferrara, possessed a perfect
mania for the stage and spent large sums upon
theatrical amusements, and he may be credited with
having revived dramatic art in Italy, and to him the
Italians owe the first translation of a comedy by
Plautus.

It may not be uninteresting, if I here quote a few
passages from the little known Diary of Sanuto,
chamberlain to Donna Lucrezia Borgia, concerning
the manner in which these classical plays were
" mounted." In his minute chronicle of the marriage
festivities and progresses of this famous or infamous
Princess, he tells us that on February 2nd, 1442,
— on the occasion of the entry into Ferrara of
Don Alfonzo and his bride "the Borgia" — two
dances were performed in the grand hall of the
palace and that afterwards the Duke revieived the
actors, who were engaged in the forthcoming comedies,
one hundred men and five M^omen in number.
Readers of Shakespeare will remember Hamlet's
" reviewing " the players who were to enact the
murder of Gonzalo of Vienna. It must, evidently,
Jrom the mention of it in Sanuto's " Diary," have

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 407

been a custom of the age — to thus inspect the troupe
and probably encourage the actors to do their best
to make the festivities successfuL But to return to
Sanuto's Diary, which is said to contain the first
allusion made to the representation of plays in Italy
on a scale of any magnitude : — " The actors," he tells
us, " were dressed in the Moorish fashion. First one
of them, who was costumed to represent Plautus,
recited scenes from the said five comedies, namely,
the Epidicus, Miles Gloriosus, the Bacchides, the
Asinaria, and the Casina. Then at six o'clock there
was a representation of a very good Moorish
interlude, a number of soldiers in antique costumes,
with red and white plumes, and helmets, breastplates,
etc. One part of them had maces and the other
axes, and they all attacked a third party which had
swords and pretended to fight, and it was " a mighty
fine sight to see." "The whole entertainment that
night concluded with the following ' delectable
spectacle,' to wit, the performance of a fire-eater,
who astonished everybody by swallowing lighted
candles and barnino- tow." On the next nialit the
Bacchides of Plautus was produced, and, as we should
say on our play bills, " after which " there was " a
Moorish interlude, in which a dragon was slain, and
a number of men ran about like maniacs in their
shirts, with nightcaps on their heads, and bladders
tied to sticks in their hands, with which they beat
each other, the whole — oh! sweet odour! — to the light
of burning turpentine."

To make a long story short, on each evening a
different classical comedy was given, followed by an
interlude of the character already described. On

408 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

Shrove Tuesday the amusements came to a brilliant
close.

The Casina was " beautifully," nay " divinely "
acted, divinamente. Then came an interlude of buffo
music — (opera boufPe) and, nota hene, " a French
woman in a French dress of taffeta, crimson and
gold and very short, sang a number of ballads.
Then she held up an inscription of ' love withers
not '" ; on this six pretty boys ran upon the stage
and tried to snatch it from her, but could not, and
they then all sang together very sweetly. Then
they went out and fetched Cupid — who it appears
was appropriately '^ nudo con ali /" who shot the lady
with his arrow, but apparently did not wound her
mortally, since it is finally recorded of her " that she
sang a ballad about hope and danced a jig — salta."
Wild men next came upon the scene with a big globe
which opened and displayed, Justice, Fortitude,
Temperance, and Prudence, represented by four
beautiful ladies, who, when they descended from
their chairs of state, danced in the Spanish fashion.

" After this there was a concert of good music and
we all went to bed much satisfied, but without any
supper, because it was so late, and the next day was
Ash Wednesday, and my lord and my lady went to
mass and kept quiet until the afternoon, when Donna
Lucrezia paid the players a visit in the grand hall,
graciously thanked them for their entertainment and
gave them fine j)resents of pieces of satin, velvet
and gold brocade."

I have translated this extract from Sanuto's very
minute account of the wedding festivities of Lucrezia
Borgia, and I wish I had the time to give some

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 409

further of his curious details concernino: the .'isto-
nishino- maofniiicence of Lucrezia's garments. Her
dresses were changed three times a day and never
worn again. At the representation just mentioned
of the Casina, Sanuto tells us, " Lucrezia wore a
gold brocade dress slashed and bound with white
silk, a train of crimson satm flowered with gold and
lined with ermine. On her head a tiara of diamonds
and pearls, with peacock feathers made of emeralds,
opals and rubies."

But a truce to Messire Sanuto and his gossipy but
invaluable diary. It is to Trissino that Italy owes her
first regular tragedy. Leo X. had already been
upon his throne two years (1515) when the Sofonisba
of Trissino was enacted before him and his court.
It was dedicated to this enlightened Pope, but was
not printed until 1524. Trissino was a man of some
genius, and his style appears to me simple and
unaffected, perhaps at the same time powerful and
dramatic. He was not, however, an archbishop or even
a prelate, as Voltaire, and several other writers, style
him. Trissino was born at Vicenza in 1478, and
was twice married. His first wife was Giovanna
Tiene, by whom he had a son, afterwards arch-
priest of the cathedral of Vicenza. The death of
Giovanna induced him to leave his native city and
fix his abode in Home, where he won the friendship
of the Oardinal di Medici, afterwards Leo X. He
visited England, on his road to Denmark, whither he
was sent as page or ambassador in 1516. He was
page or train-bearer, on the occasion of the corona-
tion of Clement A"IL at Bologna. Ten days after
that gorgeous ceremony Trissino married his second

VOL. XII. 2 E

410 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

wife, and began a law-suit with his son the archpriest,
which eventually caused him so much sorrow and
vexation of spii'it that he died broken-hearted in
1550. I give these few details concerning his life,
because he is constantly called " Archbishop " by
Enoflish and French authors on Italian literature.
His hterary fame rests entirely upon his tragedy
of Sofonisba — which he wrote in strict obedience
to the rules established by Aristotle. His comedy
of the Simillimi is decidedly inferior to the tragedy.
He keeps his chorus constantly upon the stage and
this of coiurse militates against any possible illusion
or strong dramatic effect. The first act of Sofonisba
is said to be the best, but I think the interminable
accounts of the expeditions of the Romans into
Africa, under Hannibal, with w^hich Sofonisba favours
her attendant Ermenia, render justifiable that faithful
young lady's frequent interruption of the narrative.
The death-scene of the Queen is really grand, simple
and pathetic. It is far more true to natui'e than is the
similar scene in Alfieri's tragedy of the same name.
Trissino lived in a wholesomer, freer atmosphere
than Alfieri, whose great genius suffered from the
artificial influences of the eighteenth century.
Trissino's Sofonisba dies like a woman, naturally ;
Alfieri's like a stage queen, having preferred to take
poison, rather than to fall into the hands of her enemy.
Trissino's heroine evidently repents the rash deed,
though she is too proud to say so, in so many words.
Life seems sweet to her now that she is forced to
leave it. She thinks of her mother and father in a
far-off country, to whom the shock of her death will
indeed be terrible.

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 411

" 0 maclre mia, quanto lontana sieti,
Almen potnto avessi una sola volta,
Vederti, ed abbriaciarvi ne la mia morte."

" Oh dear mother mine, how far off thou art : would
that I could see and embrace thee once more before
I die."

How natural and sweet these lines addressed to
the attendant Erminia ! " I'm so glad you are near
me and seem to pity me. I shall die quietly now.
1^11 call you sister — sorella mia — Will you not take
my Uttle son from me ?" Erminia answers : " 0 sweet
gift from so kind a hand.'' "You will be a mothei-
to hun, will you not ?" entreats the dying Queen.
"You will go to the far-off land where my mother
and my father dwell, and tell them how I died.
Alas ! poor souls, 'twill kill them with grief Do
not weep for me. All things born are doomed to
die — ' a che piangeti ? non sapete ancora, che cio,
che nasce, a morte si destina.' Death is at hand,
already I am descending into the dark valley. Oh !
my little son, soon thou wilt have no mother. I
grow cold. Farewell. I am far on my way, so far,
so far — I go. Addioy

To the genius of Giovanni Kuccellai, Italy owes
her second great tragedy, " Kosmunda." Of an
ancient and illustrious house, the grand-nephew of
Lorenzo the Maofnificent was one of the foremost
hterary lights of his age. You all have heard of
those enchanting gardens, which his father Bernado
caused to be laid out behind his noble palace in
Florence ; gardens, which but lately have received
additional fame from the genius of George Eliot,
who has, with her graphic pen, described, as taking

2 E 2

412 EARLY ITALIAN PRAMATIC LITERATURE.

place therein a supper-party of literati, wliereunto
comes at an inopportune moment, the wretched father
of the selfish Tito Malerai, the noble Komola's
faithless husband.

Giovanni Riiccellai at an early age, together with
his brother Palla, enjoyed and mixed in the society
wdiich his father gathered around his table at those
renowned supjDer-parties, in the Orti Ruccellai, where
the nightingales sang in the cypresses, and the fii'e-
flies, playing in the flower beds, seemed as numerous
as the stars in the pure ether above. Here he had
heard Pico della Mirandola discourse upon every
conceivable subject, noted Politian's sjDarkling wit,
and commented upon the sarcastic but profound words
of MacchiaveUi.

Is it wonderful then, that he should be inspired
to devote himself to the service of the muses —
brought up as he had been in their very temple ?
Being intimate with Trissino, he imitated his example
and wrote the tragedy, '' Rosmunda." Its subject is
less pleasing than that of Sofonisba. There is some-
thing revolting in the story of this Pavian Queen,
who murders her husband because at a supper, when
crazed with hquor, he produced a goblet, formed out of
the skull of her own father and compelled her to
drink from it to his health. Ruccellai has, how-
ever, treated this unpleasant plot ^\\t\\ considerable
dignity.

His language is much more elaborate than that
of Trissino. He uses a less simple vocabulary, and
often mars his best effects by attempts at gran-
diloquence somewhat in the style of the French
authors of the time of Louis XIV. His next effort

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 413

was Orestes, a good imitation of the Ipliigenia in
Tauride of Emipides. Kacine's Ipliigenie is modelled
upon Ruccellai's, and so is tliat of Giiirmond de la
Touche. I must now leave Kuccellai, on whom, by
the way, honours fell fast and thick, (for he was sent
on frequent embassies and died governor of the
castle of St. Angelo) and review — indeed merely
mention— the Tidia of Ludovico Martelli. the
Antigone of Alamanni, (Edipus of Anquillara and
the Merope of Torelli. All these tragedies were in
imitation of the classical ^\Titers and followed strictly
the rules of the "unities." I will however pause, before
Speroue degli Speroni, who, born at Padua 15th April,
1500, was one of the most learned persons of his
age. He was a pupil of Pomponace and practised
as a medical man in his native city, where he also
taught medicine and moral philosophy in the
celebrated University, as he did likewise, some
few years later on at Bologna. Under Pius IV. he
visited Rome and became acquainted in that capital
with the virtuous Charles Borromeo, who was much
pleased with his modest manner and was astonished
at his prodigious learning ; for of him it w^as said
" he is an encyclopedia in one volume, bound in
flesh and blood." I cannot here do more than
glance at his career and record the great success
of his trao'edv entitled " The Judgfment of the
Gods upon the incestuous loves of Canace and
Macareo." This horrid subject had akeady fur-
nished the Greeks with a plot for one tragedy,
mentioned by Plato, and another to the Bomans,
as is recorded by Suetonius, who tells us that Nero
himself enacted the character of the wom;in Canace, a

414 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

victim, like Phaedra and Myrrlia, of the hatred and
jealousy of Venus. The hterary merit of this dread-
ful play is great. The conflicts of reason and passion
are strongly delineated, and the remorse of the
guilty brother and sister, who are pursued to their
singular fall by a cruel fate, is touching and natural.
This work marks a departure from the ordinary
method of versification hitherto employed by the
Italians in their tragedies. It is written in short
lines of five and six sjdlables, and has a light rhythmic
sound, which Tasso afterwards imitated and adopted
in his pastorals.

I take a sample of this peculiar style from the
5th Act. Macareo speaks —

" Qui non si vede, e dentro,
Non si ode pur uu segno,
Di vendetta o di sdegno."

" Here nought is to be seen,
Either within or without,
Of vengeance or of hate."

Speroni's death, which occiu-red in 1588 and in
his 88th year, was occasioned by a fright. The
poor old gentleman was m his country-house near
Padua. Some burglars got into his room one night,
and after tying his hands and feet to the bed, made
off with his money and plate. He was found dead
the next morning.

I have elsewhere quoted a passage from the Diary of
Sanuto which gives some idea of how the Latin plays
were "mounted," to use the technical expression.
Five years after the entry of Donna Lucrezia mto

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 415

Ferrara several theatres of size and importance were
already in existence in various parts of Italy.
Hercules I. of Ferrara built in that city a very large
theatre capable of seating 4,000, and very soon
theatrical performances were given elsewhere in
theatres built for the purpose. When the noto-
rious Bianca Capello married Francis I., Grand Duke
of Tuscany, sumptuous theatrical representations
were given in her honour, in the inner court of
the Pitti Palace. The scenery was magnificent,
and constantly changed. The costumes were sump-
tuous. In one scene, the stage was flooded with
real water, nymphs rose from it, Neptune in his
car ascended to the surface, surrounded by Tritons,
and the whole picture was illuminated by a pale
green light intended to represent reflection of the
moon. Still more beautiful were the spectacles re-
presented before the bride of the Grand Duke
Ferdinand, Christina of Lorraine. The architect
thereof was the renowned Buonincontri and the
pamter Bronzino. Indeed the scenery in the Italian
theatre has always been magnificent and has
often employed the abilities of such artists as
Bib era, Salvator Bosa and Bronzino. The painter
and architect, Bermni, once wrote a play, composed
the music, painted the scenes and acted the prin-
cipal character himself. This work was entitled
" II triumpho d'Amphitrito " and was produced m
the Chigi Palace, Bome, 15.90.

I must, however, observe, that far greater magnifi-
cence has always been lavished upon operatic enter-
tainments, than upon those which were purely
dramatic. Accuracy of costume has always been

416 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

maintained in Italy, and Greek and Roman plays
were never produced there as in France or witli us,
by actors, like Garrick and Pritchard, in powder,
pigtails and patches.

Before briefly mentioning the early Italian writers
of Comedies, I will pause a moment and consider the
impression generally produced, by the perusal of the
Tragic literature of this period. I am, in the first
place, surprised to notice, that there is no gradual
transition, as with us, from the mystery plays to the
full-blown and perfect tragedy : no work for instance
which corresponds with our " Gammer Gunter's
Needle" or "Pierce Plowman," no rude and crude effort,
preceding the finished work. The Italian dramatist
passed at once, nearly a century before Racine and
Corneille, to a classical perfection, rarely reached by
those great writers whose plays are only a little too
elaborate and lengthy, to quite satisfy a disciple of
Aristotle. Again, there are very few, if any, f,;t tempts
as with us, of placmg contemporary events upon the
stage. At a period when the Criminal Courts of
Italy were teeming with the singular and pic-
turesque domestic tragedies which supplied our
dramatists with plots, the Italian dramatists turned
to Greek and Roman myths and histories for their
subjects. Victoria Accromboni, the beautiful
Duchess of Braciano, is scarcely dead, ere our
Webster gives the people of London a dramatic
version of her appalling career and fate, in the
"White Devil." The then recent assassination of
Catherine, Duchess of Amalfi, furnishes him with
a plot for his sombre, but almost sublime melo-drama
of " The Duchess of Malfy. " The crimes of Biarica

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 417

Capello, of the Duchess Caraffa and of other notorious
ladies are " boyed," as Cleopatra would have said,
at the Globe and the Friars, almost as soon as
the news thereof can reach London. The Italian
Novel influenced our dramatic literature, the Italian
Drama scarcely at all, and this, for the simple
reason that the genius of the Italian Theatre was
classical and ours romantic. The Italians can
scarcely tolerate even now the mixture of tragedy,
comedy, low buffoonery, pantomime, opera and
farce, in the few translations they have produced
on their stage of some of Shakespeare's works.
Still, the early Italian dramatic literature, like
our own, was amazingly imbued with horrors,
murder, cruelty, incest and every manner of
iniquity, which even the gentle Tasso could not
resist introducing into his Torrismondo. The age
was a coarse one.

To thoroughly understand the Henaissance, some-
thing must be learned of the gloomy side of the
brilliant pictures thereof usually flashed before our
eyes. Leave to it all the judicial terror of the middle
ages, and add thereunto, the mysterious horrors of
the Inquisition and Star Chamber and some idea will
have been formed of the terrific and bloody character
of this age of great artists, learned men, thumbscrews,
glorious buildings, noble statues, autos-da-fe, and
slow and lingering judicial deaths. Remember
the old Italian dramatists and our own Shakespeare
wrote for audiences which, like themselves, were
accustomed to sights which would revolt and sicken
us. The whole court of Paris, ladies and gentlemen,
beaux and belles, went for three consecutive after-

418 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

noons to see Ravaillac's bloody carcass pinched
and tormented, before it was finally torn in pieces
by wild horses, in a manner, the mere reading of the
description of which makes one's hair stand on end.
Every street gossip could tell you, how the bodies of
criminals were racked and their flesh burnt — here
in "bonnie England" — for stealing. People, who
saw Puritans and Catholics going about with their
noses slit and their ears cut off, w^ere not likely to
look upon the plucking out of the eyes of Gloster, or
the amputation of Lavinia's tongue, with much
horror and indignation. On entering a city two
centuries ago, what first greeted your eyes 1 — A
dozen bloody heads set up on pikes over the gate.
Cross the bridge, on either side are twenty other heads,
in various stages of decay. They are not even removed
on occasions of state rejoicing and princely pageant.
Queen Henrietta Maria stops on London bridge to ask
wdiose each head is she sees, on her return to
England, after her exile, and is greatly gratified to
know that they belonged to men who had contributed
to the misfortunes of her husband Charles I. In
the public market-places, women and children were
pelted with rotten eggs, miserable wretches had
their feet and hands pushed through a pillory,
women were flogged, or witches roasted. Torture
was the judicial spuit of the epoch, and, strange to
say, not a voice, not even those of the tender
hearted Saints Francis of Assisi or Vincent of
Paul, who first pitied dumb beasts and cared for
abandoned children, are raised against the torture
chamber. It remained for Beccaria, to render his
name for ever immortal, late in the eighteenth

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 419

century, by writing a few pages at once logical and
eloquent in which, with matchless vigour he invited
and finally induced humanity to emancipate itself
from the most foul and horrible leprosy, except
slavery, which ever afEicted our race. Honour, thrice
honour to Beccaria and also to Voltaire, who by his
matchless essay on Galas completed the former's
gfififantic work.

To a people, therefore, accustomed to the sight of
blood, a strong and bloody drama, was absolutely
necessary, and to a peoj^le just emancipated from the
tight grasp of an austere past — the Middle Ages —
the necessary reaction into which circumstances
forced them — accounts for the licentiousness of
their comedy and of their novels.

Thalia, the merry twin sister of the august but
dreary Melpomene, ever keeps pace with her, and
follows her like her shadow. In the first part of
this paper I mentioned the performances of the
Mimi or Mimics, and the censures their licentious
antics brought down upon their devoted heads from
the supreme Pontiffs and the bishops. Through
all the revolutions of centuries, and all the
trouble and woe, the cheery face of Comedy
has smiled and made the people laugh. She
insinuated herself, as we have seen, as the " Comic
Personage" into the sacred mysteries. She did more,
she improvised plays, independent of religion, which
satirized the domestic life of the people, the genti,
the folks. And when the Renaissance dawned and
the learned delighted the learned, by revivals of the
comedies of Plautus and Terence, the poor and
lowly Mimi, in the courtyards of the Inns, convulsed

420 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

the good hearted people by their jests and their wit.
There was, indeed, a rivalship between the cultured
Latin actors, whose popularity was on the increase,
and the poor Mimi. They presently began to write
their plays, instead of improvising them and soon the
famous comedian Flaminio Scala, added to his stock
excellent adaptations by himself from the antique.
Several of these have been printed and may be found
in the Library at Milan. It is, however, but too
true, that the hideous licentiousness of the comic
dramatic hterature of Italy, at this period, fully
justified the indignation of St. Charles Borromeo.
It is from the Mimi — or masked actors — for they wore
masks — that we derive our Harlequin, Pantaloon,
Clo^vn and Columbine, a subject of the highest interest,
but foreign to this paper. In the sixteenth century,
the Italian stage was divided into two separate bodies
— so to speak — the Muni and the Classicists. With
the Mimi, by the way, the play of Don Giovanni or
Festa di Pietra was the most popular, while, with
the Classicists, who acted at court the Mandrag-ola of
Macchiavelh, the Cassaria, the Su|)posite of Ariosto,
and the Calandrio of the Cardinal da Babiena were
chiefly accepted.

It is unnecessary to comment upon the career of
Macchiavelli, as the history of his life and the fame
of his genius are well known, even in England. Leo X.
was still a Cardinal, when he first laughed at the wit of
the Mandragola, the best but about the most
scurrilous comedy in the Italian language. When
finally he became Pope, he could not resist the
temptation of witnessing once more this amusing
piece, which the police of to-day would assuredly not

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 421

tolerate, even at Naples. Is it to be wondered that the
world was ripening for the Reformation, when the
scholastic successor of Peter could sit out the un-
utterable nastiness of such a play as the Mandra-
gola ? I cannot describe what it is about, nor
can I even by hints, trace out the queer legend on
which the action of this fine — fine in a literary
sense — comedy runs. It contains two characters
of wonderful power ; Nicia, of whom Macaulay says —
" Nicia's mind is occupied by no strong feehng, it
takes every character and retains none. Its aspect
is diversfied not by passions, but by faint and
transitory semblances thereof"' In a word he is a
masterly creation, the equal of any of our Shake-
speare's best comic characters of Malvoho and Sir
Toby, of Falstaff and Andrew Aguecheek. Padre
Timoteo the priest, is the original of Tartuffe and
consequently of Joseph Surface. Timoteo is a
hypocrite of the first water and a rascal. When
we repeat that he is a priest, it is really amazing
that the Pope should have tolerated his appearing
in a play enacted before his assembled court. Indeed
almost any sample of his wit is too gross, too impious
for modern ears. His scurrility is too shocking,
though his sly humour is amusing enough. He
is the incarnation of the bad priest, at once
hypocrite and intriguer. Money is his God, and for
money he consents to pervert the chaste Lucrezia's
mind, and make her the dupe of the rascality of the
hero of the piece, a gay Lothario named Calimacho.
There is a tradition that the intrigue of the piece
and the characters were all taken from life, and at
Florence, its success was prodigious, because every-

422 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

body knew Nicia and Timoteo, who, for aught we
know to the contrary, may have been present in
person to see the play. The Chzia, which is imitated
from the Casina of Plautus, is even more unclean
than the Mandragola, and what is still more curious,
it abounds with remarks about the Saviour and the
Saints, which would be hissed anywhere to-day in
London or Paris, where by the way, no one would
dream of uttering them upon the pubhc stage. A thii^d
comedy ^\^thout a name — is attributed to Macchiavelh,
but it again has a subject quite unfit for decent ears ;
and, odd to say, the last words of it, after a most
villanous scene, are " praise be to God — what fun
we've had— and to His blessed Mother too, for
procuring it us."

The infamous Aretino, who was as clever as he
was corrupt, was also the author of several lively
comedies, notably of II Maricalco — which tiu-ns
upon a very simple plot, but is gay and graceful.
La Cortigiana is less successful and full of un-
favourable allusions to the Clergy and the Chin-ch,
which one is surprised to find in an Itahan comedy
written by a man who was well received at E-ome.
" La Taranta," " LTpocrite " and " II Filosofo '' are
all plays of the same class, hcentious and witty and
passably amusing and ingenious, but not one of them
is of high literary merit. I mentioned the Calandria
of the learned Dovzio, Cardinal da Bibbiena. It is
nearly the only fragment of the literary works of this
once celebrated man, which has descended to us and
is characterised like all the comic literature of this
age by hcentiousness of plot and dialogue. It is
curious, however, as resembling slightly " Twelfth

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 423

Niglit," in subject, and concerns tlie adventures of
twin brother and sister, who so resemble each other
that they cannot be told apart. They are WTecked
at sea, rescued and finally after many adventures
married and made happy. One is reminded of the
story of Viola and Sebastian, when reading the earlier
scenes of this comedy.

If the Italian novels of this period are bad
enough the comedies are much worse. Some, those
of Dolce for instance, are so bad that the author
apologises for their iniquity, by saying " that he
shows up the corruption of the age in order to
flagellate it, and cannot possibly make it out bad
enough." The same may be said of the works of
Ercoli Bentivoglio, Ruzzante and of a number of
others who are best left in oblivion if only as a
punishment for their wilful waste of talent. I must,
however, mention Giovanni Baptista della Porta,
whose plays are a httle more respectable and in-
teresting than the rest, and like those of the brilliant
Groldoni, whose precursor he was, are especially in-
teresting as studies of contemporary manners and
customs.

I have left for the last, for special reasons wliich
will presently appear, the name of Giraldi Cintio,
a name, once famous in Italy and still well known, to
students of Shakespeare — Giraldi Cintio, or rather
Giovanni Baptista Giraldi detto Cinthio, to whose
fertile pen the bard of Avon owes the slight frame-
work of liis Othello. He was born at Ferrara, 1504,
of an honourable family of the upper middle class ;
he was a student of the University of that city.
Even as a cliild he gave evidence of rare talent, and

424 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

at the early age of twenty- two filled tlie chair of
Latin Literature left vacant by Calcagnini, whose
pupil he was. As he advanced in years, his brilhant
talent attracted the attention of the art-loving court,
and Don Alphonso 11. Duke of Ferrara, paid him
marked respect. He was, however, soon obhged to
leave the city, owing to a violent quarrel which he
had the misfortune of provoking with J. B. Pigna,
secretary and favourite of His Highness. Both had
written essays upon the proper method of comjDOsing
novels and plays, and both had entrusted each
other with certain confidential remarks while they
were engaged upon their task. Unhappily, when the
two books were pubhshed, the authors mutually
accused each other of plagiarism. From words they
got to blows, and finally Giraldi smashed Pigna's
nose and in consequence was obhged to fly to Mondovi
from the police and the promised revenge of liis
antagonist. At Mondovi, he was joined by his mother,
a native of that city, and through her interest — she
was of ancient family — he obtained a chair of Latin
literature, m the university. He also received
private pupils at his house, and moreover was granted
400 crowns a year by Emmanuel Philbert II. Duke
of Savoy. Later in life he returned to Pavia and
taught in the University of that collegiate city, but
a longing to return to his native Ferrara,, induced
him to ask pardon of his old foe Pigna, which being
granted he went home in 1572, and died suddenly
on December 30 th of the following year. I give
these details of Giraldi's life, because, I have
sought for them high and low, in any English
work on his novels ; and perhaps, considering his

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 425

connection with Shakespeare, they may prove of
interest.

Giraldi was the first Itahan to give his tragedies
a distinct prologue and epilogue. He imitated
rather Seneca than the Greeks — as he considered
this author to have progressed in the arrangement of
his tragedies, towards a more attractive, in popular
sense, style of performance.

I think neither Seneca nor any other writer, ancient
or modern, hut himself, would have chosen so utterly
abominable a subject as his Orbecche, one of the few
of his tragedies which has obtained a posthumoijs
reputation for its author.

It is a singularly horrible story of murder and
doubtful intrigues. In it occurs a scene which
reminds us of one in Titus Andronicus. The
king, in order to avenge himself of an affront, sends
to Ills daughter's table a dish, which, on bemg
uncovered, turns out to contain the heads, hands and
feet of her husband and children.

Giraldi, with the pardonable vanity of the author
of the most atrocious play, if we except our own
Titus Andronicus, ever written, in his " Discourses
on Novels," gives us a glowing account of its first
performance at Ferrara. " The women fainted,
the men wept, and the children howled." The piece
was sumptuously mounted and performed by first-
class actors. Flaminio, a famous boy actor, aged
fifteen, was Orbeck ; and Clarignano, Oront. Giraldi
was so enchanted with the success of his "most
moving tragedy — Comoventissima tragedia " — that he
rushed on to the stage at its close and embraced all
the actors. His next dramatie venture was not so

VOL. XII. 2 F

426 EAELY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATUUE.

happy. The piece was a better one, Altile by name,
but it was to have been produced on the occasion of
the visit of Pope Paul III. to Rome and could not be
acted, because at the very last moment, an hoiu- before
the rise of the curtain, the two principal actors were
killed in a duel. This play of Altile is very pretty ;
two young lovers, after many adventures, are happily
united in the fifth act and their enemy is slain to
the satisfaction of all parties, his being the only
death in the piece, in the last scene. " Dido," the third
of Giraldi's plays, is an excellent performance, full of
fine speeches, mostly paraphrased from Virgil. This
play was never acted but only read before the
assembled court of Ferrara. " Cleopatra," " Selina,"
" Euphemia/' and " Mariamne " followed in slow suc-
cession. The Cleopatra is the best Itahan tragedy
on the subject, I have yet read, simpler and much
more natural than Alfieri's. There is a strong resem-
blance between the manner in which Gu^aldi has
treated the character of Cleopatra and that in which
Shakespeare has delineated the capricious, imperious,
coquettish, proud, graceful, contradictory " serpent
of Old Nile." Especially great is the resemblance
between the two poets' treatment of the same
subject in the last act. You will remember how
our bard makes Cleopatra dread being exposed —
should she accept Csesar's offer to go to Rome — to
the affronts of the populace. " Thou," she says to the
attendant Charmian, "an Egyptian puppet, shall be
shown in Pome ; as well as I ; mechanic slaves with
greasy aprons, rules and hammers, shall upHft us to
the view : in their thick breaths, rank of gross diet,
shall we be enclouded and forced to drink their vapour.

EARLY ITALIAN DKAMATIC LITERATURE. 427

Nay, it is certain, Iras, saucy lictors will catch at us,
and scald rhymers ballad us out o' tune : the quick
comedians, extemporally will stage us and present our
Alexandrian revels ; Antony shall be brought
drunken forth and I shall see some squalling Cleo-
patra boy my greatness i' the posture of a whore/'

From Gu-aldi, scene ii acto v. : " Follow him to
E/Ome, be his slave, march m his triumph, be
shown to his people ? No, Octavius Caesar, thou
didst mistake Cleopatra. Thou didst think grief
had driven her from beyond herself, and made her
humble. Thou Httle knowest me if thou thinkest
I care to go to Kome to see my own royal grandeur
in the dust. I would cross whole seas to see my
Antony ; nay, wander over the entitle earth. Go, O
Csesar, do unto thy Octavia what thou wilt : tell
Livia to obey thee, but never speak thus to
Cleopatra — If thou hast conquered Egypt, thou
hast not Cleopatra." She then, after a speech much
too long to quote, prepares for death, cro's^Tis her-
self, puts about her her royal robe, and sceptre in hand,
upon receiving the wound of the asp, passes into the
eternal shades, with much the same natural and lofty
majesty as does the Cleopatra of our poet. There
are some other slight points of resemblance between
the two tragedies, too numerous and moreover
really too insignificant to record here, but which
nevertheless makes me tliink that on that ever
memorable day when Shakespeare read the story of
Othello, in the Hecatommito, he also glanced at the
dramatic works of the same author ; casually indeed,
but sufficiently at length to catch an idea or so from
the Cleopatra, which he subsequently used in his

■2 F 2

428 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

own tragedy. The Mariamne of Glraldi was trans-
lated into French by Tristan I'Hermit in 1636, and
this play was subsequently used by Voltaire as the
foundation of his own play of the same name. The
dramatic style of Giraldi Cintio is excellent, full
of power, and rich with poetical beauty of a high
order. He had a weakness for the horrible and in his
novels indulges it to his heart's content and, by
adding horror to extreme licentiousness, nay brutality
of subject, has produced a series of one hundred
tales or Hecatommiti, which surpasses anything of
the sort I have ever read. The story of Othello is
found in The third day's Novel. There is no trace of an
earlier copy of it in Enghsh than 1795, when it was
translated by W. Parr. Whence Giraldi obtained
his material for the story is, I beheve, still doubtful.
Signer Salvini assured me, that he caused researches
to be made in Venice, and the result was the
discovery of a register recording a murder in the
More family, whose palace is still shown, and known
as " the house of Othello," a name given it to please
Anglo-American visitors. The Moros were a very
important family and it seems that towards the com-
mencement of the fifteenth century, one of its
members, a general, murdered his wife in a fit of
jealousy, much in the same manner described in
the novel. It is certainly remarkable that no
English translation of the play is to be discovered
earlier than the one I have just mentioned. I
cannot help thinking that Shakespeare must have
known at any rate sufficient Italian to have been
able to read Giraldi. There w^ere many Italian
merchants in England under Elizabeth aud James,

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 429

besides the attendants upon the numerous ItaHan
embassies, so that he could easily have obtained a
master to teach him a lanofuaofe which was as
fashionable in the sixteenth and seventeenth cen-
turies, as French is now.

There is evidence in Othello itself that he had
read Ariosto, because twice I notice a direct para-
phrase of certain lines in Ariosto, notably in the
description of the kerchief given by Othello to
Desdemona ; and there are others which I hope
on some future occasion to point out as evidences
that Shakespeare was acquainted with Italian.

I cannot, however, imagine that he had ever been
to Italy, as some writers seem to think ; for assuredly
had he done so, in some of his Italian plays, we should
find some allusion either to the glorious monuments
which must have amazed his fancy and enkindled
in his impressionable soul fresh poetic ardour and
inspkation, or at least a passing remark upon the
odd manners and customs of the people of the
"Fairest Peninsula," and especially of the in-
habitants of Venice, which Mr. Evelyn assures us,
" was the strangest city for the fashions of its gentle-
folks and commoners under the sun." For certain,
if we were to see Othello performed with accurate
dresses, we should be even more astonished than
we are, if we believe as some do, that Shakespeare
had visited Italy, that he nowhere mentions the
fantastic garments of the Venetian ladies. Desde-
mona would appear before the Magnificos attu'ed in
a yellow cloak or hauta, which should cover all her
dress, to the heels. Over her face and head would
be the zendale, or veil of tissue, allowing one bright

430 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

eye only to appear, " qual radiente stella." Her
pretty feet would be enclosed in boots of cloLh,
embroidered with gold, and mounted upon cork
soles, two and even three feet high. As she could
not walk unassisted in these extraordinary shoes, she
would have to lean upon her two gentlewomen's
shoulders, Emiha's for instance, and these would
wear low heeled slippers of red or blue leather, and
be similarly veiled. It was not until 1642, that the
daughters of the Doge Centarini cast aside these
stoppine or high -soled shoes and adopted French
bottines, to the scandal of all pious souls, and to the
example of "many licentious and evil-minded
persons." The effect of this deliverance was as great
as would be the sudden abandonment of the
yusmach by all the women of the East. It meant
emancipation. Hitherto the ladies of Venice never
appeared abroad but dressed in this manner and
thus attended by two women. The rest of the
Itahans used to say, 'Hhe women of Venice are
meta ligno, meta donna — half wood, half woman."
Of course these shoes answered the purpose
of keeping the patrician women strictly confined in
their houses, and so carefully were the Venetian
women guarded, precisely as they were in the East,
that when Henry HI. made his state visits to
the Republic he was more surprised at the extra-
ordinary condition of the women than at any tiling
else he and his courtiers saw and did. They were
never able to speak or converse familiarly with
any woman, and what is more, students of Venetian
history are quite unable to define the true position
in the household held by the women of the Queen of

EAELY ITALIAN DKAMATIC LITERATURE. 431

the Adiiatic until the seventeenth century, when
they suddenly, after the event of casting aside their
stoppine, already narrated, became the most free and
easy ladies in the country, nay in the whole world,
as you will find described in the comedies by
Goldoni and Nota.

It seems to me, that had Shakespeare seen this
curious way of dress, or indeed have seen anything else
in Italy, his ItaKan plays would have borne some
evidence of his having done so, whereas there is, I
believe, but one mention of anything peculiar to
Venice, either in the " Merchant of Venice " or
" Othello," and that is the Eialto in the former play ;
but that place was as well known in London in his day,
as the Paris Bourse is now. The same observation
holds good for the other plays. Giraldi's story of
Othello is a clumsy and wretched affair, not one
scrap better than an ordinary newspaper report of a
crime. I will now, simply for pm^pose of illustration,
mention the last scene, in which Desdemona's murder
is described. She is beaten to death by Othello and
the Ensign (lago), with a stocking full of sand, then
placed in bed, and the rafters of the ceiling are
pulled down upon her, and her death is attributed
by her cowardly assassins to an accident. Out of this
brutal account of a shameful deed, Shakespeare has
created the great fifth act of his tragedy, and yet so
rapidly and apparently carelessly Avas tliis play
written, that there is a singular jumble about the
period which elapses between the landing of Othello
and Desdemona in Cyprus and that of their deaths. It
is distinctly proved to have been three days, and can
with equal ease be shown to have been three months.

432 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

I find in tlie few words spoken in the novel by
Desdemona, a faint — very faint — outline of the
beautiful creation of our poet. " How can you be
so melancholy, my lord, after having received so high
and honourable a distinction from the Senate ? "
says she to her husband, when he bemoans his fate
at having to separate from her, m order to go to
Cyprus. " My love for you, Desdemona," replies
the Moor, "disturbs my enjoyment of the rank
conferred upon me, since I am now exposed to this
alternative. Parting from you is like parting from
my life." " Ah, husband," cries Desdemona, " why
do you perj)lex yom^self with such idle imaginations "?
I will follow thee wherever thou goest, though it
were necessary to pass through fire. If there are
dangers in our way, I will share them with thee."
Again she is said to be a " very sweet lady who only
loved her husband." When she argues with Othello
concerning the pardon of Cassio, he grows angry, and
says, " It is somewhat extraordinary, Desdemona,
that you should take so much trouble about this
fellow ; he is neither your brother nor your relation
that he should claim so much of your affection."
His wife with sweetness replied, " I have none but
the purest motives for speaking in the business. I
only am sorry that you should lose so excellent a
friend as is the Lieutenant. But then I should
remember you Moors are so warm of constitution
that trifles transport you to anger." This ex-
pression, " you Moors," is important, as it is subse-
quently followed by another strong observation by
Desdemona, on the swarthy colour of her mate. " I
know not," she says, " what to say of the Moor ;

EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 433

he used to treat me most affectionately, and I begin
to fear that my example will teach young women
never to marry against their parents' consent, nor to
connect themselves with men from whom they are
separated by nature, climate, education and com-
plexion." She says this to the Ensign's wife, with
accompaniment of a flood of tears. I think these
reiterated remarks upon the colour of Othello
determined Shakespeare to emphasize his frequent
allusions to the sable tint of his most generous,
and most to be pitied hero. It is curious that there
is no other name mentioned in the story but that of
Desdemona, one never seen elsewhere in Italian
novel or poem. Othello is called the Moor only ;
lago, the Ensign; Cassio, the Lieutenant; and Emilia,
the Ensign's wife. It has been surmised as a
possibility that the name of Othello was suggested
to Shakespeare by a perusal of a work by Reynolds
entitled " God's Revenge against Adultery," in
which a person is named Othello, a German soldier.
In the old Romance of Euordamus, published in 1605,
occurs the name of lago, the Spanish for James, and
also of Emiha, his wife ; but Othello was printed in
1602. Time presses, and your patience is, I fear,
beginning to be exhausted. With Giraldi Cintio, I
must perforce close this paper, not but that I have
much more I could say, but the sand is falling low
in the hour-glass, and I have but a few minutes left
wherem to apologise for venturmg to read such a
paper. In the words of the epilogue of an old
Itahan comedy by Porta, I will say, " I and my
material — lo e la materia mia — humbly beseech you,
gentle audience, to forgive us the waste of precious

434 EARLY ITALIAN DRAMATIC LITERATURE.

time we have occasioDed you. If from the sea of
words we have uttered, there be a few which have
given you pleasure and instruction, let them plead
for us and you ; in your great charity, magnify them,
until they cover all our faults and obtain our
pardon."

E. DAVEY.

r„(^

sg^S-

BUST OF HERMES

FROM HEROUM AT OLYMPIA

PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH

THE DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE

HERAION IN OLYMPIA.

BY CHARLES WALDSTEIN, PH.D.

(Eead December I7th, 1879.)

Pausanias, in the 16th. Chapter of the 5th Book
of his Travels in Greece, describes most mmutely
the Temple of Hera, the Heraion in Olympia. It
was a most ancient temple of peculiar construction :
Pausanias mentions that one of the pillars was of
oak. Once in every Olympiad the sixteen priestesses
of Hera offered to the goddess a cloak woven by them-
selves ; a similar custom obtained in Athens, where
the garment was dedicated to Athene Parthenos in
the Parthenon. On the occasion of this festival
there was a foot-race between the maiden priestesses
of Hera, and the victors were crowned with olive
and received a share of the cow offered to the god-
dess. The statue^ of a maiden in the act of running,
clad in a short skirt or chiton, barely reaching the
knees, in archaic folds, most probably represents one
of these priestesses.

Pausanias mentions, in the 17th Chapter, a
number of statues which he remarked in this temple ;
among others, those of Zeus and Hera, He
characterizes these two statues as of poor work, and

' Visconti, Museo Pio Clemeiitino, iii. Tav. 27.

436 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

does nob mention the artist. After noticing several
other statues and giving the names of their sculptors,
he mentions another chryselephantine (gold and
ivory) group, the names of whose sculptors, however,
he declares he does not know. They were, he says, of
archaic origin. The Heraion contained many very
ancient monuments, such as the chest of Kypselos.
He then goes on to state that in later times other
statues were dedicated to the temple, such as "a
Hermes of stone (marble), carrying the infant
Dionysos, a work moreover of Praxiteles."

In the spring of 1877, the German excavators at
Olympia came upon a dipteral temple, in which they
found columns of unequal construction and style.
From this and various other topographical reasons,
they concluded, apparently with justice, that they
had found the Heraion mentioned by Pausanias.

If by a stretch of sympathy you put yourselves into
the place of excavatoi^s in the distant Greece and in
the lonely valleys of Olympia, burning with scientific
ardour, and conscious of the fact that not only the
country that sent them, and whose government
defrayed the enormous expenses of these excavations,
but also the whole of civilized Europe was eagerly
watching their proceedings in expectation of great
results ; and if, furthermore, you bear in mmd that
the results up to that moment, though considerable,
were far below what had been hoped for — then you
can adequately figure to yourselves the excitement and
joy which thrilled through these men, when in this
temple the pick and spade of the diggers cleared
away the soil and debris of centuries until pure
white marble gleamed forth, and gradually the beau-

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HERAION, ETC. 437

tiful form of a youthful male figure firmly embedded
in the frao-ments of the wall which had sunk over it,
was brought to light.

The legs below the knee, the right fore-arm, the
plinth and parts of the trunk of the tree on which the
figure rested, were missing. Subsequently, however,
fragments of a little child, which evidently was
seated on the left arm of this figure, together with
some drapery which hung down from the left arm,
and other fragments, were found.^ Behind the
statue, which had fallen on its face, a square block
was found, between the two pillars which evidently
served as a pedestal for the statue. The face, more-
over, and the whole surface is in an unprecedented
state of preservation, not a particle of the finely-cut
nose injured. Perhaps in falling forward, the right
arm, now broken, served to weaken the fall, and so
to preserve the face. There could now be no doubt
that this was the marble Hermes with the Dionysos-
child by Praxiteles, which Pausanias mentions.

Here was a statue which could undoubtedly be
identified with its master, as we can the pedimental
figures of the Parthenon with Pheidias, the Discobolos
with Myron, the group of Laokoon with Agesandros,
Polydoros, and Athenodoros, the Gauls with the
Pergamese school ; nay, even with greater certainty,
for the Parthenon marbles are not from the hand of
Pheidias, the Discobolus statues and the Gauls are
ancient copies, while there has been some debate about
the age and school to which the Laokoon group belongs.

2 Since this paper was read a foot of tlie Hermes with clear
traces of gilding and in excellent preservation, as well as the head and
upper part of the Dionysos, have been found.

438 I'KAXITELES AND THE HEEMES WITH THE

It is hardly conceivable, how, despite of all this
evidence there should have been archaeologists who
could still doubt. Prof. 0. Benndorf, in Llitzow's
Zeitschrift (Vol. XIII, p. 780), points out, that it is
not at all certain whether by Praxiteles is meant the
Praxiteles ; and he even finally endeavours to make it
probable that the sculptor of the Hermes was a
Praxiteles who lived about 300 B.C., a grandson of
the famous Praxiteles, and a contemporary of Theo-
critus and of Theophrastus. It was a common
custom for grandsons to bear the names of their
grandfathers, and it was a frequent occurrence in
Greece that children should inherit the specific
talents of their fathers, and adopt their callings in
life. Out of a combination of these two facts,
Benndorf constructs the following Praxiteles pedi-
gree. Pausanias mentions a Praxiteles as the
sculptor of a group of Demeter Kore and lacchos
in Athens, with an inscription in Attic letters which
were in use before the time of EucHd (403 B.C.) ; this
sculptor he supposes to be the grandfather of the
famous Praxiteles. (Whenever we mean the famous
Praxiteles we shall, as is always done in such cases,
use the name without any distinctive attribute.)
We know that Kephisodotos the elder, the sculptor
of the famous Eirene^ with the Plutos child (formerly
called Leucothea), now in the Glyptothek at Munich,
was the father of Praxiteles, and that Kephisodotos
lived about the beginning of the fourth century B.C.
Praxiteles flourished about the middle of the fourth
century. In the second half of the fourth century

^ Brunn, Ueber die sogeiiannte Lenkothea, etc., Sitzuiigsber. tier k.
bayr. Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1867.

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HEBAION, ETC. 439

Kephisodotos the younger and his brother Timarchos
followed in the footsteps of their father. About 300
B.C., we hear of a Praxiteles to whom Theophrastus
(who died about 287 B.C.), gave an order to execute
a bust at Athens ; and this is no doubt the same
one mentioned in the SchoUa to Theocritus as belonof-
ing to the time of Demetrius. To illustrate the
frequent recurrence of the name, Benndorf mentions
two artists named Praxiteles in Roman times. The
one executed a statue of Gains Aelius Gallus, the
prefect of Egypt from 26 to 24 B.C. ; another made
the portrait of the proconsul Cn. Acerroiiius Proclus
(Consul 37 A,D.) These facts, Benndorf maintains, go
so far as to show a possibility that the sculptor of the
Hermes was not the Praxiteles. (Dr. Klein supports
Benndorf s theory and developes it still further.)
Lysippian elements, which Benndorf believes he has
discovered in the Hermes, and which we shall consider
hereafter, drive him to insist upon the probabihty that
the Hermes is the work of the supposed grandson of
Praxiteles, who was not exempt from the influence of
the renowned sculptor Lysippos, who flourished a
generation before him. I shall merely remark here,
a point wliich has already been noticed by Dr. Treu
(Der Hermes mit dem Dionysos Knaben, etc., Berlin,
1878), that Lysippos might have been, and I say
most probably was, influenced by the work of
Praxiteles in the constitution of his canon of human
proportions.

The simplest answer to all these objections is, that
if Pausanias had meant one of the less famous sculptors
of the name, he would have added some attribute or
mark of distinction ; while, whenever he uses the

440 PRAXITELES AND THE HEEMES WITH THE

name without any distinctive attribute he means the
great Praxiteles. Analogous cases in ancient and
modern times are present to us all. We must further-
more bear in mind the context of the passage in
Pausanias. Pausanias tells us before, that several of
the statues are of poor workmanship, and that the
sculptors of several of tlie others are not known ; in
strong antithesis, as it were, he then mentions a
statue, both excellent in work and identified with
regard to its author, and tells us that this is a work
of Praxiteles, seeming to imply thereby, that being a
work of the Praxiteles it must be excellent. The
more instances of the recurrence of the same name
Benndorf enumerates, the more he fails to disprove
the present case being applicable to the great sculptor ;
and the more does he manifest the need for Pausanias
to have specified whom he meant if he did not mean
the Praxiteles. Prof Benndorf himself furnishes the
best illustration in his enumeration of the Praxiteles
pedigree. He there specifies each individual, and
only uses the name alone when he means the famous
Praxiteles."*

♦ The word rexv-q used to indicate the sculptor in the passage of
Pausanias irexvr) 8e iari Upa^ireXovs), instead of the more common
tpyov, or the verbal form iivoUi, inoirjcre, iirorjo-e, etc., has also been
used to throw some doubt upon the assertion whether this strictly meant
that this was a work from the hand of Praxiteles. G. Hirschfeld (Tituli
statuarum sculptorumque Graecorum, etc., Berlin, 1871), supposes
that TexvT) was a later Greek form, influenced by the Eoman tern opus
(lUae autem inscriptiones ex Eomanorum usu potius quam ex Grae-
coriun conformatae sunt. Cf. opus Phidiae, opus Praxitelis, etc). Opus
does frequently occur in this context as, e.ff., on the statues of the Monte
CavaUo in Eome. But the word rexvij is used in this context before
the times of Roman influence. Nor could the word rex^V stand for
either the manual and technical part of the work, or the constructive
and originative side, alone. It combines both sides. So, for instance, in

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE IIERAION, ETC. 441

Not only, however, from the records of this statue,
but from the fact of its very position in the cella
of the Temple we might have presumed it to have
been the work of a most renowned sculptor, and of
Praxiteles above all. We know that the dyaX/xara
within the temple were generally of precious material.
In the present case the preceding statues are charac-
terized as being chryselephantine, and the succeed-
ing statue of an Aphrodite by Kleon of Sikyon, is
mentioned as being of bronze. The Hermes alone is
emphatically stated to be of stone, the commonest
material ; there must therefore have been great
excellence of work inherent in it, and great fame
attached to the name of its artist. We know
moreover, that marble was the material characteris-
tically used by Praxiteles.^ It is no doubt owing
to this fact that this work of art has been at all
preserved to us ; for gold and ivory tempted the
lusts of the hordes that subsequently overran tliis
district, and bronze suited the common uses of these
barbarians. Except a bronze foot on a stone pedestal,
no other fragments of a fuU-sized bronze statue seems

Aristotle (Etli. Nicom. ^n.. 7), the emphasis in the use of the word is
rather upon the technical (in our sense of the word) ; while Dio
Chrysostomos, Or. xii., p. 209, praises the X''P'^ "^V^ rsxvrjs in the
Zeus of Pheidias. The use of this word would also be ami^ly accounted
for by the natural desire for change in style, to avoid the monotonous
repetition of the same word. But I am inclined to believe that the
word rexvT] was vised by Pausanias as a strong word in this context to
accentuate the indisputable authorship of Praxiteles with regard to
this work as contrasted with the uncertainty as to the sculptors of the
works previously mentioned by him.

^ Praxiteles quoque marmore felicior, ideo et clarior fuit, fecit tamen
et ex aere pulcherrima opera. Plin. N.H. xxxiv. 69. Cf. the passages
in Overbeck's Schriftquellen, p. 248.

VOL. XII. 2 G

442 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

to have been found as yet at Olympia.^ This fact,
again, goes to strengthen my supposition that the
other statues in the Heraion were all of precious
metaL

As has been abeady remarked by Hirschfeld
(Deutsche Rundschau, 1877), Mdchhoefer (Im Neuen
Reich, 1877), Treu [loc. cit.), Benndorf and others,
Kephisodotos, the father of Praxiteles, the sculptor
of the Eirene with the Plutos-child (a subject kindred
in its nature to the Hermes with the Dionysos-child),
was also the sculptor of a group with the same subject
as oursJ It is very probable that there was a silent
family tradition among sculptor families with regard
to certain subjects, and that Praxiteles would be
strongly influenced by a work of his father's.

But we can hardly term the work before us a
group ; there is no approximation to an equal balance
of interest between its constituent parts. Our whole
interest and attention is attracted by the Hermes,
and the infant Dionysos appears only to exist in our
mind as a means to account for the expression of
individual character and emotion in the Hermes, And
how exquisite and plastically perfect is the expression
of this emotion. The Hermes, youthful, and yet with
paternal tenderness and strength toned down to
gentleness ; while a breath of sweet melancholy^
pleasing in its sad rhythm, rests over the whole com-
position. The head combines in its features all the
characteristics of a youthful Hermes, and of the
typically Attic youth. The type of the athlete, the

^ Since this paper was read a bronze head has been discovered.
" Cephisodoti duo fuere ; prioris est Mercurius Liberum patrem in
infantia nutriens. Plin. N.H. xxxiv. 87.

DJONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HERAION, ETC. 443

ephebe, the director and protector of games, and the
swift-footed messenger of the gods, is indicated in
the firmly cut, tightly connected features, the crisp
hair energetically rising from the knit and vigorous
brow, in the athletic development of the temples.
A second characteristic of Hermes and of the
Athenian youth is the acuteness, almost slyness,
of intellect {KXvt6I3ovXo<;, SdA.109, etc.) ; he is the god
of skilful speech (X6yLo<?, facundus'^) ; the god of
useful inventions^ ; the god of commerce and of
thieves (e/x7roA.ato9, TTokiyKdinqko'^, KepSeix7ropo<;y^ ; the
god of luck, of gaming and gamesters (/cA-r^po?).^^ But
what is most apparent in this head are the softer
and more gentle qualities which were also possessed
by the strong and wary Athenian youth. Hermes
is a devoted and ardent lover ; a tender and kind
father, who, for instance, bestowed the gift of an
ever retentive memory on his sou Aethalides, the
herald of the Argonauts. He was the benign be-
stower of earthly prosperity and the reliever of the
distressed {ipiovvio^, ScoTojp idojv, aKaKTJTrjs).^^ And
the dreaming, soft and melancholy traits which are
shed with a glow over the whole figure, are per-
sonified m Hermes as the bestower of sweet sleep,
whose staff could " close the eyes of mortals/'^^ and
as the leader of all dreams, rjyrJT(op oveipcju^^ ; the
leader of the dead, of departed souls, into Hades

» Orph. h. 27, 4 ; Hor. Od. I. 10. 4.

9 Plut. SjTiip. 9, 3 ; Diod. i. 16, v. 75 : Hyg. fab. 27.

'» Aristoph. Plut., 1155, 1156 ; Orith. h. 27. 6.

" Aristoph. Pax, 365, etc.

•2 II. xxiv. 360, Odyss. viii. 335, II. xvi. 185.

" II. xxiv. 343, 445.

'* Horn. h. 14, and II. ii. 26 ; Virg. Aen. iv. 556.

2 G 2

444 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

{veKpoTToixTTo^, i/zuxoTTo/xTTo?). In general we may say
that Hermes is the most human of the Greek gods.

But, Hke a great sculptor who has thoroughly
conceived the true province of his art and its means
of expression, it is not only the head which Praxi-
teles has formed to express his feelings, his thoughts,
his creative mood, however beautiful we know his
heads to have been ;^^ we feel his power in the man-
ner in which the head rests upon the neck, and the
neck upon the shoulders, and the limbs join on to the
body ; in short, in the plastic rhythm of the whole
figure as well as in the peculiar modelHng of every
sinew and muscle, and in each smallest part of the
surface.

The main features which Praxiteles has expressed
in this statue are those of strength and tenderness.
It is not a pure and simple type, such as the earlier
times would have given us, strength in a Herakles, and
softness in a Dionysos, but a composite type of
Herculean strength and of Bacchic softness, both
harmoniously blended in the beautiful forms of an
athletic youth ; strength and active energy, pene-
trated by passive pleasure, capable of delight in
passion. Strength is plastically indicated in the
powerful limbs, the full chest, the modelling of the
well articulated muscles and sinews ; while the
apparent relaxation and the soft rest of these
powerful limbs and of the well-rounded chest, ex-
press the gentle element in this complex mood.

The soft layer beneath the epidermis unites, with
its tranquil flow, the sinewy muscles that lie below
it, into a gliding rhythm ; propitiates the ruptures

'■^ Fraxitelea capita, Cic. I. de Divinat. ii. 21, 48.

DIONYSOS-CHILD FKOM THE HERAION, ETC. 445

of lines, and intermediates each hiatus where each
muscle and joint is knit on to the other. The smooth
and vibrating surface covers all in hnes of gentle
yet potentially vigoi'oiis cadence, midway between
the rippling rhythm of the epidermis of a Farnese
Hercules, and the languid and almost effeminate
swell of lines in the Lykian Apollo or the Antinous
as Bacchus in the Vatican.

But all this is expressed not merely in the rhythm
of the individual limbs and parts themselves, but
in the general 7'hythm of the body, as well as in the
outline rhythm.

In the relative position of the limbs to the central
point of interest of the figure, strength is expressed
though imbedded under apparent rest — it is latent.
Michael Angelo's Moses in the San Paolo in Vinculo
in Bome is seated in comparative rest, and his
muscles are partially relaxed. And still we are
necessarily impressed, while gazing upon this seated
figure, with its latent power, wdiich may at any
moment become actual. The broad band round his
powerful left shoulder in perfect repose, still gives us
the idea of motion and resistance. He could rend
it asunder, broad as it is, were his muscles to swell.
Nay, we feel that the next moment he ivill rise
from his apparent repose, and all his sinews will be
in the most energetic tension, that he will grasp the
tablet with his strong hands and shatter it to the
ground, that his whole large frame will vibrate with
passion. The eve of a great powerful moral outburst
is embodied in the seemint; rest and relaxation of
this statue. So too w^e can feel that this Hermes,
full of tenderness and glowing with a languid re-

446 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

laxation, can at any moment swing the discus, fling
the spear, wrestle and struggle in the Pancration,
softly skim over the course, or even fly over " the
briny sea and the infinite earth with his bea,utiful
ambrosian and golden pedila " as the messenger of
Zeus. He can not only tenderly nurse the infant,
but he has snatched it from the flames and he can
protect it. On the other hand, the languor and
tenderness of the figure is expressed in the forward
bending head which in this position adds to the
expression of dreamy abstractedness, and in the
slight curve of the neck and shoulders, in the gentle
upliftmg of the right arm, and in the careful semi-
suspension of the left, as well as in the wavy curve
of the flank and the outward swell of the hip (as
intelligibly a fine of soft melancholy as any minor
passage of low and gliding violoncello tones in music).
So much for the general rhythm of the body. In
the outline rhijthm, the flow of the simple lines of
the outhne, there is the same mixture and thorough
harmony of soft rest and latent movement. And this
is so whether, as Hirschfeld and Milchhoefer maintain,
he held in his right uplifted hand a bunch of grapes
to incite the appetite of his little ward, or, as Treu
maintains, he held the thyrsos to indicate the nature
of the infant. This staff would counteract the effect
produced by the heavy drapery and the child on his
left, which without a similar Hue on the right would
be unsymraetrical in composition. With regard to
the outline rhythm we are again midway between
the restless, outward-driving lines of a Borghese
gladiator, and the restful synniietry of outline in a
Somnus, with his hands folded over his head.

DIONYSOS-CHILD FHOM THE HERAION, ETC. 447

With regard to the technique (in the restricted
sense), I have ah^eady remarked the exquisiteness of
the modelhng. The surface and wha,t is below it
seems to vibrate under the gaze and touch of the
spectator. The dehcate phiy of hght and shade over
the ribs of the right side will assist in appreciating
the quality of the modelling when we compare it
with similar Roman works, in which each part seems
put together, not to flow together. All this points
to the expression of what we may term texture in
plastic art, and here it appears to me that Praxiteles
was decidedly an innovator.

Pheidias could readily indicate his texture by
means of the various materials he used in one statue,
as for mstance, gold and ivory ; but Praxiteles was
the marble sculptor par excellence. Pliny (xxxiv. 69,
xxxvi. 20) says of him, " Praxiteles was more happy
in marble than in bronze, and therefore also more
celebrated," and "he surpasses himself in marble."
The strong feeling the Greeks had for indication of
texture in plastic art manifests itself at first in their
using different materials to express various textures.
A later development of art leads them to use but
one material; but then they call in polychromy^*^
to assist them in accentuating various textures,
until they gradually come to express this difference
by the quality of the modelling. Now I am far
from ignoring the exquisite distinction of texture in
the nude, the light and the heay)- drapery, in the
pedimental figures of the Parthenon ; but still I

»« We meet with polychromy in the earliest times ; but then it is
especially in connexion with architecture, and the works almost inva-
riably partake of a decorative character. The temple statues rai-ely were
of marble, while the agonistic works were generally of l^ronze.

448 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

maintain that this distinction of texture is of a more
marked character in the Hermes than in any earlier
statue known to us. Though we know that the
statues of Praxiteles were painted with great care,
nay, that perhaps even as Brunn mterprets the
passage in Pliny (xxxv. 122), Praxiteles himself
painted his own statues, still we know with what
preference and how frequently he represented nude
figures, in wliich the amount of painting could neces-
sarily have been but very restricted. And, more-
over, Lucian (Amor. 13, and Imag. 4) expressed his
admiration of the manner in which texture is ex-
pressed in the fleshy parts of the Aphrodite of
Cnidus. All this leads me to infer that polychromy
reached the highest point of its development in
Praxiteles, but that after the highest point imme-
diately followed decline. And there can be no
doubt in my mind, that the strongly marked
accentuation of texture in marble independent of
colour was already in formation in Praxiteles. In
the Hermes we notice this especially in the treat-
ment of the hair in its relation to the skin. It is
very strange that those who first noticed the statue
considered this treatment of the hair, roughly
blocked out as it is, to be a mark of hasty work.
But surely, it arises rather from a very keen sense
of texture, and much and deep thought as to the
manner of expressing it. Some painters, like Denner,
thought that they could best represent hair in as
nearly as possible indicating each single hair ; but
we know that painting in large masses, yet with a
peculiar handling of the brush, is more likely to
succeed in evoking the sense-perception of sight.

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HERAION, ETC. 449

equivalent to that perception in touch. In plastic
art, this is the introduction of a pictorial element,
but it is not painting. Hirschfelcl has remarked
traces of colour on the lips and hair of our Hermes.
I have not been able to discover them.^^ However
this may be, the fact remains that there is a new
style of rendering hair in this statue. The same
apphes to the drapery suspended from the left arm.
I can recall but one antique statue in which the
texture is similarly indicated in the drapery, namely,
the Demeter of Cnidus, in the British Museum. The
drapery of the Hermes is exceedingly reahstic in the
indication of texture, and corresponds exactly to the
treatment of the hair.

Now, is the Hermes, as Benndorf maintains, really
so different in work and character from the other
statues which Archaeology has until now identified
with Praxiteles ? Decidedly not. To begin with the
technique. It is objected that this treatment of the
hair does not correspond with that of statues like
the Apollo Sauroktonos and the Eros, called the
"Genius of the Vatican," and so on. But the
difference between the hair of the Hermes and the
Eros is not much greater than between that of the
Eros and the Sauroktonos ; and, moreover, we must
bear in mind that the other statues are copies, and
probably Boman copies, while the Hermes is a Greek
original. It is difficult to copy hair, especially such
seemingly hasty work. I must lay especial stress on
one fact, having in my mind a school of archaeologists

'■ In the recently discovered foot, the clearest traces of gilding have
been found on the straps of the sandals. If colour has beeii so well
preserved here, why shoidd it be so doubtful elsewhere ?

450 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

in Germany, who see the conventionally-archaic,
imitations of the archaic, " Archaisieren^' in many
works that have, luitil now, been considered archaic.
In copying a work of former times, the copyist
almost invariably introduces modern elements, and
he cannot help it. To see this we need but stroll
through a gallery of old masters and compare the
copies with the originals. We are more justified in
opposing what we may call modernisieren to their
arckaisieren. For my own part I feel convinced that
the hair of the original Genius of the Vatican was
more similar in treatment to that of the Hermes than
to that of the Sauroktonos.

But sufficient j)ositive evidence can be brought
forward to show that the type found in the Hermes
is prevalent in the time of Praxiteles and is
markedly different from the Lysippian type. We
need but compare the head of the Hermes with
heads on three coins^"^ w^hich Mr. Percy Gardner has
khidly informed me all belong to the period of Philip
of Macedon, i.e., the age of Praxiteles. The first is
the weU-known gold stater of Philip of Macedon,
with the idealised portrait of the monarch v\T.th
laurel w^reath. The second^^ is a silver coin of
Phalanna in Thessaly, a drachma of Aeginetan
standard, having on the obverse a young male head
looking to the right (which Mr. Gardner believes
may be Ares), and on the reverse, <I>A NN AIIIN
with a bridled horse trotting to the right. The
third"*^ is a copper coin of Medeon in Acarnania,

'* I am obliged to Mr. W. S. W. Vaux for suggesting this point of
comparison.

'» Mentioned by Mionnet, ii, 148.

-'"' Imliof Blumer, Numism. Zeitsclm 1878, PI. I, No. 15.

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM TQE HERAION, ETC. 451

bearing on the obverse, a young male head, and be-
low ME. ; and, on the reverse, A within a wreath.

All three heads, though representing different
personalities, are the same in style and in the artistic
conception of the male type ; and all three again
bear the most striking resemblance to the head of
the Hermes. If we bear in mind that the one head
belongs to a highly finished statue of over-life size,
we shall find that the differences between the liead
of the Hermes and each of the coins is not greater
than the difference of two coins from one another.
But of the three, the second, the coin from Pha-
lanna is most strikingly similar to the Hermes.
The brow is more receding, it is true, but we notice
the same elevations of the frontal bone, which we
do not meet with before Praxiteles. The subtle
execution of the eye in profile, astonishing in such
small dimensions, is the same as in the Hermes,
down to the delicate cavity at the angle where the
frontal bone and the clieek bone meet. The indica-
tion of the soft texture of the cheek, the mouth,
the chin, nay, even the peculiar block treatment
of the hair, is strikingly similar in the two instances.
It is impossible to mistake this head for a Lysippian
head ; a comparison between the head of the Hermes *
and that of the Apoxyom.enos of the Vatican will
show the most manifest difference. It is instruc-
tive to compare two heads in the Glyptothek at
Munich, in Brunn's Catalogue, No. 164 and No.
83, the former clearly of the Praxitelean type of
the Hermes, the latter of the Lysippian type of the
Apoxyomenos."^

^' I subsequently find tliat Prof. Brunn has remarked the charac-
teristics of these two heads.

452 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

But it is, we mast confess, quite superfluous to
attempt to pi^ove the Praxitelean character of this
statue. Hardly ever, in the history of archaeology,
has the sculptor and the denomination of a work
been so conclusively shown by the circumstances ©•f
its discovery as in this case. Henceforth all the
works which have previously been supposed to be
Praxitelean will have to be compared with the
Hermes, to prove their genuineness, and not vice
versd.

Moreover, the proportions of the body of the
Hermes correspond exactly to what we should d priori
have supposed them to be.. The canon of Polykleitos
was heavy and square, his statues were quadrata
signa ;"" the canon of Lysippos was more slim, less
fleshy : capita minora faciendo quam antiqui,
corpora graciliora siccioraque, per qum proceritas
signorum major videretur}^ Now the historical
position of Praxiteles lies between Polykleitos and
Lysippos, and so the lithe squareness and square
litheness of the Hermes represents the transition from
the heaviness of the Doryphoros of Polykleitos to
the slimness of the Apoxyomenos of Lysippos.

But the physical type of the Hermes is not mereJy
a point of transition. It is true we do not hear of a
Praxitelean canon ; a fixed model of human pro-
portions is incongruous with the personal and artistic
character of Praxiteles, as will become evident to
us further on ; for such a nature is opposed to all
"academical" fetters and is guided by the impres-
sions flowing from each object it deals with. And

" Pliny, N.H. xxxiv. .i6.
-^ Pliny, N.H. xxxiv. 65.

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HERAION, ETC. 453

yet we may now assert that the Praxitelean type
was prevalent in the age which we may roughly
determine by Philip of Macedon, as becomes evident
from the fact that, e.g., the type of the Hermes head
pervaded even the more mechanical art of coinage in
the remote north of Greece (as in the coins mentioned
above). But also the type of the whole figure with
its proportions prevailed in that epoch ; and this
is shown, not only in the frequent modified replicas,
such as the so-called Antinous of the Vatican, the
Hermes of Andros at Athens, the Hermes in the
Glyptothek at Munich, the Hermes from the
Farnese collection in the British Museum, &c., &c.;
but this type also recurs in statues, independent of
the Hermes, and even in vase figures that in style
belong to this epoch. It will be a task for archaso-
logists in the future to study whole groups of
ancient monuments, taking the Hermes as the start-
ing point of comjDarison, as the criterion of Praxite-
lean work. I shall merely draw attention to three
instances.

The famous Poniatowski"* vase has on the face
a representation of the Triptolemos myth, while
the figures on the reverse exactly corresj)ond to
the Hermes type. In former days archaeologists
were very fond of giving mystical interpretations to
simple illustrations from ancient life. They were
especially fond of bringing every illustration into
immediate connexion with the mysteries. So in

'* First published by E. Q. Visconti, " Le pitture di un antico vaso
fittile trovato nella Magna Grecia, apparteneiite al princijje Stanislas
Poniatowski," etc. " Millin's Description de Vases Antiques," Vol. 1,
PI. 32, etc.

454 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

this case Visconti, Fr. Creuzer^^ and Millin bring the
youth, who, as they say, is standing in the doorway
of a temple, into connexion with the Eleusinian
mysteries, and describe the surrounding persons
accordingly. The supposed temple, however, is
nothing more than the pictorial rendering of a stone
stele. The pamter evidently was inspired by or copied
a funereal slab which represented a young ephebe
as an athlete whose favourite dog is endeavouring to
attract his attention. This motive is very frequent
in Greek funereal monuments. The Greeks were not
fond of representing their deceased friends as dead,
but recalled them as they were when alive, with
a mmimum of the dark spectre of death. Married
men are represented in the act of being married,
warriors, as taking leave or returning from battle, or
in the act of fighting ; women are pictured in the
midst of their household, surrounded by their
childi'en, engrossed in then favourite occupations,
etc. So in this case the sepulchral vase, which
evidently came from the grave of a young man, was
decorated on the face with a Triptolemos repre-
sentation, while on the other side the youth himself is
represented as he was : subjectively in the figure
on the stele, a young man who excelled in the
athletic games and was fond of hunting ; objec-
tively, in the relation in which the surrounding
figures are brought to hun ; they show his social
character, his amiability both for men and women.
A maiden ofiers a wreath, another holds a mnror to
reflect his charms, a youth also ofl:ers a victor- vase,

« " Abbildungen ziir Symbolik nnd Mythologie," Taf. 14, Erklar.
76, p. 47.

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HERATON, ETC. 455

tlie other is in the act of caUing him to join him in
the palaestra. It is a genre scene from the hfe of
the deceased. That the youth is surrounded by the
ornaments of a stele becomes a certainty from the
resemblance and almost identity which obtains
between this figure and a marble stele published by
Stackelberg,^*^ who points to this coincidence. Ac-
cording to Stackelberg it was found on the site
of the battle of Leuktra (b.c. 371), and was de-
posited at Eremokastro, the ancient Thespiae. In
this case the youth has no band round his head,
and he holds a strigilis in his hand ; the remainder
is identical in both. In both these cases we have
the Hermes type. Moreover, the head of a youth
with a Phrygian cap on the neck of the vase, while
strongly reminding us of the Hermes, also resembles
the head of the Eros of Centocelli, commonly known
as the Genius of the Vatican. The proportions of
the body are neither Polykleitan nor Lysippian, but
essentially those of the Hermes, while the graceful
position of the head and the bend in the hip are the
striking characteristics of the Praxitelean figures.
Of the correspondence with regard to the moral as
distinguished from the purely physical characteristics
we shall treat hereafter.

Finally, we again meet with the same type in a
stele at Athens.'"' It is again a genre representation,
a boy playing with a bird, leaning against the
stem of a tree while his chlamys lightly resting
over his left shoulder hangs down by the tree.

2« Die Graeber der HeUenen, Berlin, 1837, Taf. II, No. 2.

'^'' Supplement to Stuart's Antiquities of Athens, PI. 2, fig. .3.
C. O. Miiller, Denkmiiler der alten Kunst, I Tlieil, Taf. XXIX, n. 127.
Stackelberg, ibid., Taf. II, No. 4.

45G PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

Again Stackelberg endeavours to bring the youth,
as "Verehrer und Diener der Manen-Koenigin
Persephone Phereplatta, der Taubentraegerin, oder
Aphrodite Epithymbia, Libitina," into some mytho-
logical association, while in truth we have merely to
deal with a scene from life. Not only does the head,
do the physical proportions, exactly correspond to the
Hermes, but the attitude is almost identical, nay the
drapery with its treatment of folds and the way in
which it is suspended from the tree, as well as the
tree itself, are in both cases almost the same. The
figures speak for themselves. Praxitelean influence
becomes still more evident in this case when we
remember that the slab comes from Athens, and that
we know from Pausanias (I, 2, 3) that Praxiteles
was the sculptor of a sepulchral monument in Athens
representing a warrior next to his horse (eo-rt Se Ta<^o9

OV TTOppO) TO)V TTVXOJV, eTTiO-qiXa €r^O)V (TTpaTLCOTr)V tTTTTO)

TrapecTT-qKOTa ovTiva {xev ovk oT8a, IIpa^iTeXy]<i oe Kat
Tov Ittttov koX tov (TrparioiTiqv inoLrjcrev) ; and that he
also, according to Pliny (N.H. xxxvi. 20, opera
eius sunt Athenis in ceramico), fashioned works in
the Ceramicus, which were most hkely sepulchral
monuments."^

But what is most characteristic of the Hermes and
of all these works is the sadly abstracted and
reflective mood expressed in the figures, and the soft
melancholy rhythm of the lines. The above-men-
tioned stele and the vase-figure as well the statues

« Bruim formerly (Kunstler Geschiclite I. p. 344), and Urliclis
(Chrest. Plin., p. 380), brought these works into connexion with the
group of Demeter, Persephone, and lacchos, in the Temple of Demeter
at Athens, mentioned by Pans. I. 2, 4 ; but there is no reason for this.
Cf. Overbeck, Schriftquellen, 1282.

DiONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HERATON, ETC. 457

hitherto considered to be Praxiteiean, as the Apollo
Sauroktonos, the Genius of the Vatican, the Apollino
of the Uffizi, and the Faun of the Capitol — all have
in common with the Hermes, the languor in the
rhythm of the outline, the same graceful position,
the same wavy bend of the hip.

But the sadly-abstracted and reflective mood is
expressed more definitely. One of the manifes-
tations of the normal, healthy, and active frame of
mmd is, that our muscles, or the outward signs of
attention, immediately react upon a stimulus re-
ceived from without by our senses. If, for instance,
we receive a tap on our left shoulder, our head and
eyes and perhaps even the right arm will turn in that
direction. But when we are reflective, wrapped in
inward thought, as it were, this mood manifests
itself in that we do not normally react in accordance
with the stimulus received by our senses. We are
insensible to any affection from without, because we
are engrossed in the pictures of the inner mind's eye.
But though this abstractedness, in so far as it means
insensibility to the proceedings of the outer world,
and in so far as it is a more than normal descent into
thought, has an inherent element of sadness, and
partakes in its outward manifestation of the languor
of dreamland ; still, it may spring from descent
into critical thought, and then it does not essen-
tially suggest sadness to us. But the plastic mani-
festation of these moods distinguishes between
critical and vague dreamy abstractedness, in the
relative expression of the eye. When we are criti-
cally abstracted, the eye, or rather the moveable
surroundings of the eye, are compressed, while the

VOL. XII. 2 H

458 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

body and the head are fixed in one direction, in-
sensible to outward disturbances ; but in vao-ue and
dreamy abstraction, reverie, the eyes are wide open,
and there is a fixed immobihty of the rest of the
body. Now the infant Dionysos on the left arm of
the Hermes is evidently restless ; he gazes up at his
protector, and attempts to attract his attention by
tugging at his shoulder. But the widely-open eyes
of Hermes are not fixed upon the object which
vigorously stimulates his senses ; and the half-sad
smile round his lips, which are not free from an
indication of satiety, is not immediately caused by
the infant, though it may be perhaps mediately,
namely, by the inner thouglits which were origmally
suggested by the child. In the same way, on the
Athenian stele, the head and the eyes of the youth
are gracefully turned to his left, away from the bird
restlessly flapping its wings on his right. And, finally,
this contrast between the fresh and active and the
sad and dreamy is apparent in the figure on the Ponia-
towski vase. His eyes are not turned upon his
favourite dog, who is vainly attemj)ting to attract
his attention. The mouth is somewhat drooping with
the over-fullness of sentiment.

This expression of countenance, together with the
position and rhythm of the rest of the body, expresses
with the greatest clearness the sad mood in all these
works. It is a great confirmation for me to find
that two modern English poets nave felt this to be
the salient characteristic of one of the beforementioned
statues, the Genius of the Vatican. The one^^ says :

** J. Addington Symonds, the "Genius of the Vatican," m "Many
Moods."

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HERAION, ETC. 459

Natliless, it grieves me that thy pensive mood
And do\vncast eyes and melancholy brow
Reveal such sorrow ; nay I know not how
Stern sadness o'er thy l)eauty dares to brood.
And then I say : the sorrow is not thine,
But his who scidptuj^ed thee, weeping to think
That earthly suns to night's cold tide must sink,
And youth ere long in death's pale charnel pine.
Or wert thou some Marcellus shown by heaven
With presage of the tomb upon thine eyes,
Whom Jove, too envious of our clouded skies,
Snatched from the earth, to divine councils given,
And smoothed thy brow, and raised thy drooping head
And lapped thee in a soft Elysian bed ? — "

And the other :^°

0 love, to me who love thee well,

Who fain would hear and mark.
The secret of thy sorrow tell.

And why thy brow is dark.

But thou hast caught a deeper care.

His smile is not for thee ;
Thou canst not all so lightly wear

Thine immortality.

Or is it that thy spirit knew

Its sohtary fate,
That whatsoe'er of beauty grew,

Th:)U might'st not find thy mate ?

This element of melancholy, which slowly flowed
out of the hands of Praxiteles into all his works,
must have been the subjective element of Praxitelean
art. To appreciate this we must endeavour to study
the man who stood behind the artist, and the man

^^ Ernest Myers' Poems. The " Genius of the Vatican."

2 H 2

4G0 PRAXITELES A>fD THE HERMES \YITH THE

again will be most readily appreciated by us when we
study the time and the social environment in which
we find him a member.

Brunn^^ has rightly concluded from the subjects
which Praxiteles chose for artistic representation
(generally female or youthful male beauty), together
with the reports we have concerning the character of
these works, as w^ell as from the fact that he
frequently charmed the spectators with the outward
and more material execution of the works, that one
of the most manifest features of his artistic character
was sensuousness.

It is in the nature of the sensuous man to be
impressionable. He is subject, more than the unim-
pulsive, to be strongly influenced by his various
surroundings. This will account for the absence of
a strict and uniform style as we find it in the older
times, especially in ancient Peloponnesian art (which
like the men of that time and district was hard and
rigorous). The sensuous nature is open to the charms
of its surroundings, and its moods are essentially
affected by them ; and so the style, in detail for
instance, the treatment of the hair (as in the statues
we have before enumerated), will vary in accordance
with the different subjects treated. But what is
most characteristic of the sensuous temperament is
the frequent reaction towards melancholy which
follows upon every exalted or violent affection ; there
are but extremes.

But by this sensuousness we are far from meaning
actual passion ; and I thoroughly agree wdth Brunn^'"

■■" " Gescli. d. Griech. Kunstler," Vol. T, p. 345, etc.

" Klinstler Geschichte, and in Rhein. Museum, Vol. XI, 166.

. DIONYSOS -CHILD FROM THE HERAION, ETC. 4G1

in his controversy with Friedrichs^^ when he main-
tains that the iraOo^ of Praxiteles differed from
that of Scopas. In Scopas we have actual passion
expressing itself in the violence of the actions he
chose for plastic representation and in the feature
of movement and unrest which ran through all his
statues. In Praxiteles we have potential passion,
suggestion of strong impulses, rather than impulses
themselves. But such suggestiveness, hidden and
veiled, is sad in itself, sadder in its aspect than even
the violent impulse to destruction ; and whenever
the sensitive and amative nature is not vibratinsf it
is apt to be sad.

Pheidias was not sad, but the time in which
Pheidias lived was essentially different from that of
Praxiteles. The time in which the character of
Pheidias formed itself, was one of decision ; its traits
stood forth pronouncedly and its aims all lay in one
direction ; the united resistance of all Greek states
agahist their common Persian foe. There was some-
thing decided and vigorously energetic in the spirit
which this great aim of Greek states and their citizens
cast over that epoch ; it excluded self-consciousness
and self-reflection, it gave them their keen perception
of generality and of broad types — of the ideal. This
naivete, added to energy and inventive impulse,
together with the essential plastic tendency of the
Greek mind, is most favourable to the production of
great sculptors and is most characteristic of the
genius of Pheidias. Serenity is that which most
characterises the works of Greek plastic art in the
time of Pheidias, the noble naivete, and silent great-

=' Praxiteles uud die Niobegru])pe, Lei])z. 1865.

462 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES WITH THE

ness ; " Die edle Einfalt unci stille Grosse" as
Winckelmann calls it. And this feature must no doubt
have been the most striking one in the character
of Pheidias himself With the smallest amount
of exertion and the greatest simplicity, Pheidias
gave forth himself in his works of grandeur ; while
again, with the greatest simplicity he was affected by
what surrounded him, and assimilated with his inven-
tive genius the grand spirit and healthy vigour of
his time.

The age of Praxiteles was not so simple and
decided m its character, its movements, and its
aims. The aims before it did not enforce them-
selves with decision enough to make it, so
to say, begin anew and unprecedented in the
formation of its future. Its mo\dng power was not
simple, but emanated from two different quarters.
The violent commotion of the past Peloponnesian war,
on the one hand, still rolled its billows and cast
the weary mind to and fro ; while, on the other
hand, the whirljDOol of future conquests and struggles
mysteriously sucked it into its circle. Within the
dying vibrations of former commotion and the mystic
forebodings of stirring future events this age grew
up an old man with youthful impulses — a grey-
haired youth. The naivete and simplicity of action
was no more ; no decided trait ; neither day nor night,
but what lies between them — twilight. The aims of
the tune not being defined and one, but there being
currents in two different dkections, the individual
dwellers on the borderland of events became un-
decided, inactive, more reflective, and sophisticated.
For if the outer world draws in two different direc-

DION y SOS-CHILD FROM THE HERAION, ETC. 463

tions, the result is a reversion into oneself. In the
past romantic period of our century, the nations were
still trembling with the violent emotions produced by
the French Revolution and the sweep of Napoleon ;
while the Revolution of 1848 and the great reforma-
tory steps of our immediate age mysteriously drew
them on. It is typified by De Musset (himself a type of
this age) in the beginning of his Confessions d'un
enfant du siecle, an age in which Shelley, still a boy,
is reported to have said of himself : *' I am older than
my grandfather, and if I die to-morrow I shall be
ninety-nine years old." The movement being com-
plex, it will either produce stagnation, or, not
admitting of simple outward motion, it produces a
surplus amount of inner, " molecular " motion, that
is, nervousness, excitability.

The excitable, nervous and sensuous nature com-
bined with a soul of poetry and constructive
imagination has always the characteristics of the
sanguine temperament, the bright and fresh impulse,
and the sad and melancholy i;paction. Such natures
are premature, they pass rapidly through childhood,
and frequently astound us by intuitive forebodings
and thoughts and feelings which belong to old age ;
and still they never lose the freshness and vigour of
youth, for they are the pulsating mcorporation
of the attributes of youth, as the equipoised,
critical and steady temperament personifies the
age of ripe manhood. Such natures cannot pro-
duce the steady grandeur of a Pheidias ; but they
fluctuate in their works and are continually in-
fluenced by their immediate surroundings — influenced
immediately and in their whole person, not assimi-

464 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES" WITH THE

latino- their environment with their fresh, strong,
and simple personality, as do those of Pheidiac type.
For the nervous constitution of such sanguine
temperaments does not allow of any protracted
sojourn on the heights of sublimity. There is no
continuity of impulse, no sameness of mood. Though
they may sometimes rise above the world of
reality into the supernatural and godhke, experience
feelino-s and delimits which no other heart can feel,
see visions which no other eye has met, they soon
sink from this lofty height, in which the air is almost
too thin to permit of mortals breathing, to the world
of reality ; breathless and trembhng, but sustained
and drawing upwards with them their environment
by the resonance and memory of what they heard
and saw. Yet when they try to fix these impres-
sions they frequently fail, for such moods cannot last.
Coleridge's Kubla Khan and Shelley's Epipsychidion
are fragmentary. The Lovely, the Humanly -Beautiful
is their domain, for they are loveable and much
lovinof natures.

Yet over all this world of restlessness, of " Storm
and Pressure," is spread a thin gauze of unpro-
nounced sadness, like the thin mist that spreads over
even the freshest landscape in the brightest mornmg
of spring. Praxiteles, Shelley, Heine, De Musset,
Chopin were such temperaments. What adds to
the melancholy of such natures is the consciousness
that they have lost simplicity ; they know that
they are sophisticated, and thus the simple and
innocent, whenever they meet it, evokes in them
a fond and desiring sadness. When a pure maiden
inspires Heine, he can write the purest and sadly-

DIONYSOS-CHILD FROM THE HERAION, ETC. 465

sweetest verses ; all the stains of his past joy have
left him.

TlKJu'rt like a lovely floweret,

So void of guile and art,
I gaze upon thy beauty.

And grief steals o'er my heart.

I fain would lay devoutly

My hands upon thy brow,
And pray that God will keep thee

As good and fair as now.^*

Childhood with its purity and innocence fills them
with sad longing. And so it is that tlie infant on
the arm of the Hermes cannot inspire the vigorous
young god with its own mirth, but evokes the
sweetly-sad and pensive mood which we have noted
in the statue. But the power of loving is placed
deep in the heart of Hermes, and he is loveable in his
beauty.

Praxiteles, the sculptor of what is loveable, was
ordered to fashion a Hermes, the protector of athletic
sports, in a temple at Olympia, the sacred realm of
all physical exercise ; a strong god in the vast temple
of strength. And how did he solve the task ? He
gave a strong god, but in a moment of tender pensive-
ness, and accentuated, even more than his strength,
his amiable beauty. The man with his individual
character shines forth through the artist.

The Hermes, then, undoubtedly a work of Praxi-
teles, has enabled us to recognise the character of
Praxitelean art, the character and genius of Praxiteles
himself, and has thrown a new ray of light upon a

^' Leland's translation.

466 PRAXITELES AND THE HERMES.

period of Greek history. A work of art may
elucidate an age as clearly as a chapter of written
history. Who can know the history of the Italian
Eenaissance without studying Da Vinci, Raphael,
and Michael Angelo ?

^(^^

REPORT

OF THE

1880.

i.i

Jlojjal Sntixlj) of literatim*

General
ANNIVERSARY MEETING.

April 28th, 1880.

The Chair was taken at half-past four p.m. by
Sir Patrick de Colquhoun, Q.C, LL.D., Y.R,
owinof to the unavoidable absence of the Presi-
dent, His Royal Highness The Prince Leopold,
KG.

The Minutes of the General Anniversary
Meeting of 1879 having been read and signed,
the following Annual Report of the Society's
Proceedings, as prepared under the direction of
the Council, was read.

EEPORT OF THE COUNCIL.
April 2&th, 1880.

[^rembers.] The CouQcil of tliG Rojal Socicty of Literature
have tlie honour to report to the Members of
the Society that, since their last Anniversary
Meeting, held in the Society's House, on
"Wednesday, April 30th, 1879, there has been
the following change in, and addition to, the
Members of the Society.

Thus, they have to announce with regret the
death of their Members

The Eight Honoueakle The Earl of Durham.
EoRERT Pemberton, Esq.

and of their Honorary Member

The Eight Honourable Sir William Erle, D.C.L.,
r.E.S., &c.

471
and of their Honorary Foreign Member ■

Dk. a. D. Mordtmann.

On the other hand, they have much pleasure
in announcing that the following gentlemen
have been elected Members : —

Walter S. Eodway, Esq., M.A.

George Hawkes, Esq.

Fredk. Allison, Esq.

Egbert G. Watts, Esq., M.D.

P. H. FowELL- Watts, Esq.

Benjamin T. Morgan, Esq.

Alexander J. Japp, Esq., M.D.

Grayson Madden, Esq.

Walter Wellsman, Esq.

George Eussell Eogerson, Esq., F.E.A.S.,

F.E.G.S.
A. Greenwood, Esq., M.A., LL.D., F.G.S.

They have, also, much pleasure in laying [FuikIs]
before the Society the following re^^ort on the
state of the funds of the Society, which has
been duly audited by Mr. H. W. Willotjghby.

rH O

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•coeoooooooam ci^CvooiMio moom i>05co co

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473

The Council have further to report that Djimtionsj
Donations to the Library have been received
from —

The Eoyal Society.

The Eoyal Society of Edinburgh.

The Eoyal Asiatic Society.

The Eoyal Geogkaphical Society,

The Eoyal Institution of Geeat Britain.

The Eoyal Irish Academy.

The Society of Antiquaries,

The Trustees of the British Museum.

The Anthropological Institute.

University College, London.

The London Institution.

The Zoological Society of London.

The Society of Biblical Archeology.

The East India Association.

The Historical Society of Lancashire and

Cheshire.
The Free Libraries Committee. Birmingham,
The Canadian Instiaute.
The Public Eree Libraries, Manchester.
The Government of New Zealand.

VOL. XTI. 2 I

474

The Agent-Genekal of New Zealand.

The Smithsonian Institution, Neav Yoek.

The Eoyal Academy of St. Peteesbueg.

The Eoyal Academy of Paleemo.

The Eoyal Academy of Science, Tuein.

The Eoyal Institute of Lombaedy.

The Eoyal Academy of Lisbon.

The Eoyal Academy of Beussels.

The Peopeietoes of the Quaeteely Eeyiew.

The Peopeietoes of the Edinbuegh Eeview.

The Peopeietoes of the Scientific Eeview.

The Peopeietoes of Xatuee.

The Astoe Libeaey, Nlw Yoek.

C. H. E. Caemichael, Esq.

James Heney, Esq.

John Coutts, Esq.

Messrs. Wilson and Sons.

MoETON Edwaeds, Esq.

E. W. Beabeook, Esq., F.S.A.

E. St. John Eairman, Esq.

C. Eoach Smith, Esq., E.S.A.

S. MUNGOONEY MeNON. EsQ.

Waltee Wellsman, Esq.
Samuel Davey, Esq.

475

The Council have, also, received, by the hands
of the Rev. C. B. Pearson, a collection of books,
belonging to tlie late Dr. Burgess, Bishop of
Salisbury, the Founder of the Society, which
are of interest, as tliose used by him when a
boy, in Winchester College.

2 I 2

476

[Papev>.] The following papers have been read before
tbe Society : —

I. On what is Poetry ? By G. Washington
Moon, Esq. Eead April 23rd, 1879.

IT. On the aiUhorshijJ of Shakespeare^ s Plays.
By Sir Pateick de Colquhoun, Q.C, V.P.
Eead May 21st, 1879.

III. On the Paris Literary Congress q/" 1878
and the International Literary Association. By
C. H. E. Cahmichael, Esq. Bead June 25th,
1879.

IV. On some asjoects of Zeus and Ajoollo
Worship. By C. F. Keary, Esq. Eead
November 26th, 1879.

V. On the group of Hermes and Dionysos hy
Praxiteles, recently discovered at Olympia, By
C. Waldstein, Phil.D. Eead December 17th,
1879.

477

VI. On the Spelling Reform Deadlock. By
C. M. Ingleby, Esq., LL.D., V.R Read
January 28th, 1880.

VII. On recent Explorations in Rome. By
BoBERT N. Oust, Esq. Bead February 25 th,

1880.

VIII. On a Theorij of the chief Human Races
of Europe and Asia. By J. W. Bedhouse,
Esq. Hon. Memb. B.S.L. Bead March 17th,
1880.

On November 26th, 1879, a Committee was
appomted, on the proposal of Mr. Holt, "To
examine mto the state of the Society's finances,
and to report the same to the Council at their
next meeting ; " Mr. Moon, Mr. Holt, and
Mr. Vaux to be members of this Committee.
And, on December 10th, 1879, the Committee

478

so appointed, laid before the Council their
Report, which has been duly entered verhatim
in the Minutes of the Council, The Committee
also laid before the Council a separate Report,
drawn up by their Secretary, containing sug-
gestions for the future management of the
Society, with especial reference to the expen-
diture for Household purposes.

On January 14th, 1880, Mr. Holt proposed
the appomtment of a Committee (to consist of
Mr. Holt, Mr. Moon, Dr. Knighton, and Mr.
Ford, with Mr. Yaux, ex officio, as Secretary),
for the purpose of considering the best means of
carrymg out the objects of the Society.

This Committee has met on January 21st,
February 11th, March 10th, and April 14th,
when the following resolutions were agreed
to:—

1. That the Entrance Fees and Com-
positions be, in future, carried to Capital
Account,

479

2. That Sub -Committees of Finance and
Papers be appointed, the former to
consist of three, and the latter of five
Members.

Many other motions and suggestions were
made at the different meetings, but were not
accepted by the Council who met on April 1 4th,
for a final consideration of all the proposals
which had been made.

y-'

^i\

ADDEESS

OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE PRINCE LEOPOLD, K.G, K.T.,

PRESIDENT,

TO THE SOCIETY.

Wednesday, April mth, 1880.

My Lords and Gentlemen,

In obedience to tlie usual custom of this Society,
I have now the pleasure of addressing to you a few
words on tliis our Anniversary Meeting.

And, in doing so, I have great satisfaction in con-
gratulating the Society on its continued prosperity, as
evinced by the number of new names, which have been
added to it during the last year, to fill the place of such
losses we may have sustained by death ; while, at tlie

484

same lime, I have not to record the resigaation of a
single Member.

Our loss, by death, of our ordinary Members has been
two, and of our Honorary Members one ; we have
also lost one Honorary Foreign Member. On the other
hand, we have elected eleven new Members.

The Society has, therefore, nine more subscribing
Members than it liad at our last Meeting.

On tlie biography of two of these gentlemen it is
now my duty to say a few words.

Sir William Erie, formerly Chief Justice of the
Court of Common Pleas, died recently, after a few
days' illness, at liis residence, Bramshott, near Lip-
hook, Hampshire; and considering how many years
have elapsed since his retirement from the Chief
Justiceship of the Court of Common Pleas, which he
filled with so much credit and honour, it is interesting
that we have not, ere tliis, had to record his death.
Havino- Ions; outlived his successor, Sir William Bovill,
Sir W. Erie has passed away, at the age of 87, his
longevity being fairly comparable with those of Lord
Brougham, l-ovd Lyndhiu'st, and Lord St. Leonards. Sir

485

William Erie was horn in the year 1793, and was the
third son of the late Eev. Christopher Erie, of Gillinghara,
Dorsetshire, his mother Margaret, daughter of Mr.
Thomas Bowles, of Shaftesbury, being a near relative of
the well-known writer, the Eev. William Lisle Bowles.
He was educated at Winchester College, from which he
passed to a Fellowship at New College, Oxford, where
he graduated in due course. The members of that Col-
lege having, then, the privilege of taking their degree
without undergoing a public examination, his name does
not appear in the ordinary "Honour Lists," He took
his degree of Bachelor of Civil Law in 1818, and, in the
following year, was called to the Bar at the Middle
Temple, and joined the Western Circuit, in which he
rose to distinction, though not so rajjidly as Sir Alexander
Cockburn and one or two more of its "leaders."

Sir William Erie obtained the honour of a silk
gown from Lord Brougham in 1834, and, at the
general election of 1837, found his way into the
House of Commons, as one of the members for
the City of Oxford, having succeeded, after a severe
contest, to the seat previously held by Mr. Hughes-
Hughes. He did not, however, hold the seat for
Oxford beyond one Parliament, as in 1841 he

486

declined to seek re-election. In 1845 he was promoted
— not, however, by his own party, but by Lord Lynd-
hurst — to a Puisne Judgeship of the Court of Common
Pleas, in the place of Mr. Justice Maule. In the
following year he was transferred to the Court of
Queen's Bench, in which he held a seat down to 1859,
when the promotion of Sir Alexander Cockburn placed
at the disposal of the Ministry the Chief Justiceship of
the Court of which he had previously been a member.
In both Courts he gained the reputation not only of an
accurate, painstaking, upright, and conscientious, but
also of a " strong " Judge : and it need hardly be
added that he was widely and deservedly respected
on the Bench as well as by the Bar. Sir William
Erie held this exalted post, discharging his duties
with an integrity and conscientiousness which could
not be surpassed, and when he resigned his seat on
the Bench, owing to the pressure of advancing years,
in 1866, he was greeted with all possible acknowledg-
ments of personal attachment from all the members of
the Court over which he had presided for seven years.
Since his retirement from public life Sir "William Erie
has lived the life of a country gentleman on his
estate near Haslemere. Here lie was always fore-
most in every good and charitable work, sub-

487

scribing largely to the erection of churches, schools,
and parsonages. Though not a sportsman, he was
fond of his horses and dogs, as well as of his
tenantry, among whom his genial presence and
kindly smile were always a welcome sight. He
was fond also of society, but shone nowhere more
brightly than in his own family cu'cle. Sir William
Erie received the honour of knighthood on his ele-
vation to the Bench, and on his retirement it is
believed that an hereditary title — a baronetcy, if not a
peerage — awaited him, if he had cared for such an
honour. He was sworn a Privy Councillor in 1859.
Sir William married, in 1834, Amelia, daughter of the
late Eev. Dr. Williams, for many years Head Master of
Winchester Scliool, and subsequently Warden of New
College, Oxford.

Andreas David Mordtmann, who was an Honorary
Foreign Member of this Society, was born at Hamburg,
on February 11th, 1811, and received his first education
at the Seminary of St. Paul's Church, whence he passed to
the Hamburg Grammar School, called the Johanueum,
which he quitted in 1829, with a view of proceeding to
Vienna, in order to obtain a thorough knowledge of
Turkish, in the first place, but afterwards (jf otliei

488

Oriental languages. This intention, however, he had
to relinquish for want of means ; indeed, for a long
time, he had to earn his bread by giving instruction.

In his desire, however, to obtain a sound know-
ledge of Eastern languages, he was supported by the
great diplomatist Dr. Syndreas Sieveking, who secured
for him the appointment as a Sub-Librarian to the
Hamburg Municipal Library, a post he held from 1841
to 1845. In 1836 he married Christina Brandmann.
On November 6th, 1845, the Philological Faculty of
Kiel conferred ujDon him the degree of M.A. and
Phil. Dr., and, in the same year, he was sent as the
Hanseatic Keeper of Archives (or as Clerk of their
Chancery) to Constantinople, under the Spanish
Minister, Don Antonio Lopez de Cordoba, then in the
provisional charge of the Hanseatic Legation, having
been entrusted with this duty by Sii' Patrick de Col-
quhoun, when he resigned that appointment.

From the end of 1847 to 1859, he was Charge
d' Affaires to the Hanse Towns at tlie Sublime Porte.
Since August, 1851, he was also Consul at Constantinople
for the Grand-Duke of Oldenburg.

On the Legation being suppressed by the Hanse

489

Towns in 1859, i)r. Mordtmann passed over into the
Turkish Service, as a Judge of the Commercial Court, a
position he continued to hokl, while, at the same time,
never omitting to prosecute, also, his one great object of
obtaining and enlarging to the utmost his Oriental
knowledge. Dr. Mordtmann was, from his earliest
youth, an enthusiast in all matters appertaining to
Oriental knowledge or to that of Eastern affairs.

Hence, while he wrote or edited several independent
works, he was also an energetic contributor to the pages
of the " Journal of the German Oriental Society," his
especial study having been the coins of the Sassanian
Eulers of Persia, with that also of other numismatic
records, bearing upon this main subject.

Of the separate works he published may be mentioned :

— (1) A short description of Magrib el Aksa ; or the

Morocco States (from a geographical, statistical, and

political point of view), Hamburg, 1844, with map.

(2) Das Buch der Lander von Shech Ibn Ishak el

Farsi el Isztachri, a translation from the Arabic, with

Preface by the illustrious Carl Eitter, Hamb.,4to, 1845 ;

the same work, indeed, the text of which had been printed

at Gotha in 1839 by J. H. Moeller. (3) A History of the

Conquest of Mesopotamia and Armenia, translated from
VOL. XIT. 2 K

490

the Arabic of Muhammad ben Omar-al-Makadi, ac-
companied by observations by A. D. L. G. Niebuhr,
with additions and explanatory remarks ; Hamburg,
1847, 8vo. (4) Descriptions of the coins with Pehlevi
Inscriptions (reprinted from the " Journal of the German
Oriental Society"); Leipzig, 1853-8. (5) Siege and
Capture of Constantinople by the Turks in 1453 ; Stutt-
gard and Augsburg, 1858 ; this essay was translated
into Greek. (6) The Amazons ; Hanover, 1862-8.

The following is a list of the papers he contributed to
the " Journal of the German Oriental Society," and, be-
sides these, it is likely there are others, in other periodi-
cals, the whereabouts of which is not known, or easily
obtainable : — " Transactions of the German Oriental
Society," vol. ii. Letters from Mordtmann to Olshausen
in 1847, on Sassanian Coins, pp. 108,116: Nachrichten
iiber Taberistan aus dem geschictswerke Taberi's, pp.
284-314. Vol. iii, Letter Ueber das Studium des
Turkischer, pp. 351-358. Vol. iv. Do. to Olshausen,
Ueber Sassanidische Miinzen, pp. 83-96 ; Do., Ueber
Pehlewi-miinzen, pp. 505-509. Vol. vi, Do. on a New
Turkish Grammar, pp. 409-410. Vol. viii, Erklarung
der Miinzen mit Pehlvi-Legenden, pp. 1-208, 1854.
Vol ix, Ueber die ausdruck ^^^^ j.At^ J, pp. 823-830;

491

Zvi der Mliuze des Clialifen Kataii, v. Baud, viii, p. 842,
a paper by Olshausen. Vol. xi, pp. 157-8, Five In-
scriptions from Tombstones. Vol. xii, Erklarimg der
Munzen mit Pelilevi-Legenden, pp. 1-56. Vol. xiii,
Letter to Brockhaus on Cuneiform Inscriptions from
Vau, pp. 704-5. Vol. xiv, Do. to Brockliaus, on Cunei-
form Inscriptions, pp. 555-6. Vol. xvi, Erkliirung der
Kiel-Inschriften, zweiter Gattung, pp. 1-126 (1862).
Vol, xviii, Studien liber geschnittene Steine mit
Pehlevi-Inschriften, pp. 1-52. Vol. xix, Erklarung der
munzen mit Pelilevi-Legenden zweiter Nachtrag, pp.
373-496 Vol. xxiv, 1870, Ueber die Keil Inschriften
zweiter Gattung (cf. Band, xvi, zweiter Artikal), 2pl.
pp. 1-84. Vol. xxvi, EntzifFerung und erklarung der
Armenischen Keil Inschriften von Van und der
Umgebund, pp. 465-696. Vol. xxix, Dousares bei
Epiphanius, pp. 99-106 ; Sassanidisclie Gemmen, pp.
199-211. Vol. XXX, Die Dynastie der Danischmende,
pp. 467-487. Vol. xxxi, Ueber die Keil-Inschriften
der Armenien, pp. 486-489 ; Studien iiber geschnittene
Steine mit Pelilevi-Legenden, zweiter Nachtrag, pp.
582-597 and pp. 767-8. Vol. xxxii, Ueber die endung
kart, Jcert, gird in Stadte-namen, pp. 724. Vol. xxxiii,
Zur Pehlevi Miinzkunde, Die altesten Muhamme-
danischen Munzen, pp. 82-143.

2 K 2

492

The last published portion of the Trans. Germ.
Orient. Soc, (xxxiv, 1) contains a long and very im-
portant paper by him on his favourite subject — Zur
Pehlevi Miinzkunde — iv, Die muuzen der Sassaniden,
pp. 1-162, which has been printed since his death on
December 30th, 1879.

During the past year, several excellent papers have
been read before Meetings of the Society. To these,
according to the usual custom, I shall now briefly
refer.

To our Vice-President, Sir Patrick de Colquhoun, we
are indebted for a paper " On the authorship of Shake-
speare's Plays," in which he contended that the accepted
accounts of Shakespeare's literary education shows it to
have been of the most defective character, and such,
indeed, as would not lead any one to suppose that he
could have been the author of dramas which imply a
wide range of miscellaneous learning and no inconsider-
able knowledge of classical antiquity.

It is, also, certain that he was on terms of intimate
friendship with many men of distinguished hterary
attainments, some of them being themselves no mean
poets, such as Green and Peele ; the latter of whom was

493

for some years associated -witli him in the management
of the theatre in Blackfriars. Sir Patrick thought it
more likely that the plays usually attributed to Shake-
speare alone, were due to them, and to otliers of his
contemporaries.

Our Vice-President, Dr. Ingieby, gave us a paper
" On English Spelling Eeform and the Present Dead-
lock/' in which he recounted the attempts wliich had
been made to impose a phonetic system of spelling on
our literature, and, failing that, to introduce it into our
elementary schools. The friends of phonetics attacked
the stronghold of conventional spelling, when, on
January 12th, 1878, they had an audience with the
President and Vice-President of the Committee of
Council on Education, and asked for a Eoyal Com-
mission to investigate the whole subject of spelling,
with the view to the introduction of a reformed spelling
into the schools connected with that Department.

Dr. Ingieby considered, that, on this occasion, the
speakers in arguing their case evinced too mucli as-
sertion and vehemence, as if they liad reckoned on
storming the official mind, too well used to tlie resource
of " masterly inactivity." In the result, the deadlock

494

already existing was confirmed. Having stated what lie
thought the proper grounds of action at this crisis, Dr. In-
gieby went on to discuss the relations between the rival
claims of spelling and pronunciation, and classified the
leading writers on Spelling Reform, according as they gave
the preference to one or the other, — himself siding with
those who would insist on a right and a wrong in pro-
nunciation, which it is within the power of spelling to
encourage or to check. " We are thus led," he remarked,
" to two great questions : (1) What orthoepy shall be
favoured ? and (2) What orthography shall be adopted ?
To meet educational wants, the former must have the
precedence ; for, if it be impracticable to determine a
standard of pronunciation, it is useless to propose the
means for accurately expressing it." He then noticed
the various published systems of spelling reform, taking
special objection to Mr. A. J. Ellis's " Glossic," partly on
account of the pronunciation it favoured, but mostly on
account of its general use of Digraphs. " I have no
sympathy," said Dr. Ingleby, " with reformers who
would have us acquiesce in the degeneracy of speech,
and who would use phonetics to help on the course of
phonetic decay. Let us make our gauge too small
rather than too large ; let us catch what we can of these
minor delinquencies, and let the litera scripta remain to

495

bear witness against them. After all that orthograpliy
can do, as the handmaid of orthoepy, enough will
escape the meshes to prove the life of this Proteus, and
phonetic forms will sooner or later be left in the lurch
or leave us there."

Mr. C. F. Keary, of the British Museum, contributed
a paper " On some aspects of Zeus and Apollo worship,"
in which he pointed out that the aspects under which
these two divinities were to be especially regarded, were
as Nature gods, in a form of worship that belonged
rather to the pre-historic than to the historic ages of
Greek life.

The individuality of any god sprang, the writer main-
tained, not from the exercise of fancy, such as might
give their characters to the personages of a drama, but
from genuine experience. This experience was of the
forces or appearances of Nature, with which were
originally identified the divinities of every form of
Polytheism.

The change from the worship of phenomena to
anthropomorphism arose mainly from the transfer of
power from a fixed phenomenon to one that was more

496

arbitrary. This transfer, which was realised in the
case of the Indian and German races, by an exchange of
the Proto-Aryan Dyaus for Inclra or Wustan, was
partly felt, also, in the change of the character of
Zeus.

Mr. Keary then examined at considerable length the
various modifications wliich had taken place in the
characters of Zeus and Apollo, before they appeared
in the guise in which they were known to historic
Greece.

To Mr. C. H. E. Carmichael we owe a paper " On the
Paris Library Congress of 1878 and the International
Literary Association " ; in it he briefly analysed the prin-
cipal questions discussed at the Congress convened last
year by the agency of the Society des Gens de Lettres.
Mr. Carmichael then described at some length the work of
the First Section of the Paris Congress, which was the one
mainly concerned with Library Copyright, and after
ofivins some extracts from the address of M. Victor
Hugo, at the public meeting held in the Chatelet
Theatre, passed on to the foundation of the Inter-
national Literary Association at the General Meeting of
the Congress, June 28th, 1878. The constitution of the

497

Association was next discussed, and the objects at
which it professed to aim were stated, as set forth in
the publislied Bnlletins, copies of wliich, as well as of
the official r6suvi6 of the Paris Congress, were laid on
the Table of the Society. Mr. Carmichael, in con-
clusion, expressed his hope that the future work of the
Association would be carried out on the broad spirit of
Victor Hugo's addresses.

To Mr. Robert N. Cust we owe a paper, " On late
excavations in Eonie," in which he gave a very in-
teresting account of the recent researches in that City,
which had been mainly due to the energy and zeal of
the Emperor Napoleon III, of Mr. J. H. Parker, and of
the present Italian Government. In the course of a
rapid but clear survey, Mr. Cust dealt especially with
the five particular portions of the area of Eome which
have been the scene of the most successful explorations,
viz. : (1) The Palatine Hill— the site of the House
of Augustus and of the Palaces of Tiberius and of the
later Emperors; (2) The Eorum ; (3) The Baths of
Titus and the Colosseum ; (4) The Baths of CaracaUa ;
(5) The Banks of the Tiber within the City. The paper
was illustrated by maps kindly lent for the purpose by
Mr. J. H. Parker, C.B., and bv ^Ir. Jolm ]\Iurrav.

498

Dr. Waldstein of Berlin, has contributed a paper
" On the group of Hermes and Dionysos by Praxiteles
recently discovered in the Heraion at Olympia," the
existence of which at this place had been noted by
Pausanias (v, 17, 3), and stated by him to have been
the work of that celebrated sculptor.

In this paper, Dr. Waldstein pointed out that some
doubt has been cast on this assertion by certain
recent German writers, who were incKned to attribute
this work to a grandson of Praxiteles, who bore the
same name. Dr. Waldstein, however, showed by a
minute criticism of the sculpture, a cast of the upper
portion of which was on the table, that there was really
little ground for this theory, as the artistic character of
the Hermes harmonises perfectly with that of all the
monuments which have been hitherto associated with
the name of the elder Praxiteles, who is believed to
have been greatly influenced by Lysippus in the canon
of human proportion he constructed.

Between the figurm quadratce of Polycletus and the
slim graceful forms of Lysippus, Dr. Waldstein urged
that the sculptures of Praxiteles presented the natural
transition. But the Hermes is really more than a point

499

of transitiou in the development of Greek sculpture ; it
is a type by itself, as is clearly shown by the numerous
replicas we have of it.

Dr. Waldstein then discussed the sad and pensive
element of Praxitelian art, and accounted for this both
physiologically and in the sculptor himself, and, his-
torically, from the times in which he lived, concluding
his paper with a comparison of the age and works of
Pheidias as contrasted with those of Praxiteles.

To our Honorary Member, J. W. Eedhouse, Esq., we
are indebted for a paper, " On a Theory of the Chief
Human Paces of Europe and Asia," in which he com-
bated the usually -received views of the spread of the
Aryan tribes north-west into Europe, and south-east
into India, from the High Plateau of Pamir in Central
Asia. He based the theory he advanced, viz., that they
really came from the north-west Polar regions, on the
consideration of the map, and the geology of the Old
World of Europe, Asia, and Africa, guided by such
fragmentary traditions of sudden upheavals and sub-
sidences as have been more or less correctly preserved
and handed down to us, and which seem to show the
probability that this portion of the earth's surface may,

500

in some pre-liistoric age, have consisted of several
distinct continents, islands, and archipelagoes. Each ol
these must have been tenanted by a fauna and a flora,
nearly, if not quite peculiar to themselves, just as
was found to be the case when Australia, America, and
New Zealand were first discovered by Europeans. Cer-
tain it is, that over this whole range, a tropical climate
must have prevailed, and, possibly, over the ideal lost
continent also.

Mr. Eedhouse's paper was illustrated by skeleton
maps, showing the successive alterations of the earth's
surface he regarded as most probable.

COUNCIL AND OFFICEPtS FOR 1880-81.

ELECTED IN APRIL, 1880.

PRESIDENT.

HIS ROYAL HiaHNESS THE PRINCE LEOPOLD, K.G., K.T.

VICE-PRESIDENTS.

HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE, K.G., P.R.S.
THE VERY REVEREND THE DEAN OP WESTMINSTER,

D.D., F.R.S.
SIR HENRY CRESWICKE RAWLINSON, K.C.B., D.C.L., F.R.S.
SIR PATRICK DE COLQUHOUN, Q.C., LL.D.
SIR CHARLES NICHOLSON, BART., M.D., D.C.L.
GENERAL SIR COLLINGWOOD DICKSON, R.A., K.C.B., V.C.
THE REV. CHURCHILL BABINGTON, B.D., F.L.S.
CHARLES CLARK, ESQ., Q.C. {Treasurer).
C. MANSFIELD INGLEBY, ESQ., M.A., LL.D.
CHARLES T. NEWTON, ESQ., M.A., C.B., D.C.L., LL.D.

COUNCIL.

PERCY W. AMES, ESQ.

W. A. BARRETT, ESQ., B.A., Mas. Bac.

WALTER DE GRAY BIRCH, ESQ,. {Hon. Librarian).

JOHN W. BONE, ESQ., B.A., F.S.A.

P. W. CAMPIN, ESQ.

C. H. E. CARMICHAEL, ESQ., M.A., M.A.L

REV. S. J. C. DICKSEE, D.D.

CHARLES GOOLDEN, ESQ., M.A. {Hon. For. Secretary),

502

JOSEPH HAYNES, ESQ.

E. GILBERT HIGHTOIV, ESQ., M.A.

ROBT. B. HOLT, ESQ., M.A.I.

WILLIAM KNIGHTON, ESQ., M.A., LL.D., Ph.D., M.R.A.S.

CLAUDE H. LONG, ESQ., M.A., M.A.I.

GEORGE WASHINGTON MOON, ESQ.

J. E. PRICE, ESQ., F.S.A.

W. S. W. VAUX, ESQ., M.A., E.R.S. {Secretarif) .

#fSx^rs, tU.

TBEASURER.
CHARLES CLARK, ESQ., Q.C.

AUDITOES.
HENRY JEULA, ESQ., F.R.G.S., E.S.S.
H. W. WILLOUGHBY, ESQ., F.R.G.S.

HON. LIBEAEIAN.
WALTER DE GRAY BIRCH, ESQ.

HON. FOREIGN SECBETAEY.
CHARLES GOOLDEN, ESQ., M.A.

SECEETAEY.
W. S. W. VAUX, ESQ., M.A., F.R.S.

CLEEK.
MR. AYRES.

COLLECTOU
MR. STRETTON.

503

IJatrott*

HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY

Annual Dontitiun.

£ s. d.

100 0 0

17tce=5^ation,

Donation.

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS ALBERT EDWARD,

PRINCE OP WALES, K.G. ... 50 0 0

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE
LEOPOLD, K.G., K.T

Donation.
50 0 0

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE LEOPOLD, K.G.,

{Presidtnt).

Israel Abrahams, Esq.
Frederick Allison, Esq,
Percy W. Ames, Esq. .

William Amhurst Tyssen Am
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^ 1

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS : HOW
FAR OF TEUE TEUTONIC OEIGIN.

BY C. F. KEARY, M.A., F.S.A.

(Read March 23, and June 22, 1880.)

Mr. Matthew Arnold, in a happy phrase, has de-
scribed a certain method of bibhcal interpretation as
one by which 'anything may be made of anything.'
I am well aware that the ways of mytholoo-ists in
comparing different systems of behef, and in tracing
veins of similarity running tlirough these systems,
are not altogether sheltered from a like reproach.
No one, I think, who has made a study of compara-
tive mythology, but must often have felt himself
being carried away by its more dangerous seductions,
by a constant tendency to allow his ingenuity in
scenting out and hunting down likenesses to override
his better judgment. The points of contact between
creed and creed are so many and yet so subtle, the
difference between the genuine and the spurious
analogy is often so hard to determine or describe, that
we find ourselves continually urged forward in the
chase ; our appetite gets whetted by a partial capture,
and yet there is always something more ahead which
we have not reached. The result is but too likely to be
that the plain common sense of the matter is entirely
overlooked. I hope I may avoid this error in the follow-
ing study ; but as I know I am likely to fall into it,
I take the opportunity to say these cautionary words

VOL. XTI. 2 M

518 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

at the outset, and I do not wish any theory
which I advance to be accepted, if it be opposed to
reason and mature thought. This, indeed, is the
advantage which one gains by the opportunity of
laying his views before a learned and critical society,
which is not likely to allow any loose reasoning or
analogy, nor any unsubstantial statement to pass
unchallenged.

But I need not spend time in reminding you that
in mythology, as in aU that class of studies which set
before themselves the interpretation of human nature,
as distino^uished from the rest of nature, all those
studies which may be classed as historical, as distin-
guished from the natural-historical, in these the
methods whereby we arrive at truth are not suscep-
tible of the same kind of rigid demonstration which
is possible in physical science. In interpreting the
documents of ordinary history, for example, it is im-
possible to prove beyond dispute the reliableness of
our sources, or to measure by any exact scale of pro-
portion the relative truthfulness of oirr witnesses.
The best means which we possess of separating the
true from the false can never save us from error ; a
rigid scepticism can itself do no more than keep us
in pure ignorance ; and we are driven in the end, to
put our trust largely in a sort of tact, or shall I call it
historic imagination, which the study of history
tends to foster. The better and the worse historian
are distinguished mainly by the possession of more or
less of this interpreting faculty ; and we ourselves, if
we are to weigh justly their conclusions, require some
experience of the difficulties of an historian. In the
studies of the comparative mythologist the same kind

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 519

of historic faculty is called into requisition. The best
thing which such an one can do, therefore (so at least
it seems to me), is to use his experience as conscien-
tiously as he can, and not to expect to place himself
beyond the possibility of error, or out of the reach
of criticism.

This plan I have set before myself in the follow-
ing pages. It is not unknown to you that a learned
Norwegian, Professor Sophus Bugge of Christiania
(he chiefly, and others as well), has propounded a
theory of the origin of the Eddaic tales which leaves
them little or no genuineness as (what thy profess to
be) exponents of the ancestral legends and beliefs of
the Norse folk. According to this view only a
small fraction of the Eddaic tales are true Teu-
tonic ; the rest are stories picked up during the
viking-age (i.e., duriDg the ninth century) in the
British isles, especially from monks and the pupils
of monks, and indebted ultimately to distorted
classical myths or to Jewish- Christian Legends.^
The brains of the Teutonic race has had scarcely
more to do with these stories than to remember
(or to forget) them, and to repeat them in dis-
torted forms. Professor Bugge now holds a fore-
most place among the Eddaic scholars of Europe ;
and no one can fail to be impressed by the learning
and ingenuity with which he has supported his
thesis. Nevertheless, we may expect that his
theories will be subjected to sharp criticism, and
there are many different points (as it seems to me)
in which they are open to criticism. Before we can

' Studien iiber die Entstehung der nordischen Gotter-u. Heldensagen,
von Sophus Bugge, pp. 9, 10.

2 M 2

520 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

attempt the detailed discussion which could alone
do justice to Professor Bugge's paper, we must wait
until the whole of liis work lies before us.^ When
the time for this discussion has come, I have little
doubt that the work will fall to abler hands than
mine.

Wliat I propose to do (shortly and roughly, for the
work must be done in the space of two papers) is to
group together certain classes of Eddaic myths in
such a fashion as to show the substratum of genuine,
i.e.. antique Teuton beliefs which lie at the bottom
of them ; and then, having done this, to glance
rapidly over the foreign and intrusive elements
which can be detected in the Eddas. Tliis proceed-
ing will not be without its advantages, at this early
stage of the question, and will perhaps be as useful
as a less positive kind of treatment which should
follow strictly the limits marked out by Professor
Bugge's paper ; because then the two methods and
lines of argument can be compared or confronted,
and any one who is enough interested in the subject
and cares to study both sides, will be in a position to
arrive somewhere near the truth.

And an essay such as this cannot be utterly without
value as a study m comparative mythology, that field
of enquiry so new to us, and whereof the methods
and the difficulties are yet so imperfectly understood.
The mythology of all nations is visible to our eyes
only as a beautifully and curiously woven pattern ;
we cannot any longer see the loom at work, and
watch the threads as they entwine. Wherefore to

2 The first instalment only of Professor Bugge's work has appeared
up to tlie time of tliis paper going to press.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 521

trace the course of any particular thread of thought
across all the fabric, or to draw out and examine
it alone, is no easy task ; perhaps to accomplish
thoroughly, it is a scarcely possible one. Our atten-
tion is sure to be often diverted from the matter
directly in hand, we are sure to come to many a
knotty point ; we are much in need of patience ; of
keeping our heads and tempers cool ; of grasping
firmly the threads which we have seized. I cannot
help it if, in following what I have to say, a sense of
confusion should sometimes overtake you ; if the
different ideas obscured in mythological language
seem to get hopelessly entangled. I can only plead
for as much patience as is possible, and an effort, at
least, to follow and interpret this misty chain of
thought. It is of course easy to turn from these
mythological studies before we have really made
ourselves master of their principles ; easier still,
having turned away, and having armed ourselves
with a complete misunderstanding of them, to turn
the whole matter into ridicule. But then let us
remember that parody and ridicule are a part of the
destiny of every form of scientific enquiry during the
first years of its existence, and that comparative
mythology is still in its early childhood. How few
among the various kinds of science, from the dawn-
ing days of the Eoyal Society, and of Swift's Laputa,
down through the ages of those countless sarcasms
upon antiquaries, which are to be found in the novels
of half a century ago, until more recent years, which
have brought ingenious parodies of the methods of
Egyptologists and of mythoiogists, how few there are
that have failed to receive the same treatment at

522 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

first. Few, perhaps, but have deserved some part of
that treatment at first ; yet, though that be granted,
there is no more weight in the sarcasms directed
against comparative my thologists, than in those which
have been turned against any other form of scientific
study. We may be ready to laugh at and applaud
some well directed thrusts ; but it would be the
extremity of folly to construe ridicule of this kind
mto a serious argument against the usefuhiess of
the research.

I I. — Myths of Death and of the other World.

T suppose no one who was familiar with the litera-
ture of other mythologies would be disposed to see
on the Eddaic literature the stamp of a great anti-
quity. This question has nothing to do with the
actual date at which were collected the poems that
have come down to us. I do not mean that because
Ssemund Sigfusson, who fii'st committed the Eddaic
poems to writing, lived in the eleventh century,^ that
the Edda itself might not bear a really primitive
character. It is not that these sources are late in
actual time, but that they are late measured by the
condition of the belief of which they are the exponents.
Creeds, like geological strata, are to be classified by
their formations, not by their actual distance from our
surface in time or space ; wherefore, when I say that
the Edda is not antique or ^^ri^ritive m form, I take
my measurements altogether on this comparative
basis ; I mean that placed beside other great sources
of our knowledge of men's belief, beside the Vedic

=> Born, 1056 ; died, 1133.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 523

hymns of India, or the Epic poems of Greece, the
poems of the Edda are very obviously in a condition
of dechne. To admit thus much, I am well aware, goes
almost no way towards satisfying the requirements
of Professor Sophus Bagge, whose theories admit of
no compromise of this kmd. Yet I think it is best to
begin with these admissions, because other students
of Norse mythic lore have given way to rather exag-
gerated language in praise of their peculiar field of
research. It is not uncommon to see writers speak-
ing of the moral elevation and the great poetic merits
of the Norse creed/ Taking the Eddas as a whole,
we must confess it requu-es no small amount of
imagination, and a wide and charitable method of
interpretation, to see either high moral elevation or
great poetic faculty in them. As a whole, they are
notable chiefly for their triviality and love of unessen-
tial details. Nothing, or almost nothing of teaching
is visible there. A very large number of the forms
of the elder Edda are mere catalogues of names.
Some slight prefatory excuse — such as the contest in
knowledge between a god and a jotun (giant) — is aU
that they require, and then a num.ber of questions are
asked and answered about all things in heaven, on
earth, and under the earth. Perliaps the things
mentioned have different names among different
orders of beings, among gods, among men, among
elves, and among giants : then all these names have
to be repeated. The lay of Vafthrudnir and the lay

* Professor Stephen, of Copeuhagen, is reported (but this is only in an
untrustworthy abridgement of his lectures on the Eddaic Mythology)
as claiming for our ancestors the credit of having worked out a religious
system in many ways so like Christianity.

024 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

of Alvis (Vafp»ru5nismal and Alvissmal) are the con-
spicuous examples of this kind of form ; but the
same thing occurs in many others. Another series
of lays deal in magic and incantations and wise
sayings ; which were of importance once, but have
"lost all their meaning for us : such are the Grougaldr
(incantation of Groa) and the long Havamal, the
High One's lay, extending, with the Rune-song of
Odhinn, which it includes, to one hundred and sixty-
five verses. The lay of Hyndla is almost entirely
devoted to genealogy ; the Northern poets generally
delight in genealogies. To turn to those Eddaic
poems which have more of a story in them, few would
be able to discover much beauty or sense m the
HarbardslioS, which is an altercation between Thorr
and a ferryman called Harbard, believed to be another
name for Odhinn, or in the Lokasenna, the altercation
between Loki and the other gods. It is not that the
German beliefs were trifling in their whole character,
or devoid of deep meaning and earnestness, but that
this serious side has been half lost and half obscured
in poems which show a branch of the Teutonic creed
only, and that in its decay.

But it is the business of the palseontologist, from
the examination of a few small bones, to reconstruct a
lost prehistoric beast, and of the mythologist it is
the business to gather of the fragments which
remain from a dead creed enough to build again
the belief in its pristine form, and in its early
grandeur. The longer we dwell with the Norse poet,
and the more familiar we grow with his thoughts,
the more easy becomes this reconstructive process;
and the reward of our labour grows in proportion to

THE xMYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 525

its extent. If, then, I have not enticed the student
with too high promises, it is only because there was
the greater fear lest he should turn away in disgust
when the intellectual fare placed before him was so
far from realising his expectations. If he did so
turn it would be to his loss. There are veins of
high or the highest imaginative creation in tlie
Eddas ; veins which could have been produced only
in the molten formation days of a warm and genuine
belief. We see them crystallized and cold, but the
ore is still of the purest. Moreover we have in the
interpretation of Teutonic mythology an immense
advantage, which is lacking from the study of
ancient classic myths, in the fact that the former
has been handed down in a tradition, never quite
broken tliough, from heathen times to our own days.
The tales of the Eddas have reappeared in form, dis-
guised indeed but still recognisable, all through the
middle ages : they are still told in our nurseries :
many of the beliefs of heathenism half live in our
popular lore and popular customs. We have these
materials to help us in rebuilding our temple of
Eddaic mythology.

As regards the sources of our knowledge the first
which we must examine in this enquiry is the elder
or poetic Edda. The younger Edda (Edda Snorra)
cannot fairly be called in evidence for any fact which
the elder Edda does not avouch or hint at ; because
this younger Edda, as is probable, was compiled fifty
or sixty years after the elder Edda was published,
and being in prose and bearing about it all the
marks of elaborated composition, it is without even
such titles of antiquity as are possessed by the

526 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

fragmentary poems of the elder Edda. It is on tlie
Edda of Ssemund that our temple of Norse religion
must be built ; and it is by attacks upon that
foundation only that it can be undermined. Let us
then examine these poems for a moment. They first
divide themselves into two parts, the first relating to
the gods, the second relating to the heroes, the
Gotter-und Ilelden Sagen, respectively, of Professor
Bugge's title-page. The first partis the more impor-
tant, and I will speak of that first. The poems that
have been preserved to us are a poor collection, and
when we have examined them, the collection is found
in some respects rather to diminish than increase
in value, for several of the poems harp upon the
same idea, and seem to repeat various readings from
one legend. Others, again, are so obscure that they
may be dismissed almost altogether from the field
of our researches.

For the purposes of our enquiry I should be inclined
to group together the Vegtamskvi^a, the Fiols-
vinnssmal, and the Grougaldr : and with these the
For Skirnis, whose connection mth the other three
will presently be fuither explained. The J^rymskvi-Sa,
the Alvissmal, and the Hymiskvi^a should be read
together, as they record Thorr's contests with the
Thursar race ; and with these two we may place the
HarbardslioS : for 1 think Harbard, though he was
afterwards confounded with Odhinn, must have been
originally a giant. The Yoluspa stands alone : so do
the Rigsmal and the Lokasenna. The HindluioS is
made clearer by being compared with the Grougaldr.
The Hrafnagaldr OSins, the Havamal, aud the Solar-
lio'S are so obscure as to be of hardly any use to us.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 527

It is obvious that what will really be of importance
in proving the genuine character of the Eddaic
mythology, will be the undesigned coincidences
between its teaching, between the picture which
it draws for us of the world, and of the doings
of gods and men, and what we learn incidentally
from other sources, to have been the doctrine of
the German races upon such subjects. We will begin,
then, by trying to gain some general notion of the
Eddaic teaching on certain important matters. The
group of myths which I will first consider are those
which have some relation to death and to the future
of the soul. The myths of this kind form by no
means an inconsiderable part of the Eddaic mytho-
logy ; I am not sure whether in all their aspects
and ramifications they do not constitute the greater
part of it. They are, as I hope to be able to show,
very peculiar and characteristic, and generally
peculiarly and characteristically Teuton. When,
therefore, we have settled their claims, and taken from
them the spurious elements which they may contain,
we shall possess some sort of criterion with which to
judge the other myths, a more miscellaneous assort-
ment, which with these make up the corpus of the
Eddaic creed.

Jorrmmgcuidr

I had the honour two years or more ago to read
before this Society a paper which was concerned with
some of the beliefs touchino; a future state which
are found common to the Indo-European races. It
was called the ' Earthly Paradise of European
Mythology,' and the special set of myths with which

528 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

it dealt were those which told of the future of
the soul after death, and represented that future
as beginning with a journey undertaken across
the western sea to some western paradise. Enough
was then said to show that there are certain
beliefs concerning the future of the soul which
are apparently the common property of the human
race, and belong exclusively to no single people ;
but that these beliefs, without being abandoned,
gradually modify themselves to suit the experiences
of each race, and thus take what we may call a local
colouring. Among the universal behefs two stand
in direct contrast : the one fancies the soul descending-
through the mouth of the tomb to an underground
kingdom ; the other imagines the soul taking a
journey (generally to the west and with the sun)
after death. This second belief is the one especially
liable to mutation, because the idea of the soul's
journey and of the situation of the paradise to which
the soul goes, must be affected by the geographical
position of those who hold it. This belief modifies,
too, necessarily from age to age, for it depends not
only on the position but on the knowledge of mankind.
As men's acquaintance with the world about them
grows wider, their myths have to comply with this
wider experience.

Here, then, we have at once offered us a good
test for trying the genuine character of some of the
Eddaic myths. If the picture of the Sea of Death,
that is to say, the sea which surrounds the world of
the living, and which souls must cross to get to
paradise, if the Eddaic picture of this sea is such as
could not have sprung up spontaneously out of the

THE MVTTIIOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 529

Norseman's experience of the world, then we shall
have good reason for suspecting that this part, at any
rate, of his mythology has been borrowed from foreign
sources ; whereas, if all the Norse mythology of the
Sea of Death and of the Land of Souls is consistent
with Norse, or at least with Teutonic, experience, we
can hardly admit the indebtedness of the Eddas to
Jewish -Christian or classical myths.

The Egyptian, we know, spoke of the soul of the
departed crossing the desert, because it was the
desert which shut in all his world. All the Aryan
race, which — as I argued in my former paper —
must have lived near the Caspian, and early conceived
the notion of water surrounding the world, made the
soul cross this water to get to paradise. In the
earliest myths of all, however, this water-crossmg
does not take the form of a journey over sea.

If man looks out upon any wide expanse of water,
and no matter though this be but an inland sea, so
long as he has not ascertained its limits, it is natural
for him to imagine the water as running all round
the land on which he himself lives. A certain love
of equality and balance, characteristic of human
nature, and very traceable in mythology, tends to
such a conclusion. If the man sees water on one
side and observes how this puts a finis to the land,
water will enter into his conception of all limit ; he
will fancy it upon the other side also, and finally in
every direction. But he will not first of all call this
water in any distinct sense a sea. He has never
yet explored its distances, he has not learned to
distinguish between it and the rivers which he
knows better ; the rivers his familiar companions

5,S0 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

and fetish gods. The sea is a great deal bigger than
other rivers ; so wide that his sight cannot reach
across it, but then, perhaps, he can scarcely dis-
tinguish the opposite shore of some of his largest
streams. The sea is for primeval man merely the
greatest of all rivers, the parent of them all, the
feeder of all. It is his Okeanos, the source of all
waters, but itself a river, not a sea. Okeanos is truly
the parent of all seas, because the belief in him dates
back to a time before the recognition of seas as such.
Wherefore in the earliest myth of the soul's journey,
it is a river of death and not a sea of death which
we meet with.

In time this earliest belief fades away, and the
myth of the Sea of Death comes to take its place.
The whole history of the growth of ideas in these
matters is nowhere better illustrated than it is in
the case of Greek mythology. We have in the
Greek mythology of death three distinct phases of
thought presented to us. We have first the Hades,
which is merely a dark underground Kingdom.
But in obedience to the notion of the westward
home of souls. Hades was afterwards moved west-
ward and placed beyond Okeanos, beyond the river
Okeanos, observe. Last of all sprang up the myths of
island paradises which are shadowed forth in Homer,
but far more clearly expressed in Pindar and the later
poets : these Islands could only be conceived when
the Sea of Death had supplanted the Eiver of Death.

In the Eddaic cosmology the Sea of Death is
the midgard-sea ; the land of shades beyond it, is
dark Jotunheimar (giants-home), which, as I shall
presently show more clearly, is not really distinguish-

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 531

able from Hellieimar. The N'orsemen, and especially
the Icelanders, among whom the Eddas were cradled,
had so long been acquainted with the sea, that we
might expect their Eiver of Death to have almost
disappeared. And yet there are still traces of this
earher phase of belief : and that there are such traces
is a fact of high importance as evidence upon the
question under discussion. The belief in an earth-
surrounding river can still be traced. It is a distinct
example of survival from quite a different stage of
development ; it exists in the Eddas as one of the
stunted limbs of thought.

I need not waste time in showing that the general
belief expressed in the Eddas touching the mid-gard
sea is, that it lies between the home of gods and men,
on the one hand— that is to say, between Mannheim
with its Asgard in the midst — and giant home on the
other hand. At the end of time the jotnar are to come
from over the sea to meet the gods in combat on
Vegrads plain ;^ Thorr traverses a vast deep sea when
he goes to Utgardhloki f and so forth. Well, in one
place in the elder Edda I find the parallel belief that
it is a river which separates the gods and the giants.
For it is said in the VafpruSnismal.

Tell me, Gagnrad, liow is named that stream (a),
Which earth parts between the giants and the gods.

Ilfing, the stream is named ....
Free shall it run, all ages through ;
On it no ice shall be.'

This is one passing mention of the earth-gerding

' Voluspa, 49, 50. VafprCi'Snismal, 18.
« Edda Snorra D. 45.
' Vafpru'Snismal, 15, 16.

532 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

river. We see it is especially noted as ever flowing,
through all time. The Greek Okeanos was believed
to flow for ever, and that it might do this, it had to
return in its own bed. I see the same myth of this
river more obscurely but more deeply engraven in the
!N^orse mythology in the case of the earth-serpent
Jbrmungandr. ,

Jormungandr is called the midgard worm or
serpent (mi'SgarSsormr). He is described lying at
the bottom of the Midgard Sea encircling the earth as
that sea does. His tail is in his mouth, and it is still
continually growing into his body. All mythologists
have seen in this midgard serpent a personification of
the sea. But it is not precisely this ; the tail growing
continually into the mouth most clearly suggests
the idea of a river flowing in upon itself, and we know
how Okeanos is described as returning continually
in his bed in just the same way. Now it is a fact —
of which the cumulative evidence is enormous, but
impossible to be recapitulated fully here — that when
a serpent appears in the Indo-European mythology
he very frequently is symbolical of a river. The
serpents Ahi and Vrita against whom Indra fights
may, indeed, be clouds ; undoubtedly they are so
sometimes. But in theu* earlier significance it is
possible that they, too, were streams. 'Holders of
the water,' they are styled ; and the title would
apply either to clouds or to rivers. The tendency of
the Vedas is to give a celestial character to everything,
to transfer the things of earth to heaven. We have
in the Yedas distinct mention of the seven streams,
from which Agni (the fire) is born :* in this case clouds

8 E.V. i, 20, 3, 4.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 533

are meant, and they are tlius called the seven heavenly
streams. There is, therefore, no difficulty in supposing
the celestial serpents, Ahi and Vrita, to have had
their prototypes on earth, and before they were
embodiments of the clouds, to have been embodiments
of the rivers.

In the Greek legend of the Python, again, the
serpent river comes clearly before us. We remember
that the fight between Apollo and Python, as told in
the Homeric hymn, springs directly out of the enmity
of the fountain goddess Telphusa toward the sun-god.
This Telphusa, or Delphusa, is unquestionably some
ancient river fetich, whose worship the Dorian cult
of Apollo was destined to displace. She contrived
a strategem to rid herself of her rival ; she sent
him to the deep cleft of Parnassus, where the
Python, her other self, dwelt ; when Apollo had
slain this monster, he returned and polluted the
fountain of TeljDhusa.

M. Maury, in his ' Religions de la Grece,' quotes
from Herr Forchammar an ocular experience of the
death of the Python beneath the arrows of the Far
Darter. In the great amphitheatre of Delphi, whose
very name was taken from the concavity of the valley
(8eX^v9, belly) which was the site of the town, is
poured during the rainy season a rapid torrent which
passes between the two rocks formerly called Nauplia
and Hyampeia. During spring the waters drain off
and evaporate, so that in summer the torrent brings
no water to Delphi. Then the writer goes on to point
out how, consistently with this natural phenomenon,
the name of the serpent in the legend is first AeXffivvT],
that is full of water (from SeXc^v? and vyo<; for oli'o<;, in

2 X

534 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

this connection any liquid), and afterwards Aek(f)LV7},
empty belly (SeX^v5-tmw), Ovid says that this Python
was born from the earth after the deluge of Deucalion ;
Claudius tells us that he devoured rivers {i.e., his
tributaries). We must not, of course, consider the
slaying of the Python as a local myth only, but it was
localised at Delphi, and here spoke of one particular
stream. The story has its counterparts in the fight
of Heracles with the Hydra, with the apple-guarding
snake m the garden of the Hesperides, or with those
two whom he strangles in his cradle, both to be taken
in connection with his labour in turning the course
of the Peneius and Alpheius.^

In the Norse mythology the fight of Apollo
and the Python reappears in all essential features
in the combat of Thorr and Jormuno-andr. Taking
into consideration, then, all this body of proof, we
are, I think, justified in saying that Jormungandr
is the river of rivers, the Norse Okeanos. He is,
then, essentially the Kiver of Death. The same
myth of the soul's journey is thus preserved in
two forms corresponding to two strata of knowledge,
the old and persistent ground idea having to adapt
itself in each case to new experiences. It need
not be said to any one who has studied mythology,
that such a dividing of one thing into two different
forms is very common ; so common, indeed, that it
would be hard to find in any system a natural
phenomenon which has not been mythically presented
in two or three forms. Thus the sun is sometimes a

8 There is, we see, a duplicity about these labours of Heracles : two
sei'peuts strangled when he is an infant, two more in his maturity ; two
rivers overcome.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 535

separate being, sometimes it is the eye of another
being (of Mitra and Varuna in the Vedas/*^ of Odhinn
in the Eddas)/' The disk may be itself worshipped, or
it may be the chariot of the sun-god, or a wheel of
his chariot. In the Vedic Agni we see one embodi-
ment of the lightning ; but we see the lightning
again as the spear of Indra and of the Maruts. Zeus
is sometimes the heaven, and when he is so his hair
is the thundercloud ; at other times Zeus is rather
the cloud itself. The same transformations pass over
the being of Athene.

That the River of Death is the older among the two
presentments of the same idea, appears first from the
natural order of man's experience, as has been
pointed out ; and secondly from the fact that the
River of Death alone has survived in all the creeds
of the Indo-European races. In the Yedas it is
represented by the stream yaitera?zi,^'-^ which hes
between mankind and the house of Yama ; and
which is crossed by a hrickje, generally the Milky
Way, but sometimes the rainbow. ^^ In the Persian
religion the same bridge appeared in the famous
/^invat.

The Greeks had their River of Death first of all
in Okeanos. Afterwards by transfer to the lower
world, and then by an expansion into four rivers, in
Styx and its three kindred streams.

•» Eig Veda, \ai, 63. i. Ibid., x, 37, i.

" Siun'ock, Handbuch dcr dev.t. Mythologie, p. 206, speaks of Odliin's
eye as the moon. It is more probably the sim.

'2 The hard to cross.

'3 See Vrhadaranyaka Ed. Pol. iii, 4-7 ; aud A. Kuhu in Zeitsdi. fiir
Verg. SprachforschvMg, vol. ii, p. 310.

2 N 2

536 TBE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

Sad Acliei^u of soito%vs bluok and deep ;
C6c^tus uauied of lamentation loud,
Heaixi ou the rueful stream ; tieiee Pldegetliou.
Whose waves of torreut lire iutlame with rage.

Norse lUYtholoii'v bv the same natural transfer,
but without expansion, luul likewise its underworld
stream gfoll, over which was the ojallar-brvl (o^j oil's
bridge). This name of the northern stream corre-
sponds in a curious way to the Greek kcokvtos : and
yet could hardly have been copied from it.^*

The mortal river then beuig so much older tlian
the mortal sea. we need not wonder that the myth
of it has come down to us obsciu-ed in the mjth of
Jormuugundr.

Nor, aguin, need we wonder that this serpent is
so terrible a being. He is one of the three great
destructive powers, each of these powere being an
embodiment of death in one of its guises ; he is
perpetually at war with Thorr ; and at Ragnarok he
will take a part in one of the three great combats in
which the three greatest gods will be slain ; the other
two lights being borne, on the giants' side, by the wolf
Fenrir, and by Surtr, or by Loki as we choose to
take it^*

Fenrir.

Jormung-andr, then, is one personification of death.
We might expect, even before we had exactly con-
sidered their natures, that other personifications were
to be found in Jormungandr's nearest kin, in Loki

" GjolL fix>m at gj<jlla to relL

^ I need not remind the leader of the mmiberless tale* told in esarly
Teutonic, or in middle age legends of fights between the hero (Sigiuxi.
Beovrulf , Siegfrid, St G«oi^ &c,) and a dragon or ■vrorm, which repro-
duce in aH essential parts the battles Wtween Thorr and JSrmungaiidr.

THB UYTB0W(^Y OF THE mmAM. 537

cw'^i .'iatiur© ;;.■•. .. ■^_- . . . . ,. ;

the embodim^iit ©f tlie tomb w p^tetit to alL Fmmr
may b© dkmkg^ abno^ m emily m Hel, whom Ite
' ' • • ' ■ '•■. ilte uralt imii^t h'' '

a dog or w<>lf, $^omaii»ie^ a <;
mouth.

The : - ■ ■■" r- •; ^

mythol'

(. .

vaotm. Th^^re i« ^. d''^^*' to'> /V. •

r;.

^ J ..'j

1 ■' , .

ar.^o;

.'\

<; f-A,

r/j<; i')

garadr m w.

idea

wit}.

** ;Se«, for ezamfim^ mi:.

', ill i»

re to e%iiiremi

r IT.

538 TEIE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

Lohi.

The third important personification of death is the
personification of the funeral jive, in Loki. The
place which this being takes in Norse mythology
is a very important one; and the place which he takes
in the argument of Professor Bugge, directed against
the genuineness of the Eddaic sources, is very im-
portant also. I will therefore ask for some leisure
to discuss this being. But agreeably to the plan
which I proposed at first, and have followed hitherto,
I will not continually break into my scheme of the
genesis of the Loki myth to point out the points m
which it conflicts with Professor Bugge's scheme ;
but will rather suppose that the reader has Professor
Bugge's invaluable paper beside him, and is able to
weigh the evidence on either side.

The character of Loki (according to my theory) in
the form in which we see it, has sprung into being
through the influence upon men's minds of the
custom of cremation. We have first, then, to con-
sider how far that custom prevailed among the
northern nations.

In his learned tract upon this question, Grimm
shows that among the Indo-European races the
traces of the custom of corpse burning are upon
the whole rarer among the Celts (Gauls or Britons)
and among the Latins, who both practised the rite to
some extent but not greatly ; that the traces are
the more frequent among the Greeks and the Ger-
mans, I beheve this to be confirmed by recent
researches, especially so far as the Celts are con-

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 539

cerned. I should not be surprised if it were to
prove eventually that the Teutonic race had of all
our stock been in prehistoric days the most ardent
practisers of cremation. A curious hght, and one
which was I think unkno^vn to Grimm, is thrown
ujDon tills matter by the account given of the funeral
customs of one northern people by the Arab
traveller Ibn Haukal, in his Kitclh el Meshdlih
tua-l Memdlih (Book of Heads and Kingdoms),
written during the tenth century : his travels, I
believe, extend from 942 to 976. These accounts are,
therefore, pre-Eddaic in date, and offer a valuable
testimony for our purpose.

The people whom Ibn Haukal visited were the
Russ or Varings, dwelling in the centre of Russia
(near Kief), to which country they have bequeathed
their name. For all that, they were a Gothic and not
a Sclavonic race. Not the least uiteresting part in Ibn
Haukal's account of the Russ funeral is the incident
with which it concludes. 'Hearing,' says the Arab,
' a Russ speaking to my interpreter, I asked what
he said. " He says," was the answer, " that as for
you Arabs, you are mad, for those who are the most
dear to you and whom you honour most, you place in
the ground, where they will become a prey to worms ;
whereas with us they are burnt in an instant, and go
straight to paradise." He added, with laughter,
"It is in favour to the dead that God has raised this
great wind, he wished to see him come to him the
sooner." And in truth an hour had not passed
before the ship was reduced to ashes.'

Observe that in the creed of these people, burning
is the necessary gate from earth to heaven ;

540 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

if a man is buried he falls a prey to worms and
perishes utterly. Accordingly we find from another
passage that all the Ptuss are burnt after death, even
the poorest, while the bodies of the slaves (for which
perhaps we might read Slavs) are abandoned to dogs
and birds of prey. The Greeks did not attach a
like certainty of Paradise to the burning of the dead,
but with them the completion of some funeral rite
was needful to give the soul entrance to Hades.
Thus, in the Odyssey, Elpenor, one of the comrades of
Odysseus, is the first to meet him at the entry of
the other world, because his body still remains
unburied beneath the broad earth. ^^ He cannot find
his way to Hades' house, and he beseeches Odysseus
duly to hurn^^ his body when he goes back.

The exclamation of the Russ in seemg the wind
spring up must remind us how Achilles prayed to the
north and the west winds to make burn the funeral pile
of Patroclus, and we remember, too, how Patroclus,
like Elpenor, was forbidden by the xpvxcf-l kuI etSwXa
KocjjiovTOjp, the spirits and shades in Hades, to pass
thither till his funeral had been accomplished.
When Priam could not get the body of Hector for the
same purpose he, as a poor substitute, burnt the
clothes of him mstead. I thmk we may gather from
these examples of popular feehng that, among the
Greeks, while some funeral rites were necessary,
burning the dead was not obhgatory, though it may
have been preferred. And this view is confirmed,

"* Od. xi, 52. The words used are Ov yap nco ereGanro . . . Qanreiv
is, etjonologically, to burn ; cf. Skr. Pere. taften, Lat. tepere, A. S.
t-ef Jan. Grimm, Ueber das Verb, der L.

1^ AXXci fie KUKKTjaL, Id. 74.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 541

as far as it can be, by the remains of Greek tombs.
As for the Romans, PHny and Cicero both agree
that the custom of burying preceded that of burning
among them ; and PHny further tells us that in the
Cornelian gens no one was burnt before Sulla, and
that he ordered his body to be so treated merely in
fear of revenge for his having torn up the body of
Marius."° There have, it need hardly be said, been
found numerous remains of buried Komans. No-
where do we find quite so much importance attached
to the rite of cremation as by the north folk with
whom Ibn Haukal came in contact.

It must be confessed that it nowhere appears that
the views of these Kuss were shared to the full by
the Norse folk in the time of the Eddas. Buried
remains of the tenth and eleventh centuries have been
found in Scandinavia.^^ A typical instance of the
buried hero is given us in the second lay of Helgi
Hunding's Slayer, where the ghost of the hero is seen
issuing from a mound. Nothing is there said of his
having been burned before he was buried." The heroic
Edda is the one most hkely to speak of customs as
they actually existed at the time the Edda was com-
posed : we may therefore, I think, conclude, taking on
the one side the evidence of Ibn Haukal, on the
other side this instance of burial in the ground men-
tioned by the Edda, that in the eleventh and twelfth
centuries the custom of cremation had to a consider-
able extent died out. On the whole burial remains

20 Sicut in Cornelia (gente) nemo ante SiiUam dictatorem traditui'
crematus ; idque eum voluisse veretiim talionem, ei-uto C. Marii
cadavere. H.N. vii, 54.

2' Some of the bodies had been buried in a shi^).

" HelgakviSa Hundingsbana Ounur, ^jij-.tqq

542 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

are far more common in the iron age than in the
bronze age.

If these facts be granted conckisions of considerable
importance follow. We shall see anon that the rites
of the funeral fire which Ibn Haukal describes are
evidently closely connected with the myth of Baldur's
burning. They are, therefore, either taken from the
myth of Baldur's bale, or else the story of Baldur's
funeral is copied from these or similar rites. We shall
see this more clearly presently. If the first is the case,
then this takes the myth of Baldur back some centuries
before the supposed date of the Edda, and it shows
the myth so familiar to a remote section of the Norse
race that their ritual is founded on it. If, on the
other hand, the story of Baldur's funeral is founded
upon a former ritual, still it must, one would sup-
jDose, have sprung up when that ritual was more often
practised and held of greater importance than was the
case in the middle of the iron age. This point, how-
ever, I will pass by, until we have listened further
to the account of the Arab traveller, which we shall
do when we come to speak of the myth of Baldur.

What I am now contending for is, that the use of
the funeral fire among the people of Northern Europe
belongs properly to the bronze age, and was beginning
to diminish some time before the Eddas were com-
mitted to writing ; so that the importance of the god
who personifies the funeral fire {i.e., Loki) belonged to
the bronze age, and that in the iron age {i.e., in the
Eddas as we know them) he, like the funeral fires
themselves, was begiuning to sink down and gradually
die out. Now there is an immense body of Teutonic
myth, legend, and custom, not pecidiar to the Eddas,

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 543

but scattered throughout the length and breadth of
German popular lore, which confirms what I have said
about the importance of cremation in the old German
funeral rites. For the full weight of this evidence
I must refer the reader to Grimm's tract upon the
subject. The learned author has shown among other
things that the very names of certain sorts of thorn
are derived from the use made of them in kindhng
fire (especially the funeral fire), so that the word
' thorn ' may be translated etymologically as the
burning plant. We must, I think, admit that the
constant appearance of thorn hedges, pricking with a
sleep-thorn, &c., in German and ISTorse legends and
Miihrchen, is a mythical way of representing the
idea of the funeral fire : that is to say, it is a mythical
image for death.

We shall find in comparing the Sagas and the more
popular Miihrchen, that the hedge of thorns in the
latter very often usurps the place of the wall of fire in
the former. I will take only one instance, but that
instance one of the most typical, so that it may
stand for the rest. No one who compares the story
of Brynhild, as we have received it from Norse
tradition, with the German folk tale of Dornroschen
(or, as we call it, the Sleeping Beauty), but must
be struck with the hkenesses which the two display.

In the Eddaic story of Brynhild we find that the
heroine has been pricked by Odhinn with a sleep
thorn, and that Sigurd awakes her from the sleep into
which she has sunk. Afterwards we learn that Sigurd
rides to her bed (lie alone of all men can do this)
through a wall of fire. Now translate this tale into
the German legend, first by merely putting a spindle

544 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

in place of a sleep thorn, and substituting the thorn
hedge for the hedge of fire, next by joining into one
the separate incidents of the awakening of Brynhild
and of Sigurd's riding to her through the fire ; and
we have the tale of the Sleeping Beauty. She, too,
is pricked, and is sent to sleep, and one prince alone
can find his way to her and wake her ; and to do
this he has to force his way through the hedge,

I need not dwell upon the nature myth which lies
at the bottom of this tale. It is enough for my
purpose if we recognise as the foundation of the
story a myth of some hero riding through death to
his beloved, to call her from Hel, just as Orpheus
strove to bring back Eurydike ; and if in the appear-
ance of this wall of fire or this hedge of thorns,
in the Teutonic cycle of legends, we recognise the
deep traces which the special funeral rite of burning
the corpse left in the beliefs of the Teutons.

It is a hugely significant fact that in the Eddas the
fire-god is less beneficent than are the corresponding
beings in any other Aryan mythology. Is not this
because he, as the funeral fire, is chiefly the repre-
sentative of the destructive side of nature ? The
Loki of the Eddas is before all else the great head and
first principle of the chaotic powers. ' When Loki
is loose ' (that is to say, when fire is loosed : for
fire, we are distinctly told, is to be the ending of the
world), is a phrase synonymous with ' the end of all
things is at hand.' But it must not be supposed
that Loki has no other character than this his
malignant and giant-like one. He has obviously
two natures, one wliich attaches him to Asgard and
to the Gods, the other which attaches him to

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 545

Jotunlieim and the giants ; so that he is as often
called a Jotun as one of the Mmr. (The story told
in the younger Edda of his eating a heart, and so
becoming wicked, is clearly of no account for an
explanation of Loki's nature.) In his beneficent god-
like aspect, Loki appears most plainly in the Eddaic
story of the making of man, if he be, as is generally
supposed, one with the Lodr there spoken of —

From out of their assembly came there three ;
Mighty and merciful, ^esir to man's home.
They found on earth, almost lifeless,
Ask and Emhla, futureless.

Spirit they owned not, sense they had not ;
Blood nor power, nor colour fair :
Spirit gave Odhinn, thought gave Hoenir ;
Blood gave Lodr, and colour fair.-^

This Lodr, who is generally believed to be Loki, is
here placed in a great creative trilogy, and must be,
in this connection, reckoned one of the first, as well
as one of the kindest amongt the Msir. A double
nature attends this being throughout his career. He
has two wives ; one we may suppose celestial, the
other of Jotun-hin. ' Angrbodha (Angstbote, pain-
messenger) was the name of his giant wife in
Jotunheimar. With her he begat three children, one
was the Fenris wolf (Fenristdfr), another Jormun-
gandr, that is, the midgard-worm, the third Hel.''^*
These we see are three forms of death, and Loki, as
the funeral fire, is the parent of death in all its
guises. Well may the Edda tell us further that the

'^ Voluspa, 17-18.
" Edda Snorra, 34.

546 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

Oods when these three were born doubted not that
ofreat hurt would come to them from these brothers
.and that sister.

Among this offspring of Loki the character
and personahty of Hel is the simplest. She is the
embodiment of the conception of the tomb as the
dark concealed place.^^ Fenrir is the same under
its aspect as the ravener, the man-devourer similar
to the mediaeval ogre ; Jormungandr is the personifi-
cation of the river of death.

Each of these beings, Hel, Fenrir, Jormungandr,
had its doubles or counterparts. Fenrir his, in the
wolf Garm ; Jormungandr, in the serpent Nidhogg,
or in Fafnir of the later legend : Hel has her counter-
parts in many an old witch the embodiment of dark-
ness and death, and among these, her own mother
Anofrbodha, who is to be identified with a certain
iron-witch who is described as rearing the progeny of
Fenrir and Garm the moon-devourer."^

These are, in general outline, the chief personifica-
tions of death which we meet with in the Eddas, If
these are, as I think they must be allowed to be,
consistent with what we know of Teutonic beliefs and
customs in pre-historic times, it will be further found
upon near exammation of the Eddaic stories, that in
respect of this body of belief, the tales are wonder-
fully consistent with one another.

Visits to the Underworld.

There are, in the elder Edda, numerous rather dis-
jointed accounts of visits paid by gods and men to the

" Hel, from at helja, to hide.
26 Volupsa, 32.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 547

nether world. I will proceed to examine some of
these.

The Grougaldr is a story of the visit paid by a
son to his dead mother (or step-mother ?) Groa in her
tomb. Her, by his incantation, he rouses from her
sleej), and she again teaches him further incantations
and magic rune-songs, to guard him against the chief
dangers of our earthly life. At the beginning of the
lay the son is made to cry out, ' Wake up mother,
at the gates of death I call thee,' showing us well
enough whither he has journeyed. The only im-
portance attaching to the rest of this poem is the
passage where Groa's son says that she (his step-
mother ?) had on a former occasion sent him to woo
the maiden Menglod ; whereas another lay, the
Fiolsvinnsmal, shows us that Menglod was one who
had her home in the lower world. The maiden must
therefore (in this connection) be a kind of Hel, and
the verse —

A hateful snare, thou cunning one didst lay,

When tliou badest me go, Menglod to meet,

is to be interpreted that this witch step -mother had
sent her son to his death'"' (to meet Menglod), and
now finds him at her own tomb.

This passage helps us better to understand the
Fiolsvinnsmal, showing us that if the visit of the
hero in the Grougaldr is a visit to the underworld,
so too is that recorded in the Fiolsvinnsmal. It shows
us (what from other sources we might surmise) that
the Utgard of the latter poem corresponds to the

^' Cf. the story in the Sinfiotalnk ; a story of perpetual i-ecurreuce,
in its essential feature, throughout German popular lore.

548 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

'gates of death' of the former. Fiolsvith, who has
given his name to the poem which we are now about
to describe, is the porter of the U tgard, or outer
world, or house of death. The lay tells us how—

From the outer ward, lie saw one ascending
To the seat of the giant race.

(And so he cried out) —

On the moist ways, ' hie thee off hence,
Here, wretch, it is no place for thee.

What monster is it before the entrance standing.
And hovering round the dangerous tlame ? '

After a while, the wanderer and the warder fell
into talk, and the former asked of the latter many
things concerning the house before which he was stand-
ing. The significance of some of the things is quite
lost to us ; but there is enough left to show us that
more is meant than could concern any common house,
or even a giant's home. There are allusions to persons
and animals who appear agam at Kagnarok; and I
have httle doubt that the conversation all through is
meant to be a revelation of the obscure and mythic
ideas surrounding the house of death. It is espe-
cially noticeable, that in this visit to the underworld
we come across the fire surrounding the house. It
is precisely the fire through which Sigurd passes to
Brynhild, through which Patroclus desired to
pass to Hades, and which therefore this living
wanderer, this Odysseus of the North, is not at first
allowed to win his way through. The fire is alluded
to again in verse 31.

THE MYTHOl.OGY OF THE EDDAS. 549

' Tell mo now, Fiolsvitli, what now I ask, and I would

know,
How the hall is named, which is girt far around

with flickering flame ?'

We meet in tliis lay with two dogs, the guardians
of the underworld ; one is called Gifr, and the
other Geri ; they take alternate rest, so that one is
always awake to guard the way. They thus closely
resemble the two Vedic dogs, the Sarameyas.

Tliis story of the Fiolsvinnsmal is, in the kernel
of it, a simple nature myth.

The wanderer turns out to be Svipdag, the lover of
Menglod. She is the earth-maiden, the Persephone
of the Eddaic mythology, held in the halls of winter ;
and Svipdag is the summer god, who has come to
set her free. He discovers himself to the warder;
the dogs rejoice, the gates fly open, and be wins his
way to his betrothed.

A very close parallel to this tale is that of
the love of Freyr and Gerd, which is told pretty
fully in both the Eddas. Freyr has been looldng
from heaven's seat, and far away in frozen Jotun-
heim he has seen a wonclrously beautiful maiden,
who at that moment was in the act of enterinof
her father's house. Her name is Gerd, that is to
say, gard or earth ; Freyr we know for the god of
summer. The weddmg of Freyr and Gerd, is the
marriage of Dionysus and Persephone, To woo this
Gerd, the god dispatched his friend Skirnir to J()tun-
heim. What concerns the present enquiry, is to
note what is again told us concerning the nature of
the house where Gerd is kept a prisoner, and the
dangers to be overcome by him who would reach it.

2 o

550 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

Again the fire-circle is mentioned, and in terms
almost exactly the same as were employed in the
other lay.

Give me, says Skirnir to Freyr —

' Give me thy swift steed theiij that he may bear

me through
The far flickering flame.'
And then in a beautiful passage he addresses the
horse —

' Dark it grows without ! Time I deem it is
To fare over the misty ways.
We will both return, or that all-powerful Jotun
Shall seize us both.'

Skirnir (the stoiy goes on) then rode to Gymir's
dwelling. There werejie7xe dogs at the door within
the hedge, which protected Gerd's hall. He rode
to where a cowherd sat upon a hill, and spake to
him :

' Tell me, cowherd, who on this hill sittest
And watchest the ways,

How may I come to speak with the fair maiden,
Past these dogs of Gymir ? '

The cowherd's answer is noticeable as expressing
the nature of the place we have come to :

' Art thou at death's door, or dead already ?
Ever shalt thou remain lacking of speech
With Gymir's godlike maiden.'

We might have expected still fuller information
of the way to Hel, in the heroic poem called the
HelreiS Brynhildar, Bryhild's Hel-going. But in
reality it is concerned entirely with doings on the
earth before Brynhild's death, and the introduction

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 551

only is of any use to us. This says that, ' after
Brynhild's death, two funeral piles were raised ; one
for Sigurd, and he was burnt the first. Next was
Brynhild burnt, and she lay upon a car which was
hung with costly cloths. It was related that Bryn-
hild in this car took the road to Hel.' We shall
presently see that a man who was burnt in a ship,
^^'as supposed to take afterwards a voyage in that
ship to Paradise ; so Brynhild being burnt in her
chariot is said to drive in it to Hel's kingdom. ' She
came to a cave where dwelt a woman of giant kind.'
We often meet in Eddaic mythology with the same
old giantess whom Brynhild encounters, sitting at the
door of her cave (or tomb) at the entry to the nether
world. She is little distinguishable from Hel herself;
in a more physical sense she is darkness, sitting in the
cave of night. Or, again, she is the wise woman or
vala, Groa, whom the hero of the Grougaldr summons
from her eternal sleep.

We come now to the Yegtamskvi a, which has a
relationship with the chief among all the myths of
death told in either Edda. I mean the stojy of
Baldur's bale. Baldur, it seems, had by the warning of
his dreams been threatened with death, and Odhinn
thought it needful to ride down to the nether kingdom
and consult there an old prophetess, — Groa, if we
choose so to call her, or Brynhild's giant-witch — whose
tomb he knew to He at the eastern gate of Helheimar.
The story of this Hel-ride is in some parts of it very
impressive. First we are told how on his way to
Niflhel, the god met a dog ' from Hel coming,' ' blood-
stained on mouth and breast,' and how it bayed and
howled ' at the sire of magic song,' and then how —

2 o 2

552 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

Onward, lie rode, tlie earth echoed,
Till to the high Hel's house he came.
Then rode the god to the eastern gate,
Where he knew was a Vala's grave.
To the wise one began he his charms to chant,
Till she uprose perforce, and death-like words she
spake.

' Say, what man of men, to me unknown,
Trouble has made for me, and my rest destroyed :
Snow has snowed o'er me I Eain has rained upon me !
Dew has bedewed me ! I have long been dead.'

(He answers) —

' I am named Vegtam, and am Valtam's son :
Tell thou me of Hel ; I am from Mannheim.
For whom are the benches with rings bedecked,
And tlie glittering beds with gold adorned ? '

(She speaks again) —

' Here is for Baldur the meed cup brewed.
Over the bright beaker the cover is laid ;
And all the /Esir are bereft of hope.
Perforce have I spoke, but will now be silent.'

The dialogue continues further, and then ends
thus : —

* Not Vegtam art thou as once I weened,
But rather Odhinn, the all-creator.'

' Thou art no Vala nor wise woman.
The mother rather, of three Thursar.'

Who are these three Thursar (giants) ? Who else
can they be than that mighty trinity, Fenrir,
Jormungandr, and Hel. This supposed Vala must
be Angrbodha the \vife of Loki.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 553

There is, T maintain, in all these accounts of visits
to the underworld, a wonderful likeness, and a
wonderful undesigned (at least not self-conscious)
adherence to the essential elements of Teutonic
belief in these matters. Who could have anticipated
that the wife of Loki would reappear in this
mysterious guise as the guardian of the Gate of
Helheim '? . And yet, when we consider her nature and
the nature of her husband, how natural does this
appearance seem ! Yery curious, too, is the coincidence
between the presence of Angrbodba in the Yelgtamsk-
viSa, and the presence of the Tliokk-Loki witch in
the story to which we will now turn, the myth of
the Death of Baldr.

The Death of Baldr.

In all cases where we are interpreting a complex
mythology, we must remember that each tale is
made up of a number of separate myths ; and that
our business is to distinguish the essential from the
subordinate parts. It is of course only for the
antiquity of what I hold to be the essential
myths of the Eddaic system that I am contending.
To illustrate what I mean by the differcDce between
essential and subsidiary elements m a myth, let me
take, as one example, the form of the Sea of Death,
which in a former paper I endeavoured to trace in
tlie Odyssey. There are, as we then saw, elements
in the Odyssey myth which existed in the mind of
the Aryan race at a time long preceding the self
consciousness of any Greek or any Achfean race ;
but I should never pretend that there were not
intermingling with these essential parts plenty of

554 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

subsidiary details, plenty of additions and embellish-
ments, which are due to the poets who crystallized
the Odyssey into its present form.

Another example is afforded us by the Nibelungen
Leid. We know that the essential story of it was
fimiliar to some of the German people before the
days of the historical Brynhild and Fredegonde.
Its real origin probably lies far back in -the myth-
making past of the Teutons. Yet there can be
little doubt that the myth was in a manner reborn
during that stormy time of change and adventure
which began after the first breaking down of the
ramparts of the Roman Empire, and came to an
end only in the age of the Karlings. There can be
no doubt that the beliefs which once attached to some
mythic Siegfrid (or Baldr ; for it is said they are the
same) and his mythic friends and foes, came to unite
themselves with the names of Attila, Fredegonde,
Theodoric, and others. But even these personages had
become mythical by the twelfth or the thu'teenth
century, when the actual Nibelungen Leid was
written f^ and accordingly the German poem displays
a second varnish, another re-dressing of these beings,
in the characters which suit the date of the
Nibelungen. The same kind of transformation, to
choose one more instance, passed over our English
poem, Beowulf The poem is partly Christian,
partly heathen. In its actual shape it was sung in
Christian English courts ; but the story which it
relates, the myths which it is built upon, are heathen.

-" I follow Bartsch iu believing that the actual Nibelungen MSS., of
wliich none are earlier than the 13th century, have been copied from a
lost poem of the previous age.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 55 J

It is only the essential or ground beliefs of the
Eddaic myths that we have to take into account.
According to Professor Bugge the essential founda-
tions of the Eddaic mythology should be Christian,
Jewish, or Classical : I rather maintain that the
essential foundation is heathen - Teutonic, with
only a slight overlay of such semi-Christian notions
as might well have found their way into Iceland
even before the birth of Ssemund the Wise.

Of the stories of the younger Edda I should say
essentially the same. Only here we must make a
larger allowance for subsequent varnishing, and for
much paring down of the force of the eaiiier myths ;
for here the old element of helief has almost utterly
disappeared, and the earlier myths have been trans-
muted into a sort of fairy tales. There are but two
stories in the Gylfaginning which have a decidedly
solemn and serious character. These are the death
of Baldr and the account of Kagnarok. Two other
tales, though not solemn nor serious, have also a
strong colour of genuine and early mythology.
These are the wooing of Gerdr and the story of
Thorr's journey to Utgardhloki.

These four tales I consider the most valuable parts
of the younger Edda. Of these, the last two are
little else than enlargements from two poems of
Ssemund's Edda, namely, of j)arts of the Voluspa for
one, and parts of the For Skirnis for the other. I
have individually little doubt that the story of
Baldr's bale had also its prototype among the lost
ballads ; and I have no hesitation in regarding this
Eddaic tale as far more prunitive in character — judging
by all the canons that we can use to decide the relative

556 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

ages of myths — then the companion tale of Balderus
and Hotherus which is told by Saxo. We shall see
in the myth of Baldr many points of curious
analogy to the funeral customs wliich Ibn Haukal
noticed among the E,uss of the tenth century, and
to the beliefs which seem to have gone along with
rites such as those. t^Only in the Baldr myth the
belief upon some points seems more active and genuine
than it is among the Buss : which looks as if the time
from which dated the original poem of the death of
Baldr, was much earher than the tenth century.
There is no need for me here to recapitulate at full
length the myth of the death of Baldr. Almost
every one knows its general outline : almost every one
has read of the mistletoe dart shot by Baldr's blind
brother HoSr (the dark), but armed by the mahce of
Loki, the genius of all destruction. For us, let the
narrative begin at the moment when the Gods prepare
the funeral of their beloved son and brother. ' Then '
says the Edda Snorra (D. 49), ' the ^sir took the
body of Baldr and bore it to the sea shore. There
was the ship of Baldr hight Hringhorni : that was
the best of all ships. The gods wished to set the
vessel afloat but could not. Wherefore a giantess
named Hyrrokkin"^ was called out of Jotunheim,
and she came riding upon a wolf with serpents
for reins. . . . And leaning against the prow,
she at one push sent forward the ship, and
with such force that fire was struck from the
rollers. . . Then was Baldr's body borne to the
funeral fire ; and when Nanna, the daughter of Nep,
saw it, her heart brake with grief, and she too was

-"•' Auotlier embodiment of the bale-tive. Her mime is fire-red:

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 557

laid upon the pile. Thorr stood forth and hallowed it
with his hammer. And -to this burning came many.
First to name is Odhinn, whom Frigg accompanied,
and the Valkyriur and his ravens. Freyr was borne
tliither in his chariot, yoked to a boar named Gullin -
bursti or Slidrugtanni ; and Heimdall was brought
by his horse Gulltop, and Freyja by her cats. And
much folk of the Kime-g-iants and Hill-criants came
too. .

While this was a-doing a messenger had been sent
down to the Kingdom of Hel, to implore the god-
dess of death to release Baldr. In the account of
this messenger's journey (Hermodhris his name)^°w6
have just such a variation on the Vegtamskviga as
might have existed in the lost poem which I have f^up-
posed. Hermodhr rode, we are told, for nine nights,
through valleys dark and deep, and could see naught,
until he came to the river Gjoll, over which he rode by
Gj oil's bridge, which was roofed with gold. Modgudr
{souVs-Jight) was the maid who kept that path. She
asked of him his name and kin ; ' For,' said she,
' yesterday five companies of the dead passed over
the bridge ; yet did they not shake it so much as
thou hast done. But thou hast not death's hue on
thee ; why then rid est thou hither on Hel's Avay.'
' And he said, ' I ride to Hel to seek Baldr ; hast
thou then seen him on this road of Death ? " Then she
answered that Baldr had ridden over Gjolls bridge.
" But yonder northward goes down the w^ay to Hel "
Hermodhr continued till he came toHel-gate. He rode
to the hall, alighted and walked in, and he saw there

30 Hermo'Sr (Heermuth, Kriegsmutli) is really a name of Odlimn, ouly
the fact has been forsTotteii in the Edda Snuira.

558 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

his brother Baldr sitting at the seat of honour. And
Hermodhr abode that night. But at morning he
besought Hel that Baldr might ride back with him,
and said what grief for him there was among the
^sir. Then Hel said, " It shall now be proved if
Baldr was so much beloved as thou say est : for if
all things on the earth living and lifeless alike mourn
for him, then he shall fare back to the ^sir. But
he shall remain with Hel if one thing refuses and
will not weep. .

' Then the gods sent messengers throughout all
the world to ask that Baldr should be wept
out of Hel's grasp. And all things did so, earths,
and stones, and trees, and all metals, as thou
hast often seen these things weep when they are
brought from the frost to the warmth. As the
messengers were returning and deemed theu- work
well done, they found in a cave a giant woman sitting,
who was called Thokk, and her they besought to
weep Baldr out of Hel. She answ^ered —

" Thokk will weep with dry tears
Over Baldr's bale ;

Nor quick nor dead for the carl's son care I,
Let Hel hold her own."

' It was deemed,' continues the younger Edda, ' that
this could be no other than Loki.' We should rather
take her to be the wife of Loki, ' the mother of three
Thursar,' whom we have so often before seen sitting
in her cave the toniK Thokk is from the Icl. clokkr,
dark.

In a general way the younger Edda preserves
most of the world-pictures which belong to the

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 559

myths about death, and which we have described at
the beginning of this paper. The Eddaic world con-
sists essentially of three parts ; there is the central
island, the safe -^^jlsir-watched sun-warmed region,
with its midofard or mid- wall as a defence aefainst the
giant hosts ; then there is the Mid-earth Sea outside
the wall, ^ike to a mote defensive of a house ;' and,
last of all, there are the cold death threatening
regions beyond. This last region has its walls too
— walls of flame — the ' outward walls ' spoken of in
Fiolsvinnsmal.

This is the internal evidence for the genuineness
of the myth of Baldr, an evidence which rests upon
the strong realisation in its picture of the under
world, and the consistency of these pictures through-
out the other Eddaic myths.

It is highly interesting to me to learn that
Professor Warsoe has found some metal work which
he ascribes to the sixth and seventh centuries, with
designs apparently representing the events of this
story. This, if his view should be substantiated, is
an important piece of evidence from the outside.
But neither into this question, nor into that dis-
puted matter of the Ruthwell cross, will I enter
here.

Not less important is the evidence afforded by the
picture of the Russ funeral given in Ibn Haukal,
wherein are retained all the essential features of the
Baldr myth, namely, the burning on a ship, the
death of the wife, and the burning of her on the
same pile with her husband. The dead man is
not only burned, but burned in a ship. This custom
is universal. It is a ship which the Arab traveller

560 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

describes as hiirning away in the funeral which he did
witness, and which was that of a man of some rank.
Elsewhere, he speaks generally : ' The bodies of the
poor are burned in a shi]D which is made for that
purpose.'

Ibn Haukal's account of the funeral at which he was
present is as follows : ' The day fixed for the funeral
was Friday. I went to the bank of the stream on
which was the vessel of the dead. I saw that they
had drawn the ship to land, and men were engaged
in fixing it upon four stakes, and had placed round it
wooden statues. On to the vessel they bore a wooden
platform, a mattress and cushions, covered with a
Roman material of golden cloth. Then appeared an
old woman [typical, I suppose, of the death-goddess
Hel], called the Angel of Death, who put all this array
in order. She has the charge of gettmg made the
funeral garments and the other preparations. She,
too, kills the girl slaves who are devoted to death'.
Follows the description of the dead man carried in rich
raiments to be placed m a tent which had been erected
on the ship : then the sacrifice of certain animals to
liis ghost, animals which will be useful to him in
another world ; and next a long description of the
death of the girl slave who has devoted herself to be
burned with her master. The traveller describes the
lighting of the funeral fire, with rites \^'hicli remind
us of the Homan funeral ; for he who brings the fire
advances turning his head away. ' Others then came
forward wdth lighted brands which they tln^ew upon
the pile. It khidled, and the ship was soon con-
sumed, with the tent, the dead man, and his woman
slave.'

THE MYTPIOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 561

Nothing, I notice, is said, tlirouglioiit this descrip-
tion of the ship being removed fi'om the stakes to which
it has been fastened on dry land ; no hint, therefore, of
the sliip being really employed to carry the dead down
any river, or across any sea. Yet can we doubt that in
this burning of the ship we have a faint echo of the
old behef in the soul's water journey ; and is not this
curious survival the best witness we could ask for
to the former potency of that belief ? The myth of
the sea or river voyage now Hves only in a meaning-
less rite ; the really effective belief now is, that the
funeral fire is the right road from earth to paradise.
We have seen reasons for beheving that the hey-day
of the burning rites had passed away before the date
of the Eddas, and that Ibn Haukal must be, for many
of the beliefs which belong to those customs, a better
authority than the Eddas themselves. In Ibn Haukal
we see that the still earlier belief belonging to the
soul's voyage had suffered diminution. It is fair to
argue, therefore, that all the myths which re]3resent
either of these two customs — the custom of putting
the dead body upon a ship, and the custom of burning
the body — are representatives of an earlier stage of
thought than any which actually existed at the date
when the Eddas were composed. This is a strong
argument for the genuineness and antiquity of such
myths of death as seem to show the earlier beliefs
still existing in their full force, or which show in
prominent shape the images of fire and the sea
conceived as destructive beings. And among these
may certainly be counted the story of Baklr's funeral.

562 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

As.

Thorrs Journey to Utgardh-LoJa.

Let us now tarn to another stoiy of the younger
Edda, which brings prominently forward the mortal
region beyond the Midgard Sea.

He who loves peace and security will do well not
to go too near that sea, not at least to those parts of
it which lie toward Jotunheim. For, as we advance
in that direction, and while we are still upon the
hither side of the mortal sea, the scene continues to
grow colder and more dreary, until we come to a
certain iron-wood, the home of the witch-kind, and
of all the wolf-kin. Here sits another sister of
Odhinn's Vala and of Thokk, namely, the Iron-
Witch, from whom is born Garm, the wolf who is to
be the bane of the moon. Here we see a trace of
the universal myth of were-wolves, that is to say,
witches who become wolves. Still on, and we come
to the sea- shore. ' Thorr,' says the younger Edda,
in the account of the Asa's journey to Jotunheim,
^ came to the shore of a wide and deep sea, and this
he crossed.' But how ? We are not told in that
passage But in the HarbarSsHo^ of the elder Edda
we catcli sight of that grim ferryman, whom men pay
or pray to to carry them over. Beyond the Death-Sea
we are in a wmtry world. It is a place where the
mist and fog hanging perpetually over the ice, make
a deceitful air, an atmosphere of glamour and illusion.
It is the Cimmerians' home, a land of night. He-
member how Skirnir waited till it was dark before
he went over those moist ways.

No sooner had Thorr crossed this sea than he
began to fall a victim to the spells of giant land,

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDUAS. 5G3

and the glamour increased till the conclusion of liis
journey, which ended in diastrous defeat. His first
encounter was with a giant, Skrymir, against whose
head he hurled his death-deaHng hammer Miolnir.
None, it was thought, could bear the force of a blow
from this bolt. Yet behold Skrymir only asked if a leaf
had fallen upon him as he slept. Again Thorr raised
up his hammer and smote the giant with such force
that he could see the weapon sticking in his forehead.
Thereupon Skrymir awoke, and said, ' What is it ?
Did an acorn fall upon my head ? How is it with
you, Thorr? ' Thorr stept quickly back, and answered,
that he had just awoken, and added that it was
midnight, and there were still many hours for sleep.
A third time he struck with such force, that the
hammer sank in up to the handle. Then Skrymir
rose up and stroked his cheek, saying, ' Are there
birds in this tree ? It seemed to me that one of
them had sent some moss down upon my face.'

Anon, Thorr and his comrades came to the house of
a giant named Utgard-Loki, in wdiose hall and among
the company of giants feats of strength were pro-
posed, to match the new comers against the men of
that place. After his conn^ides Loki and Thialfi
had tried their strength, and been beaten, the turn
came to Thorr. First he was challenged to drain a
horn, ' which,' said Utgard-Loki, ' a very strong man
can finish in a draught, but the weakest can empty
in three.' Thorr, however, after three pulls, could
scarcely lay bare more than the rim. The next
challenge was to lift a cat from the floor ; but Thorr,
with all his efforts, could raise but one paw. Then
came the thu'd and last trial. ' The giant said : " It has

564 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS,

turned out as I expected. The cat is biggish, and
Thorr is short and small beside our men." Then
spake Thorr, " Small as you call me, let any one come
near and wrestle with me now I am in wrath."
Utgard-Loki looked round at the benches, and
answered, " I see no man in here who would not
think it child's play to wrestle with you. But let
me see," he continued, "there is the old woman
calling, my nurse Elli, with her let Thorr wrestle
if he will." Thereupon came an old dame into the
hall, and to her Utgard-Loki signified that she was
to match herself agam Thorr. We will not lengthen
out the tale. The result of the contest was, that
the harder Thorr strove, the firmer she stood. And
now the old dame began to make her set at Thorr,
He had one foot loosened, and a still harder struggle
followed ; but it did not last long, for Thorr was
brought down on one knee.

' The next morning at daybreak Thorr arose with
his comrades ; they dressed and made ready to go their
ways. Then came Utgarcl-Loki, and had a meal
laid for them, in which was no lack of good fare
to eat and to drink, and when they had done
theu' meal, they took the homeward road. Utgard-
Loki accompanied them to the outside of the town,
and at parting, he asked Thorr whether he was satis-
fied with his journey or not, and if he had found any
one more mighty than himself Thorr made answer
that he could not deny, but that the event had been
little to his honour. " And well I know," he said,
that you will hold me for but a puny man, at which
I am ill-pleased." Then spake Utgard-Loki, " I will
tell you the truth, now that I have got you once more

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 565

outside our city, into which, so long as I hve
and bear rule, you shall never enter again ; and I
trow well that you never would have entered it had
I known you to be possessed of such great strength.
I have deceived you by my illusions. The first time
I saw you was in the wood ; me it was you met
there. You struck three blows with your hammer ;
the first, the lightest, would have been enough
to cause my death had it reached me. You saw by
my bed a rocky mountain, and in it three square
valleys, of which one was the deepest. These were
the marks of your hammer. It w^as this mountain
which I placed in the way of your blows ; but you
did not perceive it. And it was the same with the
contests in which you measured yourself against my
people. The first was that in which Loki took part.
He was right hungry and ate w^ell. But he whom
we called Logi was the fire itself, and he devoured
the flesh and bones alike. And when Thialfi ran a
race with another, that was my thought (Hug), and
it was not to be expected that Thialfi should match
him in speed. When you drank out of the horn,
and it seemed so difiiciilt to empty it, a wonder was
seen which I should not have deemed possible ; the
other end of the horn stretched aw^ay to the sea ;
that you did not know ; but when you get to the
shore, you will be able to see what a drain you have
made from it ; and that men now call the ebb."

' He continued, "Not less mighty a feat it was you
did when you were uplifting the cat, and, to tell
you the truth, we were all in terror when we saw
that you had lifted up one paw from the ground.
For a cat it was not, as it seemed to you, it was the

VOL. XII. 2 P

5G6 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

midgard serpent, who lies encircling all lands ; and
when you did this, she had scarce length enough to
keep her head and tail together on the earth. Verily
you stretched her up so high, that you nearly reached
heaven. A great wonder it was at the wrestling-
bout which you had with Elli ; but no one was, nor
shall be, how long soever he live, whom Elli will
not reach, and Age not bring to earth. Now, how-
ever, that we are about to part, you have the truth ;
and for both of us it were better that you come not
here again. For again I shall defend my castle with
my deceptions, and your might will avail nothing
ao-ainst me." When Thorr heard these words he
seized his hammer and raised it on high ; but when
he would have struck, he could see Utgard-Loki
nowhere. He turned towards the city, and was for
destroying it, but he saw only a wide and beautiful
plain before him and no city.'

So far for the younger Edda ; if I have given this
quotation at some length, it is because the narra-
tive is a good illustration of the way in which
stories are treated in this later source of the Norse
mythology. Any student of mythology, who com-
pares the elder Edda with the younger Edda, must,
I think, be struck at once by this difference of tone
between the two. In the latter case we are no
longer dealing "^^ith rehgion, even in a degraded form,
but have descended to the region of the folk-tale.
Yet that by no means implies that the essential part
of the narrative, in this story of Thorr 's journey, has
not been handed down from some more reliable source ;
and I think I can trace very clearly behind the
fantastic and fanciful character of the incidents as

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 567

we now read them, a more solid foundation. I think
that earlier story formed an integral part of the
series of myths that we are now concerned with, the
myths of death. The name of Utgard-Loki is a very
important one ; it helps to disintegrate the god or
giant Loki, into his two characters. Utgard-Loki
— read ' out-world-Loki '—is, of course, the personifi-
cation of fire in its destructive aspect, the fire of
death. Instead of having, as in stories of the elder
Edda before quoted, the circle of flame round the
giant's, or round Hel's house, we have the same fire
personified in a giant himself, the ruler of the house,
The other Loki who accompanies Thon- is Utgard-
Loki's natural antagonist. The three great contests
of Thorr, again, prove on examination all to be con-
tests with death, under one or another of its forms.
The first is comparable with Apollo's fight with
the Python, or Indra's with Ahi and Vrita. We
have already seen how that Apollo's Python-slay-
ing is, in its narrower and local aspect, the draining
of a certain river. Beside this myth, therefore, we
place the draught of Thorr, which almost drains the
mid-earth sea, and this is we know the same as
Jormungandr. The second fight, with Jormun-
gandr himself in the shape of a cat, may further be
compared with the efibrts of Herakles (more successful
efforts truly) to bring up Cerberus from the house of
Hades. And lastly, the contest of Thorr and the
witch, was not at first a wrestle with old age (a
metaphysical abstraction not suitable to the early
ages of mythology), but with the third child of Loki,
Hel, the personification of the tomb. From EUi I
look back to an earlier form, Hel.

2 p 2

568 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

These various stories of death -fights receive their
final consummation in Eyagnarok, the * Doom of
the Gods.' But the discussion of tliis myth in its
details would take more space than remains at my
disposal. I will therefore now leave this series of
beliefs, and proceed to those others which are
concerned with the image of the world in the
present.

II. The Eddaic World.

Yggdrasill.

The myths of death and of the underworld were con-
nected, more than with anything else, with prophecy
about the future ; they are thus, in an inverse sense,
hi&torical myths. Those which I will now discuss
are relegated to the present, and are thus essentially
geographical ; Imt still in an inverse sense, for they
tell of the unknown world rather than of the known.
The former were myths of time ; these are myths of
place and space.

And yet it is hard always to keep this distinction
clear ; for the shadow of death which rests so sadly
upon all creation, is as visible in this (Eddaic) world
of to-day as in the world of the future. If the gods
themselves cannot escape from final destruction, so
too the mortal man cannot stray far from his home,
without coming within the sway of the powers of
darkness. To understand tlie way in which the
Teuton — of Scandinavia, or of Germany — learned to
look upon life, we need to conjure up some image of

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 569

bis pre-Listoric existence, and of the influences of
that nature by which he was surrounded, and
whereby his thoughts were fashioned.

We must first call to mind the picture which Tacitus
has left to us of the Germans whom he knew or read
about, of the life they lived, and of the land in which
they passed their life. This last, he tells us, however
it might diiler in minor details, 'was, as a whole, either
rugged with forest or dank with marsh (aut sylvis hor-
rida aut paludibus foeda),''^ and those who inhabited
it did not dwell together in to^vns, nor even have their
houses adjoining, hutlived discreti ac diversi, each by
himself, wherever imdted by stream, or grove, or plot
of open gi'ound. Out of these three sorts of house-
places, men lived most often, we may be sure, within
the grove. Life beneath trees is the characteristic
of German barbarism ; that, and the worship of trees.
The Teuton's divinities were essentially gods of the
forest. Tacitus says that it was in groves that the
Germans called upon their gods. We know that a
word wliich in some Teutonic lano-uao-es means
' holy/ in others signified 'wood ;'^'- could we ask any
stronger proof than is given by that little fact, that
the central object of the German's creed was the tree.
' Single gods,' says Grimm, ' may have had their dwell-
ings in mountain tops, or in rocky caverns, or in
streams ; but the universal worship of the people
found its home in the grove.' Adam of Bremen has
left us a description of a holy grove, as it was to be
seen in Sweden in the eleventh century. It was at

^' Tac. Germ., c. 5.

'2 O. H. [G. wih, ' grove ; ' O. Saxon 7vi7i, ' temple ; ' To), vi, ' holy.'
See Grimm, DJL 3rd Ed. I. 54.

570 THE ilYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

Upsala. ' Every ninth year a festival is celebrated
there by all the provinces of Sweden, and from
taking a part in this none is exempt. King and
people must all send their gifts ; even those who
have embraced Christianity are not allowed to buy
themselves free from attendance. The manner of the
sacrifice is this : Nine of each kind of living tiling
of the male sex are offered ; and by their blood the
gods are wont to be appeased. Their bodies are
hung in the grove which surrounds the temple. The
grove itself is accounted so holy, that single trees in
it are considered as a kind of gods, to the extent of
receivmg sacrifices of victims. There hang the bodies
of dogs and men alike, to the number, as some
Christians have told me, of seventy-two together.'

Nor is it only in the Teuton's temple or in his
reliOTous belief that the traces of life under trees are to
be pointed out. I can imagine that many primitive
races have made their first homes under the protec-
tion of trees, pulling down the branches to the
ground, and fastenmg them there, wattling in with
these other dead branches and grasses, to form a
rude wall ; and in this way building their first house
round the hve ti'ee-trunk. Men might greatly
advance in culture before they quite gave up the
plan of building round a tree. I trace a sui'vival of
the tree-house in that description in the Odyssey of
the sacred chamber of Odysseus, of which, and of the
manner of whose building, only Odysseus and Penelope
knew. We remember how when the hero has come to
his home, and his wife still hesitates to recognise him,
he bids her try liim by questions; and Penelope
speaks concerning a certain room and a certam bed

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 571

in the well-wrought chamber which Odysseus him-
self had made. Then he says : ' No living mortal
among men, strong in health though he were, could
well remove it ; for a wonder bides in that well-made
bed. There was a thick-leaved oHve tree in the
court, vigorous, flourishing ; it was thick as the pillar
of a house ; and round this I built a chamber, finishing
it with close fitting stones, and roofing it above . . .
And I made smooth the trunk with brass, right well
and masterly, and planed it with a plane, working it
into a bed-post. And from this I made a bed,
polishing it all brightly, with gold and ivory. '^^

The ancient custom we see has, in this case,
become overlaid with other uses ; the tree-trunk no
longer stands simple and bare, it is hidden m brass
and polished smooth like a pillar.

The house of our northern ancestors was a tree-
house of a more primitive kind. Those who have
read the Saga of Volsung, will remember how w^hen
that king was entertaining the Goths in his palace,
came in the god Odhinn, likened to an old man, and
how he left sticking in the branstock (the tree which
supported the roof of the palace) the famous sword
Gram, so fruitful a source of sorrow in after years.

Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there
strode,

One-eyed, and seeming ancient, yet bright his visage
glowed ;

Cloud-blue was the hood upon him, and his kirtle gleam-
grey,

As the latter morning sun-dog when the storm is on the
way:

" Od. xxiii, 187-200,

572 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

A bill he bore ou his shoulder, whose mighty ashen

beam,
Burnt bright with the flame of the sea and the blended

silver gleam ;
And such was the guise of his raiment as the Volsuns

Elders had told,
Was borne by their fatliers' fathers, and the first that

warred in the wold.

So strode he to the.branstock, nor greeted any lord,
But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming

sword.
And smote it deep in the tree-bole, and the wild hawks

overhead.
Laughed 'neath the naked heaven as at last he spake

and said :

Earls of the Goths and Volsungs, abiders on the earth,
See there amid the branstock, a blade of plenteous worth !
The folk of the war-wands forgers wrought never better

steel.
Since first the burg of heaven uprose for man-folks weal.
Now let the man among you, whose heart and hand may

shift.
To pluck it from the oakwood, e'en take it for my gift.
Then ne'er but his own heart falter, its point and edge

shall fail,
Until the night's beginning and ending of the tale.'^"*

In the elder Edda, Brynhild hales Sigurd with the
title ' brynj'ings apaldr,' literally 'apple- tree of war/^^
using the term as synonymous with ' pillar of war ;' a
chance phrase which shows how universal was the
use of trees in the way I have described.

^* Morris' ^Sigurd the Volsung,' Bk. i.

35 SigrdrtfumAl v. It does not take away from the significance
of this phrase, that apple-trees were new things to the Norsemen at
the time when the above Ecldaic song was written.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 573

From the house-tree to the world-tree is but one
step, and an ahnost inevitable step. The Norseman
on the image of his own home flishioned his picture
of the entire world. The earth, with the heaven for
a roof, was but a mighty chamber, and likewise had
its great supporting tree passing through the midst,
and branchmg f^ir upwards among the clouds. This
was the mythical ash, called Yggdrasill, Odin's ash.
' It is of all trees, the greatest and the best. Its
branches spread over all this world of ours, and over
heaven ; three roots sustain it, and wide apart they
stand ; for one is among the M&ir (the gods), and
another among the Hrimthursar (frost giants), where
once lay the chasm of chasms ; the third is above
Niflhel (mist hell)."^'' So speaks the younger Edda.
It is not to be expected that the notions concerning
Yggdrasill and its different roots should be quite
clear and consistent. Of the roots the elder Edda
says,

Hel lieth beneath one ; beneath another the Hrimthursar ;
And beneath the third, Mankind.

So that men, in this case, take the position which
is appropriated to the gods in the other case. These
niceties are of small impoi'tance ; while the fiict
remains that the Norsemen, even the Icelanders, had
a clear behef in the great central earth -tree. The
notion could hardly have been indigenous in a land
so little wooded as is Iceland itself. On the other
hand, all evidence goes to show that the idea could
have been conceived only among some branch or
other of the Teutonic race.

" Edda Suorra, D. 15.

574 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

Asgard and Mannheim.

The next feature in our Eddaic world is the picture
of the human earth, Mannheim, girdled round by the
Midgard Sea, and in the centre of it the ^sir's burg
[Asgard). This is a high mountam, on the top of which
the gods dwell, and which, like the Greek Olympus,
may, according to the fancy of the behever, some-
times be thought of as rising straight from the earth,
sometimes be placed in heaven and among the clouds.
From Asburg to the sea, the land, we may imagine,
sloped continually downward, extending into great
plains, such as Ida's plain and Vegrad's plain, which
are both mentioned in the elder Edda, and of which
the last is the future battle field between the gods
and the giants. In one part of the earth was the
region of fairies, called Alfheim, the special kingdom
of the god Freyr, given to him, we are told, for a
' tooth-gift.' But, according to another belief, the
elves were scattered all over the earth, hving some-
times upon the surface, and then called Ijosdlfar
(light elves), or else living beneath the surface, and
called doJcMIfar (dark elves).

I read not long ago, in one of the magazines, an
article entitled, ' Who were the Fairies ? ' with
answer given — not given, indeed, for the first time —
that the fairies were the earlier race of stone imple-
ment-using men who preceded the Indo-Euroj^ean
races m the West. I do not assent to this theory ;
because the belief in fames is so widely spread,
that it cannot requke any particular and local
experience to account for it. If a small pre-
historic race were the origin of the fairies, then

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 575

there must have been some huge pre- historic race to
give rise to the behef in giants. But I can well go
with the author so far (and, perhaps, this is all for
which he would seriously contend) as to say that
the diminutive peoples with whom the Norsemen
came so much in contact, and who are represented to
us by the Lapps, may have realised to outward sight
the conception of fairies which had already been
formed inwardly in men's minds. Certain it is that
the elves and fames take a more conspicuous place
in Northern behef than any pigmy people do in the
classic creeds. Alfheimar, therefore, we must reckon
among the genuinely Teutonic, or at any rate among
the certainly not classic elements in the world picture
of the Eddas.

If you will let your minds rest for a moment upon
the picture which has been drawn of Mannheimar as
an island, lying in the midst of an untraversed sea —
The younger Edda says that ' the gods made a vast
ocean, and in the centre of it fixed the earth, and bold
will he be who tries to cross those waters' — and
then think of the -^su-'s mountain in the midst ol
Mannheim, you can hardly but be struck by the
Hkeness of this picture to the actual Iceland, the
cradle of the Eddas. This shows how soon men's
image of the great cosmos sliapes itself to suit
their experience of the lesser cosmos. Just as the
tree-house of northern lands suggested the earth-
tree, so the appearance of Iceland suggested Mann-
heuTi to the poets of the Eddas. That ideas should
have grown up in this way shows the people to
have been down to comparatively recent times still
in a myth-making condition, not at all barren of

576 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

imagination and belief. Of course the notion of the
earth surrounded by a sea or a river is uralt, pecuHar
to no particular nation among the Indo-Eiu'opean
family. But, as I contended in the former part of this
essay, the notion of the earth-girding river has been by
the Norsemen almost entirely lost sight of ; while, in
place of that, in obedience to the more recent know-
ledge of the Norsemen, and as an image of their more
recent home, sprang up the parallel, but by no means
identical, conception of Mannheim, as an island in
the midst of the 'vast ocean.' To the Greek the
earth was everything ; his Oceanus was thrust far
away and reduced to comparative insignificance ; to
the Norseman the sea was everything, the home of
men and of gods but an island in it.

Asbru.

I am obhged to harp rather upon this old subject
of the earth-enclosing sea and river, which otherwise
I have called the sea and river of death, because it
supplies us with some curious and very valuable
undesigned coincidences illustrating the way in
which very ancient notions have hngered undetected
and misunderstood m the northern creeds. The
primitive belief concerning the river generally comes
to mclude a bridge spanning it, over which bridge the
souls of the departed make their way to the other
world. We may call this the Bridge of Souls. The
bridge is well known in eastern Aryan creeds. In
the Vedas it is called the gods' path, and is generally
recognised (physically) to be the milky way. It
cannot always be that, however, for in one hymn its
various colours are referred to —

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 577

'Upon it they say are colours white and bhie, and In'own

and gold, and red ;
' And this path Brahma knows, and he who has known

Brahma shall take it ; he who is pure and glorious.'

Evidently here the rainbow is the bridge of
souls. In Persian mythology, again, the same bridge
is known as PulAlnvat, across which men must
pass after death, if they wish to win to para-
dise. It was from the Persians that Mohammed
adopted his Sirat, that narrow path, which spans
the eternal fire, and which is finer than the edce of
a sword. Yet, despite its narrowness, across this
the souls of the righteous will be snatched by
angels, but the soul of the wicked man, unable to
stand upon it, will straightway fall headlong into the
abyss beneath. ^^

The double nature of the Indian bridge, at once
the gods' path, i.e., the way by which the gods ride
down to earth, and the souls' path, i.e., the way by
which souls get to the other world, is worthy of
notice ; for it suggests the explanation of some points
in the Ecldaic mythology which would otherwise
remain obscure. The rainbow was called by the
Northerns Asbru, which is the same as the Indian
name, the gods' bridge. It was also called Bifrost,
'the trembling mile.' There is small hint in the
Eddas of the use of the rainbow as a path for souls,
save in that one passage which I quoted in the former
part of this paper, where the gliost of Helgi says to
his wife :

' Time 'tis for me to ride the ruddy road.
And on my horse to tread the path of flight.

^' " Sale's Koran, Introd.," p. 91.

578 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

I to the west must go o'er wind-helm's bridge,
Before Salgofnir''^ the heroes awakens.'

where the notion of a bridge of souls in the upper
air and of dead men riding over it very clearly
appears. Transferred to the underworld, the bridge is
more familiar to us as Gjoll. Of GjoU I have ah^eady
sj)oken.

We owe to the learned Adalbert Kuhn some
researches which have traced the myth of the milky
way as a bridge of souls, from its first appearance in
Eastern creeds, to its later appearance in mediseval
German tradition. ^^ Another of the names which the
milky way bears in the Vedas is Gopatha, cow-path
(perhaps cloud-path) ; this name is little altered hi the
low German form, Kau-pat, i.e., Kuhpfad. All the
German traditions concerning the milky way show
it in the light of a bridge of souls : the most re-
markable tradition of all beinof that of the wild
huntsman Hackelberg, who is, without doubt, a kind
of psychopomp. He is said, in the legends, to hunt
all the year round along the milky way, excej)t only
during the 'twelve days,' when he descends to earth
and hunts here. Puttmg side by side these different
behefs, have we not a curious chain of undesigned
coincidences testifying to the antiquity in Teutonic
mythology of that particular feature in the Eddaic
world, the Asbrii ? For we have found from the
evidence of Indian and Persian tradition, the anti-
quity of the notion of the bridge of souls among
some branches of the Indo-European race ; we have
seen from the Vedas that the bridge of souls, though

^ A m}i;hic cock.

39 Zeitschr. f. v. Sp., I.e.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 579

generally the milky way may be the rainbow ; lastly,
we have traced in German popular lore a belief
attachhig to the milky way, closely analogous to
the belief of the Indians concerning it. If we had
never heard of the Eddas, we should natiurally be led
to ask whether there were any tradition which
connected the rainbow also with the Indian bridge :
and now the Eddas come in and supply just the link
which would otherwise be lacking.

Jotunlieimar.

If we cross the midgard sea and enter Jotun-
heimar (the land of giants), we are in a region even
more entirely appropriated by the Teutonic imagina-
tion. The contest between the gods and giants is
the pivot of all Norse mythology and of all German
popular lore ; it is something utterly different from
the Gigantomachia of Greek mythology. That was
an event which happened once and for ever : the
gods triumphed, and the Giants and Titans were
driven av^ay and put out of sight and out of
thouofht. Of course the Greek knew of a far out-
world region where these Titans Hved and reigned,
of ' a land where lapetus and Kronos sit and joy
neither in the splendour of Helios Hyperion, nor in
the breath of winds, but deep Tartarus is all
around :' he knew of this, but he thought little about
it. Wherefore in Greek Hterature, when the gods
are represented engaging in fight, they must do so
with one another ; the divine race has in nature
no commensurate antitheses and autagonists to
itself. In the Norse mythology the Jotuns are the
commensurate antagonists of the ^sir ; they are

580 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

almost greater than the gods, for they were before
the ^su- were made, and the beginning and the
ending of creation are ahke with them.

The battle of the gods with the giants — or I should
rather say, with the Thursar race, which seems
to include some dwarfs also amono- its members*" —
is really a matter of the highest importance in the
Eddaic creed. The Eddas themselves scarcely show
it m its due liglit ; because the Eddas, as I have
said, only give us a picture of the rehgion in its
decline. We ourselves are likely to regard these
stories in a light very far from then" due one, because
we have been from childliood familiarised with stories
of the same kind, not raised to the height of an epic,
but sunk to the lowest level. It is hard to think of
the giants and ogres of our nursery tales as ever
haAdng a serious place in men's beliefs ; and yet we
must remember that the survival of these tales, m
shapes however diminished and degraded, is a testi-
mony to the force of that old belief. The nursery
giant is to the giant, — I do not say of the Eddas, but,
of a time before the Eddas — what the modern lizard
is to the great saurians of the lias.

In the Eddas the individual contests between
^sir and Jotnar are reduced to rather mean pro-
portions ; yet still we observe that these are almost
the only form of action which the jDoems of the elder
Edda give us. The Vafj^ru^nismal, the Alvissmdl,
the Hymiskvi^a, the prymskviSa, all the poems, in
fact, which relate any action, describe contests of this
kmd. The Yoluspa is chiefly concerned with Rag-
narok, that is, with the typical giant battle, the

« Cf. Alvissinai.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 581

consummation of all the lesser ones. The longest
story in the younger Edda is the account of Thorr's
journey to Utgard-Loki, and thisis only a single one
among his many ' farings to fight trolls ' which the
younger Edda speaks of so often. But in truth, in
the case of the giants, as in so many other instances,
the Eddas show us only one portion, or one aspect,
of the whole body of German belief ; and what we
learn from them requires to be supplemented by the
knowledge which we gain from other quarters.

If we turn from the rather trivial accounts of the
giant fights which the Eddas give us, to the much
finer picture of a similar contest to be found in
Beowulf, we mount at once from the twelfth century
to the seventh or eighth, and by so many years we
come nearer to the flourishinof ao-e of German belief.
The portrait of Grendel in Beowulf may still remind
us of the giants of our nursery tales, but the more
thoroughly we grow acquainted with the spirit of the
poet who conceived this being, the more do the
childish elements in the conception seem to fade
away. We feel convinced that, by the poet, at any
rate, and in his age, the possibility of the existence
of such beings was really believed in. In Beowulf,
moreover, we see better even than in the Eddas,
the origin of the belief in giants, and the reason why
the giants held so great a place in the Teutonic
world. The very existence of Grendel is bound up
with the lonely places where he dwells, and with
all the dark, barren, uncultured regions of the earth.
He is a heathen of heathens, in the genuine and
ancient acceptation of that word, —

VOL. XII. 2 Q

582 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

A haunter of marshes, a holder of moors,

Secret

The land he inhabits, dark, wolf-haunted ways
Of the windy hillside, by the treacherous tarn ;
Or where, covered up in its mist, the hill stream
Downward flows.

To understand the growth of such a being, we have
to recall the image of the German's world, drawn for
us by Tacitus, and to think again of the long ages
which the German had passed in his woody solitudes,
that unmense inheritance in a sense of the unknown,
and a sense of the darkness encompassmg all the
light of life, which these ages had bequeathed to
him.

This is the dominant note of German heathenism
wherever it is to be found. It breathes in that
splendid saynig of tlie thane of Eadwine which Bseda
records, that ' the life of man is like the flight of a
sparrow through a lighted room, while storms of
wind and snow rage without. The sparrow flying
in at one door is for a moment in the warmth and
light, but straightway flying out at the C)ther, it
plunges back into the darkness and the cold.' This
note the Eddas have throughout caught and repeated.
There may be in the Eddas, nay, I have already
said many times that there are, signs that the
ancient creed was then on the wane. Individual
stories and individual characters show marks of de-
gradation. But the whole image of the world pre-
sented to us in the Eddas is essentially th'^ same as
that shown us in Beowulf, and it is that which has left
its trace in all the history of German thought. Every-
where the short space of the known is contrasted

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 583

with the vast and terrible region of the unknown.
Mannheim is a httle island of life in the midst of the
vast sea, which sea is itself ringed round by the still
greater circle of dark Jotunheim. Not man s Ufe only,
but the hfe even of the gods proceeds from chaos to
chaos. The world sprang out of the genunga gap
(the gap of gaping), and after the fight of Ragnarcik,
the earth will again sink in ocean, and ' fire's breath
assail the life-giving tree,'

So far, then, as the Eddaic picture of the world is
concerned, whether we look at its general character
or at its characteristic details, all must alike be pro-
nounced genuinely Teutonic, and just such as would
be hkely to have arisen under the circumstances which
produced the Eddas. The signs of decay are, I
think, what we might expect to find, and the signs
of vigorous life are not less appropriate, because the
latter belong to the essential character of Teutonic
belief, and the former attach to details not essential.

To resume the results of these investigations : I
believe we may decide to be genuinely Teutonic,
that is to say, to have grown up naturally, and by
the legitimate slow development of a mythology,
not to have been imported wholesale from any
foreign source, the following elements in the Eddaic
system, which form the chief ingredients in it. We
have the w^orld as I have described it, with its
Asburg or Asgard, rising somewhere near the centre,
and Mannheim lying all round. Through the very
centre of the earth springs the world-tree Yggdrasill,
and from Asgard to the plain reaches downward the
gods' bridge or the rainbow. Perhaps, according to
another tradition, tin's vindhjdlms hrn, wind-cap's

2 Q 2

584 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

bridge, may span the earth-girding sea, the sea of
death. This midgard sea is essential to Teutonic
behef; so is the midgard worm, which hes curled
below, and which, I have said, is the survival of the
earlier notion of an earth-girding river. Professor
Bugge would derive him from the scriptural Levia-
than. Jotunheim is essential to Norse belief, as
the dark outer world which encloses the small safe
world. And just as this physical land of death
surrounds the land of life, so do the Jotuns outlive
the gods, or, at least, so will all the gods fall by the
powers of darkness, and chaos come again. Bagnarok,
therefore, is an essential feature of Norse mythology,
and so are those intermediate prejDaratory combats
between gods and giants of which the Eddas are so
full, and which have so conspicuous a place in German
folk-lore. The Yalkyriur, the choosers of the slain,
that is to say, the choosers of the bravest heroes from
among the dead m order that they may be translated
to Valholl, and hold themselves in readiness against
the day of Eagnarok, are essential persons ; and the
myth of the Valkyriur, though I have not had space to
treat of it, is, perhaps, the most thoroughly Teutonic
in the whole Eddaic system. And, to descend to
particular stories, I hold that those two very im-
portant ones related in the younger Edda, the journey
of Thorr to Utgard-Loki, and the death of Baldi', are
in all their main features undoubtedly genuine.

In the case of these two stories, indeed, I have, I
think, shown that in the form in which they have
come down to us they have lost something from an
earlier tradition, the traces of which still remain
distinctly visible.

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 585

§ III. — Christian Influences.

The above, then, being in my estimation the
genuine elements of the Eddaic mythology, it follows
that the spurious intrusive elements are of far less
consequence. The consideration of these brings me
in more direct contact with Professor Bugge's re-
searches ; because it may well be supposed that he
will not omit from notice in his paper any of those
parts which are open to criticism. I cannot go
along with all the criticisms which he has at present
made ; but there are certain pomts where I find
myself in agreement with Professor Bugge.

Professor Stephens says that it would be a strange
thing to find in this case a decaying belief deeply
indebted to a new rising belief ; and not, as usually
happens, the younger creed adopting a great part of
its mythology from the older. What I think does
generally happen during the contact of a new and an
old creed is this : the rismg one gives to the setting
one some part of its spirit, of its morality, if it
be in a more advanced moral condition ; of its poetry,
if it be more poetical than its forerunner ; and in
return it receives from that forerunner the frame-
work of the actual stories, the actual mythical belong-
ingfs with which it starts furnished. We find the
spirit of Brahmanism pervading the later Vedic
poems ; and we find the myths of the Yedas surviving
into Brahmanism. The same kind of thing happened
in the transition from Brahmanism to Buddhism ;
and this latter religion, which has spread its
doctrines into almost every eastern land, is found to

586 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

have adopted from almost every one some ancient
myths which were indigenous there. Once more
there can be no question that Neo-Platonism, and
other among the later forms of Paganism, were
largely imbued with the spirit of Christianity, but
these shut their ears to the actual Christian legend.
On the other hand, Christianity unsparingly adopted
Pagan myths.

Turning to tlie Eddas, we find the same thing
to have taken place with them. I feel very little
doubt that the tone of many of the Eddaic stories
is very different from what they were in pure
heathen times. In the first place a certain air
of unbelief, or at least of allegory, has been im-
ported into them. An instance of this allegorising
spirit is the introduction of Elli (old age) to fight
with Thorr in the hall of Utgard-Loki, instead
of the death goddess Hel, who, I feel sure, was his
original antagonist. The story of the binding of
Fenrir seems to me to have in many particulars a
spurious air ; and in no particular more so than in
the account of the chain named Gleipnir, composed of
the noise made by the footfall of cats, the beards of
women, the roots of stones, the sinews of bears (why
this element comes in I cannot guess), the breath of
fish, and the spittle of birds. In the Baldr's bale,
and in all the descriptions of that sun-god, there is
a deeper current of morality than belonged to the
original story. Indeed, I think the exchange of gifts
between the rival creeds is never better illustrated
than in the example of Baldr. Professor Bugge
says that the exceeding fairness of Baldr, as well as
his gentleness and goodness, are equally derived from

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 587

the Saxon ideas of Christ, who is the 'fair and
good' — ' no man so white as he ; without a spot/ as
the scourgers exclaim in the Mystere de Jesus : — and
who in the Enghsh mystery-plays is generally repre-
sented witli golden hair. But w^hence does Christ
get his golden hair ? Not certainly from the genuine
tradition of his appearance ; which tradition is
preserved in the forged letter of Lentulus, where it
is said that Christ's hair is the colour of wine. This
belief has survived in art. for the dark red tone,
commonly given to Our Lord's hair, is meant to
realise this phrase, 'the colour of wine.' Why, then,
may not the tradition of a golden-haired Saviour
spring from the tradition of a golden-haired Teutonic
sun-god ? It is certainly reckoning without our host
to say that the portrait of Baldr must have been
drawn from that of Christ, when the pictures of
Christ, from which Baldr is said to have been
copied, have all been re-painted in Northern lands.

But the exceedingly mild and loveable character
attributed to the Norse god in the Eddas — whose
name may lead us to suppose that he was once a
god of battles^this seems to be adopted from
Christian legend.

In the Voluspa, again, there are certainly some
parts wliich seem to have been added to the origmal
story. The old Norse proverb said, 'Few can see
further forth, than when Odhinn meets the wolf.' And
I believe those concluding stanzas of the Volaspa,
which tell of the rise of the new w^orld, and the para-
disaical condition of mankind which follows, to be an
almost solitary instance of the Edda borrowing a
legend from Christianity. These verses are of great

588 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

beauty, but we must, I think, reject them from the
category of the true products of heathenism. The
latter stanzas of the Voluspa include that one (the
64th), to which Professor Bugge has taken excep-
tion ; it includes, too, the verse containing the
unusual, and not truly Gotliic, word dreki, dragon.

We can easily understand why, in this one matter
of hope in the future, and in the world beyond
the grave, the decaying heathen creed was likely to
be infected by the new-born Christian one. The
same breath of an immense hope, which Mr.
Symonds*^ pictures blowing over the fields of Italy,
with the coming of Christianity, reached in time to
the snow-fields of the North, and it is in virtue of
this hope that the prophetic eye of the Vala —

Sees arise, a second time,

Earth from ocean, green again ;

Waters fall once more, the eagle flies over,

And in the fell fishes for his prey.

striking a note which is foreign to the gloomy
relio:ion of the German race.

The point of criticism from which 1 have drawn
this outline of the true Eddaic belief is, as I said
at the beginning, that of the general student of
belief; always regarding the matter in its com-
parative aspect, and not resting, if I could help it,
upon smgle examples of the facts I wished to make
prominent.

This method must certainly be the beginning
of Eddaic criticism, or of the criticism of any
mythology ; though I do not mean that criticism

" " Sludies ill Italy and Greece."

THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS. 589

can end there. We have to examine first the whole
history of the people, to seize their national
characteristics and their tone of thought, before we
can judge of the probabihty that any myth did,
or did not, spring up spontaneously among them.

I have not space left to enter into a detailed
examination of the facts which Professor Bugge has
brought forw^ard in support of his thesis. Neither
was such a detailed examination part of my original
plan. Some points I think he has satisfactorily
established ; and as regards the details of the stories
we must admit, in these instances, that they have
been taken from Christian or classical myths. An
example in point is the myth of all nature weeping
to get Baldr out of Hel's home. This detail is
clearly not essential to the original myth of Baldr,
and might easily have been drawn from elsewhere.
In certain instances, however, I think Professor
Bugge makes his facts bear a greater weight of
testimony in favour of his theory, than is legitimately
theirs. We have to consider whether his arg-ument
may not be legitimately turned round, and where
Professor Bugge asserts that the heathen myths
were influenced by Christianity, and imported by
the Vikings into Scandinavia, we may ask whether
the Vikings cannot have brought their mythology
to England, or, still more probable, whether the
heathen English may not have possessed myths of
just the same kind as those contained in the
Eddas ? I will give one example of what I mean,
and with that example end.

How does the case stand for the theory that tlie
death of Baldr by the mistletoe was a Jewish-

590 THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE EDDAS.

Christian legend ? Had Baldi' been a widely
worshipped god among the German people, even if
he had been (which we must remember Grimm
denies) originally a god of war ; still, from the form
which the legend of him took, it is quite sure
that he would come to be confounded with Christ ;
and that while his character was modified to
resemble that of the Saviom^ of mankind, the history
of Christ would be modified to take in some facts of
the myth of Baldr, It is in the highest degree
probable, therefore, that as the mistletoe had been
chiefly instrumental in the death of Baldr, it would
be made chiefly instrumental in that of Christ.
Therefore it helps the argument of Professor Bugge
no single step to show that there was a tradition
saying that the cross was made of mistletoe ; unless
this tradition can be shown to have a source elsewhere
than in England or in Germany. Without that
link of evidence, which is wanting to Professor
Bugge's argument, the fact tells the other way.
The behef in England and Germany that the cross
was made of mistletoe would, without the interven-
tion of the Eddas, be an extraordinary fact needing
to be accounted for ; and surely not adequately
accounted for on Professor Bugge's theory. The
Eddaic myth of Baldr, however, is a sufiicient
explanation of that belief

THE POPULAR LITEPtATURE OF OLD
JAPAN.

BY C. PFOUNDES, F.R.G.S., M.R.S.L.

(Eead 25tli May, 1881).

(ABSTEACT.)

The Popular Literature of Old Japan, is but one of
the many interesting branches of Oriental research, of
which but little is known generally ; and I venture
to think, that the intellectual life and literature
cultivated amongst Asiatic peoples, is worthy of
much greater attention, than has been hitherto
bestowed upon such matters in England.

The literature and intellectual occupations of
some thirty-five milhons of people, must surely be
of sufficient importance to claim examination, the
more especially that of such a nation as the
Japanese.

We must admit the wonderful extent to which
their artistic colouring, and quaint design, has
entered into our own decoration, and even our
fashions ; and I would therefore claim for this people,
that they possess a very high degree of mental
culture, great artistic instinct, and literary refine-
ment. Nor can we overlook the fact, that they
possess an ancient classical literature in common with
other Eastern Asiatic nations, that have an aggregate
population of some hundreds of millions.

592 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

Our compatriots in the East, and other foreign
residents, take but little interest in the people
amongst whom they are placed, and rarely devote
themselves seriously to the study of the litera-
ture and intellectual life of the natives. There
seems to be a general absence of mental energy,
or sufficient inducement, in some cases a want of
special training, and ample leisure, amongst the
majority of the residents, to prompt them to essay
to span the wide gulf that separates the Anglo-
Saxon from the Asiatic. Wrapped in the mantle of
our insular egotism, the native is too often despised
by our countrymen abroad ; and instead of confidence
being inspired in the minds of the higher class of
natives, these learn, too often, to avoid the alien
intruder and his surroundings, and keep him at a
distance from the homes of the refined and culti-
vated natives.

I feel assured, Japan will prove an almost
inexhaustible mine of wealth to the industrious
Orientalist ; and the Sanskrit texts, the existence of
which has been more widely made known by the
learned Max Muller, is but an instance of this. That
valuable discoveries will be made yet, in other
directions, I have been long ago convinced ; and
my own impression, that missing links of Chinese
literature will be found in Japan, are supported by
no less an authority than Alexander Wylie, Esq.,
and others.

Nearly a score of centuries ago the Japanese had
frequent communication, officially and otherwise,
with China, and in the earliest times the Ja23anese
were great travellers ; even the leaders of marauding

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. 593

expeditions of Japanese, brought back some addition
to civilization and improvement of the people.

It is remarkable that then, as now, the JajDanese
most freely placed the fruits of their travels, and
studies abroad, at the service of their fellow country-
men ; and the responsible rulers used every effort to
spread knowledge, to encourage artistic and literary
tastes, and reward scholastic success and literary
and artistic ability.

From early times, not only were refugees from
various parts of the Asiatic continent M'elcomed. but
teachers were obtained from time to time, and
Japanese of ability, statesmen, theologians, scholars,
potters, and artists, travelled afar, bringing back
from distant countries stores of knowledge and
treasures of literature. Can we doubt, therefore,
that there will be found preserved for us, intact
almost, in Japanese Literature, vast stores of
ancient Indian, Chinese, and other lore, long long
ago effaced from their native lands ? As I shall
confine myself to the popular literature of Japan
as distinct from the classical (or ancient Chinese),
I must only very briefly allude to this Chinese
element, so far as it bears on the subject, so as to
enable those to whom the subject is quite new to
clearly understand the distinction between them,
and to what extent the Japanese are indebted to
this Ancient Chinese Classic Literature. To the
modern Chinese they owe nothing, and have little
else in common with them than this classical litera-
ture.

It is recorded that the builder of the Great Wall,
who endeavoured to exterminate all scholars and

594 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

destroy the ancient classics, sent to Japan, as well
as to other countries, in search of the Elixir of
Immortality and the Philosopher's Stone. The
astute envoy, knowing that to return unsuccessful
would only be to meet a tragic fate, remained in
Japan ; and the Hatta family he founded, some two
and a-half centuries before our era, is still in existence.

There can be no doubt, therefore, but that Chinese
learning was known in Japan, to some extent at
least, if not very generally, at this early period.
Official records note, that from a Province of Korea,
then called Okara, about a century and a half
before our era, writing was introduced to Japan
for official purposes ; and later on from the same
province (subsequently re-named Mimana) scholars
and men of literature crossed to Japan to settle and
teach. It was, however, in the third century of our
era, that the Dowager Empress, after the conquest of
Korea, obtained teachers and books to instruct the
Japanese at court, and her son. In the early part of
this third century, one Wa ni or Onin became the
tutor of the Emperor's son, and a fresh and vigorous
impetus to the spread of Chinese literature was the
result. This is the period usually described, and
erroneously I think, as that of the first introduction
of Chinese writing to Japan.

Efibrts do not appear to have been wanting at
even a very early age to adapt the cumbrous Chinese
system to the wants of the Japanese. In some early
writmgs the Chinese characters were to some extent
used as phonetics. There is, in some early com-
position, doubt and confusion as to the meaning of
many of the passages, especially where the context

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAX. 595

leaves it open, whether the vakie of the written
character should be taken in the phonetic, hiero-
glyphic, or ideographic sense.

Gradually the knowledge of Chinese spread, until
it has become to Eastern Asia very much what
Greek and Latin is to us, and requires a like special
study in Japan, as in the various parts of the
Chinese Em^oire and adjacent countries.

In Japan many literary irregularities grew up, and
were allowed to go on unchecked, until more recent
times. Many new forms of characters, unknown in
Chma, also crept into general use, and in time the
inconvenience of not having a more simple form of
syllabary, or an alphabet, became more and more
apparent. Those learned persons who had studied
Pali, Sanskrit, and other Western literatures and
languages, and some of those who had visited India
and other far off lands, endeavoured to meet this
want. Eventually a system was adopted, which is
attributed to Ku Kai or Koho dai shi (in the 9th
century a.d.). A limited number of Chinese charac-
ters appear to have been chosen, as having the
nearest phonetic value for the syllabary, as then
arranged, classified under the heading of nine con-
sonants and five vowels, the vowel being m all cases
preceded by the consonant. Two distinct syllabaries
have come down to us, one derived from the square
Chinese writing, and the other from the cursive ; of
this latter, in some cases, there are several characters
for each syllable, used arbitrarily under certain fixed
rules.

The contrast, between the Chinese composition
and the Japanese, being very marked in ancient

596 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

and modern writings, there is great diversity ;
this is one of the most piizzlmg matters the student
has to contend with. Popular composition is a
compromise between these, and the greater the
classical learning of the writer, the more frequently
does the composition closely approach the Cliinese
style. Numerous pedantic, and to the tyro difficult,
quotations are contmually being met with, and the
habit of only giving a catch word (or character) as
it were, presuming the rest to be known, increases
the labour of the alien student.

We have here in the more popular, and more
easily deciphered, colloquial style of the literature of
the common people, a curious, and I think an unparal-
leled instance, of a phonetic system, in conjunction
with, yet subordinate to, a more elaborate ideo-
graphic system, based on hieroglyphics. To under-
stand the literature, it is in this case absolutely
necessary to know the character in which it is written ;
but it is no easy task to explain this point, to those
who are only acquainted with an alphabetic, or
purely phonetic, writing. The peculiarity here
consists in the fact that the eye is appealed to, and
not the ear, and each character, or group of charac-
ters, convey distinct ideas, material or abstract as
the case may be, totally independent of the phonetic
value, to a greater or less extent. There is, however,
a frequent inversion of sound (or phonetic value) and
meaning (or ideographic value) that leaves room for
the exercise of an extensive display of literary
ability, and much pedantry. The composer has a
wide scope, and if possessed of the necessary know-
ledge and ability, has command of a power of

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. 597

expression, with wonderful depth of meaning, and
numerous facihties for condensation of allusion
and quotation, that is not only something sur-
prisingly vast, but also totally impossible in a purely
phonetic writing. This is well worthy of our
earnest attention.

The official compilation of annals, and the col-
lection of material for ancient records, stimulated
literature in the fifth century ; and when the
man\]facture of paper was introduced later on,
learning became much more general, as would
naturally be the case, paper being more readily
obtainable than it was during the period whilst
foreign supplies solely had to be depended upon.

It should be noted that the diffusion of knowledge
amongst the people, was from the earliest times
always kept prominently in view, by the statesmen
and rulers of Old Japan ; and that the men of to-
day are not backward in this matter is a well known
fact.

Official education, though no doubt ostensibly for
the training of efficient public servants and officials,
was a most useful means for fostering a love of
learning amongst all classes of the people. A
healthy spirit of emulation existed amongst aspirants
for office and Imperial fivour, stimulated by the
competition for literary success and fame.

During the latter part of the seventh century
some new phonetic characters were brought forward
by Imperial mandate ; and as at this time there was
frequent intercourse with Corea, it is not easy to say
whether these were Corean, or that Corea obtained
these non-Chinese characters from Japan. There is

VOL. XIL 2 R

598 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

a striking similarity between the two systems, as
shown by the specimens still extant ; SoJca-ibe no
Muraji Ishi-tsiime is the name of the person to
whom the invention of these characters is attributed
by native annalists.

Some earlier characters are said to have existed,
but I am not in possession of sufficiently avithentic
particulars to make it worth while, even were it
advisable, to enter upon the subject here.

From the seventh century, A.D., official positions
and honours were freely bestowed upon persons emi-
nent in literature ; and libraries were formed for the
purpose of facilitatmg study, and literary research.

Printing w^as introduced at this early period ; it is
stated that a Budhist Canon was printed the first
[Darani).

In the thirteenth century, public libraries of an
extensive character w^ere founded ; and later on, in
settled times, and peaceful localities, circulating
libraries were established by private enterprise.

The larger Institutions contained classical works,
and the latter, as now, circulated principally the
popular historical romances, collections of poems,
legends and light literature, romances, stories of
magic, wonder tales, Budhist literature, &c. These
latter have been always written with an admixture
of phonetics and Chinese characters, and in the
same style of composition as the colloquial of the
educated, with a few variations in the arbitrary
construction of sentences, etc., and in the gram-
matical inflexions.

Printing, I should have explained, was by means
of wood blocks, two pages usually being printed

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. 599

at once, and the sheet folded, the fold bemg the
edge of the volume, and on it tlie running title. No.
of volume, chapter and page, etc., being printed.

In the fifteenth century moveable types, made
of wood, were known, but do not appear to have been
used to any very great extent, the facsimile of the
author's MSS. being esteemed. Kecently however,
the fonts of types made for the Mission press
have been largely supplemented, and the current
literature, periodicals, and newspapers are mostlv
printed by those types now. A large number of
types, amounting to several thousand, are requisite
for a well furnished printing establishment, and the
work of the compositor is no easy task, it may be
credited.

In recent times there was a revival of the ancient
Japanese literature, in conjunction with that of the
study of " Pure Shin To " (or the Divine Path), the
ancient creed. [Vide Mr. Satow's book thereon.)

In the latter part of the seventeenth century
Keichiu, a Budhist priest, also Kada no Adziima-
maro, together with a pupil, Kamo no Mahuchi,
studied the " true meanings " of the old Japanese,
and devoted themselves to the examination of all
available works on the subject.

Motonori Norinaga, a pupil of Mahuchi, Murata,
Kato, and others continued the researches,

Hanawa Hokitcki established a school in Baiicho,
a district of Yedo, about A. d. ]793, but subsequently
removed to South Shinagawa ; he retired into
private life about 1821, after having treated on
3,376 subjects, in 1,715 volumes. The school was
continued down to recent times.

2 R 2

600 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

This modern revival is curiously coincident witli
ovir own very recent revival of the study of Cornish,
Welsh, and other old dialects, folk lore, etc., and
other antiquarian and archaeological enquiry. The
ancient Japanese literary style seems to have been,
so far as can be judged now, possessed of rich
ornamentation, and to have been harmonious in
sound, and graceful. The older lyrics are in their
style very florid, as may be seen in the Koden
(Ancient Records) collections of legends, etc., in
the Notto, the ancient songs of praise, of the Shinto
pre-Budhistic faith. The Semmio (proclamations of
ancient times) were written in large characters,
with smaller characters interspersed as auxiliaries,
to denote the grammatical inflections, etc.

In giving translations, together with some selec-
tions of the vernacular, I must candidly state that
I have failed to fully satisfy myself, for when I
translated first word by word, then took each
sentence, and again the whole piece, and finally
essayed to condense the result, to the limits of the
original, much of the meaning either became
altogether omitted or obscurely rendered in the
process.

I have but rarely seen satisfactory work in
translation ; however, craving indulgence, I must
refer to the educated Japanese for more satisfactory
renderinof. of the meaniiiaf of this beautiful old time,
prose and metrical composition.

The following is a " paternoster " of the ancient
faith, the Smnto or Divine Ptlia, that I have
essayed to " do " into English.

THE POPUL2VR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. GOi

SAI-YO NO ON HAKAI.

Ta-ka-ma no ha-ra ni to-do-ma- ri-ma-shi-ma-su. Su-me
mu-tsu ka-mi ro-gi ka-mi ro-mi no mi-ko-to wo mo-tsu-
te. Ho-na-tsu no-tsu-to no fu-to no-tsu-to no ko-to no-re-
ka-ku no-ra-ba tsu-mi to i-u ts-u-mi to-ga to i-u to-ga wa a-
ra-ji mo-no wo to ha-ra-i ta-ma-ye ki-yo-me ta-ma-fu to
mo-u-su ko-to no yo-shi wo mo-ro mo-ro no on ka-mi ta-clii
sa-wo slii-ka no ya-tsu no on mi-mi wo fu-ri ta-te-te ki-ku
sbi-me-se to mo-u-su.

High celestial plains, wherein abide myriads of spirits
most supreme. Most gracious, all powerful. In substance
godlike, in intellect divine. To whom are offered up these
songs of praise. Freedom both now and ever more, from
sinfulness and guilt, deserving punishment, is craved. Pure-
ness of thought, nobility of deed, prosperity and bliss
bestow. Hosts of divines, oh stay thine ears, give heed to
these our songs of Praise.

The Ise Monogatari and Taketori Monogatari are
said to have existed before the more authentic Tosa
NikJci of Kino TsurayuJd. These were written in
the hybrid style, that is still to some extent
perpetuated in the official documents, and the
complimentary correspondence of the educated.
There are a great many higlily esteemed works
of the various periods ; and the numerous catalogues
of books, and lists of noted authors, are very
voluminous.

Poetry being the most esteemed by the high born,
well educated, and intellectual native, we may take it
next in order. Recently a valuable addition has
been made to our knowledge of ancient Japanese

602 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

poetry, and from the information contained therein,
and Mr. Basil Hall Chamberlain's very generous gift
of books to the Asiatic Society, the student may
gain some shght idea of the extent of the material
yet awaiting the translator.

I would, however, strongly recommend the student
to compare the originals with any translations that
appear, for such are not always entirely satisfactory,
from the fact that there are few foreigners who
possess the knowledge of the native hterature, and
at the same time the necessary ability to faithfully
render the originals. Creditable though the w^ork
already done may be, it is not perfection, and often
fails to give the reader the full and true sense, and
depth of meaning, of the origmals.

Some years ago, I made a collection of a number
of the most esteemed compositions of the poets of
Old Japan, arranged chronologically ; and I had
hoped thus to be able to compare the work of the
various periods, and to study each in detail, and
eventually to essay a translation with notes, but the
want of sufficient leisure precluded my completing
this project.

The popular form is a verse, composed of five
lines, divided into an upper portion of three lines of
five, seven, and five syllables, or seventeen in all,
and a lower portion of two lines of seven syllables,
each of fourteen syllables, together thirty- one
syllables.

The fines of five and seven syllables alternately
are very popular for longer compositions, but there
are other forms, some derived from the Chinese,
and some evidently purely indigenous.

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. 603

The thirty-one syllable poems are often written
on beautifully artistic slips of ornamental paper,
fourteen inches long and about three broad. The
collection of one hundred verses are in this form.
Some are written on square, and on quaintly sliaped
forms.

Honka is a variation of the foregoing, but read
somewhat diflerently.

Zootokci is also similar, but demands an impromptu
response in a like poetic strain.

Sei do oka is also similar in form, but the begin-
ning and ending must be with characters synony-
mous, though not necessarily of similar sound.

Kioka is a variation of the ordinary thirty-one
syllable poem.

Omugayashi is hke Zootoka, excepting that in the
response only one character, whether of one or more
syllables, must be changed, so as to form a response ;
herein consists the merit, and it is a somewhat severe
test to the abihty and erudition of those engaged
in these friendly literary encounters, of which the
Japanese gentry have been always extremely
partial.

Oriku is something of an acrostic, the first syllable
of each Hne being given arbitrarily, upon which to
form the composition.

Hai Kai contains much verbal play, and the
inversion of sound and meaning is frequently had
recourse to in order that a double meaning of a poem
may be possible.

In Renga the upper portion of three lines is
answered by the addition of the lower two lines.

These latter two are called Tsideai, " Matching
or Pairing together," or joining verses.

604 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

Hokku consist of poems of five, seven, five, or
seventeen syllables.

Sen riu is also of seventeen syllables.

Nine, six, and eight syllable verses are to be met
with. A few specimens may suffice to illustrate this
part of the subject, without entering into further
details.

The earliest poem is attributed to Sosa-no-o no
mikoto, who rescued a maiden, destined to be the
annual propitiating sacrifice to the eight-headed
demon dragon of the mountains, and as his reward
she became his spouse.

Ya ku-mo ta-tsu (5)

I-dzu-mo ya-ye-ga-ki (7)

T'sii-ma go-mi ni (5)-(l7)

Ya-ye-ga-ki tsu-ku-ru (7)

So-no ya-ye-ga-ki wo (7)-(14)

The literal translation but faintly reproduces the
valorous meaning of the original, that, from its
being composed on the occasion of the rescue, it
might be supposed to contain —

Myriad clouds amassed

Eound Idzumo craggy heights

The maiden placed within

A strong fence round her raised

That doth from harm protect her.

The allusion in the original being to the cloud
clad heights, and the strong arm of the rescuer, who
for the future is her protector and lover.^

» See Folk Lore Society Record, vol. i. Japan Folk Tales.
- Sii' Edward Reed has done me the honour not only to quote
mv translation of this and some other matters, but he has also

THE POPULAR LITERATUHE OF OLD JAPAN. 605

Mr. Aston has rendered the same idea in some-
what different words.

Many ancient and modern celebrities are credited
with poems, and innumerable pieces are founded on
mythological, legendary, and historical incidents that
are widely known and popular.

When the shrine of the "Mother of Japan,"
TenshoJco Dai Jingu, was removed, it is related that
the divine spirit descended to earth, and composed
a farewell poem, addi^essed to the people of the
locality.

To Jin 7nu, B.C. 660, is ascribed one of fifty-two
syllables (of five, seven, five seven, five six, five, six,
seven — or four of five, three of seven, and two of six —
syllables).

One of the ordinary five line thirty-one syllable
verses, may be read in ten different ways, by trans-
position of the five lines comprised — it is attributed
to one of the three great poets called

KaJci no moto no liito maro.

1 Ho-no-bo-no-to

2 A-ka-shi no o-u-ra

3 A-sa gi-ri-ni

4 Shi-ma ka-ku-re yu-ku

5 Fu-ne no shi-dzu-o mo.

These literary curiosities are often to be met with in
Japanese literary prose, and metrical composition.
Many of the popular pieces are to be seen

acknowledged his sources ; many who have freely criljbed from the
numerous contributions of the earlier workers in this field, have failed
to thus honestly acknowledge the original source of their material.

606 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

accompanied by a sketch, and the conventional forms
of these sketches are well understood by the
Japanese ; they are a fruitful source of art motive
in decorative design, so that even the poorest may
be seen surrounded with sketches that are suggestive
of the literary gems of the country.

A sketch most frequently to be met with is that
of a branch of the early blossoming j^lum, on which
is perched a Httle bird. This is in allusion to the
following poem : —

Ha-ru sa-me ni (5)

Shi-p-po-ri nu-ru-ru (7)

U-gu-i-su no (5)

Ha-ka-se ui ni-yo wo (7)

U-me-ga ka no (5)

Ha-na ni ta-wa-mu-re (7)

Shi-wo ra-slii ya (5)

Ko-to-ri de sa-ye-mo (7)

Hi-to su-ji ni (5)

Ne-gu-ra sa-da-mu-ru (7)

Ki ga M-to-tzu (5)

Wa-ta-sli'a u-gu-i-su (7)

Nu-shi wa u-me (5)

Ya-ga-te 0-shi-ku-bai (7)
Ja-wa-i-ja na (5)

In early spring
With fluttering wing
The nightingale,
The flowers perfume
Of fragrant plum
Scents on the breeze.

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. 607

Too entranced to roam
ObKvious to all but one,
Tho' but a tiny bird
A faithful heart
And single mind.
I would I were the nightingale
And you the sweet plum flower,
To sip the nectar from the bud
As those best can who love.

The son of the Emperor on his return from the
north victorious, early in the second century, thus
addressed one of his retainers.

Ni-i ba-ri ya
Tsu-ku-ba wo i-de-te
I-ku ya ka ne-tsu-ru

Ka-ga-ne-ye-te

Since o'er the paths

Of Tsukuba hill we went,
How many nights

Have we in slumber spent,
Count them.

The impromptu reply was : —

Yo ni wa ko-ko-no ya
Hi ni wa to-o-ka wo

Nights there were nine
Days there were ten.

There is a play on words, quite beyond a possibility
of rendering, without the Chinese;, and elaborate
explanation.

The scholar who crossed over from Corea, diuing

608 THE POPULAR LJTEE,ATCJE,E OF OLD JAPAN.

the latter part of the third century, to teach the
Emperor's son, is said to have composed this poem :

Na-ni wa dzu ni
Sa-ku-ya ko-no ha-na
Fu-yu go-mori
Ima wa ha-ru be to
Sa-ku-ya ko-no ha-na

In the city of waves of flowers

The lovely blooming pkiui
In winter had not budded.

But now the spring has come
The trees are blossom studded.

The second and fifth lines read alike, but have a
different meaning, which can be but vaguely rendered
in Enghsh.

The ladylove of an Emperor of the fifth century
grew weary of waiting his promised visits ; noticing
a little spider suspended by its web from the
ceiling, the following impromptu suggested itself
to her :

Wa-ga se-ko ga
Ku-be-ki yo-i na-ri
Sa-sa ga-ni no
Ku-nio no fu-ru-mai
Ka-ne-te shi-ru-shi mo

That lover of mine

To night is surely coming
For the little crabbed way

In which this spider moves

Must doubtless have such meaning.

A specimen of popular nagauta, long intoned reci-
tation, is called Oi Matsu, (pine tree).

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. 609

Shin no shi ko,

Mikari no toki,

Ten niwaka ni kaki kuniori,

Tai yu shikirini fuii sliikaba,

Mikado ame wo shwogan to.

Ko matsu no kage ni

Tatclii yoreba

Kono Matsu taclii-maclii tai boku to nari

Yeda wo tare ha wo kasane

Kono ame wo Morasaza nari

Shikaba Mikado

Tai yu to iu shaku wo

Kono matzu ni okuri

Tama ishi yori

Matzu wo Tai yu to mousu to kaya

Shin no Shiko

A hawking did go,

The clouds they lowered

Down the rain poured,

Ho, the Emperor must not get wet.

The old pine tree

Good shelter would be.

Beneath its shade did he go.

The branches bent and the leaves folded so

Through the leaves the rain did not get.

'Twas the Emperor's whim.
That the pine tree be given.
Of honours a deluge, in name,
This is just how it came
To be called "wait while the rain pours"
e'en yet.^

' Quoted by Mr. Dickens in his recent translations.

610 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

A sketch, occasionally seen on Japanese work, is
that of a man in armour slaying a fabulous animal
with an ape's head, a tiger's body and claws, and a
serpent's tail. This was a monster that haunted an
Emperor, (a.d. 1153.)

The brave man that slew it with an encha,nted
arrow was presented a sword, and raised to high
honours.

At the presentation, the flight of a passing cuckoo
suggested this impr(nnptu —

Hoto to gisu

iSTaomo kumoini
Igura kana

Yorimasa, who was not only a good marksman but
also learned, immediately finished the couplet by
answering —

Yumi liari tsuki no
Aru ni maka sete.

To his great credit as a man of ready wit as well
as of valour. This may be rendered : —

The Cuckoo

Up to the clouds
How does it soar ?

The wanmg moon
Sets not at will.

But as the allusion is to Yorimasa, and his
elevation to high Imperial favour, it may be taken
thus : —

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. 611

Like to a cuckoo

That high doth fly
How is it thus.

I only bent my bow
That's what sent the shaft.

Long, long ago a great chieftain of the Yedo
district was "caught in the rain," and meeting a rustic
maiden, asked for a rain cloak in a jestmg way.

Here is her witty reply : —

ISTa-na ye ya ye
Ha-na wa sa-ke-do-mo
Ya-ma-bu-ki no
Mi-no no sto-tzu da ne
Na-ki ka-na-shi

Literally

Seven or eight petals

The flowers they bloom
The Keria Japonica

Bears neither fruit or seed

Naught, so sad.
Or,

I have not that which I can lend,

Tho' flowers bud and expand ;
In this lone mountain valley end,

There are no rain cloaks here to hand.

That there is not I grieve.

There is a personal allusion in the original, and a
play upon words conveying a double meaning that
cannot be concisely rendered.

Her ready wit obtained for the rustic beauty high
position, and the influence gained was exercised by
her to aid men of letters, who received much
patronage through her intervention.

612 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

A popular verse is : —

U-me wa sai ta-ka
Sa-ku-ra wa ma-da ka-i-e-na
Ya-na-gi ya nai-nn-nai-no
Ka-se slii-dai

Ya-ma-bu-ki ya iiwa-ke-de
Iro ba-ka-ri

Shi-on-gai-na

The plum trees have blossomed,

The cherries not yet;

The willows sway,

As the winds direct ;

The Keria (Japonica) inconstant

Love (and colour) affect

And oh, for it there is no help.

The following was composed by a Japanese
gentleman'* who formerly held a high official position,
and who rendered me valuable aid in recent years,
collating, correcting, and elaborating, the crude notes
and gleanings of the earlier days of my residence in

Japan.

Ya-ma-to- u-ta
0-shi-te shi-ra-ra-ru
A-zu-sa yn mi
Hi-ku ya sa-wa na-ru
S'hto ko-ko-ro-mo

Of Yamato's muse
A knowledge acquire ;
The bow strung for use
May bend at desire ;
The heart of the people also.

The next most important, and perhaps more widely
popular, subject is the drama. The histrionic art

'^ Naka no Echizen no Kami.

THE POPULAR LITERATUEE OF OLD JAPAN. 613

deserves separate treatment, as well as the popular
legends, wonder stories, and historical incidents, that
form such a large proportion of the plots of the
pieces dramatized.

The habitues of the Japanese theatre are just as
conversant with the popular plays, as are our own
theatre goers who have Shakespeare " off by heart."

The tale of the 47 Loyal Retainers has been
made familiar to us by Mr. Mitford and Mr. Dickens.

Soga, a tragedy, is the revenge of the murder of
their father by two brothers. The scene is laid in the
twelfth century.

Sendai Hagi, founded on the attempts to poison
the heir of a great prince ; the foster-mother
sacrificed her own child, substituting him for the
real heir, a heroic act, highly esteemed.

Imo se Yama, the story of Hinadori, a beauty
as fair as frail, and her lover KogcmostiJce, a tale of the
sixteenth century.

Kagami Yama, a story founded on some palace
intrigues. A pawnbroker's daughter was one of the
ladies in waiting, who M'as plentifully supplied with
money by her rich though plebian friends; another lady
in waiting, the daughter of a proud and impoverished
family, was jealous of the other ; each of these had
their own maids. The family of the lady by birth,
as well as that of her maid, were deeply indebted to
the pawnbroker.

In the quarrels that ensued the well-born girl
challenged her rival to a trial of arms (for in those
days the gentry taught their daughters the rules of
fence, so that they might protect their honour in case
of need). The maid of her of good birth, however,

VOL. XTT. 2 S

614 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

took up the quarrel of her mistress. The virtuous and
well born, of course, were victorious.

The wars of the rival factions, in the eleventh and
twelfth centuries, furnished a fruitful source of story
to the " Harrison Ainsworths " and " Walter Scotts "
of Old Japan.

Another tale of court intrigue, and the devoted
loyalty of the retainer, is preserved in the story of
Sugawara no Michizane.

The tale of the faithful Yayegaki hime relates how
she treasured the portrait of her betrothed Katzuyori,
and shed tears when she gazed lovingly upon it,
grieved that she could not share his dangers and his
hardships ; when she heard of his death, the portrait
was hung up and her devotions duly and regularly
performed in its presence, but she pined away. He
was not killed, however, and she soon regained her
health. The parents were enemies, but the lover,
anxious to meet his mistress, passed through many
adventures and much danger in his endeavours.
He succeeded in entering the service of her family as
a gardener, aided by enchantment, and a fox, which
he had in some way befriended, and which proved
grateful. They were never married, and the end is
very tragic, containing many pathetic scenes, that for-
cibly appeal to the sympathetic audience of Japanese.

There is a legend of a famous dog Yatsubusa, or
the nine-tailed, which, being ordered by its master to
bring him the head of his greatest enemy, made a
compact that the reward for success should be
Fusehime the beautifLd daughter. The head was
obtained, and the result a great victory ; when the
lady was claimed she fled to the hills, but stooping

THE POPULAR LITERATITRE OF OLD JAPAN. 615

at a well to drink, she saw only the reflection of a
large dog ; placing her Budhist rosary over her head,
she was enabled to recognise her own features.
Fusehime had a lover who, hearing of the matter,
shot the dog, but she became a maniac, and com-
mitted suicide ; her spirit gave birth to eight spirits,
that flew to the four quarters of the world, and the
four intermediate points, entering into eight children
that were just born. The adventures of these eight
are related by the author Bakhin, and the story is
popular, as placed on the Japanese stage.

Jnaha Genji is an adaptation of a story written
by Ta7iehiJco, relating the adventures and mishaps
of a Japanese Don Juan, that amuse the native
audiences immensely.

Hiza Kure Ge, or " Shanks Mare," is the account of
the adventures of Yajirohe and his boon companion
Kidahatchi, during a pedestrian trip between Yedo
and Miako ; it is full of broad jest and coarse
humour.

There is the pitiful tale of the greengrocer's daugh-
ter Osiclii, who fell in love, and wishing to see her
lover, set fire to a house, thinking that was the only
way to have the guard-gates opened, so that she might
pass freely. The sequel shows that she has been the
dupe of a band of robbers, they being punished in her
stead.

Miage no shinohu is an interestmg drama that

exposes the many dreadful phases of the social evil,

in its tale of a poor girl entrapped, but finally rescued.

Oshun and Demhei were two lovers who died in a

loving embrace, rather than live apart.

The loves of Choyemon, aged 40, ond of Ohan, a

2 s 2

616 THE POPULAR LITERATUFtE OF OLD JAPAN".

little girl, are a source of much mirth to the
Japanese, who ridicule unequal marriages.

A young girl, the daughter of an hotel keeper, fell
in love with a priest ; he fled across the river and hid
himself from temptation under the temple bell. The
power of her love and jealousy turned her into a
dragon ; winding herself round the bell, it became a
molten mass, consuming both herself and her lover.

Stories of foxes taking the forms of beautiful
women, and beguiling prince and peasant, are also
numerous. As also of badgers, as handsome young
men, w^ho mislead frivolous maidens.

The Chinese element is constantly appearing, and
it would be as difiicult to free Japanese of this, as to
entirely eradicate the Greek and Latin, Irom the
writings of our own scholars.

Story telling hardly comes wdthin the limits of
this paper; there are, or rather were, numbers of pro-
fessional story tellers, a sort of Japanese troubadore.

There are many Japanese stories that would furnish
material for thrilling narratives ; and human nature
is very much the same all the w^orld over, so that
the heroic, the pathetic, the humorous, and the vile
and wicked, are, of course, to be met with in Japan
as elsewhere.

The superficial observer may essay to scoff and
sneer at a people, his acquaintanceship with whom
has not been to him a creditable experience.
Yet I venture to affirm that in Old Japan
there were maids, sweethearts, wives, and widows,
capable of noble conduct, and actuated by senti-
m.ents worthy of being copied. There were men
whose manhood would put to shame the modern

THE POPULAR LITEKATUKE OF OLD JAPAN. 617

mannish individual of the period — miscalled " gentle-
man." Japanese were in most instances actuated by
the true instincts of the gentleman, and after many
a happy year's residence, I can make comparisons,
conscientiously speaking, that are not always as
favourable to my own countrymen, as to the people
of Old Japan.

From our standpoint no doubt the people are far
behind. Yet with all their faults there is much to
love, much to sincerely admire, and perhaps not a
little to condemn. But can ive cast the first stone '?*
Is our literature so pure, or our daily life so unselfish?

Amongst the popular authors of Old Japan the
following deserve notice so far as space wall permit : —

Kiosan, who was to Japan what Dean Swift w^as
to our forefathers.

Kioden, whose tales we may compare to those of
Smollett and Fielding ; too broad, perhaps, to bear a
too literal translation, yet withal far superior to much
of the somewhat too suggestive hterature of our
own day.

Ikhu was a humorist of no mean talent, and he
has many competitors.

Samba tried the same line as our own Thackeray,
and levelled the keen shaft of ridicule at abuses and
follies, not to his own personal advantage so much
as to that of his ow^n countrymen.

Hokuha was a veritable Wilkie Collins, whilst
BahUn wrote moral essays, or rather popular stories
w4th moral intent. Some of his stories were laid in
China, and he is to Japan what Scott \\'as to the
Land o' Cakes. There is many a good story told
about this specimen of the Japanese Bohemian,

618 THE POPULAK LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

who like his brother nearer home, was one of the im-
pecunious, for does not the Japanese wise saw say
that " w^iilst the rich are stingy scholars are poor."

Tane hiko, the author of Inaka Genji, gives a very
accurate pictui^e of the life of Old Japan just before
the country was re-opened in our own time. His
too true picture drew down upon him the enmity of
officials in power, and he was degraded from office,

Tame-naga ShinSui, and many others, wrote
pieces for the stage.

Of the works most popular, time will only permit
of a brief notice of a very few.

Sichi YaKura, or the pawnbroker's storehouse, and
the adventures of the pledges, related by themselves,
is a most interesting" collection of odds and ends of
family and national history. The assistant, who had
been " on the spree," hid himself in the w^arehouse, and
falling asleep was locked in for the night ; waking
up parched, hungry, and chilly, he thought he heard
voices, and fearing that it might be robbers, he
cautiously kept in hiding ; by-and-bye, however, the
pledges began to move about, and to take form, and
became endowed with speech : they held a formal
meeting and resolved themselves into a society of
story tellers.

Folk lore students, antiquarians, and archaeo-
logists, would be delighted, no doubt, if here in " Old
England" the transmigration of souls would take this
practical form of disentangling the mazy thread of the
story of many a cmious thing.

Uji Shi u I Mono-gatari, is a collection of tales
composed by a high official, who spent his vacation
in managing a wayside resting place, where all

THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN. 619

comers were welcome, and entertained free of charge,
but each one must recount an adventure, or con-
tribute some legend or bit of folk lore, or curious
story, Japanese or foreign.

Inaka Zoshi,
Haku Sho Den,
Fu So 0 Ko To Ki,
and many other voluminous works, some of which it
would take weeks to read through, were to be found
in every circulating library, whilst the romances are
almost as numerous and evanescent as our sixpenny,
shilling, or three volume novel.

The " penny dreadful " has happily not yet reached
Japan, but I regret to say the first years of popular
journalism in Japan was marked by a deterioration in
the tone of popular hterature so pronounced that the
government had, though most unwillingly, to interfere
and call upon the Foreign Powers to support them.

Proverbial lore is abundant, of which the follow-
ing are specimens : —

Go about like a cur, and run against the stick.

Argument after proof.

Flowers after cakes.

Scolding children makes them callous.

Bone breaking the loss, fatigue the gain.

Dust accumulates and becomes a mountain.

A cracked pot with a patched lid.

Through a small reed to view the firmament.

Good physic is bitter.

Firstborn (children) the greatest anxiety.

Be careful to be careful.

Crying faces are stung by wasps.

With joy comes sorrow.

Falsehood takes the road, truth hides.

From falsehood cometh out truth.

620 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

To give in and win.

None such bad writers as those that do not

care to write.
The master's favourite red cap.
Hiding the head, and the tail left unconcealed.
The wen above the eye.
From the blade exudes rust.
Ignorant bliss.

The poor are without leisure.
Dream of Kioto. Dream of Osaka.'

That there is much that can be copied I would not
venture to affirm ; that v^e can learn something, how-
ever, I do most sincerely believe. In every civiliza-
tion, the deep thinker may find much food for
earnest thought, and perchance practical results may
accrue. To the astrologer and alchymist we owe
much, more than we often wdUingly acknowledge.
Yet it is passing strange that although we here in
England, and Londoners more particularly, have
vast interests at stake in these far off" lands, there is
hardly anywhere so difficult to arouse interest, or
where so little is known of these far off coun-
tries. Whilst I ride my own hobby I hope others will
put forward information regarding the country each
knows best of. There are some like myself who have
a hobby, I am most grateful to mine, it has often
occupied much time tliat otherwise might have been
wasted or perhaps misused. I freely acknowledge
that the object I have in pushing my hobby is a
selfish one to some extent ; cut off from further
research — amongst the natives — I have been desirous
of stunulating those who have opportunities, to push

' See "Fuso Mimi Bukum," by C. P. (Trubiier) for the Japanese
originals of these.

THE POPULAR LITER ATUKE OF OLD JAPAN. 621

those enquiries, that I would have been delighted to
pursue, whilst using my own little gleanings as a
bait to such to follow up this interesting line of
investigation.

One important point dawned upon me years ago.
Whilst the Chinese had stopped short, many
centuries ago, the Japanese had made a step, and
only a step, in advance, by the introduction of pho-
netics, I would go further. Whilst spelling reform
advocates have been uselessly haggling over trifles,
whilst the advocates of a universal langfuaofe have
wasted their energies to no purpose, I would wish
that it be remembered that hitherto we have been
treated as blind persons, the power of the eye has
been ignored. Whilst telegraphy, steam, and a thou-
sand and one things in science and mechanics have
tended to progress, we still lag in this matter of
reducing our thoughts to writing, still adhering to
the old slow cumbrous process that even shorthand
is bat an imperfect remedy for. Let us begin
where the Chinese stopped short, and cast off
all preconceived notions, investigating the matter
from an entirely fresh point of view. In speaking
of Chinese and of Japanese, I do not for a moment
propose the adoption of that system, but I admit
that it was whilst working at the Chinese and
Japanese, translating, with Eogets' Thesaurus m
my hand, that an idea occurred to me that has
day by day gained strength and conviction. The
more I heard of the advocates of spelling reform,
and universal language, the more I became convinced
that something else must be tried. I would
strike at the root of the matter, and have a

622 THE POPULAR LITERATURE OF OLD JAPAN.

universal writing that would appeal to the eye of
all. Let each nation have its own language and own
indigenous literature, and instead of a multitude of
languages, one common system of written commu-
nication, based upon a practical and scientific method,
wherein simplicity, and freedom from possibihty of
error, would be attained. It would be no more
difficult to retain m the visual memory a number
of set forms than it is now to remember the correct
spelling of many thousands of words, together with
the various meanings of certain words spelled alike
and those very nearly so, to say nothing of those
speUed differently with the same sound, further
explanation of how I propose to do this must now
be deferred.

My intention was not to give an exhaustive
account of Japanese literature, but rather to excite
attention to it with a hope that other and more
able enquirers may follow up this wide, and as yet
almost untouched, field of interesting literary re-
search, the Popular Literature of Old Japan.

[For further particulars, see Papers by C. P., in Folk Lore Eecord.
Journal Society of Arts.
Transactions of Birmingham Philosophical Society.

,, „ Eoyal Historic Society.

„ „ Anthroi3ological Institute].

l>'^

THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING
REFORM.

BY F. G. FLEAY, M.A.

(Read November 24, 1880.)

Before entering on the systematic exposition of
the method, by which I propose to extricate spelhng
reformers from the dead-lock to whicli Dr. Ingleby
reduced them in the vahiable paper to which I was
privileged to listen in this room, I think it desirable
to lay before you a few considerations as to the
reasons of the general rejection by the Press, and,
indeed, by the public, of all schemes of reform
hitherto proposed ; especially of Mr. Pitman's Pho-
netic, Mr. Ellis' Glossic, Mr. Sweet's Broad Romic,
and Professor March's American Notation. In
domg this I shall have to notice various objections
to such schemes, which I, in common with other
objectors, hold to be valid against them, but which
I, unhke the majority of these objectors, do not hold
to be valid against spelling reform generally. I shall
thus prepare the way for the exposition of my own
plan: and if you find it open to similar objections,
I must retire with the consolation that better men
than myself have been equally foiled in this difficult
problem ; if, however, I am not thus vanquished, I
shall still have to acknowledge that, had not the
gentlemen I have named preceded me, I should not
have been able to produce a solution, in which at

624 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM.

every step I have had occasion to refer to their pub-
hcations on this and kindred matters. I am not
aware of any further obhgations on my part to my
predecessors, except of com-se to Mr. A. Melville
Bell's great work on Visible Speech. It must also
be distinctly understood, that on this occasion, what-
ever I say is to be taken as simply my own, and that
I in no way represent the English Spelling Reform
Association ; indeed I am not aware that even a
single member of that body would endorse my
views.

I would then propose the following general max-
ims for our guidance in forming a reformed alphabet :

1. That no new principle should be involved in it,
unless it be previously shown that those already
recognised in our present spelling are insufficient for
the purpose ; thus, until it has been proved that
such digraphs as cIi, th, ng, sli, wh, are inefficient,
Messrs. Pitman's and March's new-letter schemes are
not to be admitted : until it has been proved that
digraphs are ambiguous or misleading, we must
not reject them for the representation of long vowels
in favour of either new types or t}^es with dia-
critical marks.

2. Our new notation must lead up to our present
one. Children will be taught the new notation, if
one be adopted, and for a generation at least will
have to learn the old one afterwards, for reading
purposes, though not for writing. Any system then
which gives, as Messrs. Sweet's and Pitman's do give,
un-EngHsh sounds to the fundamental vowels, which
base a new notation on tlie Continental sounds of a,
e, i, 0, ?/, instead of on the sounds which have

THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM. 025

historically become attached to those signs in our
tongue, will entail unnecessary labour on the learner,
re -introduce a pronunciation which has been ab-
solutely however gradually rejected, and create a
very wide etymological gap between the reformed
and unreformed spellings : so wide indeed as to be
impassable by the ordinary mind, if untrained in
etymology and pliilology. The difference between
the two spellings would indeed be analogous to that
between Chaucer's pronunciation and our own ; and
I ask you, an audience of trained intellects, very
different from the average newspaper reader, how
many of you can say that in reading Chaucer you
consciously reproduce his pronunciation, and how
many of you, if his works were accessible only in a
notation which should reproduce his pronunciation
on 19th century principles, would ever read him
at all.

3. A new notation should, in whatever changes it
introduces, continue and extend changes already at
work, in preference to instituting other changes of a
nature previously unknown : in other words it
should start by utilizing old methods as far as
possible. This is not a mere repetition of my first
principle ; that refers merely to the spelling that
exists, this to the changes which are actually now
taking place in the spelling,

4. All writings in new notation ought to be
legible at sight by any one who cf^n read our existing
books. Hence, if new letters are introduced at all,
they should be so differentiated from present forms
as at once to explain themselves ; if accents are in-
troduced, they should to the existing reader seem

626 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM.

merely to emphasize as it were the existing spelhngs ;
if any new mark of any kind is used, it should when
omitted simply lead us back to the ordinary unre-
formed words, so that a child who passes from one
system to the other should have nothing to unlearn.
Here I feel sure lies the principal defect of alphabets
hitherto proposed. Not only the new letters of
Mr. Pitman, but digraphs like Mr. Ellis' uo in
puol (pull) or Mr. Sweet's yiw for you are open to
this objection, and are of themselves suiEcient to
prevent the adoption of their schemes by the
public.

5. It is not advisable to attempt to introduce a
spelling that shall be phonetic for writing purposes :
nor if it were advisable would it be practicable.
We have in our language at least two main systems
of spelling long vowels and diphthongs. a. The
simple a e i o u scheme which prevails mostly in
words derived from the classical languages, h. The
digraph notation which obtains specially in purely
English words, c. We have also a small number of
words based on the Continental pronunciation.
Each of these has its advocates among leading re-
formers, there is no chance of compromise among
them on this point. Reform is impossible, except
provisionally by retaining each of these principles so
far as it actually exists. I believe they would all con-
sent to this. I only differ from them in maintaining
that this provisional arrangement ought to be per-
manent, and that by this means we could retain
really valuable etymological indications contained
in our present spelling, viz., information whether a
word is of Latin, or Greek, or English origin ; or

THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM. 627

whether it has had originally a different sound^ from
other words with which it is now levelled. Such
information is desirable. The present etymological
information, on the other hand, conveyed by silent
letters is nearly always misleading on account of its
irregularity, and should be abandoned. The exis-
tence of numerous homonyms in our speech also
favours this view. I am very unwilling to give up
the means of distinguishing them by differences in
spelling. The main point, however, is this : that
having these three different systems co-existing, no
reduction of them to one system is satisfactory.
Yet this is what all reformers have attempted except
a few, who have produced schemes that are not
phonetic for reading purposes, and are therefore next
to useless for educational reform. The result has
been that no consistent scheme has been printed,
which does not at once strike the eye as strangely
un-English and unsatisfactory. I may point out
here that it is not the amount so much as the kind
of difference that gives the impression of strange-
ness : one such notation as w for u or an e upside
down, gives a more unfamiliar appearance to a scheme
of spelling than an entirely new alphabet. Compare
Mr. Sweet's Romic, for instance, with Greek words
written in English letters or conversely. This is
felt so strongly by the leading reformers, that they
are now advocating partial schemes such as Mr.
Ellis' Dimidian or Mr. Pitman's Semi-Phonography.
Mine is also a partial scheme in one sense, viz., that

' Thus oa and oo, once levelled in the fourteenth century are now
quite distinct. So ei, ai, and ea, ee, now levelled, may possibly become
distinct again. At any rate they should not be heedlessly given up.

628 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING EEFOEM.

it is phonetic only for reading purposes, not for
writing, I proceed to lay it before you without fur-
ther preliminary talk. I begin with the consonants.

In common with all other reformers, I drop all
silent letters, including the case of doubled letters,
of which I omit one. I also use h, r, I, m, n, p, t, h,
d,g (hard), iv, v,j, z, y, in their usual significations :
also the digraphs ng (writing n in such words as
an'ger) wh, th, ch, sh. But in contrast to most other
reformers, I also keep l\ c, q, x : k before e, i ;
c before a. o, u, and consonants ; qu =z ciu ; and
X = cs. At the end of words I write c, not h ; the ten-
dency of the language being shown in music, jyedantic
(which have replaced miisick, 'pedantich), and all words
of more than one syllable. I extend this to mono-
syllables also. I retain c before e, i, side by side with
s and pli along with / wherever they exist at
present. That /, s, will ultimately survive alone, I
have little doubt ; but I do not see the use of
upsetting all our dictionaries and books of reference
by the premature introduction of a reform of so little
importance, jeopardizing the whole cause for at best
a matter of very doubtful propriety.

There still remains the great stumblmg block of
spelling reformers, the representation of the sound
th in thine. This has from the earliest periods been
represented by th, the thorn letter which replaced it
in Ano-lo-Saxon, and remained in use till the 14th
century, having been at the introduction of printing
unequivocally rejected. It has been attempted in
various waj^s to modify the t in a d direction, either
by writing dh, or by using a new type formed on a c?
basis : I believe that no spelling which ]-ejects the

THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM. G29

t can succeed for literary purposes, and therefore
retain in ordinary books th in two senses, as in the
words thin, then ; but I use dh for the latter sound
in all educational and scientific books.

Of course the sound of si in vision would, follow-
ing the same analogy, be written zh, as proposed by
Mr. Ellis.

Having now reached the end of the exposition of
my consonantal system, we will look back and
consider the general eflPect of it on the appearance of
printed books. I have had an essay of my own
printed in this spelling," and submitted it to readers
of various classes, spelling reformers, persons
acquainted with various languages, but not with
phonetic as a science, and ordinary readers, young
and old. I find that they almost all say that
final y, V, z is unpleasant m its novelty, and that the
spelling sh in the terminations tion, tied, tience, &c.,
looks ugly and out of place. I quite agree with
them, and will consider these points in order.
Without final j, v, z, a reform is impracticable ; the
need for it arises in this way. There was till 1G25,
no distinction made between i and j, u and v ; con-
sequently, it was a principle in our orthography
tacitly adopted to prevent absurd mistakes that u
and i should not be pronounced as consonants unless
tliey preceded a vowel : how this influenced our
vowel spelling we shall see presently ; it influenced
our consonant spelling by excluding consonantal i and
u (j and v) from the end of words and compelling

' That is iu my scheme as first propounded ; it has been revised
since, and I think improved.

VOL. XIT. 2 T

630 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING EEFORM.

the writing of some substitute in their place. Hence
our spelhngs in ge for j, y, for i and ve for v. After
the difPerentiation of v and u, i andj, in 1625, these
should have been abolished ; but unfortunately print-
ing oflSces existed, and the reform which would doubt-
less have been complete, had the tendencies of the
language had full play, remained unfinished and
abortive. It remains for us to add the tower to the
edifice of the 1 6th century architects ; then we shall
have a perfect building. With regard to z the case
is different. It was not an Anglo-Saxon letter ;
neither was it a Latin letter. It is merely a diffe-
rentiated s, borrowed from the Greek just as v andy
are differentiated u and i, and iv is differentiated v v.
It is true that only by such differentiation have new
letters grown in our language (and I venture to say
only thus ought they to grow), but it is also true
that they have been slow to gain full acceptance
even when their existence is acknowledged. In the
14th century z sprang up ; in the 17th we find Shake-
speare calling it an unnecessary letter, and Jonson
saying that it is often heard amongst us, but seldom
seen. It is actually omitted in Barret's Alvearie
altogether. Hence our plural nouns and our verbs
in the third person were written with s for z by the
same persons who wrote t for d in the past forms of
verbs. They had the logical courage to write stript,
ceast, laste, for our stripped, ceased, laced ; but not
to write canz, bedz, mugz. This led to all sorts of
confusion : they tried writing ce as in hence, pence,
dec, for s, but words in se remained ambiguous, and
remain so to this day. For us there is no alternative,
we must adopt final z as well as j and v or give up

THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM. 631

reform. It would be hard to give, however, any
valid reason for retaining a mass of anomalies, merely
for so slight a difficulty as this.

With regard to sh for ti, ci, si, ce, &c., I sympathise
strongly with anti-reformers, and should be greatly
pleased if spelling reform should, as I believe it
woidd, lead us back to the 16th century pronuncia-
tion of iKi-si-ence, o-ce-an, im-par-si-al, judi-ci-al.
At any rate, it is desirable that further change in
this direction should be checked : vircheiv and imcliur
are bad enough ; but when, as I gather from the
publications of the American spelling reformers, one
of their most distinguished philologists uses such
phrases as the "e/'zfcas/ion which injuces virchew in the
nachuh " of the young, it is time to put on the drag ;
and this can only be done by exposing in its native
hideousness the pronunciations that are growing up
among us under the cover of a spelling, which in the
words of its latest advocate, is in relation to speech
" not only arbitrary and conventional, but entirely
unessential " (Richard Grant White).

I come now to the vowel sounds : and begin with
the short vowels ; we have six sounds and five signs
to represent them. In this instance, the normal
spelling is ingenious, consistent, and unimprovable.
In the series rick, reck, rack, ruck, rock, rook, we
have the received system. I cannot, of course,
pretend to have examined the entire language, but
by aid of Mr. Pitman's Phonetic Spelling Book, I have
examined the monosyllables, and find that only 104
out of 1,413 are spelled on any other plan. We
have then merely to regard oo as a simple letter to
get a perfect short vowel notation, and the vnrious

2 T 2

632 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM.

devices of new letters, accented letters, or new
digraphs such as Mr. Ellis' uo and uu become un-
necessary. We shall see presently that such words
as zoology offer no exception on my plan.

So far, then, we have tolerably fair sailing : but we
have yet to treat of the great difficidty — the long
vowels and diphthongs. The pronunciation of
these has changed so much ui comparison with short
vowels and consonants as to cause much greater
difficulty in their treatment. I find, for instance,
that in Mr. Sweet's " History of English Sounds,"
the history of these 10 sounds occupies two-thirds
of the book, the remaining 31 sounds requiring only
half the space.

I shall not enter on the history of these long
vowels here, as I am shortly to read a paper on that
subject to another Society. It must suffice to point
out that while our digraphs have changed their
pronunciation in two definite directions, the central
vowel a being the point for which divergence takes
place, our monographic long vowels have also changed
in two unsymmetrical streams, the vowel 6 not d
being the point of rest. Besides this, the digraphs
ea, ee have been levelled as well as ei, ai, so as to
become equivalent to e and a. The result is that out
of 1,543 monosyllables 1,356 are represented by the
following scheme of spellings.

For the sound of a in father, a or aa.

„ au ,, laud, au or aw.

,, oa „ load, ow, oa or o.

,, 00 „ moon, oo.

„ ou „ loud, ou.

„ eu „ feud, eu, ew or u.

THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM. 633

For the sound of ai in laid, ai, ei or a.
„ „ ea „ lead, ea, ee or e.

„ „ i „ glide, i.

„ ,, oi ,, oil, oi.

It must be understood that i final, being inad-
missible in our present spelling, it is for either simple
or compound signs of long vowel or diphthong written
with y. This y does not occur except at the end of
syllables. A similar restriction does not hold for
to in aiv, ow, eiv, which may be used in any part of a
word, nor does it apply to y for short i, wdiich may
be used anyw^here for Upsilon in words of Greek
origin.

It is at this point that the dead-lock in Spelling
Keform comes in. We have not only in our received
orthography two distinct notations for long vowels,
one with monographs, one with digraphs, existing
side by side, but we have also two distinct and
unsymmetrical notations, one for long and one for
short vow^els expressed by the letters a, e, i, o, u.
The simplest method of avoiding this w^ould appear
to be to drop the long vowel monographs altogether,
and use only digraphs, which would lead to
Mr. Ellis' Glossic. But this is very unsatisfactory
in its notation of words derived immediately from
Latin. Another method is to adopt new letters or
accented letters only. This leads to Professor March's
scheme or to Mr. Pitman's, and is as unsatisfactory
with regard to words of Anglo-Saxon origin as
Mr. Ellis' is for words from the classical languages.
I propose to keep both series just as they stand in
our present spelling, distinguishing the long from the
short vowels by an acute accent on a separate type

634 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM.

such, as is used in our dictionaries. I thus obtain
the minimum of alteration possible consistent with
the production of a spelling that shall be for reading
purposes essentially phonetic. As, however, the
number of accentual marks thus introduced is very
great, I retain also another device from our received
orthography, that of the final e mute ; under this rule :
Wherever an accent would occur on a final syllable
omit it, and write an e at the end of the word. In
monosyllables ending with a vowel the accent is
quite superfluous, and may be omitted without
possible ambiguity. The spelling thus resulting I
have tested m a tolerably long paper printed in the
Phonetic Journal, and the only point in it which
appears strange in principle to those who have
examined it for me is the class of plurals like platse,
apse, hroodze, bahze (plates, apes, broods, babes) ;
but any one can write plats, a'ps, hroo'dz,^ ha'bz if
he prefers it ; and the analogy of the old spellings
groovde, lavde, &c., shows that such a method is not
foreign to our etymology, but only seems so from
the absurb levelling of all our past verbs in ed by our
grammarians in imitation of the unfortunate levelling
of all our plural nouns in s. In any case these not
very frequent words are a trifle as compared with the
difiiculties of any other system yet seen by me.

I must here anticipate two objections : one that
the accents would be a hindrance in writing, the
other that they would deface the appearance of
printed books. To the first objection I answer that
I would not write the accents at all, but indicate

3 I may remind the reader here, that oo is treated as a simple vowel
}iot as a digraph in my system.

THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM. G35

them by a slight change in the shape of the pre-
ceding letter, which I could show you if I had a
black-board at my disposal. To the second I answer
that it would be quite unobjectionable for any one to
omit accents altogether in works that are purely
literary, provided they be distinctly recognized as
a necessary part of the orthography in all educa-
tional treatises and books of reference.

As to such words as pique, fete, regime, and the
like, on which the anti-national section of spelhng
reformers rest theu' argument for the adoption of
Continental sounds for our vowels, I would either
italicize them as not yet naturalized, or I would
adopt them into the English family m an English
dress. I see no reason for not writing masheen when
we do write shagreen \ or for admitting genteel and
rejecting anteec. A third course is, however, open,
viz., to write such words with an accented letter,
thus pic, fet, &c. In any case I care personally
very little for these words, and leave them for others
to deal with. I feel that to inflict further details on
you would be wearisome ; with less than those I
have given I could not explain the nature of my
plan, which I believe attains the following deside-
rata : —

1. With a minimum of alteration it gives us a
system of spelling in which there are no two sounds
for any one symbol, and which consequently is abso-
lutely phonetic for reading purposes.

2. The alterations made are of such a character
that a child in passing from the j)roposed system to
the present one would have nothing to unlearn.

3. The alterations are such that any one who can

636 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM.

read the present orthography can read the proposed
one at sio-ht.

4. It preserves the etymology and liistory of the
language in a greater degree than any proposed
scheme, especially by mamtaining the distinction of
the long monographic vowels of classic origin from
the Anglo-Saxon digraphs.

5. It introduces no novelty of method, no foreign
notation, no picture type, or new-fangled modifier.
It confines itself for its enlargement of the alphabet
to one long-recognized accent applicable to the
marking of stress as well as length to vowels of any
kind.

Such are my claims for this system founded on the
work of my predecessors Elhs, Sweet, BeU, in as far
as general investigations, phonetic or histoiic, are
concerned, and only original in this one tiling, that
instead of considering a priori what the spelhng ought
to be, I started from statistical considerations based
on what it is now, and I believe that an extended
comparison of my plan with others will bear out my
results.

In conclusion, I have only, while thanking you for
your patient attention to this heavy dissertation on
a necessarily dull subject, to express my full convic-
tion that many foreign and English gardeners who
have undertaken the culture of the unsymmetrical
yet majestic tree of English orthography have failed,
because they have mistaken its nature and its
habitat. The orange or the poplar are more
symmetrical, the yew and the box will bear trimming
and even carving into shape ; but our English oak is
filled with northern sap and is stubborn in its

THE LIVING KEY TO SPEI-LING REFORM. 637

growth ; it spreads its arras on every side, but they
are gnarled and knotty with the accidents and
changes of years ; it will shelter young saplings
beneath its shade, and here and there allow some
sprigs of mistletoe to be nourished by its heart juice :
but an oak it is and an oak it will be, do what we
will ; we may cut off its dead branches and train some
of its recent shoots into graceful shapes, but its main
arms are too hard to be bent like vine tendrils,
and it cannot be pollarded like a willow. Some of
us may desire for it the stateliness of the palm or
the luxuriance of the banyan ; but for me I cannot
forget that 1 have cHmbed among its branches
and rested under its shadow : reason and sentiment
alike protest against its deformation by the removal of
its limbs, and still more strongly forbid its being
hewn down by the axe in order to plant an exotic in
its place.

Postscript.

When this paper was read, Mr. Ellis subjected it
to a most severe criticism ; his objections amounted to
this : that he could tolerate no scheme that was not
phonetic fur teaching to spell as well as for teaching
to read, and that no etymological or historical con-
siderations could be allowed the slightest weight in
the matter. As it was impossible for me to answer
in ten minutes the powerful speech of Mr. Ellis,
which lasted nearly half-an-hour, not to mention
other speakers on the same side, T may be allowed
to add a few words here. Mr. Ellis' arguments are
those of a phonologist, and from his point of view and
for his special piu'poses are irrefutable. For invcsti-

638 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM,

gating minute dialectical differences of pronuncia-
tion, for comparing the speech sounds of different
nations, for missionary purposes, for researches in
comparative philology, such alphabets as Elhs'
(Glossic), Pitman's, Sweet's, Melville Bell's, are
each in their own way excellent. But from the
schoolmaster's pomt of view they are worthless.
What I want is a spelling that can be taught easily
and yet serve as an efficient introduction to existing
books. This I believe my scheme accomplishes in
its lately revised form, for since I read this paper I
have given up my new letter fi (turned y) and
adopted dh zh for th sh in teaching books, dropping
dh afterwards for Hterary purposes. This, as well as
my giving up a, e, i, 6, u, I gladly acknowledge to be
the result of Mr. Ellis' arguments.

But on the one important point which is, in fact,
the onhj serious objection to my scheme, I cannot
give way. It seems impossible to make a ijerfectly
phonetic scheme which shall serve as an efficient
introduction to our present spelhng, for learning to
spell is a matter of eye memory and not of ear.
What we really recollect is the picture and not the
separate letters of a word. If we do give children
a spelhng in which the look of the words is very
different from that m present orthograjjhy, we must
either unnecessarily increase the labour they have to
go through to a great extent, or we must confine
them to books in the new spelling. This unneces-
sary labour I maintain to be greater than that
involved in learning the additional spellings involved
in the few alternative signs which I propose :
Mr, Ellis maintauis the contrary, and nothing but

THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM. G39

experiment can decide between us. Let as, however,
examine the scheme proposed by Mr. Elhs in opposi-
tion to mine, viz. : his " Dimidiun " system.

The following letters are used alike in Mr. Ellis'
Dimidiun and my Victorian schemes : — r, I, m, n, j),
t, I), d, g, ivh, f, th, ^h, iv, r, dh, zh, z, y (as a con-
sonant) ; a, e, i (j/), o, u, aa, au (aw), oi {oy). The
dilference between the schemes for other sounds will
be evident from the following table of examples : —

TiCTOEIAN.

Shig, ati'ger, ink.
Ck before e, ('.
I c before a, o, u.
I qii, as at present.
\^ck, cqii, rejected.
r«ail, ea-tend, ej-ampel.

c before e, i, retained where
[ now in use.

rAest, macA.

iest, ej.

good.

Dimidiun.

Sing, angger, ink.
Ck before e, i.
\ c before a, o, u.
T qw, for present, qu.
\^ck, cqw, after strong a, e, i, o, u.

{sail, ea'tend, igza,m])ul.
o before e, /, rejected where
now in use.
chest, msitck.
jest, edj.
gMwd.

ieud

iew

niit'table

ieudi.

ieio

mewtable.

poi<t

hoM

poMt

how

boo'ty . .

booty.

goat

hloioii

mo'tiv . .

goat

hloan

moative.

fpairf

paying ..

J paid

paj/ing ..

whej/

paVent . .

whaj/

pairent.

peal

peel

comp/e'ter

peel

comp?eeter.

heit

ei..

f t'nal

hej't

fe/nul.

For 27 sounds, then, these schemes coincide, and
the only important differences in the other 13 sounds
are —

1. My use of «', e', i\ o , u', oo for teaching purposes,
which enables me to retain a very large amount of
present spelling in printed books, and to get a good
sign 00 for Mr. Ellis' uu in g?«^d.

2. My temporary retention of frt, which on
Mr. Ellis' own showing occurs oftener than ee.

G40 THE LIVING KEY TO SPELLING REFORM.

3. That I allow a mute e final to be used in place
of my accent in words accented on the ultima, as
mate, mete, mite, mote, mute, moote, abate, delete,
incite, devote, dispute, uproote. Whether these
dififerences are things desirable or not, I beg to
suo-gest that they do not justify the proposer of such
spellings as cqw in acuities (ac(]uiesce), uii in stw^^d
(stood), oa in 0(i\X\oa (Otho), in his sweeping con-
demnation of a scheme which is in three-quarters of
its extent identical with the present version of his
own Dimidian. There is really but one pomt of
difference : where Mr. Ellis allows two symbols for
one sound he does so in accordance with fixed
phonetic rules ; where I allow them I do so in
accordance with the historical etymology of the word
as indicated in the existing orthography.

t^^

ON THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRA-
TIONS OF THE LIFE OF SAINT
GUTHLAC IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.

BY WALTER BE GRAY BIRCH, F.S.A., F.R.S.L., HON.
LIBRARIAN.

(Read December 22, 1880)

Some notes on the principal details of the remark-
able and well-known roll in the Harley Collection
of MSS. in the British Museum, containing pictures
in the life of St. Guthlac, will probably be of interest
to the Royal Society of Literature. The manuscript
is of vellum, and measures nine feet in length by six
inches and a half in width, containing eighteen
circular panels filled with drawings in brown or
faded black ink,^ heightened with tints and trans-
parent colours lightly sketched in with a hair pencil,
in the prevailing style of the twelfth century. The
left hand side of the first vignette is, unfortunately,
lost ; and I am inclined to think that one picture
at least, if not more than one, as well, is wantintr
at the beginning of the series.

This roll, the work of a monk of Crowland, perhaps
of the celebrated Ingulph, the ingenious literary
abbot of that monastery, stands unique in its j^lace as

> The pictures of this roll have been reproduced by steel or copper-
plate, very badly executed, in J. Gough's" History of Crowland," 1783 ;
in " The Antiquaries' Museum," by Jacob Schnebbelie, Draughtsman
to the Society of Antiquaries, London, 4to., 1791 ; and in J. Nichol's
" History of the County of Leicester," vol. iv, part i, 1807, pp. 1 — 7.

642 ox THE ROLL CO>JTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

an example of the finest Early English style of free-
hand drawing- of the period to which I have assigned
it. From the boldness and precision of the lines, which
are in a dark bistre, and thicker than those mostly
used in drawings of that age, there is a general belief
that the illustrations were originally intended as
designs for the preparation of painted glass windows.
The roll form somewhat confirms this idea. The
history of Crowland records extensive building and
alterations of the abbey fabric during the twelfth
century, and it is quite within probability that the
pictures form the design for the glass of that part of
the abbey church in which the body of the patron
saint was deposited. Curiously enough, another
manuscript in the British Museum (Reg. 2 A. xxii),
of a date not much later than the Harley Roll,
contains, towards the end, an insertion of five draw-
ings, tinted in the same way, and draAvn with thick
lines in such a manner that few will doubt their use
as designs for painted glass. Other examples may
be known, but I have not as yet met with any
notices of them. The details of architecture, scenery,
armour, costume, furniture, domestic irnplements,
ecclesiastical vestments, and miscellaneous accessories,
are naturally of the highest value to the archaeologist,
the historian, and the student of mediaeval forms of
art ; while the fanciful portraiture of supernatural
beings, saints and good and evil angels, with which
several of the panels have been replenished, testify in
no insignificant way to the excellent state of the
pictorial conceptions of our ancestors, who, as we
may readily perceive from these illustrations, had as
acute a sense of proportion in art, and s\ibtle humour

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC. G43

as we have in these later days of imitation and
adaptation. As for the skill of the ancients in
delineating the pious feelings that passed in their
imaginations, no one will venture to dispute that
phase ofmedioeval humanity. It will interest some
to know that this priceless relic, this silent but yet
eloquent fragment of a byegone art and history, — the
work, in all probability, of many a peaceful hour in the
scriptorium, or monk's study, at Crowland Abbey, in
the dreary mist- wreathed fens of Lincolnshire, — was
snatched from impending destruction, and deposited
in the Harley Collection, but not before a portion of
one, at least, of the pictures had been destroyed, and
one or two of the later ones in the series mutilated
and defaced.

Harley Roll, Y. 6.
I.

Gutldaci.

In the first vignette, the left hand side of which is wanting,
we are introduced to the noble youth Guthlac, the son of
Icles — a name perpetuated in the locally occurring surname
Hickling^— and Tette. His birth was signalized by divme
prodigies which presaged his future greatness and sanctity.
Among others, there is recorded a supernatural appearance of
a hand, which leaves a sign on the door of the house in which
he was born, to the wonder of all beholders ; and also a
vision of a woman who rushes out of the house and
declares his wondrous birth. In due time the babe is
baptized and named Guthlac,^ and his sweet disposition is
dwelt on at length by his biographer. One of his traits is
that he does not imitate the voices of birds like most youths

^ Canon Moore, in Journ. Brit. Arch. Assoc, xxxv, 132.

3 He may have acquired the name after becoming a monk, if so,
Guthlac signifies "an offering in (Christian?) warfare," i.e., in the
conflict of Christianity against paganism.

644 ON THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

of that period. " Non variorum volucnim diversas crocitas,
ut adsolet ilia etas, imitabatur." As time goes on he chooses
a military profession, and for nine years, part of which
appears to have been spent among the uncouth Britons,*
enjoys an unbroken series of successes over his opponents.
But suddenly, in the night, his resolve changes, and this
forms the subject of the first picture. The strongly clamped
doors are closed, the mailed warriors are grouped in sleep with
armour on, around their leader, who alone reposes on a bed,
his shirt of mail being hung upon a convenient bar overhead.
The architectural details of the plain shaft with Norman
capital, the roof-line terminating in a curled finial, the tiled
roof secured by a central pin in each tile, are all distinct
details of the period, and may be compared with advantage
with other pictures of the same date. Guthlac himself, with
bare head and short curly hair, clothed in a shirt of mail,
reclines with his head on his hand near two upright spears.
Of the sentence written above his head, the last word,
" Guthlaci," only remains ; perhaps " Somnium," " Con-
versio," or " Cogitatio," has been lost.

II.

Gutldacus rcccdit ah cxercitu suo.

The result of his cogitation is that he determines to relinquish
the predatory life of a soldier of fortune, and devote the rest
of his life to the service of the King of kings,^ and desires his
companions to choose another in his stead. This is the
motive of the second scene. On the right, Guthlacus, draped
in tunic, girdle, cloak, and stockings, — having put off his
armour, — quits his armed host with horror and precipitation.
On hilly broken ground to the left are grouped the

* His knowledge of tlieh- language stands him in good stead at a later
period of his eventful life.

^ Ingenuas vires adholescentise bellis exercuit et cetibus, ut sciret quid
divinoe militise deberet convei'sus. Birch, Memorials of S. Guthlac,
p. 71.

6*^^'

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC. G45

" Commilitoncs G-utlilaci^' four warriors in armour (consisting
of a skull cap with nasal projection, a hauberk of ringed mail
with continuous coif, belt or baldrick, and triangular concave
shield slung over the shoulder by the guige or strap), and
with long lance in hand. They are taking leave of their
companion in an excited manner, the foremost witli uplifted
right hand and extended forefinger. On the extreme left
are the foreparts of three chargers with saddles, which have
the peculiar pommel seen upon twelfth century seals of the
equestrian type. One of the shields is charged with a cross
saltire, the others with a fleur-de-lis.

III.

(hdhlacus tonsuram suscipit apucl RepcTidune.

At the age of twenty-four he reaches the monastery of
Eypadun, now Eepton,^ in Derbyshire, and receives the
" mystical tonsure of St, Peter, the prince of the Apostles,"
under ^lf(Sr}'-S the abbess.'^ On this occasion he takes a
vow of total abstinence from intoxicating liquors, " excepto
communicationis tempore."

This introduces us to the third cartoon. Under eccle-
siastical architecture of a fine kind is a long seat with
chequered cushion of transparent green, whereon are seated

" Guthlac appears to have left a bell at this abbey -which afterwards
acquired curative powers for headache, as we gather from MS. Cott.,
Cleopatra E. iv., f. 185 : — Monasterium de Repingdon alias Repton:
Superstitio, " Hie fuit pereginatio ad Sanctum Guthlacum et ad ejus
campanam, quam sclent capitibus imponere ad restingueudum dolorem
capitis."

■ Eepton, Hreopaudune, or Eepandun, in Derbyshire, was, like many
religious houses before the Norman descent in England, occupied by
a mixed congregation of both monks and nuns, under rule of an abbess.
It was founded before a.d. 660, and the date of Guthlac's admission
by tonsure is variously given by different writeis as about a.d. 097 or
699. The monastery was destroyed by the Danes.

VOL. XII. 2 U

646 ON THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

the bishop, " ep[is]c[opus]," and the abbess, called " Ebba^
abbatissa " in the picture, but "^If-SryS " in the best MSS. of
the Saint's life by Felix. The abbess is draped in conventual
clothes, and holds a pastoral staff and a book with a curious
tongue projecting from the cover. Behind her stand two
attendant virgins in the attitude of vigilance and astonish-
ment. The bishop,^ with his mitre, pastoral staff, embroi-
dered and fringed stole, and ample surplice, holds in his right
hand a veritable pair- of shears, such as may be seen at any
sheep-shearing of the present time, with which he it cutting
the hair from Gutlrlac's head. . Guthlac himself kneels to
receive the ancient and important rite^° in the foregromid of
the picture, which is beautifully balanced by the art of the
draughtsman, the abbess and her attendants looking on
approvingly on the one side, counterpoised to the bishop and
Ms acolyte, or deacon, holding the Service Book reverently in
his surphce on the other. Over Guthlac' s head is written

» There was an abbess ^bba in the isle of Thanet at the end of the
seventh century. See Kemble's Codex Diplomaticus, Nos. 8, 10, 14,
15, 989. Florence of Worcester, p. 44, says : — " Sanctus Guthlacus . . .
monasterium Hrypandun adiit, ibique, sub abbatissa nomine ^//ifi^ryit/ia
tonsuram et clericalem habitum siTScepit"

9 It is difficult to say who this bishop was. Perhaps it was Hedda,
bishop of Lichfield, who is known to have occupied the see from a.d.
691, and subscribes from 693 to 706. Derbyshire, in which the monastery
of Repton is situate, was in the see of Lichfield about this time, but the
separation of the see of Leicester took place very near in point of date.

*• The Cotton Roll xiii,4, contains a curious arrangement for a ser^'ice
to be used at the time of giving tonsure. Walcott, in his Sacred
Archceology, p. 581, gives many curious facts respecting the rite ; he
says : — " The little round on the top of the head is a modern abbre-
viation of the ancient tonsure, which embraced the whole upper part of
the head." By the Jewish law priests and Levites were forbidden to
shave their heads. Ezekiel xliv, 20 ; Lev. xxi, 5.

In the British INIuseum there is also a cop]3er-plate, engraved with
the device of a lion rampant, as old as the thii'teenth centiuy. It has
attached to it a slip of parchment (Cotton Ch. xvi, 13), on which is
written : — " Ista est mensura, seu forma coronarum ofiiciariorum
ecclesise Sancti PauU London, ex primaria fundacione ejusdem ecclesise
[assi]gn[ata] ; et per diversos venerablles patres episcopes, decanos,
et capitulum . . . . ste conformata et observata."

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC, 647

" Guthlacus," and the scene is described as at the heading of
this paragraph. The dress of Guthlac thrown over a beam is
of interest.

IV.

Vehitur Guthlacus Croilandiam.

For two years the novice applies himself to his religious
exercises, and carries on his clerical life, but at length he
desires to lead a solitary monkish life. He has heard of a
marsh or fen not far from the stronghold called Gronta —
perhaps Grantchester, near Cambridge. Another island, even
yet more unfrequented, is mentioned by a bystander — Tatuuine
or Tadwine — and sought out. Here we have the subject of
the fourth cartoon,

The saintly youth is being conducted over the Fens in a
punt to the desert island of Crowland^^ by his friend and
companion " Tadwinus,"^^ who is using a paddle to steer the
fore-and-aft prowed punt, while the attendant at the prow is
using a pole to assist in propelling the vessel to the bank of
the marsh, the vegetation of which is here indicated by two
elegantly drawn trees of conventional foliage. In the green-
tinted shaUow\s below, the boat five fish are seen disporting
themselves. The swelling sails overhead, the mast, the yard,
the pulley-ropes, the anxious look of the faithful Tadwine,
who is evidently in command of the expedition, and, above
all, the serene countenance of the Saint, who, with book in
hand, and earnest upcast gaze, is manifestly absorbed in
meditation, and thinking of other and higher things, combine
to form one of the most beautiful illustrations of the life of
our forefathers in this land of monks.

The dark parts of these pictures are green, the lines black

" Gotlielakeslnnd, perhaps for Crowland, occurs in the Patent EolJi?,
27th Oct., 1314, 8 Edw. II.

'2 Schnebbelie and others suggest that this personage is identical
with Tatwine, who was archbishop of Canterbury from a.d. 731
to 734.

2 u 2

648 ON THE PtOLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

and dravm with a pen. The planked barge, with caulking
and pegs or bolts, the flowing sail and peculiar looped eyes
through wliich the yard passes, are of interest to the early
history of shipbuilding.

Mr. J. W. Brown (in " Xotes and Queries," second series,
vol. ix, p. 230, A.D. I860,) says, " there is, or was, over the
w^est door of Crowland Abbey some sculpture where St.
Guthlac is represented in a boat coming to land, where lies a
sow and pigs under a willow tree. For the legend tells us
that he was directed by the spirit to fix his station by a
place where he should find a sow suckling her pigs, thus
rendered ; —

' The sign I'll tell you, keep it well in mind.
When YOU in quest, by river side shall find
A sow in color white, of largest size.
Which under covert of the willow lies ;
With thirty pigs so white, a numerous race ;
There fix your city, 'tis the fatal place.'

I know nothing of the manifestly modern poem from wliich
this is apparently an extract."

Guthlacus edijicat sihi capellam.

At this desert place, called Crowland, Crugland, or Croyland,
no one had ever been able to remain, for demons — ^perhaps
of ague and rheumatism — were accustomed to frequent it.
However, Gutlilac begins his heremitic life there on the
25th of August, the day dedicated to the honour of St. Bar-
tholomew the Apostle. Here he vows to live all his life, and
after revisiting liis companions, thrice thirty days having
elapsed, he returns with two boys,^^ and begins his solitary
life on the day of St. Bartholomew. There is some difficulty
here with regard to dates, for the author Felix, in liis eager-
ness to mark out the connection of St. Bartholomew \\4th

^ Perhaps Wilfred and Ci&sa, whom Felix calls " frequeutatores
ejus."

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC. G49

Gutlilac, gives the same day for the first visit of Guthlac to
Crowland as well as for his return to finally settle there.

Guthlac finds a hole made by treasure-seekers on a tumulus,
and here he builds a hut, which afterwards develops into an
oratory or religious house. The foundations of this building"
have been found and described by the Eev. Canon Moore in
the Journal of the British Archaiological Association, vol.
XXXV, p. 133. They are composed of unhewn Barnack rag-
stone and concrete, a well, or " cistern," is close by, as
described by Felix, and there is a paved causeway leading to
the abbey of Crowland, wliich is about a few hundred yards
away in a south-easterly direction.

" That St. Guthlac led a hermit's selfish and solitary life,"
says Canon Moore, " in a small liut or cell on a lone island in
the fenny marshes of Crowland, is abundantly refuted by the
earliest account given of him by the monk Pelix. The idea is
also refuted by the character and station of the visitors whom
he entertained. Felix speaks of kings and bishops being
received by St. Guthlac, and of their being domiciled in
houses upon the island. He also speaks of St. Guthlac's
church and his servants."

The construction of this church forms the subject of the
fifth roundle, where we find the inscription given above.
The semicircular arcading of the nave, conveniently left open to
view by the artist, shews us the plain dehcate shaft with
foliated capital, the marble altar with its embroidered cloth, the
central tower, clerestory with its row of lights, east end with
its bell tower, and a western tower in course of completion,
Guthlac is hauling up at a pulley rope a basket of bricks,
whicli a workman on the roof, having laid aside his trowel
for the moment, is about to receive. Under an adjacent shed
another workman is hewing stone with a double edged axe,

'^ lu Schuebbelie's (p. G) time there was, not far east from the abbey,
upon a little hillock, a remnant of a small stone cottage, called " Anchor-
Clmrch-House," whei^e formerly stood a chapel, over the very spot in
which the saint had spent the time of his hermitage, and in which also
at the expiration of his days, he was deposited.

650 ON THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

Guthlac's bare and shaven head is worthy of contrast with
the heads of the labourers, which are tightly covered with a
cap fastened beneath the chin. The beam under the arch
carries a curtain or cloak hastily laid upon it.

VI.

Angelus et Sandus Bartholomeus loquuntur cum Gkdlilaco.

Guthlac's rule of life would not admit of his wearing woollen
or linen clothing, but only skins ; his food was only a morsel
of barley bread and some cups of muddy water after sundown.
And in this state of bodily depression, the arch-enemy, who
was wandering, according to his wont, over the face of the earth,
and concocting new forms of temptation for mortals, found him
a ready prey. Guthlac falls into a fit of despair, and for three
days knows not what to do. On the third night he rouses
himself and sings the verse : — " In my distress I called upon
the Lord and cried unto my God ; he heard my voice out of
his temple, and my cry came Ijefore Him, even into His ears."
Then suddenly Saint Bartholomew appears before him, and
infuses a holy joy and divine comfort into his soul. " To make
the saint amends for the disagreeable appearances of these
vexatious visitors," says Schnebbelie, referring to the frequent
visits of devils to St. Guthlac, " he had, if our author Felix is
not misinformed, the daily society of an angel, who conversed
with him, and remained invisiljle to every one but St. Guthlac
himself; for his disciple Beccelm declares he had often henrd
him discoursing in his solitary hours with some other person,
but was ever ignorant who it was, till St.. Guthlac himself
told him as he lay at the point of death."

This forms the motive of the sixth vignette ; Guthlac is
depicted seated in his chapel^now completed ; before him
stand his ever-present companion angel and St. Bartholomew
the Apostle, over whom is the inscription. The attitudes of
these three figures, the drapery of the angel,^^ who, with scroll

'^ Compare the figure and drapery of the angel with those of the
angels just published by Canon Scott Robertson from the frescoes in
crypt <^f Canterbury cathedral.

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC. 651

in hand, stands erect in a commanding posture with upraised
hand and two fingers extended, — (an early form of shewing
the act of benediction), — the surprise of Ckitlilac, and the
vivid action of the apostle, are points of detail worthy of close
examination. Peeping round one of the pillars of the
transept is the somewhat diminished figure of little Beccel-
mus, or Beccelm, one of Guthlac's companions, of whom we
shall hear more presently.

VII.

Dcitioncs ferunt Guthlacuiii inacrem cedentcs emn.

Temptations are, however, in store for our hero. Two devils,
in human guise, come to him with specious arguments in
favour of fasting throughout the week, but Guthlac discomfits
them by singing the verse from the Psalms : — " When I cry
unto Thee, then shall mine enemies turn back." And the
evil spirits, finding themselves worsted, fiee away with horrid
cries, and never trouble him again.

On another occasion a crowd of evil ones visit Guthlac
while he is engaged in prayer during the night. Felix gives
a detailed account of their appearance in a long category of
nouns and adjectives : — a literary effort of tedious prolixity
to us, to him manifestly an opportunity of displaying his
familiarity with rare Latin expressions,

I may appropiately introduce here a short passage from
" The Camp of Eefuge,^^ a tale of the Conquest of the Isle of
Ely," " You wist well, my lord, said Elfric, for who should
know it better, than in the heathenish times the whole of
the Isle of Crowland, and all the bogs and pools round
about were haunted day and night, but most at night,
by unaccountable troops and legions of devils, with blubber-
lips, fiery mouths, scaly faces, beetle heads, sharp long teeth,
long chins, hoarse throats, black skins, hump shoulders,
big bellies, burning loins, bandy legs, cloven hoofs for feet,
and long tails at their buttocks. And who so well as your

'« New Ed., witli notes by S. II. Millei-, p. 14!).

652 ox THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

lordship knowetli that these blubber fiends, angered that their
fens and stinking pools should be invaded, allowed our first
monks of Crowland no peace nor truce, but were for ever
gibing and mowing at them, biting them with their sharp
teeth, switching them with their filthy tails, putting dirt
in their meat and drink, nipping them by the nose, giving them
cramps and rheums, and shivering agues and burning fevers,
and fustigating and tormenting not a few of the friars
even to death ! And your lordship knows that these de\dls of
Crowland were not driven away until the time when that
very pious man Guthlacus became a hermit there, and cut
the sluices that lead from the fetid pools to the flowing
rivers. Then, in sooth, the de\dls of Crowland were beaten
off by prayer and by holy water, and the horrible blue lights
which they were wont to light upon the most fetid of the
pools, ceased to be seen of men."^^

Such are the creatures who howl around Guthlac in his
retreat : they invade his cell, and carry him away, in bonds,
to dip liim in the muddy water of the fens and drag him
through the briers. They beat him with iron whips, but
they do not shake his firmness and his constancy. This is all
depicted in the seventh panel, where the artist gives us a
glimpse of the oratory, with Beccelm seated in adoration of
the Eucharist, shewn by the chalice upon the altar ; while
outside, high up in the air, and not far from the cloud-fringed
border of the celestial regions, the demons bear Guthlac
into the air and beat him. Five demons, grotesquely hideous,
bear Guthlac aloft, beating him with triple-thonged whips,
while he raises his hands in earnest entreaty and supplication.

" The Editor adds a note here. " The legend of the Crowland devils
had its origin, no doubt, in the cramps and rheums and shivering agues
and burning fevers, or in the hallucination caused by these ailments.
The impure vapours from the swamps, where fresh and salt waters met
and deposited animal and vegetable remains — not from the peat bogs —
produced those terrible diseases which are almost unknown to the
present fen-dwellers."

fc^^

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTIILAC. G53

VIII.

Demoiics fcrunt Guthlaeum ad jportas infcri.

The fiends cany their prey up to heaven and down to hell,
where he beholds all kinds of torments and devils torturing
the lost in the black caverns of cinder-pools. This incident
enables the artist in his eighth picture to gives us the con-
ventional " jaws " of heU, with eyes, nostrils, and perfect set
of molar and incisor teeth, combined with battlements in
illustration of the " gates " of hell. Within appears a confused
mass of devils, a crowned king, an archbishop, robed and
mitred, and two shaven monks, — perhaps portraits of some of
the obnoxious acquaintances of the draughtsman. Above is
Guthlac, invested with the nimbus of sanctity, held up by
two demons.

His tormenters threaten to throw him into these torments.
The fire is ready ; hell's jaws gape for him ; and he declares
his readiness to suffer. But, behold! Saint Bartholomew
again appears on the scene and commands the devils to take
him back. When they arrive at mid-air the voice of angels
is heard singing psalms of comfort, and he has a momentary
vision of two imps weej)ing for their lost power over him.
On this occasion St. Bartholomew gives Guthlac a whip,^*
" Sanctus Bartholomeus fert flagrum Guthlaco," and this he
makes use of, with considerable effect, on the fiends in a future
adventure.

IX.

Dcmones drcumdant domum Gidldad in divcrsis formis
hcstiamvi.

The artist here passes over without illustration the attempt of
Beccelm to murder his master, and a few other passages in

'« See a drawiug in British Museum, Add. MS. 173G7, dat. a.d. 1535.
In the Harley Eoll S, 32, which is really a calendar for a.d. 1478 with
rude drawings of saints and emblems, Guthlac's whip degenerates into
a two-handled caldron or pot with two flowers springing out of it.

654 ox THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

the life of Guthlac ; and the ninth vignette represents the
oratory, or chapel, with its altar, its gem-bound service book,
and its nimbus-bearing occupant, who is suddenly invaded by
an inrush of demons in diverse animal shapes — the lion, the
bull, the bear, the snake, boar, wolf, horse, stag, and other
creatures, each one uttering its peculiar cry. But Guthlac,
armed with his Bartholomean whip, seizes the arch-fiend, who
is here in the form of a bull, and administers a severe
•discipline of the knout to him, while five hideous creatures
gibe and mow, and stretch out their distorted fingers in
mockery and derision, as they hide behind the buttresses of
the sacred edifice and peer round to witness the discomfiture
and castigation of their leader.

Guthlamcs eicit dcmonium a quoclam comite cingulo suo.

In the tenth plaque another very interesting incident in the
life of Guthlac is illustrated. Ecgga, or Egga, a follower of
the exiled king Ae'Sibald, is possessed by evil spirits, and
consequently loses his wits. He is led in bonds to Guthlac,
who takes off his own girdle, binds it round the waist of the
demoniac, and thereby drives out the evil inhabitant of his
mind. This picture gives a fine view of tlie chapel, with a
spire or pointed fleche, surmounted by a ball. The nimbed
Guthlac stoops down, tenderly gazing into the sick man's
face, and straps the girdle round him, while at the same
moment the evil spirit, flecked and spotted, horned and
winged, issues from Egga's mouth and passes away, to the
manifest astonishment of two youths, who have brought their
comrade to his healing, and are now standing by to witness
his miraculous restoration to mental and bodily health. The
inscription is over Guthlac's head. Gough, and some who
have followed him, err in reading the last words " e jugulo
suo," a mistake whicli appears all the more plausible from the
fact of the evil spirit issuing out of the mouth of the afflicted
Egga.

v^lM ' ^

v.,

V%1

®4'

^mmBA

■^ iO^ h

'^■■n

~-— »_v

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC. 655

(hdJilacus sacerdotium suscipit a Hcclda episcopo
Wintonicnsi.

The eleventh vignette illustrates another, and important
episode in the life of the Saint. " A certain bishop named
Headda," according to Felix, which is identified by the artist
as the bishop of Winchester/^ accompanied by his lihrarius,
Wigfri'S (who somewhat boastfully undertakes to decide upon
the sincerity of Guthlac's professions), visits Guthlac, and is
struck with the angelic sweetness of his conversation and the
profoundness of his religious knowledge. This leads to the
bishop offering to consecrate Guthlac to the priestly office,
and Guthlac readily consents.

This picture, which is beautifully conceived in the true
spirit of balanced points of interest, shews us the interior of
the church, and although the perspective is faulty, and the
artist's idea of the relative position of chancel and nave,
gables and clerestories, arches and buttresses, is somewhat
confused, nevertheless he has presented to our view a very
valuable collection of details of early ecclesiastical architec-
ture of the twelfth century in England. In the foreground,
Guthlac, tonsured and robed in his sacerdotal vestments,
reverently bowing his head and kneeling on his left knee,
receives the symbol of priestly rank, the clialice — (another
similar vessel being placed on the altar). The Ijishop, " Pon-
tifex," attired in his pontificial habiliments, with mitre, staff,
and embroidered habit, is consecrating Guthlac by the ancient
and apostolic rite of the imposition of hands. Overhead is
written the superscription. On the right hand, balancing the
episcopal personage opposite, stands a compact body of
tonsured ecclesiastics, among whom we may perhaps recognise
Beccelm. One of these is carrying a book which has an
ornamental cover, studded with gems, and having a curious

^^ Headda sat ou the see of "Winchester from a.d. 676 till his death
on the 7th July, a.d. 705. Hedda, bishop of Lichfield, sometimes
confused with this personage, occurs from a.d. 691 — 706.

G5'j ON THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

projecting tongue in the binding. The foremost of this group
is probably AYigfriS, the lihrariiis, and from his embroidered
vestment or dahiiatic, and an elegant cruciform fibula, or
quatrefoiled brooch, at his throat, we may conjecture that he
held higher rank than those who are behind him. He is
holding an open book, and pointing to the kneeling recijDient
of ordination. In my opinion this refers to the curious
custom of taking a prognostic, or augury, of what character a
bishoj) or priest would prove to be. It was taken by an
inspection of the Gospels immediately after consecration, as
the book was held open by the assistant at the moment, and
laid upon the shoulders of the newly ordainejd, thereby inti-
mating the yoke of the Gospel. This practice, now I believe
discontinued, was in the early middle ages in use in the
Eastern and Western churches.-''

By the extended hand, with forefinger at full length point-
ing to Guthlac, we are bound to infer, from the rules of
ancient art, that the person is speaking, and the reading of the
j)rognosticating verse would probably be the only occasion
for any assistant at the ceremony of ordination, so to speak,
the bishop being, of course, chai-ged with the active part of
the service. Schnebbelie, on the other hand, describes the
open book as containing the ceremonial of consecration.

XII.

Guthlacus consolatur regcm Ethelhaldum cxidem.

The next subject is the interview of Ethelbald,^^ prince or
earl, and afterwards king of the Mercians, with Guthlac.
Persecuted by the intrigues of his cousin Ceolred, king of the

2" See Will. Malm., Gesta Pontif., Ed. Hamilton, p. 625. Moigue
d'Arnis, Lexicon Mamtule, S. V. " Sortes Sanctorum." The i^rognostics
of Anselm, and Lanfranc, Ai-chbishops of Canterbury ; Herbert Losinga,
bishop of Thetf ord and Norwich, and others are mentioned by William
of Malmesbury, I.e.

^' Succeeds a.d. TIG ; killed at Seckington, a.d. 755. Angl. Sax.
t'hron.

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC. 657

Mercians,-- he is compelled to lie hidden in a corner of his
kingdom, among the fens, and having heard of Guthlac's
fame, comes to visit him. Gnthlac consoles him, and this
gives the title to the twelfth vignette. Here we are shewn,
in a new building not far differing from that in the previous
picture, the exiled king. " Ethelbaldus Kex," with his crown
and royal robes, seated on a cushioned seat, which, from its
pannelled front, and the slope of its sides, reminds us forcibly
of the seats on which the sovereigns of England are sitting in
their great seals from the time of Henry I to Eichard II —
that is, nearly the whole of the twelfth century. With head
somewhat bent forward in pensive mood, he is listening to
the animated discourse of Gnthlac, who is seated alongside of
Ms royal visitor upon a seat of less ornamental character.
Guthlac has the nimbus of sanctity around his head, in his
left hand a gemmed book with the peculiarly-shaped tongue
on the cover to which attention has been already directed ;
his right hand elevated, with the index finger extended
towards the prince, demonstrates that he is in the act of
speaking. According to the MSS., the Saint declares that he
has interceded for him with God, and that he shall soon
be restored to his kingdom : he bids him be of good courage
and wait in patience for the Lord's appointed time. Behind
Ethelbald sits an attendant or noble youth, resting his head
upon his hand in an elegant and interesting attitude,
thoroughly characteristic of Early English art.

XIII.

Guthlacus languens loquitur cum Beccclmo discipulo suo.

Passing on to the next illustration, we have almost the same
view of the oratory or chapel, in the area of which no less than
seven previous scenes have been laid. The altar, however,
here demands attention from its peculiar ornamentation, which
appears to be intended either for marbled tessera; or embroidery

'"Son of ^Etlielred [son of] Penda : Kemble, Cud. Dip. i, 72
Succeeds in a.d. 709, dies in a.d. 716. AngL Sax. Chroa.

658 ON THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

in squares. The chalice, abeady depicted, is not wanting from
its conventional place.

Guthlac's biographer, Felix, has recorded at length the
details of the Saint's illness, which forms the subject of this
drawing. On the right of the picture is the reclining figure
of Guthlac, with extended hand and finger, in the act of
giving his final injunctions to Beccelm. He is without
clothing, and reclining upon drapery, which is intended for
bedding, and a portion of it, falling in graceful folds, covers
him from the breast to the ankles. Beside his languishing
master, is " Beccelmus," kneeling on his right knee, extending
his hands, and gazing earnestly and affectionately at the
dying face of him whom once he had been tempted to destroy.
But this is forgotten now, and the few remaining words that
pass between the Saint and the disciple are only those of
advice and consolation, and in the course of the incident
Beccelm desires Guthlac to explain one circumstance before
his death. He had always heard the voice of some unknown
one conversing with Guthlac ; Guthlac explains this by
declaring that from the second year of his hermit life
the Lord had sent him an angel for his consolation, morning
and evening, to unfold to liim divine mysteries, alleviate the
hardness of his earthly lot with heavenly oracles, and
reveal to him absent matters as though they were present.

XIV.

Guthlacus moritur.

At this time a honeyed flowery odour proceeds from Gutlilac's
mouth ; from midnight until dawai a fiery light shines around
the building; and after uttering a few last solemn words of
warning, Guthlac fortifies himself with the communion of the
body and blood of Christ, and at length departs this life^^ and
gives up the ghost. The scene is again laid at the oratory,
which had been his constant abode for fifteen years. Stretched

" According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, this takes place a.d.
DCCXIV. One MS. reads DCCXIII.

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC. 659

at lengtli upon the bed of flowing drapery, lies the dead form
of the Saint, whom the artist has clothed in this picture in a
closely fitting tunic with tight sleeves, and around his head
is the nimbus — emblem of that sanctity to which his life of
mortification, contemplation, good works, self-denial, and
religious study has brought him. The heavens are opening
to admit of the descent of two angelic forms, nimbed, and
apparelled in the undulating drapery which is so characteristic
of the English school of drawing. The foremost messenger is
receiving the soul, " anima," which is represented as a little
child, issuing from the dead one's month, in obedience to the
conventional rules of ancient art, of wdiich the ninth vignette,
where the evil spirit in like manner quits the demon-haunted
Egga, may be cited as an example ready to hand. There
may also be an intended reference to our Lord's figurative
words, " Verily I say unto you. Except ye be coverted, and
become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom
of heaven" {Matt, xviii, 3) ; and " Verily I say unto you,
Wliosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little
child shall in no wise enter therein" (Luke xviii, 17).

The artist here, also, has introduced the w^ondrous ray of
light, as it were a tower of fire, which shon on Guthlac at his
birth, according to the historian, and again at his death, by a
number of lines, issuing from the cloud-fringe of heaven, and
stretching downwards, slightly diverging as they descend,
towards the face of the Saint. We may remember in the
sacred text, how the countenance of the angel at the Lord's
sepulchre " was like lightning " {Matt, xxviii, 3). This idea
of a beam of light signifying the death of a saint is not in-
frequent in mediaeval history, and even among the Orientals
the same appearance is recorded on similar occasions: — a
miraculous light was thus sent to Wilfrid, Archbishop of
York, wdiile he was in prison in a dark cell;-^ a pillar of light,
" cailo demissa columna lucifera," points out the hidden body
of the murdered St. Wistan, son of king Wimund ;^^ and upon

■"* Wifl. Malm. Gesta Pout., p. 230.
2^ lb., p. 297.

660 ON THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTRATIONS OF

the body of John Scottus a miraculous fiery light was shed :
" diviuus favor multis noctibus super eum lucem indulsit
igneam."^'^ In the life of the religious Jew Petachia, lately
published by Dr. Seligmann, is related a similar occurrence.

XV.

Beccelmus fert mandata Guthlaci Pege.

In accordance with the last instructions of his master, the
clerk Beccelm conveys the news of the Saint's death to Pega,-^
his sister, who was an inmate, if not the governess, of the
monastery of Peykirk, i.e. Pega's church, in the county of
Northampton, about four miles from Gruthlac's oratory. This
results in Pega's journey to Crowland to perform the
obsequies of her brother. The subject of the fifteenth plaque
is derived from this incident. On the pale green waters of
the fen we observe a boat, not unlike that which conveyed
Guthlac to his desert island fifteen years before, with the
exception that the mast and sail are wanting, and the poop
and prow are not carried up so high as in that example ; in
it stands Beccelm, draped in his tunic and hooded cloak ; and
in the stern sits a figure, with similar attire, having his head
covered with the peculiarly shaped cap which identifies him
with the builder on the roof of the chapel in the fifth vignette,
and dipping into the water a paddle resembling that already
described among the details of the fourth illustration.^^ I^ega,
in sorrowful mood, vested in loosely flowing garb, and with a
wimple on her head, which is bowed in dejection, is on the

26 Will. Malm. Gesta Pont., p. 394.

2' Florence of Worcester, p. 48, calls the sister of Gutlilac, Pegia : —
" Anachorita probatissimus deique sacerdos fidelissimus, dilectse Clu-isti
virginis Pegiae germanus, innumerabilium virtutum patrator Gutli-
iacus," from which it would seem that Pegia was more famous, to him
at least, than Guthlac.

''s Some one who had access to this roll of pictures before it jJassed
into the Harley Collection, has irreverently added a long feather to
the head gear of the navigator, and a pair of spectacles to his nose.

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC GHl

riglit, just ill the act of stepping from the flower-strewn hank
into the forepart of the boat, while Beccehn takes her hand to
assist her movements. Over her head is tlie explanatory
inscription, " Pega soror Guthlaci." Behind Pega is a monk
or attendant leaning on a crutch with pointed end, and hold-
ing in his right hand a closed book, the cover of which, from
its peculiar shape and ornamentation, has been already the
subject of remark among the descriptions of accessories which
have occurred before. It is worthy of notice that the waving
line of clouds which was introduced into the series at the
previous picture is here repeated.

XVI.

Hie scpclitur Gidhlacus.

The religious obsequies of the departed Saint last for the
space of three days, and culminate in the burial of Guthlac.
The scene shifts back again to the chapel or oratory, the
architecture of which, in this picture, resembles in the main
the examples which have gone before. In the foreground is
the dead body, " Corpus Gutlilaci," wrapped in cerecloth, and
yet preserving human outlines, reverently held by Pega at the
head, and an assistant — perhaps Beccelm, (haljited in cowl
and surplice,) at the foot, and about to be deposited in a
marble cist or sarcophagus, wliile a tonsured priest or monk,
perhaps intended for Cissa — who succeeded Guthlac as
governor of the establishment (not yet an abbey) at Crowland,
— vested in an embroidered and bordered garment, reads the
office of the dead from an open book in his left hand, and
with a swinging censer in his right censes the mortal remains
of his master.

Here, too, as in the fourteenth vignette, the piUar of light,
similarly drawn, rains down celestial effulgence from the
opening clouds of heaven upon the body of the departed
Saint — a token of divine satisfaction of Guthlac's victory over
the world, which has ensured him the meed due to a liero in
the world of the hereafter.

VOL. XII. 2 X

662 ON THE ROLL CONTAINING ILLUSTKATIONS OF

XVII.

Cruthlacus rcgi Etlielhaldo apparet ad sepulcrum ejus
vigilanti.

Passing over the translation of Gutlilac's remains to another
sepulchre, after the lapse of twelve months, when the body
was found uncorrupted as of one sleeping, in this cartoon we
have a scene of Ethelbald, still a prince, although called " Eex
Etlielbaldus," and draped by the artist in regal crown and
vesture, watching by the richly ornamented tomb of his
departed friend. The same, or nearly the same, architectural
edifice is introduced, with a curtain looped up over the heads
of three sleeping attendants of the prince. St. Guthlac is
drawn at full length, and with nimbus and book, in conver-
sation with the kneeling suppliant, to whom he promises a
speedy elevation to the kingdom, and comfirms it with a sign.^^
The chalice, it will be observed, has been removed from the
altar, as the time here represented is midnight.

XVIII.

In the concluding vignette — which seems more than any
to have been designed for a glass-window — there is no des-
criptive sentence, but its subject is quite clear. On the
rio-ht is an altar, contiguous to a shrine, which is intended
to represent that in which Guthlac's remains are deposited.
It stands on slender shafting, and has a pent roof, ridged
with a fleury ornamentation and a cross at the extremity.
Beneath lies the body of a young man, probably a demoniac,
with hands crossed, and held in a fetterlock.^" From his mouth
issues an evil spirit at the invocation of the Saint.

Before the altar is a group of thirteen principal benefactors

29 ^thelred's accession took place in 719.

*» See a similar treatment of Judas and Arrius, a twelfth century
MS. Brit. Mus. : Titus D. xxvi, f. 756. This has been published by
the Pala?ographical Society, plate 60 ; l^oy. Soc. Lit., vol. xi, New
Series, Birch on Anglo Saxon MSS.

THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC. GG^

of Crowland abbey, founded by ^thelbald, and dedicated to
the patronage of the Saint whose life had hallowed the spot
on which the abbey was erected. Each of these figures is
appropriately draped, and carries a long scroll inscribed''^ as
follows :

1 . Ego Eex Ethelbaldus do tibi sedem abbatie cum
pertinentiis suis solutam et liberam ab omni secular! exactione.

2 , Ego Abbas Turketellus do tibi sextam partem hereditatis
mee . Wenliburch'*- . Bebi^^ . Coteham"* . Hokintune^^ .
Elmintune''" . Wuthorp.^^

3 . Ego Frogistus do tibi , pater Guthlace , Langetoft^^ cum
pertinentiis .

4 . Ego Alfwinus comes do tibi Moreburne'''^ cum perti-
nentiis.

5 . Ego Wulfus do tibi terram de Adintun''° cum perti-
nentiis.

6 . Ego Normannus vicecomes do til.n terram de Suttune*^
et de Sstapeltune''".

7 . Ego Geolfus do tibi terram de Halintune^^.

8. Ego Algarus filius Norlang do tibi Bastune''''. et Teford^'^
cum pertinentiis .

'' These inscriptions are short notices of grants of lands, and bene-
factions to the Saint, i.e. the abbey. The texts of their respective
charters may be found in Ingulph's History/ of Crowland, Dugdale's
Monasticon, and other works.

^- Wendlinbiirgh, co. Northampton.

'^ Beby, co. Leicester.

^* Cotenham, co. Cambridge.

^^ Hockington, co. Cambridge.

^'^ Elmington, co. Northamjiton.

3' Wothorpe, co. Northampton.

3^ Langtoft, CO. Lincohi.

3^ Morborn, co. Huntingdon.

'"' Adington, in Soudnavesland hundred, co. Lincohi.

*' Sutton-Cheynell, co. Leicester.

^■- Stapleton, co. Leicester.

" Hallington, co.

** Baston, co. Lincohi.

*^ Tetford, co. Cambridge.

2x2

664 THE LIFE OF SAINT GUTHLAC.

9 . Ego Toroldus ^dcecomes do tibi terrain de Buggeliale*^.

10 . Ego Algarus comes do tibi terrain de Spaldiug^^ et de
PinceV«. et QuappeP^' et Holeh^o.

11 . Ego Alganis diaconus do tibi terrain de Duvedic^^ et
Ecclesiam cum pertinentiis .

12 . Ego Oswius do tibi terram de Draitune'- cum perti-
nentiis.

13 . Ego Alanus de Croun do tibi , pater Guthlace , Priora-
tum de Frest'^® cum pertinentiis .

*« Buchehale, co. Lincoln ; according to some, Bukenhale, co
Northampton, or Bucknall, co, Lincoln.

" Spalding, co. Lincoln.

« Pinceb.

■"• Quaplode, co. Lincoln.

=" Interpreted to be Holbeach.

'' South Dovedike, co. Lincoln.

-" Drayton, co. Cambridge, or co. Lincoln .

53 Freston, co. Lincoln, founded for a Prior and Black Monks, i.e.
Benedictines, in a.d. 1114, and given to Crowland as a cell or depen-
dant religious house.

ON WAXED TABLETS EECENTLY FOUND
AT POMPEII.

BY W. S. W. VAUX, M.A., F.R.S., SEC. Il;S.L.
[Read November 28, 1877.]

Having lately received some information relative
to a remarkable collection of waxed tablets in-
scribed with Poman names and words, which, about
a year and half since, were found at Pompeii, and
having learnt further that httle or nothmg was
known about it in this country, I have thought that
it might be not uninteresting to this Society if I
were to lay before them the chief facts of this story,
with some of the more important residts to the
study of classical antiquities which may be derived
from this discovery.

As few are probably familiar with Poman
writing, or with the various materials used by this
ancient people in recording political and legal
history, or, as in the present case, the events of daily
life, I will preface my present paper with some
general remarks on Poman writing. The Pomans
seem to have used nearly aU the materials for writing
we still use at the present day, such as parchment
or vellum,^ paper, stone, metal plates ; but they

' Pergamena Charta. Vellum, i.e., vitulinum con'um, calf skiu.
Cicero ad Attic, xiii calls his four pages " quatuor 8i(f)depai," so " extrenid
cerd codicis " answered to w hat we should call the " last page."

666 ON WAXED TABLETS

used, also, what so far as I know has been but
rarely used, in more recent times, that particular
material to which I am about to call your attention —
TahulcB ceratcB — pieces of wood of various kmds — oak,
fir, birch, citron-wood, and box (the last of which,
from the closeness of its grain, was naturally the one
most preferred) together with even ivory, all of these
being severally covered with a thin film of wax of
various colours, much Hke, though not as thin as,
that used for engraving modem copper plates.

On this tliin over coatmg of wax were scratched
by a metal tool, sharp at one end and flat at the
other, called a stylus," s^i?h memoranda as they
wished to preserve. Certainly one would have
thouo-lit that to write or scratch on a substance so
soft as wax, anything one wished to keep uninjured,
for even a limited time, would have been scarcely
well advised. Still less should we have expected
a material, naturally so destructible, would have
been used for documents intended to last for a
tolerably long period. Indeed, we should hardly
have anticipated, even with the remembrance of the
butter preserved in Irish bogs, that a single specimen

- xiii Stylus or grcq)hium. Still used for writing or rather scratching
on palm leaves, &c., in Burmah, S. India, and elsewhere. See MS. at
British Museum on silver and gold, with the stylus used exhibited, and
abundant examples on palm leaves at the India Office library or in that
of the Royal Asiatic Society.

The stylus was broad at one end — hence stylum scepe vcrtas, to make
frequent correction, Hor. Sat., 11, 3, 2.

I am afraid the stylus was not restricted to literary purposes. We
have notices of its having been used for offence — also for defence,
when Ceesar struck down the " envious " Casca, when he and other
scoundrels mm-dered him at the foot of Pompey's statue. In modern
times, too, the stiletto, or "little stylus," has not been quite unknown.

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. 667

of such writing or of its material would have been
able to resist the ravages of time : hence, we can
hardly be surprised to learn that specimens of even
the wooden framework, from which the wax and
writing have long since disappeared, are among the
rarest curiosities of our modern Museums, if, indeed,
it be quite certain that these wooden fragments so
exhibited have been correctly named.

But though we could hardly liave expected that
such tender documents could have come down to
our time, even in fragments partially if not wholly
unintelligible, it is certain that the use of Ceratce
Tahulce did survive till a comparatively very late
period of the Middle Ages : we have evidence that
specimens of such writings were extant in a.d. 1301,
at Florence; in a.d. 1307, at St. Gall, in Switzer-
land; in A.D. 1308 at Genoa; in a.d. 1426-28 at
Hanover; and in a.d. 1431-42 at Munich. None of
these, however, except in the material employed,
bear any real relation to these from Pompeii ; so
that we are justified in saying that the collection of
them now in the Museum at Naples is practically
unique. So far as I have been able to ascertain, only
two other specimens exactly resembhng them have
been met with, but these, for reasons I shall presently
state, 1 propose to reserve till the end of this
paper. ^

Cerates Tahulce were used for all purposes by the
ancient Romans, and especially for noting down

' A few other specimens exist in European museums, but I am not
able just now to refer to them as fully as I should wish. Mr. Kenrick
has noticed some of these.

668 ON WAXED TABLETS

present or passing events. They formed, in fact,
their adversaria or memorandum books— the state-
ments on them being often, perhaps generally,
written by the slave [Notarius or Tabellarius) ,
who accompanied his master for this purpose. What
is remarkable is, that both Quinctilian and Martial
speak of the rapidity with which such writings
could be executed, the former stating that writing
on wax was all the quicker than that on paper, that
you had not to dip your calamus (reed or pen) into
the ink, and the latter asserting that the Actuarii,
or shorthand writers, wrote more quickly than the
orator spoke, and illustrating his meaning with the
well known line, " Currant verba licet, manus est
velocior ilHs." Mart, xiv, 208.

I must now tell you what these tablets really were
like. To begin with, they were generally oblong,
about seven or eight inches in length, by five or
six in breadth : their outer sides consisting of a
simple wooden frame ; while their inner side had a
slightly raised edge all round, the object being the
retaining the wax, and the preserving the writing
from being rubbed off or effaced. At the back, they
were apparently held together by wires, which, more
or less, though imperfectly, answered the purpose of
hinges, so that they could be opened and shut,
somewhat like our older books.* There were often

* The nearest thing to these tabulae — and their arrangement — must,
I think, have been certain small books, made of fonr or five slates set
in a wooden frame, amd made to turn over like the leaves of a book,
which were not uncommon in country schools 40 to 50 years ago, and
may possibly be still in use, in remote places, as yet uncurst by School
Boards.

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. (569

three or more of these tablets fastened together, and
when so joined, they were called Diptychs, Triptychs,
etc., names, as every one knows, applied in much
later times to the sacred ivory tablets, of which so
many are still preserved in our Museums, and still
later to the marvellous early German paintings on
wood, which form the glory of the collections at
Antwerp and Bruges, and are fairly well represented
in our National Gallery and in the Taylor Collection
at Oxford.

It may be added that there is a remarkable resem-
blance between these Cerates Tahidw and the well
known bronze documents called Tab idee Honestce
Missionis — which were given to soldiers who had
served with honour to themselves and advantage to
their country, and who were called emeriti. The
account m the Bible of the Tables of the Law, as
given to Moses, suggests documents similar in form,
and which, hence, were called Diptychs by St.
Augustine ; and so does, also, that of the seven-
sealed Book of the Apocalypse.

Julius Ca3sar, with that wonderful commonsense
or genius he showed in almost everytlung he took in
hand, was the first, so far as we know, to suggest
the particular form of the tahulce, as well as the
manner by which they should be fastened together,
so as to make httle books. Previously it had been
the custom when one page of v/riting (I am speaking
now of writing on some substance resembhng paper)
was finished,to gum on a second page, and so on, and,
when the whole was finished, to roll it round a central
stick, thus forming the volumen or volume. Csesarsaw
the inconvenience of this method ; hence, in his letters

670 ON WAXED TABLETS

to the Senate, he divided them into pages so that
they could be folded, hke an account book. These
books so fastened together received the name of
libelli and sometimes of codicilli. Though the
latter, in more modern times, have been chiefly
restricted to Wills, a Diploma, answering very
nearly to our Letters Patent, bore the title of
libellus duorum foliorum ; — while the Codex (or
Caudex) implied any number of these pages when
thus folded together. I may further remark that,
from this idea of the volumen or volume, we at once
understand the Latin phrase evolvere librum — to
unroll the book, i.e., read it. It may be asked how
it was that things so essentially Roman came to
bear generally, and in daily use, the Greek title of
Diptych s, Triptychs, etc., meaning the tivice or thrice
folded. I believe the reason to be simply this, that
about the first century B.C.— that is, the period of
Caesar and Cicero — the minor literature of the day
was performed by slaves, either Greeks or of Greek
origin ; indeed, we know that this was the case with
the teaching of boys, from the name Pedagogus.^
These people would naturally give Greek names to
the books or tablets on which they were ordered to
write ; moreover, slaves bearing writing materials
constantly accompanied Roman gentlemen to the
Forum or the Senate House.^

The more strictly Latin name for these tablets

^ Our Pedagogue was originally the slave who took the sons of his
Patrician master to school, carrying for them their Tabulw ceratce and
their books. Hence he was said tov iraiha ayodyeiv.

• On many, too, of the Pompeian tablets, the writer speaks of himself
as Serous, a slave.

KECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. G71

is pugillarls, that which can be grasped in the
pityniis or closed hand, the invd^ ttvkto<^ of Homer.
The individual pages of the tablets were often called
simply cerce. Thus we find prima ceixi, ultima cera,
and ima cera, meaning, respectively, the first or last
page. Notoriously, in the case of wills, we find such
phrases as Jueres ex prima cent — the heir first
named. So, Suetonius tells us, that Julius Csesar
" In ima cera Octavianmn etiam in familiam nomen-
que adoptavit," — in other words, that Julius Caesar by
the last sheet of his will, adopted Octavianus
(afterwards Augustus) into his family, making him
the successor of his name. It seems also probable
that the ceratce tahulce may, in many cases, be looked
upon as the first drafts of important inscriptions,
subsequently inscribed on the more durable brass
or marble. Many instances of these many be seen
in Orelli, as at Nos. 4359 and 4370, the metallic
copy being afterwards placed (as was the will of
Augustus) in the ^rarium or Treasury at Rome.

Having now said so much as a sort of preface, I
proceed to give you some account of the discovery
itself, and of the contents of the tablets thus dis-
covered, with some notice of the peculiar writing they
exhibit.

The discovery seems to have been in this wise : —
About a year and a half ago workmen were clearing
out a house recently excavated, belonging to an
ancient Pompeian gentleman named L. Ccecilius
Jocundus, and over the portico of the peristyle of
this house came upon a hollow space, about 1 9 inches
square, in which were paclied as closely as possible,
like herrings in a barrel (a fact to which their partial

672 ON WAXED TABLETS

preservation is probably due), 132 lihelli, little books,
or tablets, diptychs and triptychs, together with some
few others of a somewhat larger size, some of which
appeared to haA^e been waxed on both sides, and then
bound up like books. The whole had evidently at
some time before B.C. 79, when Pompeii was over-
whelmed by the eruption of Vesuvius, been enclosed
in a strong wooden box, portions of which were also
found. I am sorry that no detailed drawings seem
to have been made, or even photographs taken, of
their exact state when discovered, but the following
facts about them have been recorded. In the first
place, though all of them had suffered greatly from
the heat, the process of carbonization had not been
equal, certain of the tablets had been converted into
a firm and shiny charcoal, others, again, were turned
into a soft and friable substance, easily reducible to
powder, — indeed, in some cases had been already so
reduced.

All of them had been strongly impregnated with
moisture, and on being taken out of the hole, in
which they had been for nearly 1,800 years, into the
warmth of the surrounding air, began to crackle up
more and more from day to day, till at length the
tablets were, as a rule, completely split through, while
some of them broke up into a number of minute
pieces of which no record was possible. Great care
seems to have been taken with them in their removal
to the house of Mr. Vincenzo Corazza, a paper-
maker close by, and it is fair to beheve that as many
of them have been preserved as was possible under
the circumstances. To the injury from fire and
water just noticed must be added that, besides the

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. 673

wax on the tablets, several of them had once had
seals, and that this second wax had been in many cases
also melted, and, spreading over the adjacent pages,
had greatly injured the earlier writing on them : —
more than this, the original wax of the writing had,
in several instances, been absorbed by the wood, so
that there was scarcely one of the whole collection
which could be fully decyphered. The condition of
most of them was, that a portion of the writing wa.s
quite clear, and the rest altogether defaced. Yet,
allowing for these drawbacks, the discovery is one
of the highest interest, and reflects great credit
on those who, in the manipulation of the precious
relics, have dealt with them with loving hands, and
have, at the same time, given to them unwearied
study. The result is that they have been able to
decypher — though in many instances only partially
— no less than 1'27 specimens out of the 132.
Perhaps no greater instance can be found of patient
labour and successful scholarship, even though
the results attained may seem small as compared
with other epigraphic labours. It is, of course,
impossible for me, within the limited time and
space at my command, to describe anything like all
of the 127 inscriptions thus recovered. But I can
give you a general account of them, at the same
time selecting two of the clearest, which will give
a good idea of their general character, and of the
state in which they have come down to us. I
have appended to each copy a second in plain writing,
so that the contents of the original may be more
readily understood by those who are not professed
palaeographers. With respect to their contents,

674 ON WAXED TABLETS

these Pompeian lihelli may be divided into two
principal classes : —

1, Instruments referring to sales of various objects
by public auction. 2. Acquittances for the pay-
ment of municipal demands. Of these, the first
class are the richest in examples, but naturally
exliibit constant repetitions, and are, therefore,
individually curious, chiefly for their date, the nature
of the properties passing from hand to hand, and
the names of the witnesses. The second class,
though possessing fewer examples, will, when
sufl5ciently studied, be found to throw much
unexpected light on the local history of the town
in which they have been found.

To refer to the first class. These confirm in a
remarkable manner what may be gleaned from the
classical writers with regard to the Eoman law
of sales. In the earliest times,' as is well known,

' Sir P. Colqulioun has been so good as to give the accompanying
legal note : —

" The ancient term for an auction was secare.: hence de dehitoris
corpore in partes secando, falsely interpreted to mean cutting up the
insolvent's body, and portioning it out among his creditors, hence, too,
sectione sive venditione honorum. The bidders were termed emptores
to whom, according as they bid, dicebant,the object was knocked down,
addicebatur—suhsequentlj they were caDed auctiones quia prcetium
migehatur. The word addko conveyed qidritian ownership, or, as we
should say, an indefeasible title conferring a right of action.

The most important spoil of war was slaves, aixi>-a\(^rai or Jiastaii, from
the kasta, or spear planted to denote an auction would be held. Atictio
probably implied an ordinary sale : Sectio, a sale under order of the
court.

" Cic : Phil. 2, 26, Ccesa?' Alexandria se recepit, felix, ut sihi quidem
videbatur ; med autem sente^itid si quis reipnUicce sit infelix, felix esse
non potest. Hasta posita pro .^de Jovis Statoris bona — bonainqnam
On : Pompeii Magni voci acerbissimse subjecta praeconis expectantibus
omniUis quisnam esset tarn impius, tarn demens, tarn Dh hominibusque

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. G75

sales geDerally took place suh haMd, a spear being-
set up in some public place where the sale was to be,
perhaps because the first sales were those of plunder
taken from enemies. Curiously enough this name
for aactions still exists in Italy, where the phrase
vender e aW asta puhlica is often found in the news-
papers. The original phrase used was Vendo—
Vendidi, I sell or have sold, which was in later
times modified into aiictionemfacio, auctionatus est.
I make the auction— or the auction is made. Each
auction was preceded by the Praeco or Public Crier
(who was said auctionem prcedicare) and subsequently

hostis qui ad illud scelus sectionis auderet accedere : inventus est nemo
prceter Antonium ! Unus inventus est qui id auderet, quod omnium
fughset et formddsset audacia. Tantusigltur te stupor oppressit, vel ut
verivs dicam, tantus furor, ut primum quum sector sis isto loco natus,
deiude quum Pompeii sector, non te exsecrandum populo Eomano, non
detestabilem, non omnes tibi Deos, omnes homines, et esse inimicos eifutxiros
scias ? The prceco or cryer acted exactly like our auctioneer, for it was
above the dignity of the magister or argentarim to pufF the goods, he
performed the duties of our auctioneer's clerk, received the produce
and paid the vendore minus his commission, or the creditors if the sale
was judicial. The certificate was evidence of ownership transferred
and it is to be presumed he kept a memorandum of the fact for
reference. Jocundus probably was a judicial and perhaps also a
private auctioneer, who had continued the business of a predecessor
and therefore preserved the memoranda.

" The slave who took the notes was probably somewhat illiterate and
spelt ill. Pompeii was half a Greek city.

" The XII Tables say of the debtor ni cu7n eo {creditori) pacit Ix dies
endo vinculis retineto, inter ibi trinis nundinis continuis in comitiumproce-
tato, (Brisque (estimiam judicati pradicato,ast si pluribus erant rei tertiis
nundinis partes secanto . Si plus minusve secuerunt sefraude esto. Cic :
pro Eosc, Am. 63 ; Ascon. Prsedian. od : in Ven-em Flor 2, 6 :
Varro de Ee Eust : 2, 10 XII Tab. debitorem obceratum creditores secanto
trans Tiberim. The debtor was exiled fictitiously to deprive him of
his citizenship, so as to enable him to be sold as a slave or dirutus
assigned to his creditor to work out his debt.

676 ON WAXED TABLETS

in some cases practically took the place of our
auctioneer.

The pi'ceco -put forth a written statement {inscripsit
or perscripsit litteris) in which were announced the
objects for sale, with the place, the day, the hour,
and the conditions of the sale. Thus Plautus in the
Trinummus says, " ^des venales inscribit litteris,"
that is, put forth a written announcement of the
sale about to take place. The word Tabula itself
sometimes is used for this 7iotice (hence Tahuld
perscribi), and even for the auction itself, hence,
" tahukwi perscrihere " came to mean the same
thing, as " Auctionem constituere." The goods for
sale were called " bona, suspensa," because, as
Seneca tells us, the advertisement was generally
affixed to a pillar, etc., the representative of the
more prunitive hasta. Cicero uses more than once
the phrase ad tabulam adesse, for being present at a
sale, while Ovid's line has the same meaning, " Sub
titidmn nostros misit avara lares," that is, compelled
me to sell my house. At the sale itself, the licitator
or bidder held up his finger {digitum toUebat),
hence digito licitus est in one of Cicero's orations
against Verres means — that the goods were knocked
down to him.

But the most important person present at the sale
was the Argentarius (the banker or money-changer),
who acted as a sort of middle man between the buyer
and the seller, recording the objects exhibited for sale,
and the price asked for them, at the conclusion
handing over the money, if so required, to the seller.
Hence the Argentarius was often naturally called
Magister Auctionis — the master of the sale — his office

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. G77

being clearly a double one — (1), to hand over to the
seller [Auctor ov Auctionator) the proceeds of the sale ;
and (2), m his special function of banker, in which he
does not generally seem to have acted merely as the
organ for the transmission of the money, but rather
as an anticipator of certain payments from his own.
resources [Mensa Argentaria). A passage in Cicero
(ad Attic, xiii. 13), and a curious dialogue in Lucian
(where Mercury appears as the auctioneer) gives the
names of the buyers as well as the price.

On these Pompeian tablets, however, the name of
the vendor rarely occurs, but, instead of this, the name
L. Coecilius Jocundus (the gentleman in whose house
they were found) is ahnost invariably met with. He
is evidently the Argentarius who received from the
seller certain acquittances for the proceeds of the
sale which he either held himself or paid over. The
presence of an Argentarius was always considered to
be necessary as securing public authority to a given
sale ; the writings he committed, at the time to his
waxed tablets (with the words accepturii or expensum),
being held, in the courts, to be evidence for the pur-
chaser, and proof that he had really made the purchase
and that he had duly paid for it. The Argentarius
may therefore be considered as, in this respect, not
unlike our public notaries, the more so that, if the
money w^as not paid, he could at once sue for it, I
have been thus particular in mentioning these
matters, because they illustrate the documents I am
now describing ; indeed, without some such notice, the
documents themseh^es would hardly be intelligible^.

8 I am bound to add, however, that not being myself a lawyer, there
are one or two phrases, about the exact meaning of which I am in some
VOL. XII. 2 Y

678 ON WAXED TABLETS

It is quite clear that these tahulce are, m fact, the
private notes of this Pompeian banker, Jocundus,
though, as many of the dates on them go back to a
period considerably earlier than the destruction of
the town, we have no means of teUing whether any,
or how many of them, represent credits still existing
at that date. The constant use of the word i?er-
scriptio shows that the document refers to a payment
hy delegation, that is, a payment not made on account
of the person who actually executes the deed, but on
that of a thu-d party (perscrihi was the technical
word for payment through the agency of a banker),
that is to say, a man is represented as borrowing
from his banker with the object of paying a previous
debt. Many of the contracts of L. C. Jocundus
clearly show that they represent credits acquired by
him, by the consignment of certain sums to a third
party, who was the creditor of the same person who
had become the debtor of the banker. After the
word perscriptio follows always the name of the
person to whom the banker makes the payment, the
name being, as might be expected, as a rule in the
dative, though sometimes in the genitive. The
names are those of persons who have sold at the
auction, or who have given their acquittance for the
sums received. When in the genitive, the word
auctionis may be understood. Thus in No. 78 we find
Perscriptio Minisi Fructi, i.e., auctionis Minisi
Fructi. It is interesting that, in these documents,

doubt. Thus there is the constant phrase mercede minus persoluta, as
the condition on which the Argentarius apparently advances the various
sums named, this " merces " being clearly the commission the Argentarius
charged, and would, therefore, naturally deduct.

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. (u9

there are scarcely any references to the goods sold, a
further proof, as it seems to me, that they are rather
banker's notes than detailed statements of sales. On
No. 80, however, we find Persci^iptor fenarum (it
ought to be, of course, fenorum), referring obviously
to a sale of hay, the name of the seller, Turdus, the
day of the month and the sum l^eing given.

I think I have now laid before you a general
description of these tahulce, but I should like to
add to this brief notice a few more particulars. As
I have previously stated, these tahulce, though
perhaps little more than the banker's memoranda,
are, in their construction at least, formal State docu-
ments. Thus they are all, or, at all events, have
been, dated by the date of the Consuls of the year
w^hen the sale took place ; the names, also, of the
chief magistrates of the town itself are likewise
constantly given. Of the former (the Consuls), no
less than 38 are recorded, among whom we find the
well known names C. Drusus Ceesar (the earhest,
B.C. 15) L. Anngeus Seneca, the Emperor Nero,
M. Fonteins Capito, M. Valerius Messalla, and
M. Ostorius Scapula — the conqueror of the western
part of Britain, and of Mona, or Anglesey. The
latest date recovered is tliat of P. Marius Celsa,
A.D. 62, nine years before the eruption of Vesuvius ;
but, of course, it does not follow^ that there may not
have been many tahulce in this box for each one
of the eight years following : only these have not
been as yet decyphered. Of the local magistrates,
or Duumviri, 13 names have been preserved,
among which I may notice those of C. Cornelius
Macer, and of Sextus Pompeius Proculus. The

2 Y 2

G80 ON WAXED TABLETS

number of separate auctioneers amounts to 74, and
the whole number of Eoman names of all classes
to 404, if I have coimted them correctly. Of these
between 60 and 70 have been previously met with
on other Pompeian remams. It is interesting to
see, on looking through this hst, to how large an
extent the Eoman Empu-e, or, perhaps, it woidd
be better to say, the chief towns m the western
portion of it, had, towards the middle of the first
centuiy, been leavened with a population of Greek
descent. Thus, among the 404 names noticed above,
I observe no less than 113 that are simply Greek
names with Latinized ternainations, the majority
being no doubt those of slaves, who either wrote
the tabulcB or who acted as witnesses to the
different deeds. I have before noticed the same
fact on the brick stamps, procm^ed by Mr. Parker
at Eome, of which I gave an account to this Society,
some four or five years ago. On both the Pompeian
tablets and on the brick stamps, we find, also,
a considerable number of Latin names of strange
foiTQ, such as are not met with among the titles
of families pm^ely of Eoman descent. These,
even where the actual word servus is omitted, we
may be sure are those of the servile class of
Eoman society. Specimens of such names are,
Secundio, Optatus, Verna, Fructio, Godio, Felicio,
Restitutiis, Ampliatus, Caviatus, Sornio, and the
Hke.

With regard to the language of these inscriptions,
I may remark that the genitives singular from ius are
almost always simply ; that 2^ is used for j^h and /,
thus we find Chirograpi for Chirogi'ajj/??', Palepatifor

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. 681

Palsephati ; that s is constantly inserted after the
X, as dixsit, Maxsimus ; that, in some cases, oh
auctione is used for the more classical oh auctionem ;
that we find the twofold form in stipulatuin venit,
and in stipulatu venit and that Sesteriios and
Sester^m occur indifferently. Probably some of
these variations are due to the unskilled hands
of the writers of these documents ; anyhow they
are no evidence of either a local dialect or of
the " Vulgar Latin " of which we used to hear so
much some years ago.

There is yet another matter of interest to students
of Antiquity, on which these Poinpeia}i Tablets
throw a good deal of light, and this is the form of
the current Koman handwriting at or soon after
the Augustan period. It was the common belief of
the scholars of the last century, when Pompeii
and Herculaneum had been but very partially
cleared out, that whenever in inscriptions Roman
words were met with, written in what may be called
a scrawly hand, this bad writing was simply the
result of ignorance, the work, in fact, of some imedu-
cated Poman boor. By degrees, however, it has been
acknowledged that this was a very narrow view of the
matter, the publication, now some years since, of the
Gra.ffiti di Pompei by an illustrious Abate, having
pretty well disposed of this notion.

It was clear from these writings — confirmed as they
have been by many inscriptions and portions of
inscriptions found by Mr. Parker and others in the
catacombs at Pome and Naples, and in more than
one place in the north of Italy, that there was a
regular cursive character, as we might ct priori have

682 ON WAXED TABLETS

felt sure there must have been, in which the miscel-
laneous business of Rome and of her provinces was
written, and in which, indeed, and not in the so-
called uncial letters of formal inscriptions, Cicero
doubtless wrote his Letters and Caesar his Com-
mentaries. The Pompeian tablets to which I have
been calling attention fully confirm this view ;
indeed, it is impossible not to see that they repre-
sent a style of writing thoroughly well known, one,
too, not recently invented, but which had grown
up gradually as the necessity was felt for it. All
this makes one hope that a complete set of photo-
graphs of these and other similar documents may be
made public ere long, if, indeed, by this time, many
of them have not altogether perished, leaving no
record but the copies of the inscriptions to which I
have been referring.

But the Pompeian tahulce do more than this : just
as we might have inferred the necessity of a cursive
handwriting, so must we also that of a shorthand
wTiting analogous, at least, in its use, to what we
have learnt from Gurney or Pitman. That the
Greeks had a form of shorthand has been long known,
the marks being called crrjixeCoL ; indeed Evagrius, as
quoted by Montfaucon, speaks of men, ypd(f)eiv e?
ra)(o9 rjo-Krio-fJiepov^, persons skilled to write wdth
rapidity, in fact, professors of shorthand, or tachy-
graphy. That the same practice must have been in
use at Rome, the line I quoted from Martial and the
statement of Quinctihan sufficiently prove. It is
difficult to beheve that any one could write, on a
substance hke wax, as fast as an orator could
speak, unless he was well practised in the art of

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. 683

making abbreviations. Now, that this was so, the
plate from the Pompeian tablets appended to this
paper shows clearly : not only are there several
evident contractions, but there are one or two singfle
marks or scratches, which are well known abbrevia-
tions of individual words, a short-hand, in fact,
if not so artistic or so elaborate as our more
modern types. Many, indeed, of what are strictly
lapidary inscriptions show a tendency to a sort
of shorthand. This may be seen on one published
in the Bullettino delV Instituto of Rome in 1831, and
in Letronne's memou- on the Greek wi'itings on the
so-called statue of Memnon, published in the 2nd
vol. of the first series of the Transactions of this
Society. Still more clearly do we see the same
tendency in the j)Otters marks at the bottom of the
red Samian ware vessels in the collections of the
British Museum and elsewhere. On many of these
earthenware inscriptions the use of both the stylus
can readily be traced, as well as the pen and ink. Of
the last character I may mention that we have an
excellent example in a cursive Assyiian inscription
from Nimrud. In the case of the Samian pottery
both stylus and pencil were used before the clay
was baked, the result being that the forms of the
letters, which often run one into the other, is con-
stantly modified ; the general character of a form
analogous to shorthand writing being thus produced.
I will only, in conclusion, advert to another case,
in which similar documents are said to have been
foimd, to which I referred at the commencement of
this paper. It is this : Some forty years ago,
Dr. Massm,ann, who had clearly shown his capacity

684 ON WAXED TABLETS

as an interpreter of strange and ancient records by-
more than one valuable work, published at Munich
a monograph, in which he described, in great detail,
the discovery in certain abandoned gold mines of
Dacia, of two tablets, closely resembling the
Pompeian tablets.

For reasons I do not know, some doubts have
arisen as to the genuineness of the discovery, though
no one has impugned Dr. Massmann's learning.^

It has been stated that the two tablets are
forgeries, and that Dr. Massmann has since admitted
himself to be the forger : but, if so, it is a forgery
unique in character and execution. The forger, to
perform his part, must have imagined what might
be found, nearly forty years later, at Pompeii, and
must have had the most remarkable power of
" evolving out of his inner consciousness," the style
and the characters of the tablets he published. The
writing on Dr. Massmann's tablets is almost one
with that on those from Pompeii ; and it may fairly
be asked where could he have found any such to
copy from ?

I ought to add that Dr. W. Smith, no friend of
creduhty, "Dictionary of Antiquities" (1st ed. of

» I may, perhaps, be here allowed to add that the late Sir Frederic
Madden, a man pre-eminently competent to decide on questions of
palaeography, at first had grave doubts as to the genuineness of
Dr. Massmann's Tahulce, and made his doubts public ; but, having some
years afterwards had an opportunity of examining them more minutely,
he gave up his previous opinion, further stating, with an unusual
honesty, that he had been previously misled, and that, to the best of his
(later) knowledge, there was no gi'ound whatever for impugning either
Dr. Massmann's veracity or the genuineness of the remarkable tablets
he was the first to publish, and which any one may see in the public
Museum at Pesth.

RECENTLY FOUND AT POMPEII. G85

1842, as well as in his amended and 2nd ed. of 1857),
entirely accepts the statements of Dr. Massmann,
and further, that a far higher authority, and a still
more competent scholar, Dr. Henzen, the editor of
the third volume of Orelli's " Thescmrus of Latin
Inscriptions," published in 185G, when giving iMass-
mann's inscriptions m full, adds the words, " De
sinceritate tabularum male dahitavit LetronniusJ''
I have myself looked through Letronne's critical
article in the "Journal des Savants" for 1841, and
must confess I am not impressed with the sagacity,
in this mstance, at least, of this renowned Greek
scholar. Without, then, presuming to say more than
that I think Dr. Massmann's story may be fairly
accepted, I may state that the two tablets he
describes have a remarkable likeness to those to
which I have called attention.

It would seem that he had at the time he
pubhshed his Treatise two tvaxen tablets, in a nearly
perfect state of preservation, one of which had been
found four or five miles from the village of Abrud-
banya, in a disused gold mine, and the other in a
similarly disused mine in the village itself. Both
these tahulcB were triptyclis — that is, consisted
of three tablets each — one being of fir, the others
of beech wood ; their respective size being what
we might call small 8vo. The outer part of the
two outside tablets of each exhibits the plain
surface of the wood, portions having been evidently
once covered with wax, now almost black, — with a
raised margin all round.

The middle tablet has wax on both sides, so that
each of these tahulw originally comprehended /bitr

G86 ON WAXED TABLETS FOUND AT POMPEII.

pages covered with wax. The edges are pierced
tlii^ough with holes for fastenings. The wax is not
thick on either, and is somewhat thinner on the
beechen tabulcB, where the stylus of the writer has
cut tlii^oupfh the wax into the wood. There are
letters on both, — those on the beechen one being
the least distinct — and the beginning of the first
tablet contains some Greek letters, the meaning of
which has not been satisfactorily made out. The
writing on the fir- wood tahulce is evidently the copy
of a document relating to a Collegium, and as the
names of the Consuls of the years are added, we
know that the date of tliis instrument is a.d. 169.

I will only add that if hereafter it should be
proved that Dr. Massmann is to be em^oUed among tlie
already too long hst of literary forgers, the book he
has written about his forgery will still remain, and
be justly deemed, as, indeed, Letronne admits, a
remarkable monument of sound scholarship and
learnmg.

Transcriiotion of Tablet on annexed 2^'^9^-
To the right, the names of the witnesses, much defaced —

A. MESSI. — Q. AEEI. — T. SORNI — X. HEREXNII. C IVSTI

N .... CM .... M. AXTI (STi). PPJMIG. . .

. . M. AYEELI. FELIC (is).

To the left, across the Tabula —

H. S. N. 00. C. 0.0. LXXXV. QYAE. PECVNIA. IN. STIPVLATV.
VENIT. CAECI. IVCVND. OB. ANCTIOXEM, DVXIT. PtEM. C- IVLI,
ONESIMI. IN. IDVS. JVLIAS. PEIMAS. MERCEDE. MIN\^S. NVM-
ERATAS. ACCEPISSSE. DIXIT. C. JVLFV^S. ONESIMYS. AB. M.
FABIO. AGATHINO. NOMINE. L. CAECILI. JVCVNDI.
ACTVM. POMPEIS. VI. IDVS. MAIAS.

M. ACILIO. AVIOLA. M. ASINIO. MARCELLO. COS.

r^-\

■ Cl Or*^ 7- "^rEj p

I- ■ M ■ y

THE WAX TABLETS OF POMPEII, AND
THE BRONZE TABLE OF ALJUSTREL.

BY C. H. E. CARMICHAEL, M.A.

(Eead 23i-d January, 1878.)

Some apology may seem to be due to this Society
for so soon bringing again before it a subject already
carefully worked out by our Secretary. But the
author of the first paper read before us himself pro-
moted my continuing the discussion, when I mentioned
that I believed myself to be in possession of materials
for the illustration of our common subject, which had
apparently escaped his own research. I have given
to the present paper a heading somewhat different
from that under which the subject was first brought
before our members, because I have thought I
could make my treatment of it somewhat more
complete by reference to a Bronze Table recently
discovered in Portugal, which, in part at least, is
also concerned with the law of sale by auction.

The authority whose guidance I shall prmcipally
foUow this evening in laying before you some of
the prevailing Continental views on the Pompeian
Tablets first brought to our notice by Mr. Vaux, is
that of a French Professor, distinguished for his
studies in Greek and Boman jurisprudence, M. Caille-
mer, Dean of the Faculty of Law in the University
of Lyons. His learned and valuable dissertation on
the Pompeian tablets was read before the fifteenth

688 THE WAX TABLETS OF POMPEII, AND

Annual Confess of the Deleo-ates of the Learned
Societies of France (Reunion des Delegues des So-
cietes Savantes) held at the Sorbonne from the 4th
to the 7th April, 1877. It was briefly analysed in
the Report of the Congress given m the excellent
summary of " Travaux Academiques " in the number
for May-June, 1877, of the "Revue Generale du
Droit et de la Jurisprudence en France et a I'Etran-
ger " (Paris : E. Thorin), which also contains a notice
by one of the Editors, M. Joseph Lefort, of Professor
Soromenho's Report on the Table of Aljustrel The
full text of M. Caillemer's paper is prmted as an
article in the number for July- August, 1877, of the
" Nouvelle Revue Historique de Droit Frangais et
Etranger " (Paris : Larose), and that will be my
authoritative source for the views expressed by the
learned writer, both on the Pompeian Tablets and
the Table of Aljustrel.

Concerning M. Caillemer, and the esteem in which
he is held, I need only say that the Faculty over
which he has been appointed to preside, although of
recent creation, is one to Avhich the State attaches
considerable importance. The opening discourse
pronounced by M. Charles Giraud,^ of the Institute,
tells in eloquent language how long its establishment
had been the desire of the people of Lyons. "Promised
by the Government of July ; on the point of being
granted by the Empire ; it is the President of the
Repubhc," says M. Giraud,"who to-day pays this long-
standing debt of France to the great city of Lyons."
While of the Faculty itself, and of its Dean, he says,

» Printed iii the " Eevue de Legislation xVncienne et Moderue ".for
November-December, 1875. (Paris : Thorin.)

THE BRONZE TABLE OF ALJUSTREL. G89

" Under the direct government of a Dean whose
learning is held in honour throughout Europe
. . . planted on the borderland of the two great
currents of our early juridical civilisation, with so
many historical monuments before its eyes, and
brought face-to-face with the fervid activity of
I^yons, it may take an exceptional position among

the Facidties of France The creation

of yesterday, it already enjoys the countenance of
the Magistracy, the Bar, and citizens of Lyons."
It cannot but be worth our while to know what
the occupant of so distinguished a position has
to say about the Tablets of Pompeii. In the
first place, M. Caillemer points out" how ex-
tremely prevalent sales by auction had become in
the reign of Nero. There were forced sales, and sales
of property belonging to communities, and to the
Treasury ; sales by heirs who inherited things which
were useless to them ; sales by proprietors who
owned things no longer of use ; sales by borrowers
who had no credit, and were obliged to turn their
property into ready money. Such and so many
were the roads that led to the " Atrium Auctiona-
rium" in the days of Nero. Thus were sold
Pompey's old clothes, and battered silver cups, and
hideous old slaves^. This was the course recom-
mended by Cato to small farmers who wanted to
get rid of their old furniture or of their corn, and
wine, and oil. " Aiictioncm titi facicmt," was the
universal cry in the Imrd times of Divus Nero.

- Eef erring to Pliuy, Ep. vii, 11, § 1.
^ Cicero, Pliilippica ii, 29, § 73.
■* Cato, De Ee Rustica, 2.

690 THE WAX TABLETS OF POMPEII, AND

But a sale, says M. Caillemer, implies public
officers, whose duty it should be to put up the
articles for sale, receive the bids, and adjudge to the
highest bidder. Such, in fact, he continues, was
the function of the Auctionatores at Pompeii, and to
this class belonged that Csecilius Jucundus whose
Tablets form the subject of our present investigation.

One of the first questions which meets us on the
very threshold of our enquiry is the nature of the
office of Auctionator. Was the position one which
could be filled by any chance comer ? Or must we
not rather hold that men upon whose integrity and
fitness so much depended had something, at least,
of an official character impressed upon them ?
Mr. Vaux seems to have held that the seller was
also the Auctionator, and such appears to have been
the view expressed by the author of the principal
Italian work on this subject. Signer De Petra,^ who
has pubHshed all the texts hitherto deciphei'ed.
But the opposite view is taken by M. Caillemer, who
considers the Auctionator to have been the officer
who presided over the sale. Mommsen, it appears,
goes even further,*^ and attributes an official character

= Le Tavolette cerate di Pompei rinvenute a' 3 e 5 Luglio, 1875.
Memoria del Prof. Giulio De Petra, Direttore del Museo Nazionale di
Napoli. Eoma, Tip. Salviucci, 1876. Estratto dal Tomo 3°, Serie
Ila. degli Atti della Eeale Accademia dei Lincei.

M. Caillemer, op. cit., referring to this work, says, "M. De Petra
applique le mot auctionator au proprietaire qui fait une vente a
I'encan. II nous semble que ce nom convient mieux a I'officier qui
preside aux encheres." I cite the edition which I possess of Sig. De
Petra's monograph, procured for me in Naples, by the kindness of a
friend, as being the original reprint from the Transactions of the
Academy of the Lincei, before which Sig. De Petra's paper was read
on the 23rd April, 1876.

« " Hermes," xii, p. 99 et seq., quoted by M. Caillemer.

THE BRONZE TABLE OF ALJUSTREL, G91

to the mere prcecones, or criers, whom he compares
to the apparitores and other subordinate officials.
We know from inscriptions, argues Mommsen, that
there were auclionatores or coactores attached ex-
clusively to certain markets, e.g., to the Portus Vin-
arius, and the Forum Vinarium, for we find such
titles as ai-gentarius coactor de portu vinario, and
coacto}' vinarius de foro vinario, showing the exis-
tence of officers with a fixed local authority.

Sales might take place anywhere, but as a matter
of fact they were usually held in a hall which the
auctioneer either owned or rented. They were
announced by the crier : " Prceco ad merces turbam
qui cogit emendas," as M. Caillemer aptly quotes.^
They were advertised, and the prototyjDes of the
hoardings covered with miscellaneous announcements
which greet our eyes in the Strand, or at the stations
of the Underground Railway have been found in
the Street of the Goldsmiths, and in the wynd, or
narrow passage, by the house of Eumachia, abutting
on the Forum of Pompeii. It was the Prceco who
showed the articles which were for sale : who
declared the prices at which they were put ujd, and
urged the bidders to activity. His functions, there-
fore, partook largely of the character of those which
we now attribute to the auctioneer, but yet he was
not the Auctionator of Nero's days. The latter
officer stood by, or sat, as the opportunity may have
offered, and being something like the Praetor, we
may imagine, " Vir pietate gravis," took note of the
bids, as they were signified by the nods or lifted
fingers of the would-be purchasers, and knocked

' Horace, De Arte Poetica, v. 419.

092 THE WAX TABLETS OF POMPEII, AND

down the articles to the highest bidder. When the
sale took place prcesenti pecunia, the buyer at once
paid the price and received the delivery of the thing
sold. Even under these circumstances, however,
the facts of the sale and the names of the parties
were carefully registered in the books of the Auction-
ator, so that at need the name of the buyer could
easily be ascertained. In the case of property of
considerable value, a stipulation for delay might be
entered into between the buyer and the Auctionator.
In the time of Gains an Auctionator who brought an
action against a buyer in virtue of such a stipulation
before delivery of the thing sold, was subject to an
exceptio, which, however, could be met by a I'epli-
catio, granted by the Praetor in cases where the
Auctionator had taken the precaution to declare at
the outset that there would be no delivery until the
price was paid. The obligation on the part of the
Auctionator to pay over the sale price to the vendor
was also the subject of a stipulation " Venditor stipu-
latur pretium rerum quce in venditioneni datoe sunt."
(Dig. L. 88, De Solutionibus.)

Now there are some points in this transaction just
described to which I would ask your most careful
attention. I have followed my principal authority,
M. Caillemer, in the description which I have placed
before you of a sale by auction, its modes, and its
effects in the time of Nero.

But in considering the question of the Koman ln,w
of sale, with special reference to my present subject,
I have been struck by some suggestions in Professor
W. A. Hunter's recent work on Poman Law,^ which

** " A Systematic and Historical Exposition of Eoniau Law in tlie

THE BROXZE TABLE OF ALJUSTREL. 693

I deem it right to lay before you, as I do not find
that M. Caillemer has alluded to the particular
difficulty which Proferfsor Hunter would fain solve.
It may be laid down that three things were required
to constitute the contract of sale : (1) a thing to be
sold; (2) a price to be paid; (3) au agreement between
two persons to a^ive the price for the thing. " The
obhgation of simple delivery was often created by
stipulation. It is, therefore," says Professor
Hunter, " scarcely a conjecture to affirm that sales
were made by stipulations, and that those stipulations
that were most convenient wei'e most generally
used. And," he proceeds, " it is quite within the
mark to say that the law of sale in its latest form
consisted of stipulations taken for granted." I think
the study of the Pompeian Tablets will show us that
Csecilius Jucundus, at least, was yerj careful in
hedging hnnself round with sti])ulations.

But there is yet another point connected with the
Koman law of sale to which I must draw your
attention. The seller, we have seen, was bound to
" transfer merely the possession, and not the owner-
ship of the thing sold." Why was this ? It might
have been thought that the buyer would consider
that he had a right to ask the vendor to made a
good title. The reason of this seeming anomaly is
believed by Professor Hunter to be that " if the
seller had been required to make a good title, ahens
(peregrirn) could neither have bought nor have sold,
since they could not be owners ex jure Qawitium.
But they could possess, and therefore an obligation

order of a Code." By W. A. Hunter, M.A., Professor of Ivoiuan Law,
LTniversity College, Loudon. W. Maxwell and Son. 1876.

VOL. XII. 2 z

694 THE WAX TABLETS OF POMPEII, AND

to deKver possession, combined with warranty
against eviction, gave them as complete rights as it
was possible they could have in Roman Law."

However this may be, it is clear that the
auctionator was a medium of communication between
two parties who remained legally strangers to each
other. And upon this go-between it was that the
loss fell if the buyer turned out to be a man of
straw. On the other hand, if the Auctionator
became insolvent, the buyer was under no risk of an
action. The bonds which were created by the
stipulations to which I have already referred, could
only be loosened by strict legal forms,^ as many of
the Pompeian Tablets bear witness. Csecilius Jucun-
dus was a cautious man ; probably his deaHngs
tended to make him so. Anyhow, it is certain that
he kept among his deeds some acquittances which
were forty-seven years old, for there are two Tablets,
we learn, one of a.d. 27, and the other of a.d. 15
(De Petra, Tavolette, Nos. 1 and 2). When he paid
his debts, he walled himself in with precautions
against the remotest possibility of ulterior claims.
He began, M. Caillemer thinks, with an acceptilatio.
On handing over the money to his creditor, he
addressed to liim the ceremonial question (question
sacramentelle) : Habesne acceptum f to which the
seller answered, Haheo. This, says M. Caillemer, is
no doubt not the acceptilatio that we find in the
Institutes, at a time when Jurists have come to

9 " Such forms," says Mr. Sandai-s, in his Commentary on Inst.
Ill, 29, " were too solemn in the eyes of the law to lose their power,
unless other forms equally solemn were gone through." (Institutes of
Tustinian. By T. C. Sandars, M.A. Longmans, 1878, p. 31)0).

THE BRONZE TABLE OF AL.TUSTIIEL. 095

define it as imaginaria qucedam solutio. But it is,
he affirms, acceptilatio such as it must have been in
its origin, at a time when verbal obhgations being
only capable of extinction verbis, it was the necessary
complement and consequence of the payment. In
addition to this, however, Csecilius Jucundus took
yet another precaution. Wishing to put on record
the transaction by which he barred claims against
him, he caused a statement of the acceptilatio to be
written on Tablets, and procured its signature by his
creditor, and as many witnesses as he could obtain.
Thus we find, in a Tablet of which M. Caillemer gives
the full text, that M. Lucretius Cams solemnly
recognised that he had received from L. Csecilius
Jucundus the sum named on the Tablet, on account
of the sale of his property by auction, which sum
had been stipulated by Jucundus, deducting therefrom
the honoraria due to him, and which amounted in
the given case to one-fiftieth. This brings me to a
point touched upon by Mr. Vaux, viz., the correct
rendering of the phrase "llercede minus numerates,''
which constantly occurs in the Tablets. M. Caille-
mer translates it in the very way that seemed to
Mr. Vaux the only reasonable rendering, viz., as I
have given it above, or in M. Caillemer's own
language, "' deduction faite des honoraires."^^ In the
time of Cicero this commission which the Roman

'<• Mommsen aj^pears to favour the same view, if he may be taken to
admit the fusion which I suppose to have existed in the case of Csecilius
Jucundus, and probably in many other such cases, of the positions of
argentarius andauctionator. For DePetra tells us,o/». cit., p. 10, " mercede
minus. Mi avverte il Mommsen che mercede vale qui il tanto per
cento che V argentariiis riceveva per la sua mediazione nella vendita
air incanto."

2 z 2

61)6 THE WAX TABLETS OF POMPEII, AND

auctioneer took as his profit amounted to 1 per
cent. ; as we have it stated in his own words,
" Accessio, ut nostri facere coactores solent, cente-
simse."^^ The rapid increase of the auctioneer's
business to wdiich I have already alluded made this
apparently small honorarium very profitable. More-
over, it appears that this percentage could be
increased, for one of the Pompeian Tablets records a
merces quinquagesima, i.e., 2 per cent. And we
are told that another Tablet carries the commission
as high as 8 per cent.^^ So it would seem that
there was only a minimum fixed by law, while
higher charges might be made by agreement.
When the sale did not take place presenti pecunia,
and the auctionator made a stipulation with the
buyer, this stipulation included not only the purchase
money, but also several accessiones ; and in that
case it was said that the whole sum '' in stipulatu
veniehat."

Generally speaking, the auctionator had to advance
the purchase money, which he paid over to the
vendor as the proceeds of the sale. For instance,
we see by an inscription of which M. Caillemer gives
the full text, that Caecilius Jucundus paid over to
Julius Onesimus the amount of the sale of certain
box-wood, on the 6th of the Ides of May, although
the money was not due till the 1st of the Ides of
the following July. It is obvious, therefore, that
the auctionator must needs have been a man of

" Cicero, Pro Rabirio Postumo, ii, 30.

1= Be Petra, " Tavolette," Nos. 8 and 113.

In Egj^pt, under the Lagidse, the commission "was usually 5 per cent.,
but sometimes as high as 10 percent. (Lumbroso, "Economie Politique
de I'Egj'pte sous les Lagides," p. 303, et seq., cited by M. Caillemer.)

THE BRONZE TABLE OF ALJUSTREL. 697

substance, and have had great command of ready
money. And this aspect of his position brings me
to the consideration of the question concerning the
identity of the auctionator with the argentarius.
Following M. Caillemer, as I have done throughout
in my description of the auctionator, and considering
him to have filled a position answering in essentials
to that of our auctioneer, I should say that not
every argentarius was also an auctionator, but that
probably the majority of the auctionatores in a large
way of business were argentarii. I have no doubt
that our friend L. Csecihus Jucundus was a member
of the Collegium Argentariorum. This Corporation
was greatly favoured by the later Imperial legis-
lation, and it must always have been a powerful
body. Justinian gave its members a special hyj)othec
on immoveables bought by their clients with money
advanced by them.^^

The same Emperor fused two actions, the Praetorian
action de pectmia constituta (which might be brought
against any one who engaged to pay money, either
for himself or others, without a stipulation), and the
actio receptitia, a remedy confined exclusively to
contracts with Argentarii}'^

There are some passages of the Digest, incidentally
alluded to by Professor Hunter in the portion of his
work treating of the Poman Law relating to the
production of documents, which strike me as possibly
shedding a light on the extreme care exhibited by
Csecilius Jucundus in preserving the records of his
transactions. If he was, as I believe him to have

" Nov. 136, 3.
" last. i\ , 6, 8

698 TEIE WAX TABLETS OF POMPEII, AND

been, an argentarius, he might be compelled to
produce his books in Court/'' This liability would
be ample reason for what might otherwise seem an
excessive caution on his part.

The convenience of the combination of the functions
of auctionator and argentcirius, a convenience which
must sometimes have amounted almost to a necessity,
leads me to concur in the view expressed by
M. Caillemer, that we see in it the reason why the
one name is often synonymous with the other.
Csecilius Jucundus, in fact, appears to me to have
been just such a man as the Jurist Scaevola
describes^^ under the title of argentarius coactor, and
of whom he says, pcene totam fortunam in nominihus
habehat.

In regard to the value of the Pompeian Tablets for
the correction of the Consular Fasti, I am enabled
from M. Caillemer's account to give one sample not
mentioned by Mr. Yaux. There is a Tablet which
Signer de Petra considers an authority sufficient to
warrant him in transferrino; from a.d. 62 to the
second half of A, D. 56 the Consulship of L. Annfieus
Seneca and L. Trebellius Maximus Pollio, the latter
of whom gave his name to the Senatus Consultum
Trehellianum. This is a considerable alteration, but
it appears to be worked out from the evidence which
Signer de Petra enjoys the advantage of having had
before his eyes, and which we at a distance are
scarcely in a position to dispute. As to the binding
of the Pompeian Tablets, M. Caillemer remarks that
it was not in accordance with the form prescribed in

•■' Dig: ii, 13,4, pv., ii, 13, 9, ,3.

" Dig : xl. § 7. " De StatuliberiH." 40, 8.

THE BRONZE TABLE OF ADJUSTREL. 699

Nero's reign, and of which Suetonius and the Jurist
Paulus give the details/^ Why this apparent irregu-
larity existed I am not at present able to say. The
tablets of Caecilius Jucundus have not the triple per-
foration ordered, but only the perforation which
served to bind them together us diptychs or triptychs.
The form described by Suetonius and Paulus has,
however, been found in a collection of military Dip-
lomas and Tablets, of which several distinct discoveries
have been made at intervals during the last hundred
years at Vdrospatak, in Transylvania. These Tablets,
some of which have not yet, so far as I am aware,
been deciphered, are described in the Corpus Inscrip-
tionuni Latinarum, III, pp. 903, 922, according to
M. CaiUemer. They also formed the subject of a
valuable and most elaborate monograph by Dr. Mass-
mann, entitled " Libelius Aurarius sive Tabulas
Ceratse et antiquissimse et unicee Romanse in Fodina
Auraria, apud, Abrudbanyam, Oppidulum Transyl-
vanmn, nuper repertee. Edidit Joannes Ferdi-
nandus Massmann, Dr. Phil., Prof Ordinarius in
Univ. Monacensi. Lipsise, Weigel ; Londini, Bohn."
(No date on title page, but preface dated 1840.) For
the opportunity of consulting this now rare work at
my leisure, I am indebted to our Secretary, Mr. Vaux,
while to another friend and member of our Society,
Mr. J. W. Bone, I am indebted for a similar kindness,
by which I have been enabled to refer, for the pur-
poses of this paper, to a volume entitled " A Selection
of Papers on subjects of Archaeology and History," by

" Nero, 17 : " Adversus falsarios tunc px'imum repertum ne tabula^,
nisi pertusse ac ter lino per foramina trajecto, obsjgnarentui'. '
Paulus, " Sentenfiaj," v, 25, § 6.

700 THE WAX TABLETS OF POMPEII, AND

the late Rev. John Kenrick, MA., F.S.A. (Long-
mans, 1864), containing an interesting account of the
Transylvanian Tablets. It is curious to note that
Mr. Kenrick, writing long before the exploration of
the house of C^ecilius Jucundus, seems to have felt
it necessary to apologise for the apparent absence of
wax tablets among the already fairly numerous
Pompeian discoveries, by saying " that they should
not have been found in Herculaneum or Pompeii,
buried in volcanic mud and ashes, is not surprising."
The deficiency which he thus accounted for has now
been amply supplied by Pompeii. In the apt words
of Signer De Petra, " Alia fine Pompei ha dato
i suoi trittici, ed in tale abbondanza, che il trovamento
e riuscito degno del luogo ove fu fatto, e di quello
destinato ad accoglierlo." I have left myself, I fear,
but little space or time to give any account of the
other Inscription of which T promised at the outset
that I would say something tliis evening, viz., that
which appears on the Bronze Table of Aljustrel. A
portion of the text is printed by M. Caillemer, as
bearing upon the question of the various items which
may have been mcluded in the inercas or commission
of the Auctionator. It would appear from the Portu-
guese Table that in some cases, at least, the seller
had to pay a charge called 2^^^<^conium, which was
fixed either at so much per cent., or so much per
article sold. It may be, therefore, that Caicilius
Jucundus had to pay the prceco, as well as hire or
purchase the liall in which his sales were effected.
The Table of Aljustrel, as I mentioned in tlie earher
portion of my paper, has been noticed by M. Lefort
as well as by M. Caillemer, and it has also been

THE BRONZE TABLE OF ALJUSTREL. 701

commented upon by M. Charles Giimid. The time
which I have had at my disposal has not admitted of
my consulting more than the two authorities whose
writings were in my possession. And unfortunately
neither of these gives the whole of the text so far as
it has been at present deciphered. The portion pointed
out by M. Caillemer is, therefore, all that I can lay
before you at present. On a future occasion I may
return to the subject, and include some account of
the Transylvanian Tablets to which I have had
occasion to allude. In the brief notice of the
Table of Aljustrel written by M. Lefort, attention is
justly drawn to the richness of the Iberian Peninsula
in this branch of epigraphy. Spain alone has yielded
to us within a quarter of a century the Tables of
Malaga, Salpensa, and Osuiia ; and now Portugal
comes forward with the Table of Aljustrel. It is a
Table'^ of bronze, measuring, according to the Conti-
nental standard, from 8 to 13 millimetres in
thickness and 72 centimetres in height by 53
in breadth. Unfortunately the Table is broken at
the right hand corner. From the character of the
letters it is attributed to the latter part of the first
century of the Christian era, and may, perhaps, be
placed between the reigns of Vespasian and Domitian.
It has been fully described by M. Soromenho,^^ Pro-

•* In the absence of more precise data, I prefer keeping up in my own
language the distinction which seems to be drawn by M. Caillemer
between the "Tablettes de Pompei," and the "Table d' Aljustrel."
M. Lefort likewise api)lies the epithet " Table " to the Portuguese
discovery. It will be observed, moreover, that Sig. De Petra's work is
entitled " Le Tavolette Cferate," &c. The distinction is based, I presume,
on the size, and not on the material em^iloyed.

'^ " La Table de Bronze d'Aljustrel ; Eapport adresse a M. le
Ministre de I'lnt^rieur par M. Auguste Soromenho, Lisbonno, Imp.

702 THE WAX TA.BLETS OF POMPEII, AND

fessor of History at Lisbon, in a Eeport addressed to
the Minister of the Interior in the course of 1877.
It was found in the mine of Aljustrel, which
belonged, says M. Lefort, to the " Conventus J uridi-
cus Pacencis," and it contains the law relating to
locatio-cond actio which was in force within the limits
of the district {intra fines metalli Vipascensis). The
latinity is highly rustic, and M. Soromenho is of
opinion that it embraces many words not found in
other epigraphic monuments. He believes the Table
to have been engraved with the same inscription on
both sides, and that the present discovery is the
third of a number of such Tables set up in various
parts of the district for the information of the miners,
and the other settlers whom the mineral wealth of
the country attracted in considerable numbers. This
mixed population was placed under the rule of the
Procurator MetaUoriim,'^ who fixed the impost on the
product of the mines, and adjusted the scale of the
dues payable to the State for the exercise of any
craft or trade within the district. These large
administrative powers he fulfilled by deputy, and
M. Soromenho thinks that we have in the Table of
Aljustrel a sample of the terms on which the Pro-
Nat., 1877." See also, for a later account of the inscription and coimter-
claim to priority both in discovery and interpretation, Senhor Da Veiga's
elaborate Memoir, read before the Academy of Sciences, Lisbon, " A
Tabula de Bronze de Aljustrel (Lisboa, Typ. da Academia, 1880),"
kindly communicated to me by oui- Secretary.

^ A State functionary, because mines belonged to the State. In
the Imperial organization of the fifth century, there was a " Comes
Metallorum," subordinate to the Count of the Sacred Largesses, and
charo-ed -w-ith the receipt of the proportion of revenue derivable by the
State from gold, silver, and other mines. The mines of Aljustrel pro-
duced silver, copper, slate, and clay.

THE BRONZE TABLE OF ALJUSTREL. 703

curator farmed out his functions. The Conductor
mentioned in this table had, it would appear, the full
locatio conductio vectigalium, reruin, operarum et
operis. Being clothed with such extensive responsi-
bilities, the conductor of Aljustrel had colleagues in
the shape of a socius, and an actor (slue syndicus,
per queni quod commmiiter agi fierique oporieat,
agatnr, fiat), and he was allowed to sub-let on taking
due guarantees. The lease ran from the '' P7\oximas]
K[alendas] Jul[ias\ Primas," or 1st July, and the
merces had to be paid at the begiiniing of each
month, on pain of a fine of double the rent. Every-
thing pertaining to the district was under the
administrative direction of the Procurator Metal-
lorum, and not the very smallest handicraft could
be plied within his jurisdiction without his leave.
Before concluding, I should like to draw attention
to some of the language of the Table of Aljustrel,
particularly to the apparently indifterent use of" sub"
with the ablative and accusative, and to the employ-
ment of the two different radicals " caballos " and
" equas " in the same sentence.

The materials which have at different periods of
the world's history been used for writing might in
themselves furnish the subject of a paper. In some
excavations carried on by the Anthropological Institute
at the camp of Cissbury,"^ in Sussex, a number of

21 Described in the " Journal of the Anthropological Institute " for
January and May, 1877, pp. 263 and 430, et seq., in papers by Mr. J. Park
Harrison, M.A., who had the principal charge of the excavations. Still
more recent discoveries at Cissbury, since the reading of the present
paper, appear to increase the probability that these marks really con-
stitute a written character, though its affinities are still doubtful.
Some authorities, we are told, believe it to be Turanian, if such a
term may properly be applied to any system of writing.

704 THE WAX TABLF.TS OF POMrEII, AND

marks have been discovered on the chalk forming
the sides and roofs of the pits and galleries, bearing
the appearance of an ancient w^ritten character. Like
the Wax Tablets of Pompeii the material employed
at Cissbury, when first used, would be soft and easy
of manipulation ; and in this again resembling the
Pompeian writings, the Cissbury inscriptions (if such
they be), have been for centuries hermetically sealed.
The veil has now been partially lifted from both ; it
were well to seek to lift it higher, for the study of
the materials used for writing cannot but throw light
on the various phases of civilization. Silver and gold,
bronze and copper, palm leaves and papyrus, stone
and chalk, ivory and wax, may each and all be made
to bear their part in unfolding to us many a chapter
of varied and stirring interest in the History of Man.

Postscript.

It seems but right that I should add a few words
by way of postscript on the new matter which has
come to hand since this paper was read, in illustra-
tion of the Table of Aljustrel. M. Flach has
reprinted his articles, which I cited from the
Nouve.Ue Revue Historique de Droit, in an elegant
pamphlet published by Larose, Paris, 1879. But as
this is simply a reprmt, I need only mention it as
the most convenient form under which M. Flach's
views can be studied.

The publication by Senhor Estacio da Veiga of
his Text and Commentary"" is of considerable impor-

^ " A Tabula de Bronze de Aljustrel, lida, deduzida e commeutada
em 1876. Memoria apresentada a Academia Keal das Sciencias de

THE BRONZE TABLE OF ALJUSTREL. 705

tance both in reo'ard to the claim advanced for
priority of discovery over Senhor Soromenho, and for
the interesting evidence it affords of the substantial
identity of the two distinguished Portuguese epi-
graphists. I do not think that I can better state my
conclusions as to the question raised by Senhor
Da Veiga than in the words applied to it in an
article entitled "Roman Law in England and
Belgium," in the Law Magazine and Review,
No. ccxlii, for November, 1881.

" The two men (Soromenho and Da Veiga)," says
the writer, "both ardent archaeologists and epi-
graphists, were already at work upon the new
treasure the moment its discovery was announced by
the Trans-Tagus Mineral Company, on whose works
it was found. It seems probable that Senhor Da
Veiga had the actual first intimation of the find, and
that he went at once to the spot, made all due
investigation into the circumstances of the dis-
covery, and set to work immediately upon the read-
ing of the inscription. There are, of course, minor
points of exegesis in which Senhor Da Veiga takes a
different line from Soromenho. But these are simply
differences between two scholars, such as are always to
be expected, more or less, in questions of ej)igraphy
or palaeography."

The substantial identity of the several readings
of the Table of Aljustrel is the salient fict which I
desire here to record, as a guarantee for the position
claimed on its behalf in the Law Magazine and
Review as a valuable monument of the " rigid system

LisLoa, por S.P.M. Estacio Da Veiga, socio correspondente da mesnia
Acaderuia. Lisboa. Typographia da Acadeniia, 1880."

70G THE WAX TABLETS OF POMrEII, ETC.

of caste, of monopoly, and of regulation of life
and labour, under which men lived in the mining
districts of the Roman Empire."'

Text of the Table of Aljustrel, so far as relates to the
subject of Prceconium. From the " Nouvelle
Revue Historique de Droit " (Paris, Larose)

1877, p. 408.

[Compared with and corrected by the text of Senhor da Veiga, whose
readings are inserted within brackets.]

" Scripturse prseconii. Qui prseconium conduxerit
prseconem intra fines prsebeto. Conductor ab eo qui
venditionem X L minoremve fecerit centesimas
duas, ab eo qui maiorem X C fecerit centesimam
exigito. Qui mancipia sub proecone [m] venumdederit,
si quinque minoremve numerum vendiderit, capitu-
larium in singula ca^^ita X, si maiorem numerum
vendiderit in singula capita X III conduetori socio
actorive ejus dare debeto. Si quas res proc. m[e]tal-
lorum nomine fisci vendet locabitve, iis rebus conduc-
tor sociusactorve ejus prseconemprsestare debeto . . .
Qui mulos, mulas, asinos, asinas, caballos, equas, sub
praecone vendiderit, in KI, X III. d.d. Qui mancipia
aliamve quam rem sub prseconem subiecerit et intra
dies XXX de condicione vendiderit, conduetori socio
actorive eius . . . d.d."

NOTES ON THE SURVEY OF WESTERN
PALESTINE, EXECUTED FOR THE
PALESTINE EXPLORATION FUND.

BY TRELAWNEY SAUNDERS.

[Read NoTember, 23, 1881.]

I HAVE been requested by your learned Secretary
to bring under your notice this evening the first
instalment of the Survey of the Holy Land which
the Committees and Subscribers of the Palestine
Exploration Fund have for so many years persevered
in producing.

This portion of the Survey of Palestine extends
from the Kasimtyeh or Litany River on the north to
Gaza and Beersbeba on the south, and from the
Mediterranean Sea on the west to the River Jordan
and the Dead Sea on the east. It has been executed
by a party of Royal Engineers trained on the
Ordnance Survey of Great Britain, and under the
command of Lieutenants Conder and Kitchener.

The whole of the surveyed area covers more than
0,000 square miles. The survey occupied seven
years in the field, and more than two years in addition
were spent on the preparation of the work for publi-
cation. The immediate results include : — (l) A large
map on the scale of one mile to one inch, reproduced
and published in 26 sheets, of which a joined-up copy
is before you. (2) A reduction of the large map on
the scale of about 2| miles to an inch, in six

708 NOTES ON THE

sheets, measaring when joined together 5 feet by 3.
(3) Numerous special plans of towns, buildings, and
ruins enlarge scales. (4) Memoirs composed from the
field notes of the surveyors, and from abstracts of
authentic works. (5) A list of more than 9,000
names of places in Arabic and English, with their
signification. (6) Photographs, sketches, and other
illustrations. The plans, memoirs, illustrations, and
listof names are being combined in quarto volumes,
three of which are published. Besides the reduced
map of the Survey as it was completed by the sur-
veyors, I have prepared an edition to define the
river basins, and the main waterparting between the
Mediterranean and Jordan watersheds. This special
map also elucidates the mountain system. It is accom-
panied by vertical sections ; and a contour line
corresponding to the level of the Mediterranean Sea
is indicated along the western slope of the Jordan
basin. This special map will be accompanied by an
octavo volume, entitled " An Introduction to the
Survey of Western Palestine ; its Waterways, Plains,
and Highlands." It has been prepared by me with
the approval of the Committee of the Fund, and both
the special map and the book will be published
too-ether in December.

I will now proceed to describe, within the short
time at my disposal, the leading features of the
country, as they are now revealed by the new Survey ;
which displays an accuracy, an amount of detail, and a
distinctness never before obtained. The well known
ancient divisions of Western Palestine into Upper
Galilee, Lower Galilee, Samaria, Judasa, and Philistia
are so concurrent v, ith the distinctive features of the

SURVEY OF WESTERN PALESTINE. 709

ground, as to form convenient groups for the present
purpose.

Upper Galilee.

The region of Upper GaHlee includes the northern
part of the large map before you. It has on the
north the River Kasimiyeh or Litany, the ancient
Leontes. On the south is the Nahr N'amein, the
ancient Belus or Pagida, from its outfall into the
Bay of Acre to its junction Avith Wady Halzun, along
which the boundary proceeds to the Plain of Rameh ;
whence it crosses the head of the Rubudiyeh basin,
and follows the lower part of the Wady Amud, and
the northern shores of the Sea of Galilee. On the
west is the Mediterranean ; and on the east is the
Jordan, from the Sea of Galilee upwards. From the
edges of this quadrilateral the country ascends to an
elevated central plateau, by slopes which it is now
possible to define and describe, with a knowledge of
the features mainly due to the new Survey.

The Western Slope of JJp>per Galilee.

The slope towards the Mediterranean Sea and the
Kasimiyeh river is broad and comparatively gradual ;
l)ut it is so deeply intersected by gorges often walled
in by precipitous rocks, as to cause the highways
between the north and south to follow either the
lowlands and cliffs which border the ccuist, or else the
interior plateau, and the country to the eastward.
The number of these gorges and intervening ridges
is indicated by the fact that more than thuiy streams
have distinct outfalls into the Mediterranean, between
the Kasimiyeh and Acre. Besides main streams
VOL. XII. 3 A

710 NOTES ON THE

parallel branches make a considerable addition to
these obstructions.

Previous to the survey it was impossible to dis-
tinguish between this slope and the edge of the
plateau. But now the summit of the slope may be
traced partly by observed altitudes ; and partly by
a difference in the watercourses which divides them
into two classes, one rising on the slope and the other
on the plateau beyond. Of the thirty distinct outfalls
already mentioned, the majority belongs to the class
of streams pertaining solely to the slope, and having
theu' sources there ; while four only belong to the
other class, and spread their branches over the
western half of the plateau. These four are the
Hubeishlyeh, the 'Ezziyeh, the Kerkera, and the
Kiirn. The critical determination on the ground of
the line of summits dividing the upper parts of these
four basins from the basins of the slope, is a subject
well deserving of the observation of competent
travellers.

The varying features of the slope itself resolve it
into three divisions, plainly indicated by the con-
ditions of its base, which is found : — on the north,
in the maritime plain of Tyre ; — in the centre, between
the cliffs forming the White Cape or Has el Abiad,
and the Hewn Cape or Ras en Nakura ; — while in
the south the base runs along the maritime Plain of
Acre. The Ras el Abiad and the Kas en Nakura, or
Tyrian Ladder of the ancients, are the precipitous
terminations in the sea of spurs diverging from the
central height of Khurbet Belat, which has an alti-
tude of 2,467 feet, and forms a prominent feature in
the line of the western summits. It is also the noted

SURVEY OF WESTERN PALESTINE. 711

site of a splendid panorama. Strictly speaking, the
western slope from the Tyrian Ladder northwards
belonged to Phoenicia rather than to Upper GaHlee.

The Southern Slope of Upper Galilee.

On this side, the natural limits of Upper Galilee
are well defined, both by the valleys that form the
base of the slope, and by the line of altitude that
marks the summit. The range rises from the mari-
time plain opposite Acre, and terminates on the
Jordan, between the Sea of Galilee and the Jisr
Benat Yakub. Among the culminating points on
the summits are Kurn Henawy, Neby Heider,
Jebelet el Arus (alt. 3,520 feet), and Tell es Sanjak.
The base is well defined at the centre of the rano^e in
the Plain of Rameh, on the west of which it pro-
trudes southward in running to Wady Halzun. An
increase of width is thus given to the slope, which is
occupied by a terrace drained by Wady el Waziyeh,
an affluent of Wady Halzun running parallel to it.
This afiluent is better known than the main stream,
as it IS skirted by the highway between Acre and
the Sea of Galilee, and doubtless afibrds a better
route than the lower and more contracted valley of
the Halzun, which is, however, the true base of the
slope. Eastward of the Plain of Pameh, the base line
is traced through a complicated country to the Sea of
Galilee.: The tangle is unravelled in my" Introduc-
tion to the Survey." The range itself is deeply
intersected by the gorge of the Amud in descending
from the plateau below Safed, The slope undergoes
considerable expansion towards the Jordan and the
Sea of Galilee.

3 A 2

712 NOTES ON THE

The eastern slope by which the plateau of Upper
Galilee descends to the Jordan displays three re-
markable divisions. The northern part rises abruptly
from the Huleh Plain (alt. 141 feet) to the sunnnit
of Jebel Hunin (alt. 2,951 feet). The centre rises
from the margin of the Huleh papyrus marsh, and
has its base in the same alignment as the northern
part; but the summit falls back suddenly to the
westward, and two terraces, one above the other, are
formed along this part of the slope. The lower
terrace is remarkable for the site of Kades, the
famous Kedesh of Naphtah. The upper terrace,
noticed by Dr. Kobinson, contains the villages of
el Malki}'eh, and Bellideh. Above the upper terrace
is the summit of this eastern slope, which here also
forms the waterparting between the Mediterranean
and Jordan watersheds, and the eastern edge of the
central plateau. The plateau is here drained by the
Wady Selukieh, running northward into the Kasi-
miyeh.

The central terraces of the eastern slope are
terminated by the deep and rocky gorge of Wady
Hmdaj, which breaks through the eastern range in
its descent from the central plateau to the Jordan.
The Hindaj divides the centre of the eastern slope J
from its southern part. This southern part is a I
prolongation southward of both the upper and lower 1
scarps which respectively support and rise out of the
plateau of Kades. It is extremely rough and rocky
towards the north, and steep and wooded towards
the south. Unlike the central southern parts its base
does not descend to the Huleh plain, but rests on a
low and broad incline, interst^cted by watercourses,

SURVEY OF WESTERN PALESTINE. 713

and spreading out from the buttresses that support
the central plateau to the Huleh plain, which is here
called the Ard el Kheit. It also differs from the rest
of the eastern range in being no longer on the main
waterparting which divides the Mediterranean and
Jordan basins, and which here recedes eastward
into tlie middle of the central plateau.

The Central Plateau of Upper Galilee.

It has been already observed that out of the thirty
separate outfalls that empty the waters of Upper
Galilee into the Mediterranean only four descend
from the central plateau, or the elevated interior of
the country, namely, the Hubeisliiyeh, the 'Ezziyeh.
the Kerkera, and the Kurn, the upper parts of which
drain the western side of the plateau. The eastern
side is included in the other basins, viz. : (1) the
Kazimiyeh, through its affluents the Selukieh and
Aizakaneh ; (2) the u^jper parts of the basins of the
Hindaj and Wakkas, falling into Lake Huleh ;
(3) the upper part of the basin of the Amud, which
descends from Safed southward into the Sea of
Galilee ; and (4) the inland basin of Meis, wdiich has
no superficial outlet. It is important to note that
the successive meridional direction of the valleys
both on the eastern and western sides of the plateau,
afford facilities for communication between the north
and south, in contrast to the interruptions which
characterize the western slope. The plateau is there-
fore interesting to military students.

The interior of the plateau derives picturesque
features from its intersection by mountainous ranges
with their numerous spurs and valleys. From Jebel

714 NOTES ON THE

Mugherat Shehab, on the east of Jebelet el Arus, the
latter bemg 3,520 feet above the sea, and the highest
point on the southern range, another range runs
north-westerly, crossing the plateau obliquely to
Khurbet Belat on the western range. This line
of heiofhts has the basins of the Kurn and Kerkera
on the south-west, and those of Amud, Hindaj and
'Ezzlyeh on the north-east. It may b6 called the
Jermuk range, its highest point being Jebel Jermuk,
3,934 feet above the sea.

Another line of heights runs also obliquely from
Deir el Ghabieh on the eastern range, to Khurbet el
Yadhun on the western range. This line exceeds
3,000 feet at Jebel Marim. It divides the basins of
Hindaj and 'Ezziyeh from those of the Selukieh or
Kasimiyeh and the Hubeishiyeh. This line may be
called the Marun range.

The aspects of the country are thus described :
On the south-west of the Jermuk range, the plateau
consists of two main valleys of the upper Kurn, and
the heads of the Kerkera. The latter with one main
branch of the Kurn receives the south-western
drainage of the Jermuk range. This branch of the
Kurn is situated, according to Dr. Robinson, in " a
deep and vast valley," and the aspect of the country,
viewed from Beit Jinn at the head of the valley in
April, is said to be " bald, barren, and desolate in
the hio-hest desfree." The other branch of the Kurn
drains the Bukeiah, which signifies a hollow between
mountains, here forming a well-cultivated plain, and
including among its population, who are chiefly
Druzes, a few Jews, who are said to be the only
Jews in Palestine engaged in agriculture, and who

SURVEY OF WESTERN PALESTINE. 715

claim descent from families settled in this remote
highland from time immemorial. This branch of the
Kurn drains the interior slope of the western range.
Between Teirshiha and Suhmata, the plain or hollow
terminates in a deep and rocky gorge, at the outlet
of which the two branches of the Upper Kurn unite,
before descending westward to the sea, through the
deep and rocky bottom of the narrow neck, into
which the basin contracts on the western slope.

The north-eastern side of the Jermuk range
seems to be characterised by its plains, forming fine
tracts of cultivated land, with plenty of pasture,
woodlands, and orchards. Picturesque hills and
valleys, and rocky glens, villages, and vestiges of
antiquity ; horses, cattle, and camels, sheep and
goats, mules and asses, cats and dogs, poultry and
game, birds and beasts of prey enliven the scene.

The plains spread out over the upper parts of the
basins of el Amud, Wakkas, Hindaj, and 'Ezziyeh ;
and they extend from Meiron to el Jish and Delata,
Alma, Salhah, Yarun, and Rumeish. This wide
circuit surrounds a higher tier of more undulating
ground, backed by the Jermuk range, and con-
taining the villages of Kefr Birim and Sasa. On the
north the plains are bounded by the Marun range,
which forms a waterparting summit to a broad
expanse of deeply fissured and densely wooded high-
land, abutting against the western range, which is
indeed its escarpment towards the sea. Aligned
between north-west and south-east, the Martin
range extends its spurs and valleys to the Upper
'Ezziyeh on the south, and to the Upper Selukieh
and the eastern and northern ranges. It also con-

71G NOTES OX THE

tributes to the head of the Hubeishiyeh, where it is
domiuated by the famous Castle of Tibnin or Toron.

The Momitains of Loiver Galilee.

The northern base of the mountains of Lower
Galilee, is of course identical with the southern base
of the mountains of Upper Galilee, which has been
already described and explauied. It will be sufficient
to repeat now that the northern base line runs from
the plain of Acre, along Wady el Halzun, Wady
Shaib, Wady el Khashab, Wady en Nimr, Wady
Said, Wady Maktul, and Wady 'Amud to the Sea
of Galilee. The eastern hmit is the Sea of Galilee
and the Jordan. The western and southern hmits
are formed by the Plains of Acre and Esdraelon, and
the Nahr Jalud.

The difference in altitude between this region and
Upper Galilee is relatively considerable ; for while
the latter nearly attains to a height of 4,000 feet,
the hills of Lower Galilee never rise to 2,000 feet.
The general features of the upland of Lower Galilee
are also very different from Upper Galilee. They
present a succession of parallel ranges, divided by
broad plains ; the ranges running between east and
west, with a slight bend towards the north. These
are : —

(1). The Northern or Shaghur Range,
(2). The Toran Range,
(3). The Na,zareth Range,
(4). The Jebel Duhy Range,
whicli are treated in detail in my " Introduction."
But the chief features of Lower Galilee are its noble
plains.

SURVF.Y OF WESTEIJN PALESTINE. 717

In one long sweep, like a great gulf with bold
inlets branching from it, the plain of the Mukutt'a,
ancient Megiddo or Esdraelon, extends from the Bay
of Acre, where it is dominated by Mount Carmel,
along the foot of the Stimaritan hills and the Naza-
reth range, up to Mount Gilboa, Jebel Duhy, and
Mount Tabor, a distance of about thirty miles. From
the Samaritan hills across the Mukutt'a to Mount
Tabor is little short of fifteen miles.

From Carmel to Eas en Nakura the plain of Acre
is spread out along the sea for twenty miles.

Connected with these larger features are the
upland plains of Eameh, Buttauf and Toron ; also the
deep valleys of the Bireh and the Jalud or Jezreel,
both of which drop down rapidly from the plain of
Megiddo to the Jordan, wdiere that river is depressed
a thousand feet below the level of the Mediterranean,
that level being a little to the east of the water-
parting which divides the plain of Megiddo from the
Jordan basiu. The study of Lower Galilee may be
taken up quite apart from that of the regions on
either side of it, and the new Survey affords a very
certain foundation to worii upon.

The Highlands of Samaria and Jud^a.

South of the line formed by the Rivers Mukutt'a
and Jalud, no recognised features have hitherto
served the purpose of dividing distinctly the long
stretch of highland between Mount Carmel and Beer-
sheba. Still, on approaching the subject, it is only
reasonable to expect that in the course of a hundred
miles, there must be variations that admit of being
conveniently grouped, and that should not be over-

718 NOTES ON THE

looked in a geographical description. But before
the present survey, the best accounts of the country
were too inadequate to enable any attempt of the
kind to be carried out on the lines that will be now
adopted. It was the great aim of Dr. Eobinson's
most able researches, "to collect materials for the
preparation of a systematic work on the physical and
historical geography of the Holy Land." Yet Dr.
Robinson had to be content with little more than a
o-eneral view of the subject, comprehending in one
sweeping glance the whole region from Esdraelon to
Hebron ; and his details are confined to isolated
accounts of the particidar mountams mentioned in
Scripture. The Survey of the Palestine Exploration
Fund no longer allows the geographer to adopt
such a method. Every important feature is now
exposed in its length, breadth, and height ; and thus
it has become quite practicable to discern certain
natural groups and divisions that serve to bring to
light the distinctive characteristics of the different
parts of the country, and facilitate intelligible des-
cription and convenient reference. In the famous
article on Palestine in Dr. Wm. Smith's " Dictionary
of the Bible," Mr. George Grove has, indeed, dealt
with the subject in this way, with regard to the
varying aspects of the dryness or moisture, and
vegetation ; but it was mainly owing to his deep
sense of the want of such a map as the present, after
visiting the country, that he became the prime mover
in organizing the Survey.

On the present occasion the country to the south
of the Mukutt'a and Jalud will be described in six
divisions, or natural groups, based upon the occur-

SURVEY OF WESTERN PALESTINE. 719

rence of distinctive features in the forms of the
ground.

The first extends from the Mukutt'a and Jalud to
the Wadys Shair and el flumr.

The second follows, with the Wady Ballut and
Wady el Auja for its southern boundary.

Tlie third reaches from thence to the Wady
Malakeh, Shamy, el Delbeh and Ham is on the
western slope ; and Wady Muheisin, Ptummamaneh,
and Nueiameh on the Jordan side.

The fourth is bounded on the south by the affluents
of Nahr el Auja, which pass from Ludd to the
southernmost point of the waterparting of the Auja
basin, near Eshua ; thence across the waterparting
to Wady es Surar in the basin of Nahr Rubin, pro-
ceeding along that wady eastward by Wady en
Nusarah, Ismain, es Sikkeh, and Ahmed across the
main waterparting between the Mediterranean and
Jordan basins to Wady et Tahuneh on the south of
Bethlehem, and onwards to the Dead Sea by the
outfall of that watercourse.

Tlie fifth and sixth divisions embrace respectively
the Mountains of Judah on the east, and the low-
land hills and plains of Philistia on the west.

The grounds of these divisions are fully discussed
in my " Introduction, " but time only permits me to
refer to the remarkable distinctness which the survey
displays in the natural separation between the hill
country of Judah and the Philistine lowland, the
last being familiar to students of the Hebrew Bible
as the Shephelah. This separation has been brought
to light by the survey, in ahne of meridional valleys,
which form a common base for two well contrasted

720 NOTES ON THE

features on the east and west. On the east the base
terminates a long slope that descends from the sum-
mits of the Judsean heights, which culminate in an
elevation of 3,546 feet at Rameh, near Hebron. On
the west is a steep escarpment springing from the
same base and facing the slope. The summit of the
scarp varies in altitude above the sea between
1,000 and 1,500 feet ; but the elevation of the
scarp above the base is not so striking as its con-
tinuity with the base line in a meridional direction,
especially along the Wady en Najil in the Nahr
Eubin Basin, and the Wady es Sur in the Sukereir
Basin. From the edge of this escarpment on the
east, the hills of the Philistine Shephelah slope away
towards the maritime plains on the west, and present
a variety of features which have been resolved into
five groups in the "Introduction to the Survey."

The study of the general forms of the highlands of
Samaria and Judsea, has been for the first time
rendered practicable by the new survey. The noted
Mount Carmel, always regarded hitherto as a single
rido-e, is found to consist of a double ridge with an
intermediate valley or plateau.

All along the backbone of the country represented
by tlie main waterparting, lateral valleys are found,
dividing the summit between parallel ranges.

These will be exhibited prominently in the special
edition of the Reduced Map, and a knowledge of
them is of great importance in traversing the country.
The same map will also display a series of terraces
alono- the Jordan and Dead Sea slope, to which atten-
tion is also directed in the "Introduction," and to
which also the attention of critical observers on the

SUKVEY OF WESTERN PALEteTJNE. 721

ground is particularly invited. Such features will
doubtless have a relation to the geology of this
country, which appears to be of surpassing interest,
although from the want of such a map as the present,
scarcely any progress has been made yet in that
direction. The geological researches in Palestine of
M. Lartet and others are only preliminary.

A few words are due to the light which the
survey has thrown upon the hydrography of Western
Palestine. The country is divided between the
watersheds of the Mediterranean Sea on the west,
and the Jordan and Dead Sea on tlie east. Tlie
main waterparting, or line of the division cf tlie
waters, is accurately delineated on the large map on
the scale of one inch to a mile which is now before
you. Its frequent and bold meanderings are all
connected with variations in the forms of the ground
which are demonstrated in the '* Introduction to the
Survey." The two main watersheds are divided into
river basins of two classes. The more important
class includes the basins on both watersheds that are
in contact with the main waterparting. The inferior
class of basins are not sufficiently extensive to do so,
although some of them are not insignificant. The
smaller basins are distinguished by a pale tint on the
map. The inland basins — wdth no outfall — of Meis,
Merj el Ghuruk, and Merj Sia, aie all found in
contact with the main waterparting.

With the hydrography of Palestine is connected
the extraordinary depression of a great part of
the valley of the Jordan and the Dead Sea. The
survey has for the first time enabled some approach
to be made to\\ards the delineation of a contour

722 NOTES ON THE SURVEY OF WESTERN PALESTINE.

line on the level of the Mediterranean, along
the western side of the Jordan basin. The depres-
sion commences just below the outlet of the Huleh
Lake, that lake bemg about 7 feet above the
level, while the Jisr Benat Yakob is 43 feet
below it. The Sea of Gennesaret is 682 feet below
the Mediterranean, and the surface of the Dead
Sea descends to 1,292 feet. These facts were known
before the survey. Additional observations now
enable the contour to be approximately traced
along the hillsides and up the valleys as far south
as Wady en Nar, the Brook Kidron of the Bible.
It will surprise most people to learn how large
an area of the Jordan basin lies below the level.
It runs not far from Hattin, both on the north
and south. It reaches the feet of Mount Tabor
and Jebel Duhy ; the latter, both on the north and
south. It also includes the whole of the plain of
Beisan. It is half way between the Jordan and
Nablus, in the Wady Farah. Further south it skirts
the cliffs, rising gradually from their bases to their
summits. It ascends the Wady Kelt from the
plain of Jericho as far as Ain el Kelt. And it is
found about two miles up the Wady en Nar. It is
to be hoped that in the prosecution of the survey on
the east of the Jordan, this extremely interesting-
contour will be distinctly traced on both sides of the
basin.

The execution of the survey opens up a wide field
for personal research in all branches of science,
contributing towards it the invaluable basis of an
accurate topography.

^l^

THE COLOUK-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

BY ARTHUR LAWRENSON, ESQ., LERWICK,
SHETLAND ISLES.

[Read December 14, 1881.]

In the investigation of the interesting subject of
the sense of colour in man, and especially with the
view of ascertaining whether the recent doctrine^ of
the gradual development of that sense be well
founded, it is first of all needful to complete as far
as possible the store of material from which the
question will ultimately be determined, by careful
reference to early writings. Among the northern
European peoples, the Icelandic Eddas are the
most ancient and valuable of literary inheritances.
If we wish to ascertain the conditions of human life
in the archaic north, we have no earher written
record to refer to than the Elder Eddas, and from
its statements, references, allusions, or from its omis-
sions, we are left to draw the conclusions which may
be warranted. It is not requisite at this time to
enter into any detailed account of the compositions
which bear the collective name of Edda, nor to make
an exhaustive inquiry into the questions of their

» Magnus : " Die geschichtlicke Entwickelung des Farbensirmes,"
Leipzig, 1877.

Gladstoue, "The Colour Sense," Nineteenth Century, October, 1877.

724

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

probable age. It will suffice for our present purpose
to quote a brief statement by a competent authority,
as to the age and authenticity of the Eddaic lays,
and then at once to proceed to the special enquiry
which is the design of the jDresent paj)er. " The old
poems," says Professor Max Mliller, referring to the
Elder Edda, " in their alliterative metre, were
proof against later modifications. We probably
possess what we do possess of them in its original
form. As they were composed in Norway in the
sixth century, they were carried to Iceland in the
ninth, and written down in the eleventh century."^

Abbreviatioiis used in the following references to tlie Edda, Liining's
ed. 1859.

Vol. = Voluspa.

( Tiimn. = C4rimuismftl.

Hym. = Hymiskvi'Sa.

Ham. — Hamarsheimt.

Vegt. = Vegtamskvi'Sa.

Rigsm. = Rigsmal.

Hav. = Havamal.

H. Hi. = Helgak^'iSa Hiorvai^-

ssonar.
Sig. I, II, III. = Sigiir«arkvi«a I,

II, III.
Sigr^r. = Sigrdrif umal.
Heir. = Helreib' Bryuliildar.
Oddr. = OddrCuiargrati-.
Atlm. = Atlam&l.
Ham's. = HamSismal.
Fiolsv. = Fiulsviunsmal.

Vaft. = VaftrCi«nismal.

AJv. = Alvlssmal.

Oeg. = Oegisdrekka.

Harb. = Harbar^slio'S.

Sk. = Skirnismal.

Hynal. = HjnidlulioS.

Vkv. = VolundarkviSa:

H. H. I. II. = Helgakvi5a Huu-

diugsbana.
Fafn. = Fafnismal.
Br. = (Fragment of) Brynhil-

darkvi'Sa.
Gud. I, II, III. = The Three

Gudrun Lays.
Akv. = Atlakvi'Sa.
Gu'Shv. = GuSrAnai-hvot.
Grott. = Grottasongr.
Hrafng. = Odiu'.s Raven Song.

In the Elder Edda we find mention of the follow-
ing specific colours : —

(1) black ; (2) white ; (o) red ; (4) gray ; (5) blue ;

2 " Chips fiom a German Workshop," Vol. ii, ]). 196.

THE COLOUU-SENSE IX THE EDDA. 725

(6) green ; (7) golden ; and (8) (in one or two
instances only, and these in poems of the later
joeriod) brown.

Besides these, epithets denoting — -

(a) Colour generally,

(h) Bright, clear, fair, shining,

The following are the numbers of the passages
where these epithets general and specific are used :
colour generally 11 ; bright clear, &c., 61 ; dark,
gloomy, &c., 20 ; — in all 92 passages of this class.

Black 1 1, white 26, red 44, grey 14, blue 6,
brown 3, golden 25, but deducting the instances
where the term evidently implies the material rather
than the colour of gold, 13 ; green 9. In all, 126
instances of mention of specific colour. Some pas-
sages may have been accidentally overlooked in this
investigation ; but were it so, it is not likely that
the relative proportions indicated by the figures
given above would be at all afi:ected.

(a) Colour ill General.

The dwarf Litr (colour) is named in the Voluspa
(st. 12), and in the Youns^er Edda (c. 49) it is told
how at the funeral rites of Balder, Thor kicked him
into the blazing pile. The Sun-God, Light, having
perished, the dwarf — the accessory of colour, vanishes
with him. The rainbow (Bifrost — tlie vibrating —
resting) is described in the Younger Edda as of
" three colours " (c. 13) and in another passage (c. 15)
the red is named ;^ bat in the Hyndlulio^ (st. 34)

' "The red that thou secst in tlie raiiibuw is buniiiii;- file.''
VOL. XII. 3 B

726 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

of the Elder Eclda — of course, a much earlier work,
Heinidal, the warder of the bridge, is described as
the son of nhie mothers, virgins. He is the White
God, pure Light, the offspring of all the hues of the
bow, here recognized as many, and described by the
arbitrarily holy number nine. All rays combine to
produce pure white. Heimdal is the " son " of many
mothers. In another passage (HyndL 36), where the
red of the rainbow is referred to as Sonar dreyra,
it has been proposed as an emendation of a text
somewhat obscure to read Solardreyra ; and if this
reading be accepted, the red of the rainbow will be
the "blood of the sun."

The comparatively few instances where colour in a
general sense is named throughout the Lays of the
Edda, have to be still more restricted by the leaving
out of view some cases where, although the word
litr is used, it is not in the strict sense of colour.
Thus in the Havam^l (st. 92) lostfcignr litir, and
again (st. 107) rel keypts litar, the word has the
signification of form or beauty in general rather than
of colours or complexion. Again in Sigurd KviSa I
(sts. 37, 38) when Sigurd and Gunnar change bodies,
it is litum vixla, where colour alone is not meant.
Cases where colour is referred to by the word litr as
indicating hue, complexion, &c., are :

Litu goSa : Vol. 18. Litum skipti: Hraf. 8.

Litu er lysti : Atlm. 28. Hvita lit : Sig. HI. 31.

Herm^ar litr : H. H. I. 47. Hringi litkud :
Sig III. C^Q.

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

(b) Bright, Clear, Fair, Shining.

These are the most numerous of all colour-epithets*
in the Edda. Thor is Hlorri^i — the ray or glow
scatterer. Skinfaxi — tlie shining maned horse of the
day (Vaft. 12). Glitnir — the glittering abode of
Forseti (Grimn. 15). These occur as proper names.
The day is described as sun-clear :

Solhei^a daga, Atlkv. 16.
As light :

Daga liosa, H. H. II. 41).
As sun bright :

Sdlbiort, H. H. II. 43.

As clear

As shinintr

Heisi dagr, Sig. III. 53.

Skii^a dag, Vaft. 12.
Women are described as fair : dottur allra fegrsta
H. H. Prol.

Meyno fegrstu : H. H. T 3 (in the superlative).
Mey fagra : Prol. to Skir. Fogr moer ; Vkv. 2,
and in other passages — so, lidsa mans : Hav 91 :
lidsar Kvanar Vkv. 5.
As shining-bosomed :

Fa'Smi li(5sum : Vkv. 2.
As shining eye- browed :
Brahvitu : Vkv. 37.
Brunhvitr : H}'m 8.
Fair haired :

BiarthaddaS man : Grip. 33.

* I use the word here in its general sense, including at present
epithets of light as well as of colour pi-oper.

3 B 2

728 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

Hvitingr : Gud II, 42.
Bleikt var Mr : Rigsm. 31.
Fah^-complexioned :

Fagrt alitum, Grip. 27 and 28.
Fair-adorned :

Fagrblanar, Atlm. 29.
As brides they are —

BruSr biartlitud (bright-coloured H. Hi. 7).
Skir bruSr : Grimn. 11.
Solbiarta bruSr, Fiolso. 42.
They are shining-handed :

Biortum lofa : Gudr. III. 9.
Shining-washed :

itr vegna : Oegisd. 1 7.
Their arms shine white :

Armar lystu : Skirn. 6.
The goddess Freyja is fair (fagra) Ham. 3. The
god Frey is bright : (skirum Frey : Grimn. 43). So
also in Grimn, 39, the shining god (skirleita go-Si).

The " worm " of the Sigurd mythus is glittering
(frani ormr, Fafn. 15, 26). The bright-eyed boy
(swain) in the same lay is franeygi sveinu (Fafn. 5).
Sigurd's eyes are franar si6rir (Gudr. I. 14).

A phrase which Mr. William Morris has transferred
to the English language in his " Sigurd the Volsung^'
may be noted here as coming in the present category :
odokkum (Fafn. 42) the undark.

The following are the similar epithets of mead,
drink- — used in the Edda :

Skira miaSar : Grimn. 25 (shining-mead).
Skirar veigar : Vegt. 7, shining, drink.
Hreina log : Alv. 35, pure drink (rein),
but it may be observed that hreina rodd, occurs in

THE (,'OLOUR -SENSE IN THE EDDA. 729

H. Hi. 20 for clear or pure I'Oc'ce — having no reference
to colour.

Heaven — the fair abode of Gimli, where, acoordina-
to the Voluspa, righteous men are to enjoy ever-
lasting bliss, is described as fairer (brighter) than
the sun :

Solu fegra : Vol. 62, Similar are, heiSa himinn,
the clear sky (Harb. 19) the bright stars — heisar
stiornur (Vol. 58), heiSrikum himni (Hav. 86) heiSa
brbi himins (Grimn. 39).

The epithets of this class applied to arms are few,
and occur in the later lays. Two of them are in the
AtlakviSa, one of the latest of the Eddie sono-s.

Shiran molm : Atl. 39, bleikum skiiildum : ih. 14.
In the third Sigurd lay is mentioned : Kynnbirt earn
(III. 22) bright iron, i.e., the sword.

Water is called bright or sliining — liosa vatni
(H. H. 11. 29). So are clothes : biartar va^ir
(Sig. III. 47), bright " weeds," as in the Elder English.
But biartr is probably only synonymous in such
passages with " white," as it occurs in descriptions
of stone : biartr stein : Gud I. 18, and ao-ain for
swan-white —

Gaglbiartar : Atlkv. 39 (cf. the Elder EngUsh
"gaggle.")
Epithets of single occurrence which yet remain to
be noted are :

Hreinni mioll : Rigsm. 26, bright (fair) snow.
Eyglo : Alv. 17, the aye-glowing, i.e., the sun.
Fagrgloa, Alv. 5, the fair-glowing : (bright-
glowing.)
But as hreina was found to be used in the sense of
pure, clear in speaking of a voice — so we find fagra

730 THE COLOUR-SEXSE IX THE EDDA.

(fair) used in the Havamal, in the ordinary Enghsh
sense of " speaking fair" : (Hav. 44).

It is worthy of note that epithets of this class
should be comparatively so few in number in the
Edda. Those denoting brightness, shiningness, and
so on, are, as we have seen, more than threefold as
numerous as phrases which we should have thought
more likely to be met with in those sombre and
sometimes obscure poems of the Dark North. Again,
it may be observed that while we have a variety of
epithets for describing bright or light objects, there
is a singularly limited number in the opposite class.
More than half of those we are now to refer to are
cases where " mirk " and " mirkness " are spoken of
Thus :

I nattmyrki (Prologue to Grimnismal), night

mirk.
Myrkr : Hav. 8 1 , the darkness. Myrkan veg ;

Kigsm. 34, the dark path.
Myrkt er iiti : Skirn. 10. Myrkvan ih. 8

and 9.
Ni^myrkr : Gud, 11. 12, moonless darkness.
The dark wood (Myrkvi-S) the mysterious, solemn
forest, is described or referred to in the Prol. to
VolundarkviSa. Ih. 3, and in the later Lay : Oddr.
25 (um myrkvun ri^). The same epithet is applied
to the snake hole ;

Myrkheimr : Atlk. 42, the mirk home of the
worm,
and to the witch riders : MyrkriSa, Harb. 20.

The giant Hymir— the twilight dweller (H^'mia-

THE COLOUR-SEXSE IN THE EHDA. 731

kvi-Sa) has his name from, huma, the twihght (Hrafn.
20). To this day, in the kShetland Isles, the twihajht
IS vernacukirly called ''the hlimin," and the gray
dawn — "the dim." So in the Voluspa (st. 64) we
find — dimmi dreki — the dim, dark -coloured fire-
drake (dragon).

The raven is called dark :
Dokkva hrafns : Si^. II. 20.

So are the hillocks —

Dokkvar hliSir, H. H. I. 4G (the dark leas) ;
and the Dark Elves (as distinguished from the Light
Elves — lidsalfar) dokkalfar : Hrafn. 35.

In the HyndlulioS (1) rokkr is used for darkness.
A dark-coloured — not necessarily black — horse
is named; blakka moer ; Gudhv. 18,
and a bear : blakkfiallr (dark hided) Atlkv. 11. But
both these epithets occur in comparatively recent
days. In the Gotterlieder proper, there are no such
cases. On the whole, it is evident from these quota-
tions that the present class of epithets is remaikably
limited in number.

(1) BlacL

In coming now to the specific epithets, it is equally
peculiar that in rarity of occurrence, the mention of
" black " seems to follow the same analogy as was
found in reference to the general epithets of dark,
obscure, &c. Few instances of it are to be found in
either of the divisions of the Elder Edda : " white "
occurs more than twice as frequently. Voluspa
(st. 51), surtr (schwarz, swarthy), the black god of
the fire world, Muspellheim, is named ; and in two

732 THE COLOUR- SENSE IN THE EDDA.

passages prophetic of the Kagnarok, the darkenhig
of the sun : — -

Sol tekr sortna : Vol 56. Svar var ]>k solskin :
Vol. 33.
All black oxen are twice named :

Uxi alsvartr : H}-m 1 8. Oxu alsvartir,
Ham. 23.
Black horses are mentioned, but only in three lays
of later date : Oddr. 2, Gudhv. 2, and Hamd. 3.

In the ethnological Eigsmiil (st. 7), the thrall has
a black skin : horfi svartan. In the same lay we
find armr Solbrunninn (sunburnt arms) as a mark of
the peasant class (st. 10). And the last instance to be
rpoted is one which in its more ornate manner
rather resembles the artificial phrases of the Skalds
than the terse simplicit}' of the Edda.

Brimdyr blasvort : H. H. I. 49. The blue-black
sea beasts : i.e., ships.

(2) Whit,'.

That this term is occasionally synonymous with
fair or brigiit, appears from the passage in the
H^raiskvi'Sa already referred to, where brunhvitr
(literally white eyebrowed) may be better rendered
as bright or shining eyebrowed. In the stricter
sense of colour, Heimdal, the warder of Bifrost, is
spoken of in the Eaven song as sver'Sass hvita : the
white sword-god (Hrafu. 14), and as hvitastr asa
(Ham. 15). As suffix to proper names, it occurs in
the Oegisdrekka : Sveinn um hviti (st. 20) and in
the prologue to the Volundr Lay — Hla^gur-
svanhvit : Hla^gn^r the swan-white. It is

THE COLOUR-SEXj^E IX THE EDDA. 733

occasionally used as an appellation or description of
women, so :

Hvitarmri Konu (Hav. 62). Miallhvita man :
Alv. 7 (the snow-white maid).
Their white necks are once or twice mentioned :

Halshvitari, Rigsm. 26. Hvitan hals (Volundr.
Pi-ol).
Twice in the Harbard Lay they are described as
linen- white : Itnhvita (st. 30, ih. 32). In the Eigsmal
in contradistinction to the thrall's swarthy skin, we
find the fair complexion of the Jarl class described :
bleikt var liar, biartir vangar : fair was the hair,
cheeks blooming (st. 31). MoSir is described as cover-
ing the table witli cloth, hvitan af horfi (Ptigsm. 28).
As a colour in contrast with red it is mentioned in
Bryntiild's Hel-ride : hvitum ok rauSum (st. 9).
In the Voluspa mists or vapours are spoken of as
white : livita auri (Viil. 19) ; and sun-white (solhvitr)
occurs as an epithet in Hav. 96. In the later lays of
the Ed da it occurs as follows :

Hvitum hrossum (white horse), Gudhv. 2, and
again in Hamd. 3.

Skiold hvitan Hamd. 21 (white shield). Hadd
hvitan Gudhv. 16 (white veil).

Silfri snoelivitn, Atlm. Gij (snow-w4iite silver).
The white bear is mentioned in the Atlamal
(st. 18). A sacred white stone in the third Lay of
Gudran : hvita helga steini (Gud. Ill, 3). The
word occurs besides in two other passages — Sig. Ill,
53, and in the Ptigsmal (st. 36). On the wliole it
appears as if " white," as an epithet distinct in
meaning from " fair " or "shining," had grow^n in
definiteness in the Eddie period, and was used

734 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

with more precision in the later than in the earher
lays.

(3) Red.

This epithet of colour is by far the most common
in the Edda. It is about twice as often used as any
other ; and this may be partly accounted for by its
being habitually used as descriptive of gold and of
blood. As in the more modern ballad period, gold is
conventionally " red." The instances of its use in
this sense through the Edda are too numerous to
particularise, about one -half of all the passages where
the w^ords occur being those where gold, or rings,
are so described. In one or two cases the phrase is a
little varied :

GloSrauSr guU (the glowing red gold) Fafn. 9 ;
Gudr. II. 2 ; Atlm. 1 3 ; but the customary terms are
hringa rauSa (Ham. 29. et al.). Gull rautt (Volkv.
5 et al.), bauga rauSa (red ring, H. H. II. 34 et al).

Somewhat less numerous are the instances of the
epithet as apphed to blood, Ked blood : " rau^um
dreyra" occurs in the mystic prophesyings of the
Voluspa (st. 33). The swor4 is reddened in Fafnir
(Fafn. 28) in blood (Gudr. II. 38). The sword-edge
is reddened (Br. 11. Sig. I. 50). The ground : *'sa
er foldrysi:" Sig. 11. 26. The meadows : Rigsm. 34.
Battle-red is an epithet in the AtlakviSa ; valrauSr
(st. 4) ; and in H. H. 11. 17, we find the phrase,
somewhat Skaldic :

Verpr vigroSa um vikinga — battle red shone
round the vikings.
Shields are spoken of as red :

Skioldum rauSum : Heir. Bryn. 9 ; randir rau^ar
(Gud. II. 15.)

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA. 735

Mantles or cloaks :

Lo-Sa rau«a (Gud II. 19).

Helms are gold- red : liialma gullroSna (Atlk. 4.)
In the sense of reddened, ruddy, or bloody, the
following may be instanced :

HoSnir brautir (H. H. II. 4G,) ways reddened

(with the dawn).
RidSr (Rigsm. 18), ruddy-faced.
Blo^gum ttvor (Vol. 36, 2), the bloody sacrifice.
And in the account of the grief of Gudrun as " she
sorrowing sat over Sigurd :"

Hlyr ro^na-Si (Gud. I. 15.) her cheeks flushed.
In the Hyndl. (12) it occurs as a cognomen : Svan
enum rauSa : " Svan the Red."

The most striking instance of the mention of red is
however, in a passage of the Voluspa, where two
hues of the colour are referred to :

FagrrauSr hani (Vol. 34) the fair (light) red

cock, Fialarr.
Sotrau^r haul {^ih. 35), the dark-red cock (soot-
red).
This, I think, is the only passage throughout the
Elder Edda where shades of a colour seem to be
recognized.

(4) Graij.

The few cases in which gray is named, occur
altogether in the second part — The Hero-Lays. In
the earlier divisions of the Edda — The Lays of the
Gods — it is not found unless in the following form,
where it has evidently the sense of age (hoariness),
rather than of colour :

Inn hara ]>u\ (the gray or hoary talker), Fafn. 34.

73 G THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

In this form we find it in the Havamal (st. 135)
H^y-miskv-Sa (st. ] 6) Rigsmal (st. 2).

As a colour epithet proper, it is applied to horses :

Grar ior, Brjnh. 6 (hrossum) gram, Gudr. 2 ;

HamS. 3.

To silver : gr4 silfri (Gud. II, 2). To the hoimds of

Odin: grey ViSrirs (the hoimds of Vidrir). H. H. I. 13.

In Hamd. 30, the Norns are gray : in Grott. 10,

the fells. The word occurs also in another passage

ofH. H. I (st. 12) grara geira : grey spears — 'Hhe

storm of gray spears :" ix., battle. As a descriptive

phrase we have :

Graserkjat liS (Grott. 13) the gray-sarked

(corslet ed).
Ulfgrar (H. H. 2, 1), w^olf-gray.
But it is noteworthy that few as are the instances
we can find of the mention of gray, one half of those
few occur in the comparatively late Grottasong and
HamSismal. In the undoubtedly ancient portion of
the Edda it is not found at all.

(5) Blue.

The instances of mention of this colour may be
reckoned on one hand. Once in the Voluspa : blam
leggjum (st. 9).

In the Prolomie to Grimn : i feldi blam: "he
wore a blue mantle," originally a " fell " or sheep-skin
thrown over the shoulders and held by a clasp. So
the English fell-monger. In the Rigsmal (st. 26)
blafar (blue coloured) (Sigdr. 10) waves are spoken
of as blue : blar unnir.

Blue and white stripes are referred to in two late
lays ; blahvitu (boekr) Gudhv. 4. Ih. Hamd. 6.

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA. 737

(6) Broiim.

1'his occurs seldomer still. In the second lay of
Gudrun : Skarar iarpar, (brown-haired) (st. 19).
Twice in Hamd. Skcir iarpa, brown locks (st. 21)
and iarpskamr (76. 13) : reddish-brown colour as of a
fox.

(7) Golden.

Almost all the instances of the epithet refer to the
metal rather than to mere colour. In many passages
it means gilded or overlaid with gold. Where it may
be read in the stricter sense of golden-yellow hue, are
such passages as :

Gullbiartr (Grimn. 8) gold-bright.

ih. (Harb. 30) ih.

Algullin (Hym. 8) all-golden.

ih. (Skirn. 19) ih.

L}'sigull (Prologue to Oegisdr. I.)

and in the description of the yellow-crested cock in
the Voluspa :

GuUin Kambi (st. 35) ; and in the name of the
horse of the gods : Gulltopp (Grimn. 30).

As referring to the metal alone, or having the
meaning of gilded, gold-horned cows are mentioned :

Gullhyrndar K}^r, Ham. 23 , ihul. H. Hi. 4.

Gilded hoofs: Hofgullin, Oddr. 28.

Gold bridled : Gullbitlu^, H. H. I. 41.

Gilded : Gyltr Atlkv. 5 ; Ih. 33 ; Gudr. II. 16.

Golden: Gulhn, Vol 59; Hav. 106; H. H. II.
17 ; Fiolsv. 5.

Gold-adorned : Gullvaribr, H. II. II. 43 ; and

738 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

(probably) another passage in H. Hi. 26 :

margallin.
The golden tablets : gullnar toflar (Vol. 59)
wherewith the gods amuse themselves, and with
which, after Ragnarok, they are once more to play in
the New Heaven, have to be mentioned. So also
gullinbusti (Hyndl. 7), the gold-bristled boar of Frey
whose bristles shine amid the darkness of night.
(Prose Edda, cap. 61).

(8) Green. .

It is peculiar that although this colour is so seldom
named in the Edda, it is with one or two exceptions
in the older lays alone that it occurs : in this respect
differing from other colours we have already treated
of, which were found to be used more frequently and
with greater precision of application in the later
poems. In the Voluspa we find :

Groenum lauki (Str, 4) green herbs ('* leeks ").

Yfir groenn {ih. 19) ever-green the ash Yggdra-
sil).

I^ja groena (ib. 57) fresh-green.

The phrase used in Str. 4 of the Yoluspa occurs
agam m the Second Lay of Gudrun, where in Gudrun's
lament over Sigurd, she compares him to the tall tree
among lowly shrubs : groenn laukr (Gudr. II. 2).

The earth is Igroen ; (Alv. 11). All-green in Harb.
16 — Algroen heitir. The green field-paths are men-
tioned twice :

Grcenir brautir, Rigsm. 1. Ihid., Fafn. 41.

All-green valleys occur in Atlkv. 13 : algroena
vollu.

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA. 739

I propose now to compare the results of the fore-
going analysis with those of the examination which
Mr. Gladstone has made of portions of the Iliad and
the Odysseu in his article on " The Colour Sense.' '^
It will be seen that in the Edda, there is a more
exact as w^ell as a more fully developed sense of
colour than is found in Homer. For his purpose
Mr. Gladstone selected the last ten Books of the
Odyssey, and the last eight of the Iliad. In the
former, he says: "I count 133 epithets or phrases
which relate either to colour or to light and its
opposite, or its modifications " — and he then proceeds
to deduct from that total number : (1.) Epithets and
phrases of brightness and darkness, (2.) Those of
whiteness and blackness, " as neither properly desig-
nates colour ;" and — (3.) " Words whicli indicate the
shade of grey, half-way, so to speak, between white
and black, but without decomposition or refraction,
and therefore not properly a colour." Thus we
have :

Epithets of light and dark 55 times.
„ white and black 36 ,,

gray 12 „

103 „

" Thus," continues Mr. Gladstone, " there remain
some 31 cases in nearly 5,000 lines where Homer can
be said to introduce the element of colour ; or about
once in 160 lines." It may seem a little daring to
challenge Mr. Gladstone's arithmetic, but a slight
error has crept in here. For in his list of particular
phrases given previously, he enumerates —

■■' " Nineteenth Century," No. 8, October, 1877.

740 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

Epithets of briglitness 49 times.
„ darkness 4 „

53 „

while in the subsequent abstract he makes it 55 ;
and again, while making his total deductions = 103,
he makes a remainder of 31 instead of (by his own
showing) 30. In point of fact, if his calculations are
otherwise correct, there remain 32 cases of the
mention of strict colour in the ten Books of the
Odyssey he has examined.

Again, in the last eight books of the Iliad, he finds
208 light and colour phrases, and subjecting them to
similar deductions, he brings out the following
results :

Epithets of light and dark 86 times.
„ white and black 52 „

„ gi-ey 10 „

148 „

leaving epithets of colour proper, 60. But from that
number he subsequently shows that 2 at least may be
properly deducted, making a remainder of 58.

Subjecting the Edda to a similar analysis, I
count 2L8 epithets or phrases relating to lio-ht or to
colour in all its modifications. Then deducting :

Epithets of light and dark 92 times.
„ white and black 37 ,,

» grey 14 „

143 .,

there remain 75 instances of the mention of colour
proper as distinguished alike from epithets of bright-
ness and darkness, of whiteness and blackness, and
of shades of gray.

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA. 741

Brought to a strict arithmetical test, epithets of
colour proper are to the whole number of instances
of phrases or epithets denoting light and its opposite
or colour indefinitely in the following proportions :

Last ten books of the Od//ssei/ 24 per cent.

„ eight „ Iliad 28 „

The Elder Edda 34 „

In other words, while one-fourth of Homer's words
are colour-epithets, one-third of those of the Edda
go into that class — as distinguished from the remain-
ing three-fourths and two-thirds respectively, which
are light-epithets.

Dr. Hugo Magnus has placed the Homeric poems
in the second stage of the historical development of
the colour-sense.^ At this stage, red and yellow are
discerned, but not green or blue. Mr. Gladstone
says : " Of a blue brightness Homer nowhere shows
the smallest idea. The negative proof becomes over-
whelming, when we consider that, living under a
Mediterranean sky, he never calls that sky by the
name blue."^ If the recognition of green be a proof
of the attainment by an individual or a race of the
third stage of this historical development, it is worthy
of note that, as has already been referred to, we have
found this colour repeatedly named in the more
ancient songs of the Edda, and in particular in the
Voluspa — probably the oldest of all. Further,
according to Dr. Magnus, it is in the fourth and
final stage of the development that an acquaintance
with blue emerges. " Ked begins, blue and violet

^ "Die Entwickehmg des Farbensinnes " (Jena, 1877).
' Art. Colour Sense, in " Nineteenth Century."

VOL XTT. 3 C

742 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

close the scale." ^Few as are the iiistaiices in the
Eclda of reference to this colour, it is yet found, and
that in the elder lays. In the Voluspa it occurs. It
follows that the Northmen at the remote epoch of
the composition of the Elder Edda, had arrived at a
point in the development of the colour-sense two
stages beyond Homer.

When Mr. Gladstone, speaking of the colouring of
the rainbow, says : " But the Aristotelian triad of
colours is reproduced by Suidas and Galen ; is found
in the Edda and in Yarahamihira," &c., he doubtless
refers to the passage in the Younger Edda^ where
Bifrost is described as of " three colours ;"^'^ but it
must be remembered that the Younger Edda is the
work of an Icelander of the 13th century, and that
his description of the rainbow as of " three colours "
must be taken as a merely fanciful and intentionally
archaic use of a phrase suited, as he thought, to liis
mythological subject. It need not be supposed that
the compiler of the Heimslringla in the 1 3th century
had not attained the stage of colour development
common in his race at least 600 years previously.
Moreover, we must place alongside this phrase of
Snorri Sturlason, the account of Bifrost given in the
HyndluhoS, with which doubtless Snorri was con-
versant, and in which the variety of colouring in the
rainbow is symboHcally set forth. As it chances,
the age of this particular lay can be shown with
almost mathematical preciseness to be at least

8 There is no mention in the New Testament of bhie. In the
Apocryjjha it occurs once — "A servant that is continually beaten shall
not be without a blue mark " — Ecclesiasticus xxiii, 10.

» Gladstone, ^lt supra, p. 371.

>" Prose Edda, Cap. 13, cited ut mp.

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA. 74 3

anterior to a.d. 740. This is found by internal
evidence, and is a point well known to old Northern
readers, but does not here require particular
demonstration.

Of true, genuine colour-epithets in Homer,
Mr. Gladstone takes the word ipv9p6s to be the
best approach ; but he says that Homer's " idea of
red does not seem to be wholly distinct:" "no
garment in Homer is eruthros or red." In the Edda,
mantles or cloaks are called red (Gud. II. 19) ; and
we have seen that in the Voluspa two shades of
this colour are distinctly referred to (Vol. 34 et 35).
" Ermthros is applied to — (l) Copper ; (2) Nectar;
(3) Wine ; (4) Blood. ^^ The favourite use of the word
in Homer, Mr. Gladstone says, is " for wine." It is
curious that the most common use of red in the
Edda as description of gold, has no parallel in
Homer, while blood alone is spoken of as red alike
in Homer and the Edda. But it would seem that
Homer's favourite epithets of colour for blood are
all epithets of blackness, occurring in 29 places.*'" To
this there is no parallel in the Edda. There the
idea of redness had undoubtedly acquired its present
distinctness.

Again, as "' an instance of the dominance of the
liijfht-sense, of the rudeness and feebleness of the
colour- sense in Homer," Mr. Gladstone takes his
staple epithet for the morning, rhododaciulos ; by
which he thinks " a very pale reddish-pink, far
removed from ruddiness, seems to be indicated/"^ and

" " The Colour Sense," iit supra, p. .375.
'^ Jl)., p. .376.
'=• Jb., p. .37G.

3 c 2

744 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

he considers that the whiteness rather than the red-
ness of this combination had " contributed most to
fashion the poet's perception. "^^ Contrasted with
this, the description in the Edda (H. H. II. 47) of
the " paths reddened with the dawn," show a distinct
advance in the perception of the redness of tlie
dawn.

We have seen that green is not recognised in
Homer. In the Edda, on the contrary, there is a
certain modern-hke feehng for nature shown in such
phrases as the green foot-paths, the all-green valleys,
green leeks or herbs, the fresh-green, the evergreen
tree of Yggdrasil. Mr. Gladstone considers chloros
as used by Homer, in so far as it has a visual meaning,
to be " a light-epithet rather than a colour-epithet,"
and that no common sense of colour regulates its use.
He takes as a suitable English equivalent for the
phrase, ^'pale."^*

There is a similarity in the use of words denoting
that mixture of white and black which is not a colour
proper, but as Mr. Gladstone says, a " quantitative
composition" — as we find them in Homer and the
Edda. Folios he would render "gray,"^^ and finds it
applied " (l) to the human hair in old age." Similarly
in Fafnismal and in three other places we find the
Old Northern equivalent. "(2) To iron." So we
have the iron corselet in Grolt. 13 called grey sark.

'< X^^iopos used in this sense occurs in the New Testament, Ittttos
X^oopos (Rev. vi, 8). Cf. also the passage in Sappho's Ode to the

Beloved Woman.

)(\Q)poTepa 8e noias
ifip-i.

"Than the grass I paler am."
" Gladstone, nt svpra, p. 381.

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA. 745

" (3) To the hide of a wolf." Wolf-gray is an Eddie
phrase (H. H. II. 1).

In the New Testament colour is seldom recognised.
Green occurs only thrice : Mark vi, 39 ; Kev. viii, 7 ;
ix, 4 ; and in each case is applied to a growing thing
(grass). Red thrice : evening heaven, Matt, xvi, 2 ;
horse, Rev. vi, 4 ; dragon, xii, 3. An indefinite colour
spoken of as jmrple ten times, and as scarlet six
times, is referred to ; but as we find by the accounts
in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and John, of the
trial of Christ, it is an ambiguous term. Matthew
(xxvii, xxviii) calls the robe ^cLfxy'^oi kokklvtjv
— rendered in the authorised and revised version
scarlet, Mark xv, xvii. Mark and John call it 2:nirple
TTop^vpoLv (Mark xv, 17) 'uxoltlov 7rGp(f)vpovv (John
xix, 2) meaning the same thing. In the Gothic
version, the passage of Matthew has been lost, but
in Mark and John it coincides with the Greek
phrase, so : " Jah gavasidedun ina paurpurai " (Mark
XV, 17), "paurpurodon vastja " (John xix, 5).
Yellow is not mentioned in the New Testament, nor
blue, nor brown, although the latter occurs in the
A. V. of Genesis (xxx, 32, 33, 35, 40) applied to
cattle or sheep ; and yellow occurs thrice in Leviticus
(xiii, 20, 32, 36), applied to hair, and in Ps. Ixviii, 13 :
^'yellow gold." Of light and dark epithets in
the New Testament, ''white "is applied to raiment
7 times, hair 2, fields 1, stone 1, horse 1, throne 1 ;
"to white" (as a fuller) 1, a whited wall 1,
sepulchre 1. "Black" occurs thrice, and in each
case is appHed to hair (Matt, v, 36, Rev. vi, 5, 12) ;
"blackness" to darkness, twice (Heb. xii, 18 ; Jude
xiii. " Gray " is only used in the sense of hoary

746 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

and applied to hair, Gen. xlii, 38 ; xliv, 31 ; Deut.
xxxii, 25 (and 5 other places). I do not take in
the mention of the " Red Sea," as a reference to
colour, there being no satisfactory reason for the
name : 'EpvOpd OdXaaaa. As Curtius says : " mare
certe quo alluitur ne colore quidem abhorret a
coeteris. Ab Erythra rege inditum est nomen :
propter quod ignari rubere aquas credunt " (Lib.
VIII. c. 29).

In the Apocrypha, colour- epithets occur rarely.
As in the New Testament, " green " is found thrice
only, and applied to — (1) corn ; (2) leaves ; (3) field.
Wisd. xix, 7 ; Eccl. xiv, 18; Ih. xl, 22 ; " blue " once :
Eccl. xxiii ; " red," but once, and that in naming the
KedSea; " scarlet " once ; EccL xlv, 11. But the
ambiguous epithet " purple " occurs nine tmies :
evidently vaguely used.

In thus bringing into juxta-position the peculiari-
ties of the representation of the colour-sense in Homer
and in the Elder Edda, it must, I think, be admitted
that in the latter a much more comprehensive as we]l
as definite perception of colour is found. While the
Greek, in his favoured Mediterranean land, had
attained to that matchless sense of beauty in form
and motion, the realisation of v^hich still enchants
the world — for the Northman there seems to have
been reserved, as compensation, this clearer percep-
tion of hue and shade. In the purer aether and
serener air of the south, in those calm regions dwelt
the fair forms which the Greek made permanent in
marble. But to him the landscape must have been
what our later artists would term a " Symphony in
Black and White : " an engraving or a photograph.

THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA. 747

not a vivid-hued picture. For liim the grass was not
emerald, nor the heavens sapphire : there was no
glow of crimson, rose and purple in the western sky ;
the innumerable dyes of southern flowers existed not
for him. Nature appeared to him clad in garments
lighter or darker, gleaming or lowering in black and
white and that compound of both which we term
gray. But to the Northman was presented the gift
of colour. With larger, other eyes than his cousin
Aryan of the south, he beheld the swdft rushing,
myriad hued streamers of the North, the lightly-
trembling yet firmly resting Bridge of the Gods, and
he was enabled to see that its Warder, the White
God, was " the offspring of nine mothers." He sees,
too, that colour is an accessory merely of light — that
he is the dwarf Litr, in fact — and goes after the
Sun-God and perishes with him in —

" That last gi-eat battle in the West
Where all of high and holy dies away."

There is no doubt that these two symbolic represen-
tations are so remarkable, that of themselves they
afford sufficient evidence for the present contention
of the immense advances which the Northman of so
early an European period had made in the power of
discrimination of colour, and in his ideas generally of
it. But nature was a picture to him and not an
engraving. The ways in the green valleys shone
reddened in the dawn ; the grey corsleted cloud
Valkyrior hurried along on the storm's wmgs beneath
a blue sky, while Thor blows through his red beard
and shakes the dark mountains in his driving. His
symbol of the Cosmos was the ever-green world-

748 THE COLOUR-SENSE IN THE EDDA.

tree, the mighty ash Yggdrasil — grandest and most
comprehensive of world conceptions. It stands there
"all-green/' frondescent, umbrageous, with its roots
deep in the hidden unfathomable gulfs of nature,
stretching downwards into the realms of Hel and the
dim past, down to the well-springs where the gray
Norns sit and evermore be-sprinkle the giant -roots
with revivifying water. Its branches overshadow
the earth, spreading outwards over all the present
times, and stretching ever upwards into the bound-
less blue heights of the future ; the miinite rush of
life streams through the mighty tree from furthest
root-tip to uppermost leaf-point, and energises all.
" Its boughs with their buddings and disleafings
events, things suffered, things done, catastrophes, —
stretch through all lands and times. Is not every
leaf of it a biography, every fibre there an act or word ?
Its boughs are histories of nations. The rustle of
it is the noise of human existence, onwards from of
old. It grows there, the breath of human passion
rustling through it ; or storm-tost, the storm-wind
howling through it like the voice of all the gods. It
is Yggdrasil, the tree of existence.''^'^
As it is said in the Voluspa.

An ash know I standing Hight yggdrasil,

A high tree watered With white vajDours :

Thence come the dews In dales falling,

Ever -green it stands Over Urd's fountain.

»« Caiiyle'a "Hero-Worship," Sect. I, p. 200.

REPORT

OF THE

1881.

^ogal Sflcuto 0f Jiteralun,

General
ANNIVEESARY MEETING.

April 27th, 1881.

The Chair was taken at half-past four p.m. by
Sir Patrick de Colquhoun, Q.C., LL.D.,
and Vice-President, owing to the unavoidable
absence of the President, His Royal Highness
The Prince Leopold, K.G.

The Minutes of the General Anniversary
Meeting of 1881 having been read and signed,
the following Annual Report of the Society's
Proceedings, as prepared under the direction of
the Council, was read.

REPORT OF THE COUNCIL.

April 27th, 1881.

The Council of the Royal Society of Literature [Members.]
have the honour to report to the Members of
the Society that, since their last Anniversary
Meeting, held in the Society's House, on
Wednesday, April 28th, 18 SO, there has been
the following change in, and addition to, the
Members of the Society.

Tlius, they have to announce with regret the
death of

The Eev. Hakry Smith, M.A.,

probably the only surviving to the present
year, of the original Members of the Society ;
and of

B. T. Morgan, Esq.,

and, by resignation, of

Charles Ford, Esq.

752

On the other hand, they have much pleasure
in announcing that the folio wmg gentlemen
have been elected Members : —

The Eight Honourable the Earl of Limerick.

J. Bollinger, M.A., Ph.D.

Charles Peoundes, Esq.

Alexander Macdonald, Esq.

BuRNHAM W. Horner, Esq.

Mark H. Judge, Esq.

H. M. Imbert-Terry, Esq.

Thomas H. Gill, Esq.

EoBERT W. Dillon, Esq,

Eev. W. E. Bull Gunn, M.A.

Frederic Kent, Esq.

Eamchandra Ghose, Esq.

Henry Allpass, Esq.

Egbert Whelan Boyle, Esq.

Capt. W. Mason Seymour, E.N.

Sir Hardinge Stanley Giffard, Q.C.

Dr. Altschul, M.A.

Alfred Eichards, Esq.

John H. Paul, Esq., M.D.

Capt. G. A. Eaikes, F.S.A.

753

Rev. W. Jones.

Charles Higgins, Esq.
In all, twenty-two ; the clear gain to the Society
being nineteen.

They have also much pleasure in laying [Funds.]
before the Society the following abstracts of
the state of the funds of the Society, which
has been duly examined and attested by their
auditor, Mr. H. W. Willotighby, and which
will, they believe, show that the Society is
in a prosperous condition.

'ts"'* O ^^ O O'o O O O" CD O 0"0 0!D CO' O-^COOSOO

•WOseOOOOOiMiO 00l>Q0i-lN>O r-l eOCOCi?Ci-IOO

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ri

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in hand
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756

L Donations.] The Council have further to report the
following Donations to the Library from —

The Eoyal Society.
The Eoyal Society of Edinburgh.
The Eoyal Asiatic Society.
The Eoyal Institution.
The Eoyal Geographical Society,
The Eoyal Institution of Great Britain.
The Eoyal Irish Academy.
The Eoyal Academy of St. Petersburg.
The Eoyal Academy of Palermo.
The Eoyal Academy of Science, Turin.
The Eoyal Institute of Lombardy.
The Eoyal Academy of Lisbon.
The Eoyal Academy of Brussels,
The Trustees of the British Museum.
The Society of Antiquaries,
The London Institution.
The Anthropological Institute.
University College, London.
The Zoological Society of LondoN:
The Society of Biblical Archaeology.
The East India Association.
The Historical Society of Lancashire and
Cheshire.

757

The Free Libearies Committee, Birmingham.
The Public Free Libraries, M.vnchester.
The Government of New Zealand.

The Agent-General of New Zealand.

The Board of Eegents, Smithsonian Insti-
tution, New York.

The Astor Library, New York.

Numismatic Society of Philadelphia.

The Proprietors of the Quarterly Eeview.

The Proprietors of the Edinburgh Eeview.

The Proprietors of the Scientific Eeview.

The Proprietors of the Weekly Chronicle

The Proprietors of Nature.

C. EoACH Smith, Esq., E.S.A.

J. B. Telfy, Esq.

0. Shipley, Esq.

J. K. Craig, Esq.

Eamchandra Ghose Esq.

W. Freshfield, Esq.

J. Henry, Esq.

James Hector, Esq., F.E.S.

a. postolacca.

A. Eamsey, Esq.

H. Phillips, Esq.

VOL. XII. ' 3 ^

758

[Papers] "pj^g following papers have been read at the

Evening Meetings of the Society during the last
year.

T. On the diversity of National Thought as
reflected by Language. By Prof. Abel. Read
May 26, 1880.

IT. On the Ethnology of Modern Midian, in-
cluding Notices of the Ti^ihes, and mannei^s and
customs of the Midianite Bedawin. By Captain
R. F. Burton. Read June 23, 1880.

III. On the Pelasgi and Albanians. By Sir
P. DE CoLQUHOUN, Q.C, V.P. Read July 7,
1880.

IV. The Living Key to English Spelling Re-
form now found in History and Etymology. By

F. G. Fleay, Esq. Read November 24, 1880.

V. On the Roll of the Twelfth Century in the
Harleian Collection at the British Museum,

759

known as the Guthlac Roll. Bj Walter de
Gray Birch, Esq. Read December 22, 1880.

VI. On the Fathers of the English Church
Music. By W. A. Barrett, Esq. Read Feb-
ruary 23, 1881.

VII. On the Genuine and the Spurious in the
Eddaic Mythology. By C. F. Keary, Esq.
Read March 23, 1881.

VIII. On Spain, its Cities and Customs. By
Robert N. Gust, Esq. Read April 20, 1881.

In concluding this Report, it seems advisable
to call the attention of the General Meetinof of
this Society to one question, which has been
greatly mooted in the Literary world, though
it has not, as yet, come formally befoi'e the
notice of this Society, viz.. Copyright — the
conditions of which, in various Continental
Countries, as well as in the United States of
America, have been recently the subject of
grave discussion.

3 D 2

760

Since the last anniversary of our Society
much has been done both abroad and at home,
which, it is hoped, may have the result of
amending the present state of the Law, both
National and International. As regards Foreign
Countries, the question has been, indeed, still
is, under discussion in France, Swizterland,
Italy, Belgium and Holland.

Art Copyright, also, has formed the subject
of a National Congress, which met at Turin,
while it was also one of the subjects of the
International Congress which assembled at Brus-
sels in September of last year. This " Congress
of Commerce and Industry," which was held
under the personal auspices of the King of the
Belgians, was attended by one of the Members
of our Council, Mr. C. H. E. Carmichael, who
will, we understand, at a future meeting,
furnish to the Society a Report of the discus-
sions which then took place. At the Berne
Conference of the Association for the Beform
and Codification of the Law of Nations, the

761

question of International Copyright was intro-
duced by a Report from a Committee, presided
over by Sir Travers Twiss, Q.C., and the progress
of the question in the United States was dwelt
upon. Since then the Draft Convention, known
as the Harpiu^ Treaty, has been formally brought
before the Enghsh Government, by the American
Minister at the Court of St. James, and is, at
the present moment, under consideration.

A meeting of British Authors and Publishers,
convened by the English Executive Committee
of the International Literary Association, was
held hi the House of the Itoyal Asiatic Society
on February 12, 1881, Mr. MacCullagh Torrens,
M.P,, in the chair, at which the Secretary ot
this Society and Mr. C. H. E. Carmichael
attended, and the latter gentleman, also, was
one of a Deputation to the President of the
Board of Trade, to convey to him the resolutions
of the Meeting. The criticisms offered by the
Meetmg and by the subsequent Deputation, will
no doubt receive due attention, and will have

762

their value, whatever may be the immediate
result of the present negotiations. Add to
which, our own Parliament will very shortly be
called upon to consider a measure for the
consolidation and amendment of the Municipal
Law of Copyright, which will be introduced,
with the support of the Council of the Social
Science Association, by Mr. G. W. Hastings,
M.P. It is much to be desired, that the state
of Public affairs may admit of an early and
thorough Parliamentary discussion of a ques-
tion so interestmg and important to all lovers
of Literature.

-1 ./5

A^^

ADDEESS

OF niS ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE PKINCE LEOPOLD, K.G. K.T.,
DUKE OF ALBANY,

PRESIDENT,

TO THE SOCIETY,

Wednesday, April 2lth, 1881.

My Lords and Gentlemen,

In obedience to the usual custom of tbis Society,
I bave now the pleasure of addressing to you a few
words on tbis our Anniversary Meeting.

And, in doing so, I bave great satisfaction in con-
gratulating tbe Society on its continued })rosperity as
evinced by tbe number of new names wbicb bave been
added to it during tbe last session, to till tlie place of

766

such losses as we have sustained by death or other
causes. Our loss by death has been two, and by resig-
nation one ; on the other hand, we have elected twenty-
two new members, the largest number, I believe, that
has been elected in any one year, since the foun-
dation of the Society. The Society has, therefore,
nineteen more paying members than on this day last
year. Of the biography of the one member we have
lost by death, I will now, according to the usual
custom, say a few words.

The Eev. Harry Smith, one of the original members
of the Eoyal Society of Literature, died at his residence,
27, Norfolk Crescent, Paddington, on the 17th of
February, 1881. He had nearly completed his ninetieth
year. Mr. Smith was the son of Mr. Harry Smith, a
partner in the Bank of Messrs. Child and Co. He was
brought up at the well known school of Dr. Burney, at
Greenwich, and, subsequently, at Brazen-nose College,
Oxford, where he was the intimate friend of the late
Dean Milman and Dr. Cardwell. At Brazen-nose, he
obtained a Hulme Exhibition, and graduated in 1812,
with a 2nd Class in Literis Humanioribus. He took
his M.A. degree in 1816, and was ordained Deacon and
Priest in 1817.

767

■ After serving several curacies, among others that of
Dr. D'Oyley, the Eector of Sundridge, Mr. Smith
accepted, in 1828, the offer of the living of Crandall,
near Canterbury, from Sir John Filmer, where he
resided for forty years. He retired from this Parish in
1868, much to the regret of his Parishioners, who gave
him a substantial proof of the affection he had won.
The infirmity of age having begun to tell upon him,
together with a partial loss of siglit, he spent the
remainder of his life in retirement in London. His
wife, to whom he was married in 1828, died in
1868.

During the past year several valuable Papers have
been read before this Society. To these, according to
the usual custom, I shall now briefly allude.

To our Vice-President, Sir P. de Colquhoun, we are
indebted for a Paper " On the Pelasgi and Albanians,"
in which he maintained the view, that the latter jieople,
who call themselves " Skipetar," are lineal descen-
dants of the semi-mythical Pelasgi, who, lie considered,
derived this name from the Greeks around them, the
general sense of this word being that of " Neighbours."
The actual derivation of the name from anv " King

768

Pelasgiis " he properly held to be an absurdity, the
government of the country in its earliest days, as now,
being vested in certain tribal chieftains elected when
necessary. Abundant examples may be found of the
prevalence of tliis, or of a similar system, the cases of
Agamemnon and Cassivelaunus being exactly to the
point.

Sir Patrick thought the evidence of Antiquity was
clearly in favour of a common origin (though at a very
remote date) of both Pelasgi and Greeks, the main distinc-
tion between them being, that the Pelasgi admitted no
affiliation from without, while the Greeks on the other
hand accepted a large and very miscellaneous incorpora-
tion. Most of the Greek Deities, it is admitted, are of
Pelasgian origin ; the people, however, remaining simple
warriors, while the Greeks, after a high and remarkable
cultivation of Art, became effeminate and were thus
easily exterminated. The Pelasgi were naturally pushed
back into their mountains by the spread of the Hellenic
race, but, in these mountains, they have remained through
all time and to the present day. The main strength of
Alexander's phalanx, the writer believed, was due to the
large number of Pelasgi or " Skipetar" who served in it.

Mr. Walter de Gray Birch read a Paper " On the

769

Roll of the Twelfth Century," in the Harley collection
at the British Museum, known as the " St. Guthlac
EoU," and exhibited some Autotype Photogiuphs of the
subjects therein contained. In the course of his Paper
Mr. Birch showed how the life of St. Guthlac, by Felix,
in the Nmth Century, had been taken as the chief
materials for the vignettes in the Roll, with the excep-
tion of the concluding picture, which points to Ingulph
of Crowland as the authority for its details : Mr. Birch,
also, demonstrated the great probability of the Roll
having supplied subjects for the painted glass of Crow-
land Abbey Church.

Mr. W. A. Barrett has contributed a Paper " On the
Fathers of English Music," in which he showed that
what we know of Gregory of Bridlington, Adam of Dore
Abbey, Herefordshire, Walter Odington of Evesham,
John of Salisbury, and Thomas de Walsingham, affords
ample evidence of the existence of English Musicians
in comparatively early times. The systems of notation
employed in the Mediaeval times, with obscure and
vague definitions, rendering translation into modern
notation unsatisfactory, if not misleading, were touched
upon ; and the peculiarities of " Organon, diaphony and
descant " were noticed, briefly, as an introduction to the

770

more definite matters of musical history. Mr. Barrett
considered that the historj^ of Church Music in England
began in the latter part of the fifteenth ceatury, with
John of Dunstable's invention or employment of
Counterpoint, contributions to this art having been,
doubtless, supplied by Dr. Eobert Fairfax, John
Shepherd, and John Taverner, contemporary musicians.
The claims of John Eadford of St. Paul's, and of
John Marbeck of Windsor, were duly acknowledged,
as w-ere, also, the labours of Thomas Tallis and of
William Birde, who, by the aid of the "Printed
Patents" granted to them, were able to extend the
musical developments due to their genius.

Mr. F. G. Fleay read a paper entitled " The living Key
to English Spelling Pteform now found in History and
Etymology," his object being to show that the objections
to spelling Eeform are principally founded on an exag-
gerated estimate of the amount of change required.
This exaggeration has been chiefly caused, he thought,
by the Pievolutionary proposals of the leading reformers,
who have neglected the history of our language and the
etymological basis of its orthography, in favour of a
philosophical completeness. Mr. Fleay, on the other
hand, proposed a scheme, which was developed in two

771

forms, the one perfectly phonetic, for educational
purposes ; the other differing from this only in the
dropping the use of the accent and of the one new type
required in the former. Mr. Fleay showed that, even
in the vowel sounds, not one-tenth would need altera-
tion, while, in the case of the consonants, the alteration
required would be much less.

To Mr. C. F, Keary we are indebted for the first
portion of a Paper " On the genuine and the spurious
in Eddaic Mythology," with especial reference to the
theories, recently put forward by Prof Sophus Bugge,
of Christiania, respecting the origin of these' myths.
Premising that he did not intend any direct criticism
of this Professor's views, the writer pointed out those
features of the Eddaic mythology, which appeared to
him to be of genuine and early Germanic origin,
while he specially examined the myths of Death and of
the other world, as preserved to us in the two Eddas.
Thus, he laid especial emphasis on the behef concerning
the burning of the Dead, a rite he considered to be
rather Teutonic than Celtic ; as, even among the Northern
Germanic races, this rite was falling into disuse at the
beginning of the Twelfth Century, so that its influence
on the construction of the Eddaic myths must be

772

referred to an earlier date than that of Scemiind. Mr.
Keary then quoted from the Arab Travels of Ibn
Haukal (tenth century), an account of the funeral rites
of a Gothic people, at that period inhabiting the North
of Eussia, and compared this with the narratives of the
funeral of Baldar.

Professor Abel gave to the Society a Paper " On the
diversity of National Thought as reflected by Language,"
in which he endeavoured to show that, with the excep-
tion of forms denoting material objects, or expressing
the most ordinary sensations, the words of all languages
are really different in meaning from their reputed
representatives in other tongues. As nations, he re-
marked, differ in their notions, the signs expressive of
these notions, i.e., the words, could not but differ in the
senses they conveyed. By a comparison between
French, German, and English, Dr. Abel showed that
there was a considerable diversity between words seem-
ingly identical in meaning. Such words, often, only
partially correspond with each other, the one having
either some additional meaning not found in the other,
or the various ingredients of their meanings being
combined in different proportions even when otherwise
identical. Then, again, there were terms found in

773

some languages, hut not occurring in others, in -whicli
cases, to make up for tlie deficiency, it was necessary
to use paraphrase.

Dr. Abel then pointed out, that only thoughts
common to the whole nation or to large sections of the
nation, are embodied in single words, and hence drew
the conclusion tliat the finer shades of national cha-
racter are most effectually ascertained by a comparison
of synonyms.

Captain E. F. Burton has contributed a Paper " On
the Ethnology of Modern Midian," which was divided
into two parts. 1. ISTotices of the tribes of Midian ; and
2. Tiie manners and customs of the Midianite Bedawin.
In the first portion, Captain Burton stated that the
country itself, properly called North Midian, is the
district extending from Fort El-Akkabali, at the head
of the Gulf so named, to Fort El-Muwagiah, a district
extending latitudinally about 108 miles, and com-
prising three distinct tribes of Bedawin, the Humaytat,
Makn^wi, and the Beni-Ukbah. In his second part, he
traced the present social history of these people, and
gave an interesting history of these wild men, who
VOL. XJI. 3 E

774

have, perhaps, changed less, in the last o,000 years,
than any other known population.

To Mr. Eobert N. Cust we are indebted for a
lively account which he gave, partly orally, of " Spain,
its Cities and Customs," in which he described the
Cathedrals, the Civil Guard and Brigands, the Bull-
Figlit, Hotels, Eailroads, &c., and the demeanour of the
people towards strangers, which, so far as he had the
opportunity of mingling with them, appeared to be
universally kind, courteous, and hospitable. Travellers
had no trouble with the Police or about Passports. Mr.
Cust called attention to the so-called "restorations"
going on at the Al-Hamra in Grenada, which, he
thought, were being carried too far. On the other hand,
he considered that the restorations in the great Mosque
Cathedral at Cordova, and in the Jewish Synagogues at
Toledo were judiciously executed. Mr. Cust then de-
scribed the route via Badajoz to Lisbon, where he had
the good luck to arrive in time for an Earthquake.
Generally, his experience was that Spain was a country
well w^orthy of a single visit; and that, as spacious
arenas had been built in every town of Spain, there was
not the slightest hope that the peculiar institution of
tlie Bull-Fight would ever be suppressed.

COUNCIL AND OFFICEES FOll 1881-82.

ELECTED IN APRIL, 188L

PRESIDENT.

HIS EOYAL HIGHNESS THE PEINCE LEOPOLD, K.G., K.T.,
DUKE OF ALBANY.

VICE-PRESIDENTS.

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VOL. XII. '6 V

790

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791

INDEX.

About, M., the President of the " Societ6 de3 Gens de Lettres de

France," 331.
Abj'ssinia, possibly an Island when the Red Sea was formed, 383.
Achilles, the Sun-Hero, as Apollo is the Sun-God, 370.
^gean Sea, the Islands of, the Natural Stepping Stone between Asia

and Europe, 61.
-^schylus, the Zeus of, the One God like the Jehovah of the Hebrews,

376.
Agi'am Mummy, characters found on, by Mr. Cautley, 38.
Alfieri, as well as, Trissino, writes a tragedy with the name Sopouisba,

410.
Algemeine Zeitung, i^aper in, July 13th, 1877, staling that the Turks

are barbai-ous people, without literature, &c., 114.
Aljustrel, Table of. Notice of, 700—703.

Latin Text of the Inscription of, 706.

Alphabetical characters, the whole in Runic, are 16 ; and in Ogham,

20 or 25, 7.
" Alphonsine Tables," The, the first Astronomical tables prei)ared in

Euroi^e, 115.
Ancestors, the house of our, a tree-house of a primitive kind, 571.
Antiquary, object of the studies of the, 349.
Antwerp Art Congress, Names of the leading members of, 86, 87.
Value of its labours towards framing an Internation;U Copy-
right Act, 91.
ApoUo and the Python, fight between reproduced in the Norse

Mythology, 534.
Apollo, the origin of, unquestionably the Sun, 364.

e\'idently more revei'ed by Homer than even Athene, 369.

the Statues of, express the perfecting of an Anthropomorphic

Creed, 376.
Arabia, in, the Semitic races from the South and West gi-adually

annihilated the previous Tiu'anian occupants, 382.
Arabian Poetry, well studied in Europe, especially in its more archair

Pagan stages, 101.

3 F 3

792 INDEX.

Ararat, the Mesopotaraian, a spur of Taurus called Mount Judi, near

Mosul, 387.
Aretino, the author of several lively comedies, 422.
Armenians, the, with some justice consider themselves Autochthones

386.
Arthur, story of, his last days, and his conveyance to Avalon, " the Isle

of Apples," 79.
Aryan Nations, natural tendency of, to travel westward, 545—55.

invasions, possibly two distinct ones, 391.

Aryans, the wanderings "of, must have diminished their fears of the Sea

of Death, 60.

invasion of, from the North, due to the increased cold, 384.

genera] account of their supposed descent from the North, 385.

of Europe, wholly unacquainted with the Zodiacal light, 399.

of India, adoj^t the arts and sciences of the Turanians they

displanted, 392.
of Persia, the south, greatly extend theii- empire under Cyrus

394.
the original, probably the inhabitants of a Polar Continent or

Archipelago, 379.

the North-Western, gradually advance peopling Russia, &c.

and make Europe Aryan from the Ural to Atlantic, 395
Asbril, notice of, 376 — 579.
Asgard, ^sir's burg, a mountain, like Olympus, where the gods dwell,

574.

and Mamiheim, account of, 594 — 576.

Auctiouator, a medium of commimication between parties legally

strangers, 694.
no doubt, generally, a man of substance, 696.

Badger, Eev. Dr., copy by, of a monogram on a copper plate found at

Aden, 32.
Baes, M. Edgar, paper by, on the studies of Rubens in Italy, 95.
Baldr, legends of the death of, 55.3 — 561.
the burning of, a relict of the story of the Sun sinking behind the

Western Sea, 81.

. details of, 555 — 558.

Baldr's bale, probably had its prototype among ballads now lost, 555.
• the character of, modified, to resemble that of the Saviour of

Mankind, 590.
Baptista della Porta and Goldini, works of, interesting as studies of

contemporary manners and customs, 423.
Beccaria and Voltau-e, succeed in sto]:»ping the use of torture, 418 — 419.
Bedawi, the early feasts of , as that of circumcision and marriage, 292— 296.

peculiar superstitions of, 325.

Beowulf, resemblance of, to the Nibelungen, 554.

INDEX. 793

Boewulf, in, we see, better than in the Eddas, the origin of the beliefs

in giants, 581.
Bernini, writes a play, composes the music, paints the scenes, and acts

the principal character, 415.
Bethluis, arrangement of the letters in, 5, 6.
Birch Tree (Bhurja), the only name that has spread through Europe,

derived directly from the old Aryan home, 5.
Birds of Paradise, curious legends in, relating to St. Brandon, 76, 77.
Blanc, Charles M., Speech of at the Eubens Centenary, 94.
Brahmanism, the spirit of, jisrvades the later Vedic poems, 585.
Brandan, St., Paradise of, a sporadic growth, sometimes in the

Canaries, sometimes elsewhere, 76.
Bremen, Adam of, descrijjtion by, of a holy Grove, 569.
Brown, Mr. J. W., notice by, of sculpture over the door of Oowland

Abbey, 648.
Brugsch, Dr., discovery by, of a new alphabet on a previously unopened

mummy of the museum at Agram, 33.
Brunu, Prof., view of his controversy with Prof. Friedricks, 460, 467.
Brynhild, notice of the Eddaic story of, 543.
Buddha, real value of the teaching of, 392.
Bugge, Prof. Sophus, theory by, of the origin of the Eddas, leaving to

them little or no genuineness, 519, 520.
Bussche, M. Van der, view of, that Art should be a beacon lighting

the way of nations, and that it ought therefore to guide Democracy,

not to be guided by it, 90.

Caillemer, M., valuable paper by, " On the Pompeian Tablets," showing

the prevalency of sales by auction, in the time of Nero, 687 — 689.
view by, of the functions of the " Auctionatores " at

Pompeii, 690.
Carmel Mount, a double ridge with an intermediate valley or plateau, 720.
Caspian Sea, known to have been once much larger, 57 and note.
Cautley, Mr., letter from, to Captain Burton, with an account of the

Mummy in the Museum at Agram, 36 — 38.
Ceratse Tabulae of Pompeii, general character of, 666.

use of, survived as late as a.d. 1442, 667.

bear cousidei'able resemblance to the " Tabulae honestae

missionis," 669.

form of, probably suggested by Julius Caesar, 669.

origin of the discovery of, and condition when found,

671—673.

note.

legal note on, by Sir P. de Colquhoun, etc., 674, 675,

general contents of, 674 — 679.

name of vendor rarely mentioned on, 677.

though only memoranda of bankers, may also be held

to be State Documents, 679.

794 INDEX.

Ceratye Tabuloe, names of slaves very common on, 680.

illusti-ate the cursive form of Roman writing, 681 — 683.

Chamberlain, Basil H., generous gift of Japanese poetical works to the

Library of the Royal Asiatic Society, 602.
Chinese Language, necessary that it should be studied in Japan, 595.
Chinese Literature, missing links likely to be found in Japan, 592.
Christ appears, in early Christianity, to have absorbed into Himself all

the Persons of the Trinity, 374.
supposed resemblance between His descent into Hell, and that of

Apollo into Hades, 372.
Christianity, lai-gely and unsparingly adopted Pagan myths, 586.
Chi-istian hope, the new feeling of, found as well in the North as in

Italy, 588.
Christian Influences, general character of, as connected with German

legends, 585 — 590.
Cinthio Gii-aldi dette, to whom Shakespeare owes the slight frame-
work of his Othello, 423.

curious and remarkable life of, 423, 424.

the first Italian to give his tragedies a distinct prologue

and epilogue, 425.

the tragedy of Cleopatra, by, far better and more natural

than the Cleopatra of Alfieri, 426.
Clark, the Rev. Mr., erroneous statement by, that '• The Faith of Islam

teaches its followers that women do not possess a soul," 105.
Claudian, allusion by, to the story of the Gaulish fisherman ferrying

the souls to the island of Brittia, 71.
Cleopatra, striking resemblance in the character of, as drawn by Shake-

speai'e and Giraldi dette Cintliio, 426, 427.
Cockaigne, the land of, a relic of a popular belief, 53.
Congress, Paris Literary, chief members of, Victor Hugo, About,

and Tourganiefi", 332—334.
Continents, each early one had its own Flora and Faima, 376.
in the pre-historical period of, there was a gradual upheaval,

378.
Copyi'ight, Law of, French view of, 336 —338.
the section of, at the Paiis Congress — contained the largest

proportion of the French Bar, 335.
Costume, the correct, in plays greatly attended to in Italy, 416.
Coflins in the North, made in the form of a ship, 83.
Creeds, contact between, so many and so subtle that it is often difiicult

to determine between the true and the spurious analogies,

518.

Dante, view by, of the story of the wanderings of Odysseus, 74,
has no sympathy with the people who sought an earthly Para-
dise in the West, 75.
the first great wi-iter in the " Vulgar Tongue,'' 404.

INDEX. 795

Death, images of, drawn primarily from the images of a dyiug sun, and

of a departing day, 55.

Egyptian view of, in their Ritual, 56.

myths of, and of the other world, 522 — 527.

River of, represented by the Greeks in their Okeanos, 535.

the Sea of, in the Eddaic mythology, is the Midgai-d-Sea,

530.
Deluges local, notice of, 386.
Democracy, different meanings of this word in ancient Greece and

Rome, in Medieval and Modern times, 90.
Dervishes the, in some sort, the Freemasons of Islam, 102.
Desdemona, proper costume for, 429, 430.
cimously enough, not met with as a name in any Italian

novel or poems, excejit the one by Geraldi dette Cinthio, 433.
Didron, M., interesting work by, on Christian Iconography, 373.
Diptychs and Triptychs, origin of the name of, 670.
Divine faces in Greek sculptm-e, the result of the assimilation of one

or two leading types, 350.
Domestic Tragedies of Italy, rapidly dramatised in England, 416, 417.
Doreans, the, of Northern Greece carried the culture of Olympian

Zeus through the whole of Greece, 365.

general effect of their conquests on Greek religion, 366.

Dramatic Literature, the Greco-Italian commences with the opening

of the XVth century, 405.

Earthly Paradise, early stories of, began in folk-lore, 51.

Edda, poems of, in a state of decline as compared with those of Vedas

or the Epic poems of Greece, 533.

no kind or form of teaching found in, ibid.

Tales of, have re-appeared all through the Middle Ages, ibid.

Veins of the highest imaginative creation, to be found in, ibid.

— '■ — the image of the world as shown in, very similar to that in

Beowulf, 582.

colour in general, in the, 725 — 731.

Detailed Examination of the different colours mentioned in, 731

—738.

red, the most common colour, in, 734.

the Elder, composed in Norway in the sixth century, a.d., 724.

coloius noticed in, and various epithets referring to,

724, 725.
— the sense of colour much more definite than in

Homer, 746, 747.
Edda, the Younger, genei'al character of, 555.
story in, bringing prominently forward the mortal

Region beyond the Midgard Sea, 562.
■ — remarkable difference of tone between it and the

Elder, 566.

796 INDEX.

Eddaic Life, unquestionably, genuinely Teutonic, 583.

general picture of, 583, 584.

Eddaic World, the Ygdrasill, 568—573.

Elpenor, Story of, in the Odyssey, 540.

Erasmus, high opinion foi'uied by, of Sir Thomas More, 162.

Ethelbald, King, the seal of, on the Roll of St. Guthlac, very like those

on the Great Seals from Henry I. to Richard II., 657.
Etruscans, people or peoples of a Chinese stock inhabiting some

part of Italy as their last home, 380.
Europe, at the earliest date, inhabited by an Iberian race, of whom the

Basques are the survivors, 378.

the poetry of, cast in one single Classical conception, 99.

• at the present time, groaning under its own stifling panoply,

397.

Fairies, theory of, who they were, 574, 575.

Farrer, Mr. James, establishes the fact that Runic Inscriptions exist

in Orkney, 16, 17.
Fenrir, notice of, 536, 537.
contains the idea of Water (fen) and is etymologically connected

with the Vedic Panis, 537.
Fire God of the Eddas, less beneficent than the corresponding Deities in

the other Aryan mythologies, 544.
Fleay, Mr. F. G., general outline of his scheme for " Spelling Reform ;"

his consonantal system, 628 — 631.

his vowel system, 631-635.

general resvilts he considers attainable by his system

635, 636.

reply by, to remarks by Mr. A. J. Ellis, 637—640.

Folk-tales, various, connected with the Sun-Hero, 368.

Freyr and Gerd, the wedding of, quite like the marriage of Dionysus

and Persephone, 549.
Friday Congregational Prayers, strict Muhammadan rule as to, 582.
Funeral fires, among the people of Northern Europe — belongs to the

Bronze Age, 542.

German barbarism, life beneath trees, the chief characteristic of, i.e.,

the worship of trees, 569.
Giants and Ogres of our Nursery Tales, once seriously believed in, 580.
Gladstone, Mr., Article by, on "The Colour Sense " in "Nineteenth

Century," October, 1877, 739—741.

general belief of, that the colour sense of Homer is feeble,

743, 744.

Gods, in Greek images of, exhibit often little individuality, 348.

the first, the actual phenomena of nature, as the storm, &c.,

353.

INDEX, 797

Gods, softening change in, from tlie ruile type of the Pelasgi to the

Jupiter of Olympus, 364.
Gozzadini, Count, valuable work by, entitled " Intoi'uo agli Scavi

Archeologichi," 42.
interesting notice of the " Sigle," or potters' marks

from different cemeteries, 42, 43.
" Graffiti '' the, enumerated by Count Gozzadini, true letters not mere

marks, 43.
Graves, the Lord Bishop, of Limerick, views as to the arrangement of

the Ogham letters, 2.

and on their origin, 9, 1 0.

Greece, the modern jargon spoken in, properly called Romaic, 390.
Greece and Greek, the names of, disappear- from history, and Rome

and Roman take their place, 390.
Greek races, who were finally united under Philip and Alexander,

character of, 389.
Religion, Homer's view of, po.ssibly, an exclusively Ionic one,

375.
■ ■ Apollo in, sometimes higher, and sometimes lower than

Zeus, 375.
Greek Sculpture, the perfections of, did not represent the realities of

actual life, 367.
Grendel, a heathen of heathens, in the fullest acceptation of the word,

581.
Grimm, Statement by, that corpse-burning is more rare among the Celts

and Latins than among the Greeks and Germans, 538.
Grdugaldr, the story of a son who visits his mother in her tomb, 547.
Guthlac, St., well acquainted with the language of the Britons, 644.

notice of the dress of the warriors whom he quitted, 645.

the Roll of, the work of a monk of Crowland, perhaps of

Ingulph, 641.

an unique example of the finest early English drawing.

and probably designed for painted glass windows, 642.
Detailed account of the eighteen Pictures in, 643 — 664.

Hades, no one permitted to jmss into, unless his body had been burnt,

540.

descent into, by the pre-historic A])ollo, 371.

Habal Runes, closely resemble the " Oghan Craobh," 4.

Hafiz, recondite character of the poems of, 101.

Hair, the difficulty of copying in seemingly ha.sty work, 449.

Hamilton, Mr., translations by, of the terms Dar-ooI-Ilasm and Dar-

ool-Harb in his " Hidayah," 579.
Hammer, M. Von, publication by, m six volumes, of specimens of moi-e

than 2,000 Turkish poets. 102.

798 , INDEX.

Harrison, J. Park, discoveries by, at Cissbury, in Sussex, 703, 704.
Haukal Ibn, notice by, of cremation in the country of the Euss or

Tarings, near Kief, 539.
. assertion by, that bodies (in Euss-land) are generally

burnt in ships made for the purpose, 560.

detailed account of the funeral pyre he saw, ibid.

Heathen gods, names of, changed, but not their characters, by Chris-
tianity, 47.
Heaven and Hell, effect of Persian influence on the doctrine of, 48,

note.
Heimskrino-la Saga, King in, who makes a solemn vow to see Odin

and the home of the gods, 59.
Hell, the -origin and primitive meaning of the word, 67.
the moutli of, often in mediaeval ai-t represented as the

mouth of a dragon, 537.
Heracles the Greek, corresponds most nearly with the German Thorr,

361.
Hercules, Duke of Ferrara, the first to translate Plautus, 406.

the great stimulator of Theatrical amusements, 406.

Hermes, the distinction of texture in, of a more marked character than

at any previous period known to us, 448 .
the head of, compared with three heads on coins in the

British Museum, 450, 451.

■ the proportions of, correspond with what we might have

expected d, priori, 452.
" Hermothena," view taken of the Oghams in, pt. 5, 232— not generally

accepted, 4.
Hesperides, the mythic golden apples of, perhaps the first oranges

brought to Greece, 63.
Hugo, v., magnificent address of, at the Chfitelet Theatre, 346.
Hunter, Prof. W. A., suggestions by, in his recent work on Roman Law,

692, 693.
Hutta Family, founded by a Chinese Envoy, 259 B.C., still in existence,

594.

Iliad the, no element in, strictly supernatural, as the gods are com-
pelled to conform to a human standard, 64.

the, and the Odyssey, marked distinctions between, ibid.

Indo-European Nations, in all, the more active God is preferred to the
passive, 357.

Infidel and Kafir, distinction in the practical meaning of these words,
579, 580.

Izzet Molla, poem by, in 7,000 couplets, 104.

Japanese poetry, various forms of, quotations and translations from ,
602—612.

INDEX. 799

Japanese printing, carried oiit by means of wood blocks, 598.

Japanese people, general character of, 617.

revival of the ancients, 599, 600.

Japan, Popular Literature of, but little known, 591.

Japanese alphabet, the present, constructed about a.d. 800, 595.

Japanese drama, account of, 612 — 616.

Judges, all, in India, appointed by under the sole authority of Her
Majesty, or of Her repi-esentatives, 580.

Japanese Writers, general sketch of, 617.

Jormungandr, or the Midgard Sea, 527 — 536.

connection of ideas between, and Okeanos.

Jotuns or Giants, in the Norse Mythology, the commensurate antago-
nists of the Osir, 579.

Jotunheimar, account of, 579 —584.

Jewish families, a few remaining who practise agriculture in the Bu-
keiah of Upper Galilee, and who claim descent from the original
inhabitants, 714.

Jirghiz, the Turanian and Pagan, founds an Empire which for a
short time extended from the ^gean to the Chinese Seas, 396.

Kaltpso, represents death, as Ogygia does the Sea of Death, 67.
Kenrick, Eev. J., account by, of the Transylvanian Tablets, 700.
Khutba, nature of the solemn address of, pronounced every Friday at

noon, 110.
Koran, the, passages from, showing that Muhammad gi-anted the

favom-s of Heaven equally to men and women, 105 — 109.
Korea, the art of writing introduced from, into Japan, b.c. 150, p. 549.
Kurroglu, a metrical romance, published by M. Chodzko for Orient.

Transl. Fund, in 1842, 117.

Lentulus, forged letter of, describing Christ's hair as of the colour

of wine, 587.
Literary Congi-ess, General results of the First International, 340.

results of the Second in London, 341 — 343.

Ljubie, Abbe, history of the Mummy of Agram, which Prof. Brugsch

opened, 34, 35.
Loki, the personification of the Funeral Fire, 538.
General notice of, 538 — 546.

Maes-Howe, discovery of the Branch or Palm Eunes among the

common Paines at, 16.
Maggio, the, still very popular among the Lucchese, 402.

character of the Dramatic performance so named, ibid.

Magnus, Dr. H., view of "the Colour Sense" in the Homeric Poems,

741, 742.
Mannheim, the Human Earth, girded round by the Midgard Sea,

574.

800 INDEX.

Mannheimar, an Island, lying in the midst of an nntraversed sea, 375.
Mandragola, remarkable l^lay, so called by Maccliiavelli, 420.
Marionetti or Puppets, common in early Italian history, 400.
Massman, Dr., discovery by, of " Cerat£e Tabalse" in old Dacian gold

mines, 683, 684.
no sufficient reason for questioning the truth of his

discovery, 684 — 686.
Maury, M., quotation by, from Dr. Forchhammer, with reference to

the torrent near Delphi, 533.
Mediterranean, the, depth beneath of the Sea of Gennesareth and the

Dead Sea, 722.
Mesnur or Mesnawi, a famous mystical poem, composed at Iconium,

by Jelaleddin Meslana, 118.
Midian, notices of the principal Tribes of, 249.

details of, 249—292.
in, The Moslem prayers for the dead are never recited, 298.

Arab tribes of, resemble in physique those of the Sinaitic

Peninsula and Nile Valley, 299.

Arabs of, details about, 299—330.

Species of Law existing in, 323 — 325.

have, besides family and private feasts, many jDublic festivals,

322.
Midianite Bedawin, Manners and Customs of the, 292 — 330.

— cookery, character of, 313 — 315.

dwelling places, character of, 309, 310.

Middle Ages, the history of, shows the prevalence of a distinct anti-
Christian under-current, 49.
Mid-gard Sea the, lies between Mannheim and Jotunsheimar, the

Giants' home, 331.
Milky Way, Oriental and German Traditions relating to, 578.
Minie, the comic, the real origin of our harlequin, pantaloon, clown,

and columbine, 420.
Moguls, the so-called, really pure Turks of the family of Timfir, 396.
Mohammedan Law, injunctions of, to Mussulmen residing in the Dar-

ool-Hurb, or foreign country, 577.
More, Sir Thomas, only original biograjahy by, that of Mr. Eoper and

Mr. Cresacre More, 160.

early life of, 160, 161.

— a member of Lincoln's Inn in 1496, at 18, and soon

after, for three years, reader in Furnival's Inn, 161.
■ appointed Under Sherifl' of London, September 3rd,

1510, 163.

twice employed by the City of London in embassies

abroad in 1514 and 1515, 164.

MS. entry by, in the Kegistrar Book of Doctors

Commons, now in the Library of Lambeth Palace, 165.

INDEX. 801

More, Sir Thomas, appointed, in 1520, as one of tlie four Commissioners

for a Treaty of Commerce with Charles V., I(i8.
a member of the Priv^y Council in May, 1522, and

about the same time. Master of the Requests, 167.

remarkable spirit of toleration shown in his

" Utopia," 170, 171.

unjustifiable character of the charges on which he

was condemned, 171, 172.
Moretus of Antwerp, the Album of his house, contains more than 300

designs by Rubens, Vandyck and other great artists, 93.
Mortill, Mr. W. R., considers the Ghagolitic Alphabet to be of late

introduction, 22.
Moslims of Arabia, number only 314 at their first victory of Eedr, a.d.

623, 395.
Muhamedan Copper Coin, marks in the early, probaljly merley for

ornament, 31.
Mushajjar-El, " the Branched " or " Tree like," obviously a name

derived from the appearance of the letters, 5.

the Semitic and the palm Runes absolutely identical, 20.

the Arabic Tree Alphabet, general account of, 22 — 29.

Museum, British, cop^jer plate in, of the Xlllth century, 646, note.
Musulman Women, tombstones of, show that the pi'inciple of co-equal

immortality of men and women was generally admitted, 112.
Muzzato, two Tragedies in Latin, written by, 405.
Myers, E., Poems — " The Genius of the Vatican," quotation from, 459.
Mystery-Plays, Italian, wholly unfit for the modern stage, 402.
Mythology, the study of, does not admit of the rigid demonstration

of Physical Science, 518.

Nazarenes, the, once living in Midian, really Nabathseans, 328.
Neo-Platonism, really largely imbued with the spirit of Christianity,

586.
New Testament, colour rarely recognised in, 745, 746.
Nibeluugen, the actual written form probably belongs to Xllth or

Xlllth Century, 554.
the origin of, far back in the myth-making past of the

Teutons, ibid.
Norseman, picture by, of the world, with the surrounding sea, an

exact counterpart of the Greek representation of Okeanos, 81.
North, the legends of, have preserved perfectly the originial Sun-m}i;h,

whence have arisen the subsequent images of Death and of a

Future State, 80.
Northmen, to the. Nature was a picture not an engraving, 747.

Ocean us, the fabulous stories of, to the westward and beyond the

Mediterranean, 62.
Odhinn, the God of the Wind, 356.

802 INDEX.

Odys sens, peculiarity of the story of, that he returns, a living man,

from Paradise, 73.
the wanderings of, repeat in many forms the old established

myth of death, and of the soul's voyage to seek its Paradise, 65.
Odyssey, story in, of a sailor's adventui-e in the Mediterranean, 63.
Ogham Eunes, represent three gi-ou]3S of letters, generally kno-\vn as

the Futhora, 3.
A^ai-ious views on, of Messrs. Kunz, Farrer, Cleasby, and

Dasent, 18, 19.

various notes on, 30 — 46.

— Syllabary, details about, 7, 8.

— the inventors or adapters of, supposed to have given its letters
the names of trees or plants, 4.

— writings called Bobel Loth, Bethluis or Bethluisnion, accord-
ing to its initial letters, 1.

on more modern, the letters were traced on the face

of the recipient surface, 2.

generally formed of sti-aight or curved strokes, per-

pendicularly or obliquely disposed, at an angle to the substaxice on
which they are incised, punched, or rubbed, 1.
doubt whether derivable from the Cuneiform of

Babylon or from the Phoenician, 20, 21.

' Tract on Oghams," &c., contains about eighty modifi-

cations of the Ogham alphabet, 2.

what seems to have been the oldest form, 3.

accepted and popular form of, 3.

Ogygia, connected by etjTnologists with Okeanos, 66.
Olymjaia, German excavations at, in 1877, 436.

discovery at, of the Hermes, with the Dionysos-Child,

436, 437.

probably the works of Praxitelas, 441.

Orbecche, a tragedy by Cinthio, has a scene in it like one in Titus

Andronicus, 425.
Ossero Island, town of, in the Gulf of Fiume. Lamp found near, with

palm Eunes on it, 45, 46.
Ottoman Empire, still called by all the rest of the East, the Eoman

Empire, 390.

Palestine Exploration Fund, area surveyed for, amounts to 6,000

square miles, 707.
■ results of survey, — (1) a large map of one

mile to the inch ; (2) a reduction of the same map, 707, 708.
geogi'aphical details of, 709 — 718.

Palm Eunes and the El-Mushajjar, probably known to the ancient

Etruscans, 41.
Pamir, the high plateau of, could not have been the cradle of the

human race, 398.

INDEX. 803

Paradise, of the Heathen, strenuously maintained to he in tlie West, 51.

early exj^editions in, search of, ibid.

the Western, endless pictures of, in Greek poetry, fi2.

— — legends of, gradually transferred from the Casjjiaii to the

Mediterranean and Western Sea.

Pelasgic God, general character of, as possessing the human quality of
will and power, 375.

Pelasgic races, the, of the Aryan family must have come from the
north-westward of the Black Sea, 388.

Persian and Turkish languages appropriate Arabic words and expres-
sions exactly as found in the originals, 120.

Petrarch and Boccaccio, like Dante, write in modern Italian, 404.

Pelice, Mr., applies Captain Burton's Arabic "Mushajjar" to the Ice-
landic " Futhore," 17, 18.

Pheidias, woik of, distinct in character from that of Praxiteles, and
why 1. 461.

Pictet, M., views by, of the original Aryans and of their homes, 56, 57.

Plantin, Le Maison, where the great printers lived at Antwerp, has been
carefully restored, 92, 93.

CoUectiou, Autograjih Letters of, said to exceed 11,000, 93.

Poetry, various definitions of the meaning of, 174, 175, 177, 178, and
179—184.

Polychromy, the influence of, at various times, 447 and notes.

reached its highest point of excellence in the days of

Praxiteles, 448.

Poniatowski Vase, notice of, 453, 454.

Praxiteles, what may be called his ty])e, belongs to the age of Philij)
of Macedon, 453.

Notice by Pausanias, of his work at Athens, 456.

peculiar character of the work, attributed to him, 456 — 458.

the character of the age in which he lived, directly, in-
fluenced his art, 462.

Prseco, functions of, at Eoman auction sales, 691.

Procopius, story in, of the fishermen of north-west Gaul, who ferried the
souls to the opposite island of Brittia, 71.

Prose-writing, still unknown among the present Midianites, 329.

Proverbial lore, very abundant in Japan, 619.

Purgatory, probably the survival of the Greek Hades or Norse Hel-
haim in the creed of Christendom, 78.

Eainbow, called by the Northerns, Asbrti, 577.

the, in Aryan mythology, the " Bridge of Souls," 577.

Ras-el-Nakura, the Tyrian ladder of the ancients, 710.
Ravaillac, terrible punishment of, 417- — 418.

Eaz Cape, the fishermen of, still call the most westerly bay in France
" the bay of the dead," 73.

804 INDEX.

",Eefuge, the camp of," extracts from, 651, 652.
Renaissance, remarkable eifect of, in Italy, 404.
Ehys, Professor, the chief opponent to the views of the Bishop of

Limerick on Ogham writing, 12.
denies that the Ogham Aljjhabet was designed for cryptic

purposes, 12.

general view, that the Ogham Alphabet is due to Wales,

and after this to Ireland, 13, 14.

thinks the Oghams must been " in some way derived

from the Phoenician Alphabet," 45.
River, the Mortal, older than the Mortal Sea, 536.
Roman Empire, gradual building up of, 394.
Rosen, Count von, Speech of, about Rubens, 96.
Rosweida, a nuit of Gandersheim, celebrated as an early writer of

Miracle-Plays or Sacred Dramas, 401.
Ruben's Festival at Antwerp, all classes and sections of the Belgian

people united to support thoroughly, 85.
important action of the Antwerp Act Congress at,

86.

Centenary, meeting for, at Antwerp, determine to edit a

" Codex Diplomaticus Rubenianus," a work thoroughly practical

and comprehensive, 91.
Ruccellai, G., language of, much more elaborate than that of Trissino

410.

writes the second famous Italian tragedy, 441.

Runic Alphabet, in the original, two letters only are named from trees,

viz., the thorn and the bii'ch, 5.

Sanuto, interesting account by, of the Marriage of Lucrezia Borgia,

406—409.
Sgemund, the Edda of, treats of the gods and heroes, " Gotter und Hel-

den Sage," as Professor Bugge calls them, 526.
Scheria, the home of Alkinoos, cannot be identified with Korcyra, as

obviously, somewhere in the far West, 96.
Scenery in Italian Theatres, painted by such artists as Ribera, Salvator

Rosa and Bronzino, 413.
Sea, the, the Greek names for, not connected with the idea of Death,

65.

to primaeval man, simply the parent of all rivers, 530.

word for, in many Europern languages, clearly connected with

the Aryan root meaning Death, 58 and note.

origin of the Myth of, 530.

Sea of Death, Eddaic picture of, 530.

Semitic Races gradually conquer the North-Persian Aryans and the
Turanian people in and about Traus-Oxiana, 393.

IJJDEX, 805

Shakespere, strong probability that he knew sufficient Italian to read

Ariosto, 429.
Shinto Faith, Pater-Noster of, 601.
Ship, a man burnt in, was supposed afterwards to take a voyage to

Paradise in the same ship, 551.
Sigfusson Sreniund, the first, in tlie Xlth Century, to commit the

Eddaic poems to wanting, 522.
Sirat, the, the path that spans Eternal Fire, adopted by Muhammad

for the Persians, 577.
Sky, the, as always visible, the fittest to represent the Supreme Deity,

358.
Soul after death, future of, represented by a journey across a Western

Sea to a Western Paradise, 528.
Soul's Journey, earliest myth of, speaks of a Eiver of Death, and not of

a Sea of Death, 530.
Societe des Gens de Lettres, chiefly a Society for the protection of the

rights of authors, 331.
Spelling Reform, notice of various Plans suggested for, 623, 624.
~ ■ suggestions of the principles on which it ought to be

conducted, 624—628.
St. Brandan's Isle, Legend of, 52, 53.
Sun, the, character of, as a god, 55.

specially, a wandering and a dying god, 55.

— from his character, fitted to be among the greatest of gods,

357.
Sylla, the first member of the Gens Cornelia who was burnt after death,

541.

Tacitus, picture by, of the Germans he had known or read about,

569.
Tatars, as well as Turkmans, both alike Turks, have had numberless

writers and poets, 116.
" Thorn," the word, may be translated etpiiologically as the " burning

plant," 543.
Thorr, and his comrades, adventures of, 563 — 566.
the three great contests of, all contests with death under various

forms, 567.

journey to Utgardh-Loki, 562 — 568.

Timoteo in the Mandiugola, the origin of Tartuffe and Joseph

Surface, 421.
Trissini, the first to write a regular tragedy, his Sophouisba, 409.
Trojan Antiquities, some lines traced on them resemble "Palm Runes,"

38—40.
Troubadours, eff"ect of the songs of on the Middle Age life, 50.
Turanians, the, have left their mark far and wide, 381.
Turkish Poetry, the metres in extremely multitudinous, 122.

VOL. xiL 3 a

806 INDEX.

Turkish Poetry, metrical compositions of, have various names, according

to their respective lengths, 123.

. various specimens of, 125 — 159.

Turkish Sultans, many of, distinguished as poets, 103.

Turks, the, great success of, as cultivators of poetry, 102.

the most remote ancestors of, perhaps the inventors of the art

of wi-iting and the first who discovered metallurgy, 115,
Types, moveable, used in Japan in the 15th century, 599.

Ulug-Beg, the astronomical works by, a Turkish tribute to science, 115.
Underworld, the two dogs guardians of, resemble the Sarameyas, or

Vedic dogs, 549.

all the visits to, have a striking similarity, 553.

LTraicept^ according to the Bethluisnion, was the invention of a Scythian

king, Fenius Fearsaidh, 15.
Utopia, the original meaning of, 84.

Valkyriar, the choosers of the slain, to be considered as essential

persons, 584.
Varuna and Indra, remarkable couti-ast between, 359.
Vedas, the tendency of, to transfer the things of earth to Heaven, 532.
Venice, ladies of, peculiar dress of, down to 1642, 430.
Voluspa, many parts in, added to the original story, 587.
Vowel-sounds, proportion of, in different languages, 121.

Wahshiyah-Ibn, valuable work by, admitted by the Bishop of
Limerick to have been written in the 9th or 10th centuiy, 25.

types of the characters used by, 26, 27.

remarks of, on the forms of letters given by him,

28, 29.

Wallin, M., remarks on the name Subfit, one of the class of the
Ma'dzah, 275.

Warsoee, Professor, finds metal with possibly Eddaic designs, 559.

Wilkins, Sir C, and Sir W. Jones, first make known to Europe the
existence of Sanskrit poetry, 100.

Worship, the objects of, in primitive days, are not beings in the like-
ness of man, 353.

Writing, universal, scheme suggested for a plan of, 622.

Writing for, the Romans used all the materials now used, besides the
" ceratse tabulte," 665.

•' Wusum," or " tribal signs" of the Bedawin character of, 43.

Yggrasill, the mythical ash, Odhinn's ash, 573.

the grandest and most comprehensive of world conceptions

748.

INDEX. 807

" Yoke," the word, scarcely altered in form, and identical in meaning
in the Aryan langxiages, 385

Zeus, possible Vedic parentage and origin under the form Dyaus, &c.,

354.

type and character of, as the cloud-collector, 362.

Zeus, the Pelasgic, loved, like Odhiun to dwell in woods — hence the

oak was dedicated to both alike, 3G3.
Zeus and Apollo, clearly marked differences between, in sculptui'e,

351.
the form of the sculj^tured hair of, betoken their

uatm-al origin, 352.

distinctive character of the worship of, 367.

Zodiacal Light, first discovered by an Englishman in London, in 1640,

399.
first so called by Cassiui at Paris, in 1 680.

HARRISON A?.'D SONS,
PRINTERS IN ORDINARY TO HER MAJESTT,

ST. martin's lane.

-<.. A..

^- lys by dive.

Ser.2

V.12

Royal Society of Literature
of the United Kingdom, London
Essays by divers hands

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