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THE
DAWN OF HISTOET:
2ln Introbnction to IJu-ljiatoric JStuba.
EDITED BY
C. F. KEARY, MA.,
OF THE BBITIBH aiUSEtTM.
NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS,
743 AND 745 Bkoadwat.
TboVs
PBrNTHTG AND BoOKElNDINO Oo.,
205-213 Emt Vith St^
NEW TOBK.
PEEFACE.
The advance of pre-historic study has been during the
last ten years exceptionally rapid ; and, considering upon
how many subsidiary interests it touches, questions of
politics, of social life, of religion almost, the science of
pre-historic archaeology might claim to stand in rivalry
with geology as the favorite child of this century; as
much a favorite of its declining years as geology was of
its prime. But as yet, it will be confessed, we have little
popular literature upon the subject, and that for want of
it the general reader is left a good deal in arrear of the
course of discovery. His ideas of nationalities and kin-
dredship among peoples is, it may be guessed, still hazy.
We still hear the JRussians described as Tartars : and the
notion that we English are descendants of the lost Israel-
itish tribes finds innumerable supporters. I am told that
a society has been formed in London for collecting proofs
of the more than Ovidian metamorphosis. The reason of
this public indifference is very plain. Pre-historic science
has not yet passed out of that early stage when workers
are too busy in the various branches of the subject to
IV PEEFACE.
spare much time for a comparison of the results of their
labors ; when, one may say, fresh contributions are
pouring in too fast to be placed upon their proper shelves
in the storehouse of our knowledge. In such a state
of things the reader who is not a specialist is under
peculiar disadvantages for a discovery of what has been
done. He stands bewildered, like the sleeping partner
in a firm, to whom no one — though he is after all the
true beneficiary — explains the work which is passing
before his eyes.
It will not be thought a misplaced object to attempt
some such explanation, and that is the task of the
following chapters. And as at some great triumph of
mechanism and science — a manufactory, an observatory,
an ironclad,^ — ^a j iinior clerk or a young engineer is told off
to accompany the intelligent visitor and explain the work-
ings of the machinery ; or as, if the simile serve better, in
those cities which are sought for their treasures of art
and antiquity, the lower class of the population become
self-constituted into guides to beauties which they cer-
tainly neither helped to create nor keep alive ; so this book
offers itself to the interested student as a guide over some
parts of the ground covered by pre-historic inquiry, with-
out advancing pretensions to stand beside the works of
specialists in that field. The peculiar objects kept in view
have been, to put the reader in possession of (1) the gen-
eral results up to this time attained, the chief additions
which pre-historic science has made to the sum of our
knowledge, even if this knowledge can be given only in
rough outline ; (2) the method or mechanism of the sci-
PEEFACE. V
ence, the way in which it pieces together its acquisitions,
and argues upon the facts it has ascertained ; and (3) to
put this information in a form which might be attractive
and suitable to the general reader.
The various labors of a crowd of specialists are needed
to give completeness to our knowledge of primitive man,
and it is scarcely necessary to say that there are a hun-
dred questions which in such a short book as this have
been left untouched. The intention has been to present
those features which can best be combined to form a con-
tinuous panorama, and also to avoid, as far as possible, the
subjects most under controversy. Nb apology surely is
needed for the joint character of the work : as in every
cliapter the conclusions of many different and sometimes
contradictory writers had to be examined and compared,
and as these chapters, few as they are, spread over various
special fields of inquiry.
It is to be hoped that some readers to whom pre-
historic study is a new thing may be sufficiently interested
in it to desire to continue their researches. For the assist-
ance of such, lists are given, at the end, of the chief author-
ities consulted on the subject of each chapter, with some
notes upon questions of peculiar interest.
The vast extent of the field, the treasures of knowl-
edge which have been _ already gatliered, and the harvest
which is still in the ear, impress the student more and
more the deeper he advances into the study. Surely, if
from some higher sphere, beings of a purely spiritual
nature — nourished, that is, not by material meats and
drinks, but by ideas — look down upon the lot of man, they
VI PREFACE.
must be before everything amazed at the complaints of
poverty which rise up from every side. When every
stone on which we tread can yield a history, to follow up
which is almost the work of a lifetime ; when every word
we use is a thread leading back the mind through centu-
ries of man's life on earth ; it must be confessed that, for
riches of any but a material sort, for a wealth of ideas,
the mind's nourishment, there ought to be no lack.
CONTENTS,
CHAPTER I.
PASS
The Eakliest Tbacks op Man [Editoii] 1
CHAPTER 11.
The Second Stone Age [Editor] 18
CHAPTER III.
The Growth of Language [Editor] 34
CHAPTER IV.
Families of Language [Editor] 50
CHAPTER V.
The Nations of the Old World [Editor] 68
CHAPTER VI.
Early Social Life [H. M. Keary] 82
Vlll CONTENTS.
CHAPTEK VII.
FAOB
The Village Commdnity [H. M. Kbaey] 98
CHAPTER VIII.
Religion [A. Keaht] 109
CHAPTER rX.
Aetah Rhligions [Editok] 138
CHAPTER X.
The Other Wobld [Editob] 148
CHAPTER XI.
Mythologies and Folk Tales [Editob] 159
CHAPTER XII.
Pictitrb Waiting [A. Keabt] 178
CHAPTER XIII.
Phonetic Weiting [A. Keaby] 191
CHAPTER XIV.
CoNCLiTsioN [H. Keaby AND EditoeJ , 203
Notes and Awthoeities 313
THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
CHAPTER I.
THE EARLIEST TRACES OE MAN.
When St. Paulinus came to preach Christianity to the people
of Northumbria, King Eadwine (so runs the legend) being
minded to hear him, and wishing that his people should do so
too, called together a council of his chief men and asked
them whether they would attend to hear what the saint had
to tell; and one of the king's thegns stood up and said, " Let
us certainly hear what this man knows, for it seems to me
that the life of man is like the flight of a sparrow through a
large room, where you, King, are sitting at supper in winter,
whilst storms of rain and snow rage abroad. The sparrow, I
say, flying in at one door and straightway out again at an-
other is, while within, safe from the storm ; but soon it van-
ishes out of sight into the darkness whence it came. So the
life of man appears for a short space ; but of what went before,
or what is to follow, we are always ignorant." ' This wise and
true saying of the Saxon thegn holds good too for the human
race as far as its progress is revealed to us by history. We
can watch this progress through a brief interval — for the
period over which real, continuous authentic history extends;
and beyond that is a twilight space, wherein, amid many fan-
tastic shapes of mere tradition or mythology, here and there
' Baeda, ii. 13.
2 THE DAWlSr OF HISTORY.
an object or an event stands out more clearly, lit up by a gleam
from the sources of more certain knowledge which we possess.
To draw with as much accuracy as may be the outline of
these shapes out of the past is the business of thepre-historic
student; and to assist him in his task, what has he ? First,
he has the Bible narrative, wherein some of the chief events
of the world's history are displayed, but at uncertain distances
apart; then we have the traditions preserved in other writings,
in books, or on old temple stones — in these the truth has
generally to be cleared from a mist of allegory, or at least of
mythology. And, lastly, besides these conscious records of
times gone by, we have other dumb memorials, old buildings
— cities or temples — whose makers are long since forgotten,
old tools or weapons, buried for thousands of years, to come
to light in our days; and again, old words, old beliefs, old
customs, old arts, old forms of civilization which have been
unwittingly handed down to us, can all, if we Tcnow the art
to interpret their language, be made to tell us histories of the
antique world. It is, then, no uninteresting study by which
we learn how to make these silent records speak. " Of man's
activity and attainment," finely says Carlyle, " the chief
results are aeriform j mystic, and preserved in tradition only:
such are his Forms of Government, with the Authority they
rest on; his Customs or Fashions both of Cloth-habits and
Soul-habits; much more his collective stock of Handicrafts,
the whoLe Faculty he has acquired of manipulating nature —
all these things, as indispensable and priceless as they are,
cannot in any way be fixed under lock and key, but must flit,
spirit-like, on impalpable vehicles from Father to Son; if you
demand sight of them they are nowhere to be met with.
Visible Ploughmen and Hammermen there have been, even
from Cain and Tubalcain downwards; but where does your
accumulated Agricultural, Metallurgic and other Manufac-
turing SKILL lie warehoused ? It transmits itself on the
atmospheric air, on the sun's rays (by Hearing and by
Vision) ; it is a thing aeriform, impalpalDle, of quite spiritual
sort."
How many of these intangible spiritual possessions must
man have acquired before he has learned the art of writing
history, and so of keeping a record of what had gone before;
how much do we know that any individual race of men has
learned before it brings itself forward with distinctness in
THE EAELIEST TRACES OF MAN. 3
this way. For as a first condition of all man must have learned
to write, and writing, as we shall hereafter see, is a slowly-
developing art, which man acquired by ages of gradual
exp-erimeut. His language, too, must ere this have reached a
state of .considerable cultivation, and it will be our object in
the course of these papers to show through what a long his-
tory of its own the language of any nation must go before it
becomes fit for the purposes of literature — through how many
changes it passes, and what a story it reveals to us by every
change. And then, again, before a nation can have a historj'
it must be a nation, must have a national life to record; that
is to say, the people who compose it must have left the simple
pastoral state which belongs to the most primitive ages, must
have drawn closer the loose bonds which held men together
under the conditions of a patriarchal society, and constituted
a more permanent system of society. Whether under the
pressure of hostile nations, or only from the growth of a
higher conception of social life, the nation has to rise from
out a mere collection of tribes, until the head of the family
becomes the king — the rude tents grow into houses and
temples, and the pens of their sheepfolds into walled cities,
like Corinth or Athens or Rome. Such changes as these
must be completed before history comes to be written, and
with such changes as these, and with a thousand others,
changes and growths in Art, in Poetry, in Manufactures, in
Commerce, and in Laws, the pre-historical student has to
deal. On all these subjects we shall have something to say.
Before, however, we enter upon any one of these it is right
that we remind the reader — and remind him once for all — that
our knowledge upon all these points is but partial and uncertain,
and never of such a character as will allow us to speak with
dogmatic assurance. Our information can necessarily never
be direct; it can only be built upon inferences of a higher or
lower degree of probability. As, however, it is a necessity of
our minds that from the information which we possess we
must form an unbroken panorama, we shall do this freely and
without danger of harm, so long as we are ready to modify
or enlarge it when more knowledge is forthcoming. As the eye
can in a moment supply the deficiencies of some incompleted
picture, a landscape of which it gets only a partial glance, or
a statue which has lost a feature, so the mind selects from its
knowledge those facts which form a continuous story, and
4 THE DAWN OF HISTOET.
loses those which are known only as isolated fragments.
Set a practised and an unpractised draughtsman to draw a
circle, and we may witness how differently they go to work.
The second never takes his pencil off the paper, and pro-
duces his effect by one continuous line, which the eye has
no choice but at once to condemn as incomplete. The wiser
artist proceeds by a number of short consecutive strokes,
splitting up, as it were, his divergence over the whole length
of the figure he is drawing, and so allows the eye, or perhaps
one should rather say the mind, by that faculty it has, to
select the complete figure which it can conceive more easily
than express. No one of the artist's strokes is the true
fraction of a circle, but the result is infinitely more satis-
factory than if he had tried to make his pencil follow un-
swervingly the curve he wished to trace. Or again, notice
how a skilful draughtsman wiU patch up by a number of small
strokes any imperfect portion of a curve he is drawing, and
we have another like instance of this selective faculty of the
eye or of the mind. Just in the same way is it with memory ;
our ideas must be carried on continuously, we cannot
afford to remember spaces and blanks. Thus in the Bible
narrative, wherein, as has before been said, certain events of
the world's history are related with distinctness, but where as
a rule nothing is said of the times which intervened between
them, we are wont to make very insufficient allowance for
these unmentioned times, and form for ourselves a rather
arbitrary picture of the real course of things, fitting two
events close on to one another which were really separated
by long ages. To correct this view, to enlarge the series of
known facts concerning the early history'of the human race,
comes in pre-historic inquiry; and again, to correct the pic-
ture we now form, doubtless fresh information will continue
to pour in. All this is no reason why we should pronounce
our picture to be untrue, it is only incomplete; We must be
always ready to enlarge it, and to fill in the outlines, but still
we can only remember the facts which we have already
acquired, if we look at them, not as fragments only, but as a
complete whole.
In representing, therefore, in the following chapters the
advance of the human race in the discovery of all those arts
and faculties which go to make up civilization as a continuous
progress, it will not be necessary to pause and remind the
THE EARLIEST TRACES OP MAN. 5
reader in every case that these steps of progress which seem
to spread themselves out so clearly before us have been made
in an uncertain manner, sometimes rapidly, sometimes very
slowly and painfully, sometimes by immense strides, some-
times by continual haltings and goings backvyards and for-
wards. On the whole, our history will be a history of events
rather than a strictly chronological one, just as the periods
of geology are not measured by days and years, but by the
mutations through which our solid seeming earth has passed.
First we turn to what must needs be our earliest inquiry
— the search after the oldest traces of man which have been
found upon the earth. It has been said that one of the first
fruits of knowledge is to show us our own ignorance, and
certainly in the early history of the world and of man there
is nothing which science points out so clearly as the vast
silent periods whereof until recently we had no idea. It is
diflBcult for us of the present age to remember how short
a time it is since all our certain knowledge touching the earth
on which we live, lay around that brief period of its existence
during which it has come under the notice and the care of
man. When all we knew of Europe, and especially of our own
islands, belonged to the comparatively short time during which
they have been known to history, we had in truth much
to wonder at in the political changes they have undergone,
and our imaginations could be busy with the contrast between
the unchanged features of our lands and seas and the ever-
varying character of those who dwelt upon or passed over
them. It is interesting to think that on such a river bank or
on such a shore Caesar or Charlemagne have actually stood, and
that perhaps the grass or flowers or shells under their feet
looked just the same as they do now, that the waves beat upon
the strand in the same cadence, or the water flowed by with
the same trickling sound. But when we open the pages of
geology, we have unrolled before us a history of the earth
itself, extending over periods compared with which the longest
epoch of what is commonly called history seems scarcely more
than a day, and of mutations in the face of nature so grand
and awful that as we reflect upon them, forgetting for an
instant the enormous periods required to bring these changes
about, they sound like the fantastic visions of some seer,
tellina: in allegorical language the history of the creation and
6 THE DAWN OF HISTOEY.
destruction of the world. Of such changes,, not the greatest,
but the most interesting to the question we have at present in
hand, were those vicissitudes of climate which followed upon
the time when the formation of the crust X)f the earth had
been practically completed. We learn of a time when, in-
stead of the temperate climate which now favors our country,
these islands, with the whole of the north of Europe, were
wrapped in one impenetrable sheet of ice. The tops of our
mountains, as well as of those of Scandinavia and the north of
continental Europe, bear marks of the scraping of this enor-
mous glacier, which must have risen to a height of two or
three thousand feet. Not a single green thing, therefore,
might be seen between our latitudes and the pole, while the
ice-sheet, passing along the floor of the North Sea, united
these islands with Scandinavia and spread far out into the
deep waters of the Atlantic. For thousands of years such a
state of things endured, but at last it slowly passed away. As
century followed century the glacier began to decrease in size.
From being colder than that of any explored portion of our
hemisphere, the climate of northern Europe began to amend,
until at last a little land became visible, which was covered
first with lichens, then with thicker moss, and then with
grass; then shrubs began to grow, and they expanded into
trees, and the trees into forests, while still the ice-sheet went
on decreasing, until now the glaciers remained only in the
hills. Animals returned from warmer climates to visit our
shores. The birds and beasts and fishes of the land and sea
were not much different from those which now inhabit there;
the species were different, but the genera were for the most
part the same. Everything seemed to have been preparing
for the coming of man, and it is about this time that we find
the earliest traces of his presence upon earth.
We may try and imagine what was the appearance of
the world, and especially of Europe — for it is in Europe
that most of these earliest traces of our race have as yet been
found, though all tradition and likelihood point out man's
first home to have been in Central Asia — when we suppose
that man first appeared upon these western shores. At this
time the continent of Europe stood at a higher level than it
does now. The whole of the North Sea, even between Scot-
land and Denmark, is not more than fifty fathoms, or three
hundred feet deep, while the Irish Sea is not more than sixty
THE EARLIEST TRACES OF MAN. 7
fathoms; and at this period undoubtedly the British isles, be-
sides being all joined together, formed part of the mainland,
not by being united to France only, but by the presence of
dry land all the way from Scotland to Denmark, over all
that area now called the German Ocean. Our Thames and
our other eastern rivers were then but tributaries of one large
stream, which bore through this continent, and up into the
northern seas, their waters united with those of the Rhine, and
perhaps of the Weser and the Elbe. The same upheaval
turned into land a portion of the Atlantic Ocean, extending
from Spain and Africa out as far as the Azores and the
Canaries. The north of Africa was joined on to this continent
and to Spain, for the narrow straits of Gibraltar had not yet
been formed; but a great sea stood where we now have the
Great Sahara, and joined the Mediterranean and the Red Sea,
while a great Mediterranean Sea stood in Central Asia, and has
left no more than traces in the Caspian Sea and the Sea of Aral.
We have to look at our maps to see the effect of
these changes in the appearance of Europe; and there were
no doubt other internal changes in the appearances of the
countries themselves. The glaciers were not yet quite gone,
and their melting gave rise to enormous rivers which flowed
from every hill. Our little river the Ouse, for instance, which
flows out through Norfolk into the Wash, was then probably
many miles broad. Vast forests grew upon the banks of the
rivers, and have left their traces in our peat formations, and
in these -forests roamed animals unknown to us. Of these the
most notable was the mammoth {Elephas primigenius, in the
language of the naturalists), a huge, maned elephant, whose
skeleton and gigantic tusks are conspicuous in some of our
museums, and who has given his name to this the earliest age
of man's existence: it is called the Mammoth Age of man.
With the mammoth, too, lived other species of animals,
■which are either now extinct, or have since been driven from
our latitudes; the woolly rhinoceros, the cave lion, the cave
bear, the Lithuanian bison, the urus, the reindeer, and the
musk-ox. It is with the remains of these animals, in the old
beds of these great rivers, that we find the earliest tools and
weapons manufactured by human hands.
Very simple and rude are these drift implements, as they
are called, from their being found buried in the sand and
shingle whicli were formed by river drifts. We who are so
8 THE DAWK OF IHSTORT.
habituated to the employment of metal, either in the manu-
facture or the composition of every article which meets our
eye, can scarcely realize that man lived long ages on the earth
before the metals and minerals, its hidden treasures, were
revealed to him. This pen I write with is of metal, or, were it
a quill, it would still have been shaped by the use of steel;
the rags of which this paper is made up have been first cut by
metal knives, then bleached by the mineral chlorine, then torn
on a metal cylinder, then thrown into a vat, which was either
itseK of metal, or had been shaped by metal tools, then drawn
on a wire-cloth, &c., and so in everything which is made we
trace the paramount influence of man's discoveries beneath the
surface of the ground. But primitive man could profit by no
such inherited knowledge, and had only begun to acquire some
powers which he could transmit to his own descendants. For
his tools he need look to the surface of the earth only; and
the hardest substances he could find were stones. Man's first
implements, therefore, were stone implements, and conse-
quently the earliest epoch of man's life, the epoch during
which he was still ignorant of the use of metals, is called the
Stone Age. And it may be as well to say at once that this
age was of very great duration, and may be divided into two
distinct periods — the old stone (Palaeolithic) epoch, which is
distinguished by the fact that the stone implements are never
polished, and the new stone (Neolithic) period, also called the
polished-stone age, of which we shall have to speak later on.
At present we have got no further than the old stone age
implements, and of these the ones which seem to be the earliest
of all are those which are found in the river drifts. These
consist only of stones, generally flints, for had there been im-
plements of wood or bone, they would not have endured
in that position. By the rudeness and uniformity of their
shapes, as contrasted even with the stone implements of a
later age in the world's history, they testify to the simplicity
of those who manufactured them. They have for the most part
only two distinctive types; they are either of a long, pear-
shaped make, narrowed almost to a point at the thin end, and
adapted, we may suppose, for boring holes, while the broad
end of the pear was pressed against the palm of the hand;
and secondly, of a sort of oval form, having one side of the
oval flat and fit to press against the hand or fit into a cleft
stick, and the other side sharpened to an edge, the whole form
THE EARLIEST TRACES OF MAN. 9
being in fact that of an oval-shaped wedge, and the implement
itself used probably for all sorts of cutting and scraping. A
variety of this last implement has two cutting edges, and
being also of rather a tongue-like shape, was called by the
French workmen langue-de-chat. Some have supposed that
stones of this last form were used, as similar ones are used
by the Esquimaux to this day, in cutting holes in the ice for
the purpose of fishing ; we must not forget that during a
great part at least of the early stone age the conditions of
life were those of arctic countries at the present time.
We cannot determine all the uses to which primitive man
must have put his rude and ineffective weapons; we can only
wonder that with such he was able to maintain his existence
among the savage beasts by which he was surrounded; and
we long to form to ourselves some picture of the way in
which he got the better of their huge strength, as well as of
his dwelling-place, his habits, and bis appearance. Rude as
his weapons are, and showing no trace of improvement, it
seems as though man of the drift period must have lived
through long ages of the world's history. These implements
are found associated with the remains of the mammoth and
the woolly rhinoceros, animals naturally belonging to the
arctic or semi-arctic climate which succeeded the glacial era;
but like implements are found, associated with the remains
of the bones of the lion, the tiger, and the hippopotamus, all
of which, and the last especially, are rarely found outside the
torrid zone. This would imply that the drift implements
lasted through the change from a frigid to a torrid climate,
and probably back again to a cold temperate one. Still the
age of the drift implements does not seem to comprise the
whole period of man's life before what is called the polished-
stone age begins. There is a remarkable series of discoveries
made in caves in various parts of Europe, which are of a
more interesting character than the drift remains, and appear
to carry us farther down in the history of man.
These caves are natural caverns, generally formed in the
limestone rocks, and at present the most remarkable " finds "
have been obtained from the caves of Devonshire, of the De-
partment of the Dordogne in France, from various caves in
Belo-ium, and from a very remarkable cavern in the Neander-
thal^ near Diisseldorf, in Germany; but there is scarcely any
country in Europe where some caves containing human bones
10 THE DAWN OP HISTORY.
and weapons have not been opened. The rudest drift imple-
ments seem older than almost any of those found in caves;
and, on the whole, the cave-remains seem to give us a picture
of man in a more civilized condition. They show us more of
his way of life, and a greater variety in his implements, which
are made, not of stone only, but of wood and bone as well.
We have various worked bone implements — harpoons, with
many barbs, whereby, no doubt, man slew the animals which
afforded him, food and clothing. Some implements of stone
and bone which have been found in caves have been called
arrow-heads; but they are in all probability lance-heads, for
it seems doubtful whether these primitive men had made the
great discovery of the use of the bow and arrow. We may
imagine that their lance or harpoon was their great weapon ;
and a curious and close inquiry has discovered by the marks
on some of the animal bones which are found mixed up with
the cave implements, that the sinews had been cut from these
bones, and used, it may be conjectured, as thongs for the
bone harpoons. Other implements of a more domestic char-
acter have been found — ^bone awls, doubtless for piercing
the animals' skins that they might be sewn together with
sinew-thread, and bone knives and needles.
What is still more interesting than all these, we here
find the rudiments of art. Some of the bone implements, as
well as some stones, are engraved, or even rudely sculptured,
generally with the representation of an animal. These draw-
ings are singularly faithful, and really give us a picture of the
aninaals which were man's contemporaries upon the earth ; so
that we have the most positive proof that man lived the con-
temporary of animals long since extinct. The cave of La
Madeleine, in the Dordogne, for instance, contained a piece of
a mammoth's tusk engraved with an outline of that animal; and
as the mammoth was probably not contemporaneous with man
during the latter part even of the old stone age, this gives an
immense antiquity to the first dawnings of art. How little did
the soratcher of this rough sketch — for it is not equal in skill to
drawings which have been found in other caves — dream of the
interest his performance would excite thousands of years after
his death ! Not the greatest painter of subsequent times, and
scarcely the greatest sculptor, can hope for so near an approach
to immortality for their works. Had man's bones been only
found in juxtaposition with those of the mammoth and his
THE EARLIEST TRACES OF MAN. 11
contemporary animals, this might possibly have been attrib-
uted to chance disturbances of the soil, to the accumulation
of river deposits, or to many other accidental occurrences; or
had the mammoth's bone only been found worked by man,
there was nothing positive to show that the animal had not
been long since extinct, and this a chance bone which had
come into the hands of a later inhabitant of the earth, just as
it has since come into our hands; but the actual drawing of
this old-world, and as it sometimes almost seems fabulous,
animal, by one who actually saw him in real life, gives a
strange picture of the antiquity of our race, and withal a
strange feeling of fellowship with this stone-age man who
drew so much in the same way as a clever child among us
might have drawn to-day.'
It is well worth while to pause a moment over these cave-
drawings. They are of various degrees of merit, for some
are so skilful as to excite the admiration of artists and the
astonishment of archaeologists; and it is a curious fact that
during ages which succeeded those of the cave-dwellers, all
through to the polished stone period and the age of bronze —
of which we shall have to speak anon — no such ambitious
imitative works of art seem to have been attempted. The
workers of these later times seem to have confined them-
selves in their decorations to certain arrangements of points
and lines. The love of imitation is doubtless one of the
rudimentary feelings in the human mind; as we may see by
watching children. But, rudimentary as it is, it springs from
the same root as the highest promptings of the intellect — that
is to say, from the wish to create — to fashion something
actually ourselves. This is sufficient to explain the origin of
these carvings; yet we need not suppose that when the art
of making them was once known they were used nierely for
amusement. Long afterwards we find such drawings and
representations looked upon as having some qualities of the
things they represent; as, for instance, where in a Saxon
cavern at Mteshow, in the Orkney islands, we find the draw-
ing of a dragon, which had been supposed to watch over the
1 Most of these carved implements were discovered by Mr. Christy and
M. Lartet, and left by the former to the French Museum of Pre-historio
Antiquities at St. Germain. Exact copies of these in plaster, as well as
several carved bones, may however be seen at the Christy Museum,
Victoria Street, Pimlico, and the British Museum.
12 THE DAWK OF HISTORY.
treasures concealed within. Savages in the present day
often think that part of them is actually taken away when a
drawing of them is made, and exactly a similar feeling gave
rise to the superstition so prevalent in the middle ages, that
witches and magicians used to make a figure in wax to imitate
the one on whom they wished to wreak their vengeance, and
that all the pains inflicted upon this waxen antitype were
reproduced in the body of the victim. On such confusion of
ideas do all idolatries rest; so may we not, without too bold
a flight, imagine that some superstitious notions, touching
the efiicacy of these drawings, was a spur to the industry
of our first forerunners on the earth, and contributed to
their wonderfully acquired skill in their art? May they
not have thought that their representations gave them some
power over the animals they represented: that the lance-head
carved with a mammoth would be efficient against the mam-
moth's hide; that the harpoon containing the representation
of a deer or a fish was the weapon best adapted for transfixing
either ? However this may be, we cannot deny the interest
which attaches to the first dawnings of art in the world. Nor
is this interest confined altogether to its aesthetic side — ^the
mere beauty and value of art itself — great though this be.
Not only does drawing share that mysterious power of im-
parting intense pleasure which belongs to every form of art,,
but it was likewise, after human speech, the first discovered
means of conveying an idea from one man to another. As
we shall come to see in a later chapter, the invention of
drawing bore with it the seeds of the invention of writing,
the greatest step forward, in material things at any rate, that
man has ever made.
There is one other fact to mention, and then the information
which our cave discoveries can give us concerning the life of
man in those days is pretty nearly exhausted. Traces of fires
have been discovered in several caves, so that there can be no
doubt that man had made this important discovery also. It
seems to us impossible to imagine a time when men could have
lived upon the earth without this all-useful element, when they
must have devoured their food uncooked, and only sheltered
themselves from the cold by the thickness of their clothing, or
at night by huddling together in close underground houses.
We have certainly no proof that man's existence was ever of
such a sort, as this; but yet it is clear that the art of making fires
TUE EARLIEST TRACES OF MAIST. 13
is one not discoverable at first sight. How long man took to
find out that method of ignition by friction of two sticks —
the method employed in different forms by all the less culti-
vated nations spread over the globe, and one which we may
therefore fairly take to be the most primitive and natural —
we shall never know. We have only the negative evidence
that he had discovered it at that primasval time when he began
to leave his remains within the caves.
Thus have we completed the catalogue of facts upon which
we may build up for ourselves some representation of the life
of man in the earliest ages of his existence upon earth. It
must be confessed that they are meagre enough. We should
like some further information which would help us to picture
the man himself, his size, his appearance, what race he most
resembled of any of those which now inhabit our globe.
Unfortunately we have little that can assist us here. Human
remains have been found; on one or two occasions, a skeleton
in tolerably complete preservation, but not yet in sufficient
numbers to allow us to draw any certain conclusions, or even
to hazard any very probable conjecture.
Among these discoveries of human skeletons, none excited
more interest at the time it was made than the Neanderthal
skeleton, so-called from the place in which it was found. The
discovery was made in 1857 by Dr. Fuhlrott of Elberfeld; and
when the skull and other parts of the skeleton were exhibited
at a scientific meeting at Bonn, in the same year, doubts were
expressed as to the human character of the remains. These
doubts, which were soon dissipated, arose from the very low
type of the head, which was pronounced by many to be the
most ape-like skuU that they had ever seen. The bones them-
selves indicated a person of much the same stature as a
European of the present day, but with such an unusual
thickness in some of them as betokened a being of very
extraordinary strength. This discovery, had it been supported
by others, might have seemed to indicate a race of men of a
type in every way inferior even to the savage nations of our
present globe. But it has not been so supported. On the
contrary, another skull found at Engis, near Li^ge, not more
than seventy miles from the cave of the Neanderthal, was
proved after careful measurements not to differ materially
from the skulls of individuals of the European race ; a fact
which prevents us from making any assertions respecting
14 THE DAWN OF HISTOBY.
the primitive character in race or physical conformation of
these cave-dwellers. In fact, in a very careful and
elaborate paper upon the Engis and Neanderthal skulls,
Professor Huxley places an average skull of a modern native
of Australia about half-way between those of the Neanderthal
and Engis caves, but he also says that after going through a
large collection of Australian skulls, he " found it possible to
select from among these crania two (connected by all sorts of
intermediate gradations), the one of which should very nearly
resemble the Engis skull, while the other should somewhat
loss closely approximate to the Neanderthal skull in form,
size, and proportions." And yet as regards blood, customs, or
language, the natives of Southern and Western Australia are
probably as pure as any race of savages in existence. This
shows us how difficult would be any reasoning founded upon
the insufficient data we possess. In fact, it would no doubt be
possible to find in Europe among persons of abnormal under-
development, such as idiots, skulls of a formation which would
match that of the Neanderthal.
This class of evidence is therefore merely negative. We
certainly cannot pronounce that man of the old stone age was
of a lower type than low types of savages of the present day ;
we cannot even say he was so undeveloped as the Lapps of
modern Europe; but in this negative evidence there is a cer-
tain amount of satisfaction. We might be not unwilling to
place on the level of the Esquimaux or the Lapp the fashioners
of the rudest of the stone implements, but the artists of the
caves we may well imagine to have attained a, higher devel-
opment. And there is nothing at all unreasonable or opposed
to our experience of nature in supposing a race of human
beings to have flourished in Europe in these old times, to have
been possessed of a certain amount of civilization, but not to
have advanced from that towards any very great improvement
before they were at last extinguished by some other race with
greater faculty of progress. As we shall come to see later on,
there is some reason for connecting man of the later stone age
as regards race with the Esquimaux or Lapp of to-day. Yet
even if this be admitted, we must look upon the latter rather
as the dregs of the races they represent. It is not always the
best part of any particular race, whether of men, of animals,
or of plants, wTiich lives the longest. Species which were once
flourishing are often only represented by stunted and inferior
THE EARLIEST TRACES OF MAN. 15
descendants, just as the animals of the lizard class had their
time of greatest development long before the coming of man
upon the earth. So we may imagine man spreading out at
various times from his first home in Central Asia. The
earlier races to leave this nursing-place did not, we may sup-
pose, contain sulBcient force to carry them beyond alow level
of culture, and gradually got pushed on one side by more
energ-etic people who came like a second wave from the com-
mon source. When, in the history of the world, we come to
speak of races of whom we know more, we shall see strong
reasons to believe that this was the rule followed; nay, it is
even followed at the present day where European races are
spreading all over the world, and graduallj'^ absorbing or ex-
tinguishing inferior members of the human family. It there-
fore seems, in our present state of ignorance, most reasonable
to look upon pateolithic man merely as we find him, without
speculating whether he g-radually advanced to the use of
better stone weapons, and at last to metals.
Taking then this race as we find it, without speculating
upon its immediate origin or future, we may endeavor to
gather some notion of man's way of life in these primitive
times. It was of the simplest. We may well suppose, for
some proofs to the contrary would otherwise most likely have
been discovered, that his life was that of the hunter, the
earliest phase of human society-, and that he had not yet
learned to till the ground, or keep domestic animals for his
use. No bones of animals like the sheep or dog are found,
and therefore it seems probable he had not entered upon
the higher or shepherd phase of society. He had probably
no fixed home, no idea of national life, scarcely of any obli-
gations beyond the circle of his own family, in that larger
sense in which the word " family " is generally understood
bv savages. Some sort of family or tribe no doubt held
together, were it only for the sake of protecting themselves
against the attacks of their neighbors. For the rest, then-
time was spent, as the time of other savages is spent, in
fighting and hunting out of doors; within in preserving tlieir
food and their skins, in elaborately manufacturing their im-
plements of stone and bone. In the inclement seasons they
were crowded together in their caves, perhaps for months
together, as the Esquimaux are in winter, almost without
moving. As appears from the remains in the caves, they
16 THE DAWN OF HISTOEY.
were in the habit at such times of throwing the old bones
and the offal of their food into any comer (the Esquimaux
do so to this day), without taking the smallest trouble to
obviate the unpleasant effects produced by the decay of all
this animal matter in an atmosphere naturally close. Through
the long winter nights they found time to perfect their skill
in those wonderful bone carvings, and to lay up a store of
weapons which they afterwards — anticipating the rise of
commerce — exchanged with the inhabitants of some other
cave for their peculiar manufacture; for in one of the caves
of the Dordogne we find the remains of what must have been
a regular manufactory of one sort of flint-knife or arrow-
head, almost to the exclusion of any other of the ordinary
weapons, while another cave seems to have been devoted as
exclusively to the production of implements of bone.
Some people have thought that they discovered in the
traces of fires which had been sometimes lighted before caves
in which were found human skeletons, the indications of
sepulchral rites, and that these caves were used as burial-
places. But these suppositions are too vague and uncertain
to be relied upon. On this interesting subject of sepulchral
rites we must forbear to say anything until we come to speak
of the second stone age. Our knowledge of the early stone-
people must close with the slight picture we have been able
to form of their life; of their death, of their rites of the dead,
and the ideas concerning a future state which these might
indicate, we cannot speak.
This, then, is all we know of man of the first stone age,
and it is not probable that our knowledge will ever be greatly
increased. New finds of these stone implements are being
made almost every day, not in Europe only, though at present
chiefly there, but in many other parts of the globe. But the
new discoveries closely resemble the old, the same sort of
implements recur again and again, and we only learn by them
over how great a part of the globe this stage in our' civili-
zation extended. Further information of this kind may
change some of our theories concerning the duration or the
origin of this civilization, but it will not add much to our
knowledge of its nature. Yet it cannot be denied that the
thought of man's existence only, though we know Httle more
than this, a contemporary of the mammoth at the time
which immediately succeeded the glacial period, or perhaps
we have at any rate something which may occupy our imagi-
nations, and prevent them, as they otherwise would do, as
of old men's minds did, from leaping almost at a bound from
the creation to the flood, and from the flood to the time of
Abraham.
CHAPTER n.
THE SECOND ST02?/!.
136 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
by the damp vapors of morning, are in tlie Greek legend
filched away by the morning breeze ; for this is the nature of
Hermes. And that some such power as the -svind had been
known to the Indians as accomplice in the work, is shown by
the complicity of Sarama in one version of the tale. For
Sarama likewise means the morning breeze ; and, in fact,
Sarama and Hermes are derived from the same root, and are
almost identical in character. Both mean in their general
nature the wind ; in their special appearances they stand
now for the morning, now for the evening breeze, or even for
the morning and evening themselves.
The next most important deity as regards the whole Greek
race is Heracles. It is a great mistake to regard him, as our
mythology books often lead us to do, as a demi-god or hero
only. Originally, and among a portion of the Greek race, he
was one of the mightiest gods ; but at last, perhaps because
his adventures became in later tradition rather preposterous
and undignified, he sank to be a demi-god, or immortalized
man. The story of Heracles' life and labors is a pure but
most elaborate sun7myth. From his birth, where he strangles
the serpents in his cradle — the serpents of darkness, like the
Python which Apollo slew — ^through his Herculean labors to
his death, we watch the labors of the sun through the mists
and clouds of heaven to its ruddy setting; and these stories
are so like to others which are told of the northern Heracles,
Thorr, that we cannot refuse to believe that they were
known in the main in days before there were either Greek-
speaking Greeks or Teutons. The closing scene of his life
speaks the most eloquently of its natural origin. Returning
home in victory — his last victory — to Trachis, Deianira sends
to him there the fatal white robe steeped in the blood of
Nessus. No sooner has he put it on than his death-agony
begins. In the madness of his pain he dashes his companion,
Lichas, against' the rocks ; he tears at the burning robe, and.
with it brings away the flesh from his limbs. Then seeing
that all is over, he becomes more calm. He gives his last
commands to his son, Hyllus, and orders his funeral pile to
be prepared upon mount CEta, as the sun, after its last fatal
battle with the clouds of sunset, sinks down calmly into the
sea. Then as, after it has gone, the sky lights up aglow with
color, so does the funeral pyre of Heracles send out its light
over the JEgean, from its western shore.
ARYAN EELIGIONS. 137
Another deity who was distinctly of Aryan origin was
Demetdr (Ceres), a name which is, in fact, none other than
GemtHer, " mother earth." The association of ideas which,
opposite to the masculine godhead the sun or sky, placed tlie
fruitful all-nourishing earth, is so natural as to iiud a place
in almost every system: we have seen how they formed a
pai't of the Egyptian and Assyrian mythologies. There is
evidence enough to show that each branch of the Aryan folk
carried away along with their sky- and sun-worship this earth-
worship also. Tellus was one of the divinities of the old
Roman pantheon, though her worship gave place in ' later
times to that of Cybele and Ceres: Frigg, the wife of Odin,
filled the same position among the Teutons. But among none
of the different branches was the great nature-myth which
always gathers round the earth-goddess, woven into a more
pathetic story than by the Greeks. The story is that of the
winter death or sleep of earth, or of all that makes earth
beautiful and glad. And it was thus the Greeks told that
world-old legend. Persephone (Proserpine) is the green earth,
or the green verdure which may be thought the daughter of
earth and sky. She is, indeed, almost the reduplication of
Dimeter herself; and in art it is not always easy to distin-
guish a representation as of one or the other. At spring-time
she, a maiden, with her maidens, is wandering careless in the
Elysian fields, plucking the flowers of spring, " crocuses and
roses and fair violets," ' when in a moment all is changed.
Hades, regent of Hell, rises in his black-horsed golden
chariot; unheeding her cries, he carries her off to share his
infernal throne and rule in the kingdoms of the dead. In
other words, the awful shadow of death falls across the path of
youth and spring, and Hades appears to proclaim the fateful
truth that aU spring-time, all youth and verdure, are alike
with hoary age candidates for service in his Shadowy
Kingdom. The sudden contrast between spring flowers and
maidenhood and death gives a dramatic intensity to the scene
and represents the quiet course of decay in one tremendous
moment.' To lengthen out the picture and show the slow
sorrow of earth robbed of its spring and summer, Demeter
is portrayed wandering from land to land in bootless search
' Homer's hymn to Domoter.
» See Note. Persephone -and Baldur.
138 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
of her lost daughter. We know how deep a significance this
story had in the religious thought of Greece; how the repre-
sentation of it composed the chief feature of the Eleusinian
mysteries, and how these and other mysteries probably
eiishrined the intenser, more hidden feelings of religion, and
continued to do so when mythology had lost its hold upon the
popular mind. It is, indeed, a new-antique story, patent to
all and fraught for all with solemnest meaning. So that this
myth of the death of Proserpine has lived on in a thousand
forms through all the Aryan systems.
Besides these gods, the Greeks had some whose origin was,
in part at least, Semitic. Almost the chief of these was the
Phcenician moon-goddess Astarte, out of whom grew the
Aphrodite (Venus) of the Greeks, and in great measure
Artemis (Diana) and Atheng (Minerva) as well. The more
sensuous the character in which Aphrodite appears, the more
does she show her Asiatic birth; and this was why the
Greeks, when regarding her especially as the goddess of love,
called her Cypris or Cytheraea, after Cyprus and Cj-thera which
had been in ancient days stations for the Phoenician traders,
and where they had first made acquaintance with the Greeks.
She was the favorite goddess of these mariners, as, indeed, a
moon-goddess well might be; and they gave her her most
corrupt and licentious aspect. For she had not this character
even among all the Phoenicians; but oftentimes appears as a
huntress, more like Artemis, or armed as a goddess of battle,
like AthenS. Doubtless, however, goddesses closely allied to
Aphrodite or Artemis, divinities of productive nature and
divinities of the moon, belonged to the other branches of the
Indo-European family. The idea of these divinities was a
common property: the exact being in whom these ideas found
expression varied with each race.
If we travel from Hellas and from India to the cold north
the same characteristic features reappear. In the Teutonic
religions, as we know them,' Odin has taken the place of the
' Our knowledge of Teutonic mythology is chiefly gathered from the
Norsemen, and in fact almost exclusively from Iceleindic literatnre. The
most valuable source of all is the collection of sacred songs made by one
Soemund the Wise, an Icelander. The collection is called the Edda of
Scemund, and was not made earlier than the latter part of the eleventh
century, nearly a hundred years after the legal establishment of Christi-
anity. The songs are, no doubt, of much earlier date.
ARYAN KELIGIOKS. 139
old Aryan sky -god, Dj'aus. This last did, indeed, linger on
in the Zio or Tvr of these systems; but he had sunk from the
position of a chief dixinity. The change, however, is not
great. The god chosen to fill liis ])laco resembles him as nearly
as possible in character. Odin or ^Yuotan,' whose name means
" to move violent] V," "to rush," was oris'inally a ffod of the
wind rather than of the atmosphere of heaven; but along
with this more confined part of his character, lie bears almost
all the attributes of the exalted sky-god, the Dyaus or Zeus.
Only he adds to these some parts peculiar to a god of wind;
and we can easily understand how, as these Aryan people
journeyed northwards, their wind-god grew in magnitude and
power.
It was Odin who lashed into fury their stormy seas, and
kept the impatient vikhigs (fjord-men) forced prisoners in
their sheltered bays. He it was who rushed through their
mountain forests, making the ancient pine-tops bend to him
as he hurried on; and men sitting at home over their winter
fires and listening to his howl told one another how he was
hastening to some distant battle-field, there to direct the
issue, and to choose from among the fallen such heroes as
were worthy to accompany him to Valhalla, the Hall of Bliss.'
Long after the worship of Christ had overturned that of the
.Jisir,' this, the most familiar and popular aspect of Odin's
nature, lived on in the thoughts of men. In the Middle Ages
the wind reappears in the legend of the Phantom Army, a
strange apparition of two hosts of men seen to join battle in
mid-air. The peasant of the Jura or the Alps could tell how,
when alone upon the mountain-side, he had beheld the awful
vision. Sometimes all the details of the fight were visible, but
as though the combatants were riding in the air; sometimes
the sounds of battle only came from the empty space above, till
at the end a shower of blood gave the fearful witness a proof
that he was not the dupe of his imagination only.* In other
' Odhinn is the Norse, Wuotan the German name.
» Literally, " The Hall of the Chosen," ».«., the hall of heroes.
' -ffisir, pi. of As, the general Norse name for a god.
•• One of the last appearances of such a phantom army is graphically
described by Mr. Motley, in his Histoi-i/ of the Dutch Bejmblia. The oc-
casion wa-s a short time before the battle of Mookerhyde, in which the
aniiy of Prince Lonis of Nassau was defeated, and himseJf slain: —
' ' Early in Febraary five soldiers of the burgher guard at Utrecht, being
on their midnight watch, beheld in the sky above them the representa-
140 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
places, especially, for instance, in the Harz mountains, the
Phantom Armygave place to the Wild Huntsman — our Heme
the Hunter. In the Harz and in other places in Germany he
was called Haokelbiirend or Hackelberg; and the story went
how he had been chief huntsman to the Duke of Brunswick,
but for impiety or for some dreadful oath, like that which
had brought vengeance on the famous Van der Decken, had
been condemned to hunt for ever through the clouds — for
ever, that is, until the Day of Judgment." All the year
through he pursues his way alone, and the peasants hear his
holloa, mingled with the baying of his two dogs.' But for
twelve nights — between Christmas and Twelfth night — ^he
hunts on the earth ; and if any door is left open during the
night, and one of the two hounds runs in, he will bring mis-
fortune upon that house.
Besides this wilder aspect of his character, Odin appears as
the heaven-god — all-embracing — the father of gods and men,
like Zeus. " All-father Odin " he is called, and his seat is on
tion of a furious battle. The sky was extremely dark except directly
over their heads, where for a space equal in extent to the length of the
city, and in breadth to that of an ordinary chamber, two armies in battle
array were seen advancing upon each other. The one moved rapidly np
from tlie north-west, with banners waving, spears flashing, trumpets
sounding, accompanied by heavy artillery and by squadrons of cavsjiy.
The other came slowly forward from the south-east, as if from an en-
trenched camp, to encounter their assailants. There was a fierce action
for a few moments, the shouts of the combatants, the heavy discharge of
cannon, the rattle of musketry, the tramp of heavy-armed fo^t soldiers,
and the rush of cavalry being distiuctly heard. The firmament trembled
with the shock of the contending hosts, and was lurid with the rapid dis-
charges of their artillery. . . . The strug-gle seemed buc short. The
lances of the south-eastern army seemed to snap ' like hempstalks,' while
their firm columns all went down together in mass beneath the onset of
their enemies. The overthrow was complete — victors and vanquished
had faded ; the clear blue space, surrounded by black clouds, was empty,
when suddenly its whole extent where the conflict had so lately raged
was streaked with blood, flowing athwart the sky in broad crimson
streams ; nor was it till the five witnesses had fully watched and pondered
over these portents that the vision entirely vanished." — Vol. ii. p. 536.
' The story of Van der Decken, the Flying Dutchman, is surely (more
especially since its dramatization by Wagner) too well known to need
relation.
^ It may be as well to say here that every detail of the legend is found
upon a critical inquiry to be significant. His name Hackelbarend (cloak-
bearer) connects him with Odin, the wind-god. His two dogs connect
him with two dogs of Sanskrit mythology, also signifying the wind.
ARYAN RELIGIONS. 141
Air-throne; there every day he ascended and looked over Glad-
home, the home of the gods, and over the homes of men, and
far out beyond the great earth-girding sea, to the dim frost-
bound giant-land on earth's border. And whatever he saw of
■wrong-doing and of wickedness upon the earth, that he set to"
rights; and he kept watch against the coming of the giants
over seas to invade the abode of man and the citadel of the
gods. Only these last — the race of giants — he could not
utterly subdue and exterminate; for Fate, which was stronger
than all, had decreed that they should remain until the end,
and only be overthrown at the Twilight of the Gods them-
selves — of which we cannot tell more now.
In this picture of Odin we surely see a fellow-portrait to
that of the "wide-seeing" Zeus. "The eye of Zeus, which
sees all things and knows all," says one poet; or again, as
another says, " Zeus is the earth, Zeus is the sky, Zeus is all,
and that which is over all."
Behind Odin stands Tyr — of whom we have already spoken
— and Thorr and Baldur, who are two different embodiments
of the sun. The former corresponds in character very closely
with Heracles. He is the mighty champion, the strongest
and most warlike of all the gods. But he is the friend of
man and patron of agriculture,' and as such the enemy of the
giant-race, which represents not only cold and darkness, but
the barren, rugged, uncultivated regions of earth. Like
Heracles, Thorr is never idle, constantly with some work on
hand, " faring eastward to fight Trolls (giants)," as the Eddas
often tell us. In one of these expeditious he performs three
labors, which may be paralleled from the labors of Heracles.
He nearly drains the sea dry by drinking from a horn; this,
is the sun " sucking up the clouds " from the sea, as people
still speak of him as doing. It corresponds to the turning
the coui-se of the Alpheus and Peneus, which Heracles per-
forms. Then he tries to lift (as he thinks) a large cat from
the ground, but in reality he has been lifting the great mid-
earth serpent (notice the fact that we have the sun at war
witli a serpent once more) which encircles the whole earth,
and he has by his strength shaken the very foundations of
the world. This is the same as the feat of Heracles in
•• See TThland, Dei- Mythw von Thor.
142 THE DAWN OF HISTOKT.
bringing up Cerberus from the under-world. And lastly, he
wrestles, as he thinks, with an old woman, and is worsted;
but in reality he has been wrestling with Old Age or Death,
from whom no one ever came off the victor. So we read in
Homer that Heracles once wounded Hades himseW, and
" brought grief into the land of shades," and in Euripides'
beautiful play, Alcestis, we see Heracles struggling, but this
time victoriously, with Thanatos, Death himself. In these
labors the Norse hero, though striving manfully, faUs ; but
the Greek is always victorious. Herein lies a difference
belonging to the character of the two creeds.
Baldur the Beautiful — the fair, mild Baldur — represents
the sun more truly than Thorr does: the sun in his gentle
aspect, as he would naturally appear to a Norseman. His
house is Breidablik, " Wide-glance," that is to say, the bright
upper air, the sun's home. He is like the son of Leto seen
in his benignant aspect, the best beloved among gods, the
brightener of their war-like life, beloved, too, by aU things
on earth, living and inanimate, and lamented as only the sun
could be — ^the chief nourisher at life's feast. For, when
Baldur died, everything in heaven and earth, "both alHiving
things and trees and stones and aU metals," wept to bring
him back again, " as thou hast no doubt seen these things
weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot
one." A modern poet has very happily expressed the character
of Baldur, the sun-god, the great quiekener of lifs upon earth.
Baldur is supposed to leave heaven to tread the ways of men,
and his coming is the signal for the new birth, as of spring-
time, in the sleeping world.
" There is some divine trouble
On eaith and in air ;
Trees tremble, brooks bubble,
Ants loosen the sod,
Warm footsteps awaken
Whatever is fair,
Sweet dewdrops are shaken
To qnicken each clod.
The wild rainbows o' er him
Are melted and fade.
The light runs before him
Through meadow and glade.
ARYAN RELIGIONS. 143
Green branches close round him,
Their leaves whisper clear —
He is ours, we have found him,
Bright Baldur is here." '
The earth-mother of the Teutons was Frigg, the wife of
Odin; but perhaps when Frigg's natural character was forgot-
ten, Hertha (Earth) became separated into another personage.
"Odin and Frigg," says the Edda, "divide the slain;" and
this means that the sky -god received the breath, the earth-
goddess the body. But on the whole she plays an insignificant
part in our late form of Teuton mythology. Closely related
to her, as Persephone is related to Dometer, with a name
formed out of hers, stands Freyja, the goddess of spring, and
beauty, and love; for the northern goddess of love might
better accord with the innocence of spring than the Phoenician
Aphrodite. Freyja has a brother Freyr, who but reduplicated
her name and character, for he too is a god of spring.
Very beautiful is the myth which reverses the sad story of
Persephone (and Baldur) and tells of the barren earth wooed
by the returning spring. Freyr one day mounted the seat of
Odin which was called air-throne, and whence a god might
look over all the ways of earth. And looking out into giant
land far in the north, he saw a light flash forth as the aurora
lights up the wintry sky.' And looking again, he saw that a
maiden wondrously beautiful had just opened her father's
door, and that this was her beauty which shone out over the
snow. Then Frej'r left the air-throne and determined to send
to the fair one and woo her to be his wife. Her name was
Gerda.' Freyr sent his messenger Skirnir to carry his suit to
Gerda; and he told her how great Freyr was among the gods,
how noble and happy a place was Asgard, the home of the
gods. For all Skirnir's pleading Gerda would give no ear to
his suit. But Freyr had given his magic sword (the sun's
rays) to Skirnir; and at last the ambassador, tired of pleading,
drew that and threatened to take the life of Gerda unless she
' Baldur ; a Song of Divine Death, by Robert Buchanan.
' This .scarcly holds as a simile, for in fact the ligfht is the aurora. It
need hardly be said, therefore, that the comparison is not found in the
original story.
" Earth, garSr, being- a general word for earth, expanded from the con-
fined one of enclosure (allied to alms, hortus). Just as yaia is connected
with a cow-inclosure.
144 THE DAWN OP HISTORY.
granted Freyr his wish. So she consented to meet him nine
nights hence in the wood of Barri. The nine nights typify
the nine winter months of the northern year; and the name
of the wood, Barri, means "the green"; the beginnings of
spring in the wood being happily imaged as the meeting of
the fresh and barren earth.
All the elements of nature were personified by the spirit of
Aryan poetry, and it would be a hopeless task — wearisome
and useless to the reader — to give a mere category of the
nature gods in each system. Those which had most influence
upon their religious thought were they who have been men-
tioned, the gods of the sky and sun and mother earth. The
other elemental divinities were (as a rule) more strictly bound
within the circle of their own dominions. It is curious to
trace the difference between these strictly polytheistic deities —
coequal in their several spheres — and those others who arose
in obedience to a wider ideal of a godhead. Thus the Indians
had a strictly elemental heaven or sky, as well as their god
Dyaus. Him they called Varuwa, a word which corresponds ety-
mologically to the Greek Ouranos, the heaven. In the later
Indian mythology Varu/ia came to stand, not for the sky, but
for the wide expanse of ocean, and so corresponds to the Greek
Poseidon, the Latin Neptune, and the Norse CEgir. All these
were the gods of the sea and of all waters. The wind, as we
saw, combined in the person of Odin with the character of a
highest god; but in the Greek the part was played by an
inferior divinity, Hermes. In India there is no actual wind-
god ; but the character is divided among a plurality of minor
divinities, the Ma?"uts. And in revenge a being of the first
importance in the Indian system receives scarcely any notice
in the others. This is Agni, the god of fire, who corresponds
to Hephaestus and Vulcan ; and in the north is not a god at
all, but an evil being called Loki. This is enough to show
that the worship of Agni rose into fervor after the separation
of the Aryan folk.
We postpone to the next chapter the mention of the gods
of the under-world.
The religions of which we have been giving this slight
sketch have been what we may call " natural " religions, that
is to say, the thoughts about God and the Unseen world
which without help of any special vision seem to spring up
ARYAN KELTGIOH-S. 145
simultaneouslyinthemiiidsof the different Aryan peoples. But
one among the Aryan religions still in pre-historic times broke
off abruptly from its relation with the others, and, under a
teacher whom we may fairly call god-taught, in beauty and
moral purity passed far beyond the rest.
This was the Zoroastrian, the faith of the Iranian (ancient
Persian) branch, a religion which holds a pre-eminence among
all the religions of antiquity, excepting alone that of the
Hebrews. And that there is no exaggeration in such a claim
is suiBciently witnessed by the inspired writings themselves,
in which the Persian kings are frequently spoken of as if
they as much as the Hebrews were worshippers of Jehovah.
" Cyrus the servant of God," " The Lord said unto my lord
(Cyrus)," are constantly recurring expressions in Isaiah. In
some respects this ZoroastriaTiism seems to stand in violent
opposition to the Aryan religion; in other lights it appears as
merely a much higher development of it. In either case, we
may feel sure that the older system was before the coming of
the " gold bright " ' reformer, essentially a polytheism with
only some yearnings towards monotheism, and that Zoroaster
settled it upon a firmly monotheistic basis. This very fact
leaves us little to say about the Iranian system considered
strictly as a religion. For when once nations have risen to
the height of a monotheism there can be little essential
difference in their beliefs; such difference as there is will be
in the conception they have of the character of their gods,
whether it be a high, a relatively high, or relatively low one;
and this again is more perhaps a question of moral develop-
ment than of religion. Their one god, since he made all
things and rules all things, cannot partake of the exclusive
nature of any natural phenomenon; he cannot be a god of
wind or water, of sun or sky. The Zoroastrian creed did
afterwards introduce (then for the first time in the world's
history) a very important element of belief, namely, of the
distinct origin, and almost if not quite equal powers, of the
good and evil principles. But this was later than the time
of Zarathustra.
The name which Zarathustra taught the people to give to the
one God was unconnected with Aryan nature-names, Dyaus
' The meaning of Zoroaster, or rather Zarathustra, his true name.
7
146 THE DAWN OF HISTOET.
or Varuna, or Indra. He simply called him the "Great
Spirit," or, in the Zend, Ahura-mazda; in later Persian, Hormuzd
or Ormuzd. He is the all-perfect, all-wise, all-powerful, all-
beautiful. He is the creator of all things. And— still
nearer to our Christian belief — before the creation of the
world, by means whereof the world itself was made, existed
the Word. Some trace of this same doctrine of the pre-
existing Word {Hanover, in the Zoroastrian religion ) is to be
found in the Vedas, where he is called Vaoh. It would be
here impossible to enter into an examination of the question
how far these early religions seem to shadow forth the
mystical doctrine of the Logos. The evil principle opposed
to Ormuzd is Agra-Mainyus (Ahrimanes), but in the true
doctrine he is by no means the equal of God, no more so than
is Satan. The successive corruption of pure Zoroastrianism
after the time of its founder is marked by a constant exag-
geration of the power of the evil principle (suggested perhaps
by intercourse with deity-worshipping nations of a lower type)
until Ahrimanes becomes the rival of Ormuzd, co-equal and
co-eternal-J«vith him.
Such is the simple creed of the Persians, accompanied of
course by rites and ceremonies, part invented by the reformer,
part inherited from the common Aryan parentage. It is well
known that the Persiai)* built no temples, but worshipped
Ormuzd chiefly upon the mountain-tops; that they paid great
respect to all the elements — that is to air, water, and fire, the
latter most of all — a belief which they shared with their
Indian brethren, but stopped far short of worshipping any.
That they held very strongly the separate idea of the soul, so
that when once a body had lost its life, they considered it to
be a thing wholly corrupt and evil; a doctrine which carried
in the germ that of the inherent evil of matter, as the philo-
sophical reader will discern.
It remains to say something of their religious books. The
Zend Avesta was supposed to comprise the teaching of
Zoroaster, and was believed to have been written by him.
Only one complete book has been preserved — it is called the
Vendiddd. The ZgwcHanguage in which the Avesta is written
is the oldest known form of Persian, older than that in use at
the time of Darius the Great; but this is no proof that it
dates back to the days of Zarathustra. Part of it is in prose
AEYAN RELIGIONS. 147
and part in verse, and as in every literature we find that the
fragments of verse are they which, survive the Conquest, it has
been conjectured that the songs of the Zend Avesta (Gathas
they are called) may even have been written by the great
reformer himself.
CHAPTER X.
THE OTHEK "WORLD.
If the sun-god was so natural a type of a man-like divinity,
a god suffering some of the pains of humanity, a sort of type
of man's own ideal life here, it was natural that men should
question this oracle concerning their future life and their
hopes beyond the grave. We have seen that the Egyptians
did so: how they watched the course of the day-star, and,
seeing him sink behind the sandy desert, pictured a home of
happiness beyond that waste, a place to be reached by the
soul after many trials and long wandering in the dim Amenti-
land which lay between. The Aryans dwelt, as we know, upon
the slopes of the Hindoo-Koosh or in the level plain beneath;
and, if the conjecture be reasonable that a great part of the
land now a sandy desert was then filled by an inland sea,'
many of them must have dwelt upon its borders and seen the
sun plunge in its wave each evening. Then or afterwards
they saw this, and interpreted what they saw in the very
thought of Milton: —
" Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.
So sinks the day-star m the ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky."
And thus a belief grew up among them that after death their
souls would have to cross this ocean to some happy paradise
which lay beyond in the '* home of the sun."
' See Chap. iv. p. Gl.
THE OTHER WORLD. 149
The expectation of a journey aftef death to reach the home
of shades is all but universal; for this reason was food and
drink placed with the corpse in the tombs of the stone age:
and the opinion that the home of the departed lies in the
west is of an almost equally wide extension. The Egyptian
religion, which in its wonderful "Book of the Dead" gives
the oldest (next to the stone age remains) and one of the
completest accounts of primitive belief, expresses both these
ideas very clearly; and to lengthen out the soul's journey,
which was fancied to last thousands of years, and give inci-
dent where all must have been really imaginary, the actual
journey of the mummy to its resting-place was lengthened
after life to portray the more ghostly wanderings of the
spirit. As the body was carried across the Nile to be buried
in the desert, so the soul was believed to begin his journey in
the dim twilight region of Apap, king of the desert, to cross
a river more than once, to advance towards the sun, light
gradually breaking upon him the while, until at last he enters
the " Palace of the Two Truths," the judgment-hall of Osiris
(the sun). Last of all, he walks into the sun itself, or is
absorbed into the essence of the deity.
It is clear that in all this we have a nucleus of world-belief
touching the soul's future. Yet along with this there is
another tendency to view the dead as being still present under
the mound which conceals his remains, and in obedience to this
feeling the old stone age men scattered "shards, flints, and
pebbles," before the mouth of the grave. Such a theory
would more naturally incline to view the home of the dead as
being in or beneath the earth, while the other view would look
for it as lying in the west with the setting sun. So, far as
we know, the first was the prevailing feeling among the Semitic
people. The old Hebrew writers (with whom the hopes of
immortality were not strong) speak of going down into the
grave,' a place thought of as a misty, dull, unfeeling, almost
unreal abode. And lastly, a third element — if not universal,
common certainly to the Aryan races — will be the conception
of the soul separating from the body altogether and mounting
upwards to some home in the sky. All these elements are
found to exist and co-exist in creeds untaught by revelation:
^ Blieol is the Hebrew word generally translated "grave" in our
version.
150. THE DAWN OP HISTORY.
and the force of the component parts determines the color of
their doctrine about the other world.
Among- all the Aryan people the Greeks seem to have turned
their thoughts farthest away from the contemplation of the
grave, and though the voice of wonder and imagination could
not quite be silent upon so important a question, Hades and the
kingdom of Hades filled a disproportionately small space in
their creed. They shrank from images of Death, and adorned
their tombs in cinery urns with wreaths of flowers and figures
of the dancing Hours: it is doubtful if the god Thanatos has
ever been pictured by Greek art. And from what they have
left on record concerning Hades and the realms of death, it
is evident that they regarded it chiefly from its merely nega-
tive side, in that aspect which corresponds most exactly to the
notion of a dark subterraneous kingdom, and not to that of
a journey to some other distant land. The etymology of their
mythical King of Souls corresponds too with the same notions.
Hades means nothing else than A-ides, the unseen. And when
it was sai4 that the dead had gone to Hades, all that was
literally meant was that it had gone to the unseen place. But
later on, the place became personified into the grim deity
whom we know in Homer, the brother of Zeus and Poseidon,
he to whose share fell, in the partition of the world, the land
of perpetual night. And the under-world pictured by Homer
is just of that voiceless, sightless character which accords
with the name of Hades. Even the great heroes lose almost
their identity, and all the joy and interest they had in life.
To " wander mid shadows a shadow, and wail by impassable
streams," is henceforward their occupation.
Not that the Greeks had no idea of another world of the
more heavenly sort; ideas obtained as a joint inheritance with
their brother nations ; only their thoughts and their poetry
do not often centre round such pictures. Their Elysian fields
are a western sun's home, just after the pattern of the
Egyptian; and so are their islands of the west, where, accord-
ing to one tradition, the just Rhadamanthus had been trans-
ported when he fled from the power of his brother Minos.'
Only, observe, there is this difference between such Elysia and
the Egyptian house of Osiris — the latter was reached across
' The reason why the " blameless Ethiopians " were honored hy name
and by the company of the gods, is most likely to be found in the fact of
their living, as Homer thought, so near the western border of the world.
THE OTHEli WORLD. 151
the sandy desert, the former are separated by the ocean from
the abode of men. There then are the heavens of the Greek
mythology; while the realm of Hades — or later on the realm
Hades — might by contrast be called their Hell. Let us look
a little nearer at this heaven-picture.
The Caspian Sea — or by whatever name we call the great
mediterranean sea which lay before them — would be naturally,
almost inevitably, considered by the Aryans from their home
in Bactria to bound the habitable world. The region beyond
its borders would be a twilight land like the land of Apap (the
desert-king) of the Egyptians: and still farther away would lie
the bright region of the sun's proper home. And these ideas
would be both literal — oosmological conceptions, as we should
call them — and figurative, or at least mythical, referring to
the future state of the soul. The beautiful expression of the
Hebrew for that twilight western region, " the valley of the
shadow of death," might be used for the Apap land in its
figurative significance, and not the less justly because there
creeps in here the other notion of death as of a descending to
the land of shades,* for the two ideas of the western heaven
and the subterraneous hell were never utterly separated, but,
among the Aryans at any rate, constantly acted and reacted
upon one another. So with the Greeks we have as a cosmo-
logical conception — or let us say, more simply, a part of their
world-theory — ^the encircling river Oceanus, with the dim Cim-
merian land beyond ; and we have the Elysian fields and the
islands of the west for the most happy dead. And then by
a natural transfer of ideas the bounding river becomes the
river of death — Styx and Lethe — and is placed in the region
of death ; even the Elysian fields at last suffer the same
change.
The Indian religion, too, has its river of death. " On the
fearful road to Yama's door," says a hymn, " is the terrible
stream Vaitarawi, in order to cross which I sacrifice a black
cow." ' This river of death must be somehow crossed. The
Greeks, we know, had their grim ferryman.
" Portitor has horrendus aqnas et flumina servat
Terribili squalore Charou : cui plurima mento
Canities inculta jacet ; stant lumina flamma," &c.
' Which was the governing notion in early Hebraic religion.
' Weber in Chamb. 1020.
152 TIIE DAWN OF HISTORY.
The Indians crossed their river of death by a bridge, which
was guarded by two dogs, not less terrible to evil-doers than
Charon and Cerberus.
" A narrow path, an ancient one, stretches there, a path
untrodden by men, a path I know of."
On it the wise, who had known Brahma, ascend to the
dwellings of Svarga, when they have received their dis-
missal.'
The names of these two dogs are interesting. They are the
sons of that Sarama whom we have already seen sent by
Indra to recover the lost cattle, whose name, too, signified the
breeze of morning. Her two sons, the dogs of Yama, being
so closely connected with the god of the under-world — as
Sarama is with Indra the sun-god — might be guessed as the
winds of evening or, more vaguely, the evening, as Sarama is
the morning. They are so ; and by their name of Sarameyas,
are even more closely related to Hermes than Sarama was.*
We now know why to Hermes was allotted the office of
Psychopomp, or leader of the shades to the realm of Hades —
or at least we partly know; for we see that he is the same
with the two dogs of Yama in the Indian myth. But they
are also connected by name with another much more infernal
being, Cerberus. Their individual names were Cerhuraf the
spotted, and Syama the black. Thus the identity of nature
is confirmed by the identity of name.
Death and sleep are twin-brothers, and we need not be
surprised to find the Sarameyas, or rather a god Sdrameyas,
addressed as the god of sleep, the protector of the sleeping
household, as we do find in a very beautiful poem of the
Eig-Vedas.*
"Destroyer of sickness, guard of the house; oh, thou who takest all
shapes, be to us a peace-bringing friend.
Bay at the robber, Sarameyas, bay at the thief ; why bayest thou at
the singer of Indra, why art thou angry with me, sleep Sarameyas ?
The mother sleeps, the father sleeps, the dog sleeps, the clan-fathei*
sleeps, the whole clan sleeps, sleep thou, Sarameyas.
' Vrhadararayaka, Ed. Pol. iii. 4—7.
^ According to the proper laws of change from Sanskrit to Greek,
sarameyas, ='E(>,u6ios, 'Ep/t^j.
^ WUson, As. Ees. , iii. 409.
■iviL 6, 15.
5 Father of the ' ' family " in its lai^er sense ; see the chapter on Early-
Social Life.
THE OTHER WORLD. 153
Those who sleep by the cattle, those who sleep by the wain, the
women who lie on the couches, the sweet-scented ones, all these
we bring to slumber. "
How these verses breathe of the fragrant air of early pastoral
life ! In their names, again, of " black " and " spotted," it is
very probable that the dogs typified two appearances of night,
black or starry.
And yet we must remember that Hermes is not a god of
night, or sleep, but strictly and properly of the wind, and that
his name, as that of Sarameyas, bears this meaning in its con-
struction. The god who bore away the souls to the other
world, however connected with the night, "the proper time
for dying," must have been originally the wind. And in this
we see an exquisite appropriateness. The soul is in its origi-
nal and literal meaning the breath' — " the spirit does but
mean the breath." What more natural therefore than that
the spirit should be carried away by the wind-god. This was
peculiarly an Aryan idea. Yet let it not be laid to their
charge as though their theories of the soul and future life
were less spiritual than those of other nations: quite the con-
trary was the case. So far as they abandoned the notion of
the existence of the body in another state and transferred the
future to the soul, their ideas became higher, and their pic-
tures of the other world more amplified. But how, it may be
asked, did the Aryans pass to their more spiritual conception
of the soul ? The more external causes of this progress it is
worth while briefly to trabe.
The sun, it has been said, acted powerfully upon men's
minds in pointing the hopes of futurity. And in sketching
the sun-myth which lay concealed in the story of the life of
Heracles, we noticed one feature which suggests thoughts
about a not yet mentioned element in the funeral rites of the
Aryans. The fiery setting of the sun would itself suggest a
fiery funeral, and pre-eminently so to a race who seem to have
been addicted more than any other to this form of interiment.
Baldur, the northern sun-god, likewise receives such a funeral,
and this more even than the death of Heracles typifies the
double significance of the sun's westering course. For he
sails away upon a burning ship. A^''hen therefore this fire
burial was thoroughly established in custom as the most
heroic sort of end, it is not likely that men would longer rely
' ^ '^ Kari x^oybs, ^Sre Karvos,
^XfO.-.-li. xxiii. 100.
THE OTHER WORLD. 155
distinguished from that of the stony, a corpse-burning age, is
one of the reasons which urge us to the conclusion that the
bronze-using invaders were of the Aryan family.' The Indians,
owing to their excessive reverence for Agni the fire-god,
adhered to the practice most faithfully; though the very
same reason (namely, their regard for the purity of fire) made
the reformed Iranian religion utterly repudiate it — a fact
which might seem strange did we not know how much Zoroas-
trianism was governed by a spirit of opposition to the older
faith.' Among the Norsemen about the time of the introduc-
tion of Christianity into Scandinavia, Burn ? or Bury ? became
a test-question, and a constant cause of dispute between the
rival creeds.
In the northern religion too, therefore, we have the same
leading ideas which we have signalized in the Indian or
Grecian systems. Especially does that notion of the breath
of the body, or the smoke of the funeral pyre representing
the soul of the hero and cai-ried upward under care of the
wind, come prominently forward. This might be expected
because, it will be remembered, the wind in the northern
mythology is not, as with the Indians, a servant of Yama
only, or as with the Greeks a lesser divinity, but the first of
all the gods. To Odin is assigned the task of collecting the
souls of heroes who had fallen in battle; and there are few
myths more poetical than that which pictures him riding to
battle fields to execute his mission. He is accompanied by
his Valkyriur, "the choosers," a sort of Amazonian houris,
half human, half godlike, who ride through the air in the
form of swans; wherefore they — who are originally perhaps
' The su^estion of Grimm ( Ueber das Verb, der Lmclien), that burying'
may have been used by an agricultural people, by those who were wont to
watch the sown seed spring into new life, whereas burning is the custom
of shepherd races, is not supported by a wide survey of the facts. The
Aryans were not essentially pastoral, on the whole less so than the Tura-
nian people who buried (see Herod. 1. 4. , for Scythians), and less so again
than the Semites, who did the s.ame.
■ The Vciididiui relates how .nf ter that Anrjimazda had created sixteen
perfect localities upon earth. Ahrimanes came after (like the sower of
tares), and did what in him lay to spoil the paradises, by introducing all
sorts of noxious animals and other abominations, such as the practice
of burning the dead body or giving it to the water. The Iranians, as is
well known, suspended their dead upon a sort of grating, and left them'
to be devouied of wild birds.
156 TlIK DAWN OF HISTORY.
the clouds — areoftcncallediii tlicEddas, Odin's swan maidens.
It has been said that this myth lived on in after-ages in the
form of the Phantom Army and Heme tlie JIuiiter: and the
essential part of it, the myth of the soul carried away by the
wind, lived ou more obscurely in a liundred other tales, some
of which we may glance at in our next chapter upon Mythol-
ogy. But while this idea of the mounting soul is often clearly
expressed — as for instance where in Beowulf in the last
scene, the hero is burnt by the sea-shore, it is said of liim
that he wand to wolcum, " curled to the clouds," imaging well
the curling smoke of the pyre — there lingered on throughout
other ideas of the death home, a subterraneous land (Helheim,
Hel's home) ruled over by the goddess Hel," with its infernal
Styx-like stream, and the bridge of Indian mythology trans-
ferred to the lower world. And so much were the three
distinct ideas interwoven, that in the myth of Baldur each
one may be traced. For here the sun-god, who is the
very origin and prototype of the two more exalted elements
of the creed of the heavenward journey,' has himself to stoop
downward to the gates of HeL If this legend sanctified for the
heathens the practicie of fire burial, they had certainly so
much excuse for their obstinate adherence to the older custom,
as one of the most beautiful myths ever told might plead for
them. AYe may look upon it in two aspects — ^firet as an
image of the setting sun, next as an expression of men's
thoughts concerning death, and the course of the soul to its
future home. If in this latter respect the story seems to
mix up two different myths concerning the other world, we
need not be surprised at that.
Baldur dies, as the sun dies each day, and as the summer
dies into winter. He falls, struck by a dart from the hand
of his blind brother Hodr (the darkness), and the shadow of
death appears for the first time in the homes of Asgard. At
first the gods knew not what to make of it, " they were struck
' Beowvif, the oldest poem in our language (in Early English) is con-
sidered to have been written during the seventh century. However that
may be, it breathes the spirit of an earlier (heathen) time, as the instance
of the burning of Beownlf alone would testify.
^ Hel, from heljn, "to conceal," answered identically to Hades.
' This heavenward journey may be described as at first a haven-ward
one (i.e., across the sea) ; later as a really heavenward one through the
air, with the wind-god.
THE OTHER WOKLD. 157
dumb with horror," says the Edda; ' but seeing that he is
really dead, they prepare his funeral pyre. They took his
ship Hringhorn (Ringhorn, the disk of the sun), and on it set
a pile of wood, with Baldur's horse and his armor, and all
that he valued most, to which each god added' some worthy
gift. And when Nanna, the wife of Baldur, saw the prepara-
tions, her heart broke with grief, and she too was laid upon
the pile. Then they set fire to the ship, which sailed out burning
into the sea.
But Baldur himself has to go to Helheim, the dark abode
beneath the earth, where reigns Hel,'^ the goddess of the dead.
Then Odin sends his messenger, Hermodr, to the goddess, to
pray her to let Baldur return once more to earth. For nine
days and nine nights Hermodr rode through dark glens, so
dark, that he could not discern anything until he came to the
river GjoU ("the sounding" — notice that here the Stygian
reappears), over which he rode by GjoU's bridge, which was
pleasant with bright gold. A mai-den sat there keeping the
bridge ; she inquired of him his name and lineage — for, said
she, " Yestereve five bands of dead men rid over the bridge,
yet they did not shake it so much as thou hast done. But
thou hast not death's hue upon thee ; why then ridest thou
here on the way to Hel ? "
" I ride to Hel," answered Hermodr, " to seek Baldur. Hast
thou perchance seen him pass this way ? "
" Baldur," answered she, " hath ridden over GjoU's bridge.
But yonder, northward, lies the road to Hel."
Hermodr then rode into the palace, where he found his
brother Baldur filling the highest place in the hall, and in his
company he passed the night. The next morning he besought
Hel, that she would let Baldur ride home with him, assuring
her how great the grief was among the gods.
Hel answered, " It shall now be proved whether Baldur
be so much loved as thou sayest. If, therefore, all things
both living and lifeless weep for him, then shall he return.
' This is the younger, or Prose Edda, of Snorro (Dfemisaga 49), not
that of Soemnnd.
' Hel, in Noise mythology, is a person, the regent of Helheim. Just in
the same way Hades is in Homer always a god, never a place. The idea
concerning Helheim seems to have been that all who were not slain in
battle went to its dark shore.
158 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
But if one thing speak against him or refuse to weep, he shall
be kept in Helheim."
And when Hermodr had delivered this answer, the gods
sent o£E messengers throughout the whole world, to tell every-
thing to weep, in order that Baldur might be delivered out of
Helheim. .Ml things freely complied with this request, both
men and every other living thing, and earths, and stones, and
trees, and metals, just as thou hast no doubt seen these things
weep when they are brought from a cold place into a hot one.
As the messengers were returning, and deemed that their
mission had been successful, they found an old hag, named
Thokk,' sitting in a cavern, and her they begged to weep
Baldur out of Helheim. But she said : — •
" Thokk will wail Nought quick or dead
With dry eyes For carl's son care L
Baldui's bale-fire. Let Hel hold her own."
So Baldur remained in Helheim. Such was the sad con-
clusion of the myth of which the memory is kept up even in
these days. For in Norway and Sweden — nay, in some parts
of Scotland, the bale-fires celebrating the bale or death of the
sun-god are lighted on the day when the sun passes the
highest point in the ecliptic. Baldur will not, said tradition,
remain forever in Helheim. A day will come, the twilight
of the gods, when the gods themselves will be destroyed in a
final victorious contest with the evil powers. And then,
when a new earth has arisen from the deluge which destroys
the old, Baldur, the god of Peace, will come from Death's
home to rule over this regenerate world. A sublime m^'th —
if indeed it can be called a tnyth.
■ i.e. Dokkr, da/rk. She sits in a cave because both day and night
are imaged as coming from a care. So Shelley sings —
" Swiftly walk over the western cave,
Spirit of Night,
Oat of thy misty eastern cave."
CHAPTER XI.
MYTHOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES.
Ii" we found it diEBcuIt to reduce to a consistent unity the
religious ideas of the Aryan races, what hope have we to
find any thread through the labyrinth of their unbridled
imagination in dealing with more fanciful subjects ? The world
is all before them where to choose, nature, in her multi-
tudinous works and ever-changing shows, is at hand to give
breath to the faculty of myth-making, and lay the foundation
of all the stories which have ever been told. The two ele-
ments concurrent to the manufacture of mythologies are the
varying- phenomena in nature, and that which is called the
anthropomorphic (personifying) faculty in man. Not, in-
deed, that all mj-ths represent natural appearances, some
may well enough relate events, human adventures; but the
gods themselves being in almost every instance the personi-
fications of phenomena or powers of nature, the myths of
widest extension were necessarily occupied with these.
Religion being the greatest concern of man, the myths
which allied themselves most closely to his religious ideas
would be those which maintained the longest life and most
universal acceptance. In reviewing some of the Aryan myths
— in a hasty and general review as it must needs be — the
preceding chapter will serve as a guide to the myths most
closely connected with religious notions, which have a chief
claim upon our attention. Indeed, conversely, it was the fact
that so many myths cling around certain natural phenomena
which allowed us, with proper reservation, to point these
160 THE DAWN OP HISTORY.
out as the phenomena which held the most intimate place
in men's minds and hearts. With proper reservations, because
the highest abstracted god does not lend himseK to the
m>-th-making faculty. He stands apart from the polytheistic
cycle — below him the nature-gods who are also the heroes of
the mythologies.
With a backward glance, then, to what has been already
written, we may expect the chief myth systems to divide them-
selves under certain classes corresponding with the god — -or
natural phenomenon — who is their concern. We may expect
to find myths relating especially to the labors of the sun,
like those of Heracles and Thorr, or to the wind, like that of
Hermes stealing the cattle of Apollo, or to the earth sleeping
in the embrace of winter, or sorrowing for the loss of her
greenery, or joying again in her recovered life. And again
we may look to find myths more intimately concerned with
death, and with the looked-for future of the souL These will
mingle like mingling streams, but we shall often be able to
trace their origin.
The diversity of the natural phenomena which give them
rise will not in any way hinder the myths from reproducing
the human elements which have, since the world began, held
their pre-eminence in romance and history. There will be
love stories, stories of battle and victory, of magic and strange
disguises, of suddenly acquired treasure, and, most attractive of
all to the popular mind, stories of princes and princesses whose
princedom is hidden under a servile station or beggar's gaber-
dine, and of heroes who allow their heroism to rust for a
while in strange inaction, that
" Imitate the sun.
Who doth permit the base contagions clonds
To smother np his beanty from 3ie world.
That, when he please again to be himself.
Being wanted, he may be more wondered at."
Not necessarily because such heroes were the sun, but rather
that the tales, appealing so correctly to the common sym-
pathies of human nature, attach themselves pre-eminently
to the great natural hero, the sun-god.
Yet, to begin with the sun-god, his love stories relate most
commonly the pursuit of the dawn, a woman, by the god of day.
She flies at his approach; or if the two are married in early
morning, when the day advances, the dawn dies or the sun
JIYTIIOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES. 161
leaves her to pursue his allotted journey. We read how Apollo
pursued Daphng, while she still fled from him, and at last,
praying to the gods, was changed into a laurel, which ever
afterwards remained sacred to the son of L6t6. There is
nothing new in the story; it might be related of any hero.
1 et, as we find Greek art so often busy with it, we might
guess that it had obtained for some reason a hold more than
commonly firm upon the popular imagination. And when we
turn from the Greek to the Sanskrit we are able to unravel
the myth and show it, so far as the names are concerned,
peculiar to the sun-god. Daphne is the Sanskrit Dahana,
that is to say, the Dawu.
A tenderer love story is that which speaks of the sun and
the dawn as united at the opening of the day, but of the separa-
tion which follows when the sun reveals himself in his true .
splendor. The parting, however, will not be eternal, for
the sun in the evening shall sink into the arms of the west, as
in the morning he left those of the east — all the physical
appearances at sundown will correspond with those of the
dawn — so in poetical language he will be said to return to his
love again at the evening of life. Well according with its
natural origin and native attractiveness, we find this story
repeated almost identically as regards its chief incidents by
all the branches of the Aryan family. For an Indian version
of it the reader may consult the story of Urvasi and Pururavas
told by Mr. Max Miiller from one of the Yedas,' Urvasi
is a fairy who falls in love with Pururavas, a mortal, and
consents to become his wife, on condition that she should
never see him without his royal garment on, "for this is the
manner of women." For a while they lived together happily;
but the Gandhavas, the fairy beings to whom Urvasi belonged,
were jealous of her love for a mortal, and they laid a plot to
separate them. '' jS^ow there was a ewe with two lambs tied to
the couch of Urvasi and Pururavas, and the fairies stole one of
them, so that Urvasi upbraided her husband and said, ' They
steal my darlings as though I lived in a land where there is
no hero, and no man.' And Pururavas said, 'How can that
be a land without heroes or men where I am,' and naked he
sprang up. Then the Gandhavas sent a flash of lightning,
' Or strictly speaking the Brahmana of the Tagur Veda. The Brah-
mana is the scholiast (as it were) or targum of the original text. TJrva^i
is TJshas, the Dawn.
162 , THE DAWN OF HISTOET.
and Urvasi saw her husband naked as by daylight. Then
she vanished. 'I come back,' she said; and went."
Cupid loves Psyche as Pururavas Urvasi, but here the
story is so far changed that the woman breaks the condition
laid upon their union. Not this time by accident, but from
the evil counselling of her two sisters, Psyche disobeys her
husband. They have long been married, but she has never
seen his face; and doubts begin to arise lest some horrid
monster, and not a god, may be the sharer of her couch. So
she takes the lamp, and when she deems her husband is fast
locked in sleep, gazes upon the face of the god of love.
" Bnt a-s she tamed at last
To quench the lamp, there happed a little thing
That quenched her new dehght, for flickering,
Tbe treacherous flame cast on his shoulder fair
A burning drop ; he woke, and seeing her there.
The meaning of that sad sight knew full well ;
Nor was there need the piteous tale to telL" '
It may be said that we have here wandered far from the
sun. Cupid or Eros is in no sense a sun-god; nor has Psyche
any proved connection with Ushas, the Dawn. This is true;
once a sun-myth does not imply always a sun-myth. So
much the contrary, that it is part of our business to show how
stories, first appropriated to Olympus or Asgard, may descend
to take their place among the commonest collection of nursery
tales. It is the case with this myth of the Davrn. The
reader's acquaintance with nursery literature has probably
already anticipated the kinship to be claimed by one of the
most familiar childish legends. But as one more link to
rivet the bond of union between Urvasi and J^iniravas and
Eeauty and the Seast, let us look at a story of Swedish origin
called IVince Halt under the Earth.
" There was once, very very long ago, a king who had three
daughters, all exquisitely fair, and much more amiable
than other maidens, so that their .like was not to be found
far or near. But the youngest princess excelled her sisters,
not only in beauty, but in goodness of heart and kind-
ness of disposition. She was consequently greatly beloved
by all, and the king himself was more fondly attached to her
than to either of his other daughters.
■ Morris, Earthly Paradise : Cupid and Psyche.
MYTHOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES. 1G3
" It happened one autumn that there was a fair in a town
not far from the king's residence, and the king himself resolved
on going to it with his attendants. When on the eve of
departure he asked his three daughters what they would
like for fairings, it being his constant custom to make them
some present on his return home. The two elder princesses
began instantly to enumerate precious things of curious
kinds; one would have this, the other that; but the youngest
daughter asked for nothing. At this the king was surprised,
and asked her whether she would not like some ornament or
other; but she answered that she had plenty of gold and
jewels. When the king, however, would not desist from
urging her, she at length said, ' There is one thing which I
would gladly have, if only I might venture to ask it of my
father.' ' What may that be ? ' inquired the king, ' say
what it is, and if it b§ in my power you shall have it.' ' It is
this,' replied the princess, ' I have heard talk of the three
singing leaves, and them I wish to have before anything else
in the world.' The king laughed at her for making so
trifling a request, and at length exclaimed, 'I cannot say that
you are very covetous, and would rather by half that you had
asked for some greater gift. You shall, however, have what
you desire, though it should cost me half my realm.' He
then bade his daughters farewell and rode away."
Of course he goes to the fair, and on his waj' home happens
to hear the three singing leaves, " which moved to and fro,
and as they played there came forth a sound such as it would
be impossible to describe." The king was glad to have found
what his daughter had wished for, and was about to pluck
them, but the instant he stretched forth his hand towards
them, they withdrew from his grasp, and a powerful voice was
heard from under the earth saying, "Touch not my leaves."
" At this the king was somewhat surprised, and asked who it
was, and whether he could not purchase the leaves for gold or
good words. The voice answered, ' I am Prince Hatt under the
Earth, and you will not get my leaves either with good or bad as
you desire. Nevertheless I will propose to you one condition.'
' What condition is that ? ' asked the king with eagerness.
' It is,' answered the voice, 'that you promise me the first
living thing that you meet when you return to your palace.' "
As we anticipate, the first thing which he meets is his youngest
daughter, who therefore is left with lamentation under the
Ifi4 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
liazel bush : and, as is its wont on such occasions, the ground
opens, and she finds herself in a beautiful palace. Here she
lives long and happily with Prince Hatt, upon condition that
she shall never see him. But at last she is permitted to pay
a visit to her father and sisters; and her stepmother succeeds
in awakening her curiosity and her fears, lest she should really
be married to some horrid monster. The princess thus allows
herself to be persuaded to strike a light and gaze on her
husband while he is asleep. Of course, just as her eyes have
lighted upon a beautiful youth he awakes, and as a consequence
of her disobedience — (here the story alters somewhat) — ^he is
struck blind, and the two are obliged to wander over the
earth, and endure all manner of misfortunes before Prince
Halt's sight is at last restored.
The sun is so apt to take the place of an almost superhuman
hero, that most of the stories of such when they are purely
mythical relate some part of the sun's daily course and labors.
Thus in the Greek, Perseus, Theseus, Jason, are in the main
sun-heroes, though they mingle with their histories tales of
real human adventure. One of the most easily traceable sun-
stories is that of Perseus and the Gorgon. The later represen-
tations of Medusa in Greek art give her a beautiful dead face
shrouded by luxurious snaky tresses; but the earlier art
presents us with a round face, distorted by a hideous grin
from ear to ear, broad cheeks, low forehead, over which curl
a few flattened locks. We at once see the likeness of this
face to the full moon; a likeness which, without regard to
mythology, forces itself upon us; and then the true story of
Perseus flashes upon us as the extinction of the moon by the
sun's light. This is the baneful Gorgon's head, the full moon,
which so many nations superstitiously believed could exert a
fatal power overthesleeper; and when slain by the son of Danae,
it is the pale ghostlike disc which we see by day. It is very
interesting to see how the Greeks made a myth of the moon
in its — one may say — literal unidealized aspect, as well as the
countless more poetical myths which spoke of the moon as a
beautiful goddess, queen of the night, the virgin huntress
surrounded by her pack of dogs — the stars. In the instance
of Medusa these two aspects of one natural appearance are
brought into close relationship, for AthenS — in her character
of moon-goddess — ^wears the Gorgon's head upon her shield.
As we have passed on to speak of the moon, we may as well
MYTHOLOGIES ANB FOLK TALES. 165
notice some of the other moon-myths: though in the case of
these, as of the myths of the snn, our only object must be to
show the characteristic forms which this order of tales assume,
so that the way may be partly cleared for their detection;
nothing like a complete hst of the infinitely varied shapes
which the same nature-story can assume being possible. One
of the most beautiful of moon-myths is surely the tale of
Artemis (Diana) and Endymion. This last, the beautiful
shepherd of Latmos,' by his name " He who enters," is in
origin the sun just entering the cave of night.' The moon
looking upon the setting sun is a signal for his long sleep,
which in the myth becomes the sleep of death. The same
myth reappears in the well-known German legend of Tann-
hiiuser. He enters a mountain, the Venusberg, or ilount of
"\ enus, and is not sent to sleep, but laid under an enchant-
ment by the goddess within. In other versions of the legend
the mountain is called not Venusberg but Horelberg, andfrom
this name we trace the natural origin of the myth. For
there was an old moon-goddess of the Teutons called Horel or
Hursel. She therefore is the enchantress in this case; and
the Christian knight falls a victim to the old German moon-
goddess. It has been supposed that the storj- of the massacre
of St. Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins — whose bones
they show to this day at Cologne — arose out of the same nature-
myth; and that this St. Ursula is also none other than Hursel,
followed by her myriad troop of stars.'
The northern religion has been fruitful of its sun-myths,
though in this system the sun is not pre-eminfent, but holds
an almost equal place with the wind — the myths of Thorr and
Baldur are balanced by those of Odin in his character of wind-
god. And both sorts of stories have descended to a place in
our nursery tales. Thorr, the champion of men, and the
enemy of the Jotuns (giants), becomes in later days Jack the
Giant Killer; Odin, by a like descent, the Wandering Jew, or
the Pied Piper of Hameln. And thus through a hundred
popular legends we can detect the natural appearance out of
which they originally sprang. Let us look at them first in their
' Connected with Lethe, concealment or forgetfidness, as with Leto,
the mother of Apollo. All signify the darkness.
- See last ch. p. 158. Endymion is found by Artemis sleeping in a
cave of Latmos.
' See Baring-Gould, Curious MyOis, &c
166 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
old heathen forms. Thorr, the hero and sun-god, the northern
Herakles, distinguishes himself as the implacable enemy of
the rime-giants and frost-giants, the powers of cold and
darkness; and to carry on his hostilities, he makes constant
expeditions, " farings " into giant-land, or Jotunheim, as it
is called; and these expeditions generally end in the thorough
discomfiture of the strong but rude and foolish personifications
of barren nature. One of these, the adventure to the house
of Thrym,' is to recover Thorr's hammer, which has been
stolen by the giant and hidden many feet beneath the earth.
A spy is sent from Asgard (the city of the gods) into Jotun-
heim, and brings back word that Thrym will not give up
his prize unless Freyja — goddess of Spring and Beauty — be
given to him as his bride; and at first Thorr proposes this
alternative to Freyja herself, little, as may be guessed, to her
satisfaction.
" Wroth was Freyja
And with fury famed,
AU the Mwi'a haU
XTnder her trembled ;
Broken Qew the famed
Brisinga-necklace." *
But the wUy Loki settles the difficulty. Thorr shall to
Jotunheim clad in Freyja's weeds,
"Let by his side, keys jingle, and a neat coif set on his head."
So taking Loki with him clad as a serving-maid, the god fares
to Thrym's house, as though he were the looked-for bride.
It must, one would suppose, have been an anxious time for
Thorr and Loki, while unarmed they sate in the hall of
the giant; for the hero could not avoid raising some
suspicions by his unwomanly appearance and demeanor.
He alone devoured, we are told, an ox, eight salmon,
"and all the sweetmeats women should have," and he
drank eight " scalds " of mead. Thrym naturally exclaimed
that he never saw brides eat so greedily or drink so much
' He is actually a rednplication of Thorr; for his name means thunder, as
does Thorr's. Thorr is of course much more than a god of thunder only ;
but his hammer is undoubtedly the thunder-bolt. Thrym represents
the same power associated with beings of frost and snow, the winter
thunder, in fact. This stealing Thorr's hammer is merely a repetition
of the idea implied by his name and character.
' Which Freyja wore.
MYTHOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES. 167
mead. *" But the " all-crafty " Loki sitting by, explained how
this was owing to the hurry Freyja was in to behold her
bridegroom, which left her no time to eat for the eight nights
during which she had been journeying there. And so again
when Thrym says —
" Why are so piercing Freyja's glances ?
Methinks that fire barns from her eyes."
Loki explains that for the same reason she had not slept upon
her journey; and the foolish, vain giant is gulled once more.
At last the coveted prize, the hammer, was brought in to
consecrate the marriage, and " Thorr's soul laughed in his
breast, wlien the fierce-hearted his hammer recognized. He
slew Thrym, the Thursar's (giant's) lord, and the Jotun's race
crushed he utterly." At another time Thorr engages Alvis,
" of the race of the Thursar," ' in conversation upon all manner
of topics, concerning the names which different natural objects
bear among men, among gods, among- giants, and among
dwarfs, until he*" guilefully keeps him above earth till after
sunrise, which it is not possible for a dwarf or Jotun to do and
live. So Alvis burst asunder.* This tale shows clearly enough
how much Thorr's enemies are allied with darkness.
Thorr is not always so successful. In another of his
journeys' the giants" play a series of tricks upon him, quite
suitable to the Teutonic conception of the cold north, as a
place of magic, glamour, and allusion. One giant induces the
thunderer to mistake a mountain for him, and to hurl at it
the de.ith-dealing bolt — his hammer MjOlnir. Afterwards
he is set to drain a hom which he supposes he can finish
at a draught, but finds that after the third pull at it, scarcely
more than the rim has been left bare; at the same time
Loki engages in an eating match with one Logi, and is
utterly worsted. But in reality Thorr's horn has reached to
the sea, and he has been draining at that; while the antagonist
of Loki is the devouring fire itself. Afterwards Thorr cannot
lift a cat from the ground, for it is in truth the great Midgard
' Giant does not really translate Thurs. Most of the Thursar were
giants as opposed to the Dvargar, the dwarfs. But this Alvis (all-wise)
is spoken of as a dwarf.
^ There is a clear recollection of this in the end of Rumpelstiltskin-
* This story, be it said, comes only from the younger Edda. No hijit
-of it in the older.
168 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
serpent which girds the whole earth, and he is overcome iW
a wrestling match with an old hag, whose name is EUa, that
is. Old Age or Death. Enough has been said in these stories'
to show how directly the cloak of Thorr descends to the
heroes of our nursery tales, Jack the Giant Killer and Jack^
and the Bean-Stalk.
Closely connected with the sun god are the mythical heroes
of northern poetry, the Perseus or Theseus of Germany and
Scandinavia. The famous Sigurd the Volsung, the slayer of
Fafnir, or his counterpart Siegfrid of the Nibelung song,
or again the hero of our own English poem Beowulf,' are
especially at war with dragons — which represent the powers
of darkness — or with beings of a Jotun-iike character. They
are all discoverers of treasure ; and this so far corresponds with
the character of Thorr that the thunderbolt is often spoken
of as the revealer of the treasures of the earth, and that the
sign of it was emploj-ed as a charm for that purpose. And
when we read the tales or poems in which these adventures
are told w^e see how entirely unhuman in character they were,
and how much the actors in the drama bear the reminiscences
of the natural phenomena from which they sprang. This is
especially the case with Beowulf. The poem is weird and
imaginative in the highest degree: the atmosphere into which
we are thrown seems to be the misty delusive air of Jotun-
heim, and the unearthly beings whom Beowulf encounters
must have had birth within the shadows of night and in the
mystery which attached to the wild unvisited tracts of country.
Grendel, a horrid ghoul who feasts on human beings, whom
Beowulf wrestles with (as Thorr wrestles with Ella) and
puts to death, is described as an "inhabiter of the moors,"
the "fen and fastnesses;" he comes upon the scene "Uke a
cloud from the niisty hUls, through the wan night a shadow-
waJker stalking"; and of him and his mother it is said,
" They a father know not.
Whether any of them was
Bom before
Of the dark ghosts."
' " Beowulf," which is thought to have been composed in English
abont the seventh centniy, relates the adventures of a prince of &>th-
land, in Sweden. Thongh made and sung in a Christian country, the
people of whom it speaks are evidently heathens.
MYTHOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES. 1G9
They inhabit, in a secret land, the wolves' retreat, and in
"windy ways —
Where the mountain stream
Under the nesses mist
Downward flows."
Of the myths which spring from the wind, and which may
therefore be reckoned the children of Odin, by far the most
interesting are those which attach to him in his part of Psyco-
pomp, or soul-leader, and which form a part, therefore, of an
immense series of tales connected with the Teutonic ideas of
death as they were detailed in the last chapter. There were
many reasons why these occupied a leading place in middle-
age legend. The German race is naturally a gloomy or at
least a thoughtful one: and upon this natural gloom and
thoughtfulness the influence of their new faith acted with re-
doubled force, awaking men to thoughts not only of a new life
but of a newdeath. Popular religion took as strong ahold of the
darker as of the brighter aspects of Catholicism, and was busy
gra fting the older notions of the soul's future state upon the fresh
stock of re%'ealedreligion. Thus manyof the popularnotionsboth
of heaven and hell maybe discovered in the beliefs of heathen
Germany. Let us, therefore, abandoning the series of myths
which belong properly to the Arj'an religious beliefs as given
in chapter ix. (though upon these, so numerous are they,
we seem scarcely to have begun), turn to others which illus-
trate our last chapter. Upon one we have already touched;
Odin, as chooser of the dead, hurrying through the air towards
a battle-field with his troop of shield-maidens, the Valkyriur ';
or if we like to present the simpler nature-myth, the wind
bearing away the departing breath of dying men, and the
clouds which he carries on with him in his course. For there
is no doubt that these Yalkyriur, these shield or swan
maidens, who have the power of transforming themselves at
pleasure into birds, are none other than the clouds,
perhaps like the cattle of Indra, especially the clouds of
sunrise. We meet with them elsewhere than in northern
mythology. The Urvasi, whose story we have been
relating just now, after the separation from her mortal
husband changes herself into a bird and is found by Pururavas
' Valkyria, sing., Valkyriur, pi.
170 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
in this disguise, sitting with her friends the Gandhavas upoia
the water of a lake. This means the clouds of evening sittindf
upon the wide blue sky. The Valkyriur themselves, wherif
they have been married to men, often leave them as thq
Indian fairy left her husband, and lest they should do so it i^
not safe to restore them the swan's plumage which they wore
as Valkyriur; should they again obtain their old equipment
they will be almost sure to don it and desert their home to
return to their old life. The Valkyriur, therefore, are clouds;
and in so far as they appear in the legends of other nations
have no intimate connection with Odin. But when they are the
clouds of sunset and when Odin in his character of soul-bearer
becomes before all things the wind of the setting sun (that
breeze which so often rises just as the sun goes down, and
which itself might stand for the escaping soul of the dying
day), then the Valkyriur make part of an ancient myth
of death. And almost all the stories of swan maidens, or
transformations into swans, which are so familiar to the ears
of childhood, originate from Odin's warrior maidens. If we
notice the plot of these stories, we shall see that in them too
the transformation usually takes place at sun-setting or sun-
rising. For instance, in the tale of the six swans in Grimm's
Household Stories,^ the enchanted brothers of the princess can
only reappear in their true shapes just . one hour before
sunset.
In Christian legends, 'subject to the changes which inevitably
follow a change of belief, the gods of Asgard become demoniacal
powers; and Odin the chief god takes the place of the arch-
fiend. For this part he is doubly suited by his character of
conductor of the souls; if he formerly led them to heaven, he
now thrusts them down to hell. But so many elements came
together to compose the medijBval idea of the devil that in
this character the individuality of Odin is scarcely preserved.
At times a wish to revive something of this personal character
was felt, especially when the frequent sound of the wind awoke
old memories; then Odin re-eme'rges as some particular fiend
or danmed human soul. He is the Wandering Jew, a being
whose eternal restlessness well keeps up the character of the
wind blowing where it hsteth: or he is, as we have said, the
Wild Huntsman of the Harz, and of many other places.
' Kinder- u. Havsmdrchen.
MYTHOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES. 171
The name of this being, Hackeiberg, or Hackelbarend
(cloak bearer), sufficiently points him out as Odin, who
in the heathen traditions had been wont to wander over the
earth clad in a blue cloak,' and broad hat, and carrying a
staff. Hackeiberg, the huntsman to the Duke of Brunswick,
had refused even on his death-bed the ministrations of a priest,
and swore that the cry of his dogs was pleasanterto him than
holy rites, and that he would rather hunt for ever upon earth
than go to heaven. "Then," said the man of God, "thou
shalt hunt on until the Day of Judgment." Another legend
relates that Hackeiberg was a wicked noble who was wont to
hunt on Sundays as on other days, and (here comes in the
popular version) to impress the poor peasants to aid him. One
day he was joined suddenly by two horsemen. One was mild of
aspect, but the other was grim and fierce, and from his horse's
mouth and nostril breathed fire. Hackeiberg turned then
from his good angel and went on with his wild chase, and now,
in company of the fiend, he hunts and will hunt till the last day.
He is called in Germany the hel-jdger, " hell hunter." The peas-
ants hear his " hoto " " hutu," as the storm-wind rushes past
their doors, and if they are alone upon the hill-side they hide
their faces while the hunt goes by. The white owl, Totosel,
is a nun who broke her vows, and now mingles her " tutu "
(towhoo) with his " holoa." He hunts, accompanied by two dogs
(the two dogs of Yama), in heaven, all the year round, save
upon the twelve nights between Christmas and Twelfth-night.^
If any door is left open upon the night when Hackeiberg goes by,
one of the dogs will run in and lie down in the ashes of the
hearth, nor will any power be able to make him stir. During
all the ensuing year there will be trouble in that household,
but when the year has gone round and the hunt comes again, the
unbidden guest will rise from his couch, and, wildly howling,
rush forth to join his master. Strangely refracted there lurks
in this part of the story a ray of the Vedic sleep-god Sarameyas.
' i.e., the sky. See Grimm, DeuUehe Myth. s.v. Hackeiberg; and also
two very interesting articles by A. Kiihn, Zeiiseh. fur deutsch. Altertli. v.
37S, vi. 117, showing relationship of Hackelbarend and the Sarameyas.
- These twelve nights occupy in the middle-age legends the place of
a sort of battle-gronnd be' ween the powers of light and darkness. One
obvious reason of this is that they lie in midwinter, when the infernal
powers are the strong'est. Another reason perhaps is that they lie be-
tween the great Christian feast and the great heathen one, the feast
of Yule. Each party might be expected to put forth its full power.
172 THE DAWN" OF HISTORY.
" Destroyer of sickness, guard of the house, oh, thou who
takest all shapes, be to us a peace-bringing friend."
The Valkyruir in their turn are changed by the mediaeval
spirit into witches. The AYitches' Sabbath, the old beldames
on broom-sticks riding through the air, to hold their revels on
the Brocken, reproduce the swan maidens hurrying to join the
flight of Odin. And, again, changed ouce more, " Old Mother
Goose " is but a more modern form of a middle-age witch,
when the thought of witches no longer strikes terror. And
while we are upon the subject of witches it may be well to
recall how the belief in witches has left its trace in our word
" nightmare." Mara was throughout Europe believed to be the
name of a very celebrated witch somewhere in the north,
though the exact place of her dwelling was variously stated.
And it is highly probable that this name Mara was once a
bye-name of the death-goddess Hel, and itself etymologicaUy
connected with the name of the sea (Meer), the sea being, as
we have seen, according to one set of beliefs, the home of the
soul.
Odin, or a being closely analogous with him, reappears in
the familiar tale of the Pied Piper of Hameln, he who, when
the whole town of Hameln suffered from a plague of rats
and knew not how to get rid of them, appeared suddenly
— no one knew from whence — and professed himself able
to accomplish their wish by means of the secret magic of his
pipe. But it is a profanation to tell the enchanted legend
otherwise than in the enchanted language of Browning : —
" Into the street the piper stept,
Smiling first a little smile,
As if he knew what magi r slept
In his quiet pipe the while ;
Then like a musical adept
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled."
Then the townsfolk, freed from their burden, refused the
piper his promised reward, and scornfully chased him from
the town. On the 26th of June he was seen again, but this
time (Mr. Browning has not incorporated this little fact) fierce
of aspect and dressed like a huntsman, yet still blowing upon
the magic pipe.
Now it is not the rats who follow, but the children : —
MYTHOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES. 173
" All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls.
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter."
And so he leads them away to the Koppelberg Hill, and
" Lo, as they reached the mountain side,
A wondrous portal opened wide,
As if a caveni were suddenly hollowed ;
And the Piper advanced and the children followed.
And when all were in, to the very last,
The door in the mountain side shut fast."
This too is a myth of death. It is astonishing when we
come to examine into the origin of popular tales how manv
we find that had at first a funeral character. This Piper
hath indeed a magic music which none can disobey, for it is the
whisper of death ; he himself is the soul-leading Hermes (the
wind, the piper), or at least Odin, in the same otHce. But the
legend is, in part at any rate, Slavonic; for it is a Slavonic
notion which likens the soul to a mouse.' When we have got
this clue, which the modern folk lore easily gives us, the Odinic
character of the Piper becomes very apparent. Nay, in this
particular myth we can almost trace a history of the meeting
of two peoples, Slavonic and German, and the junction of
their legends. Let us suppose there had been some great and
long remembered epidemic which had proved peculiarly fatal
to the children of Hameln and the country round about. The
Slavonic dwellers there — and in pre-historic times the Slaves
probably spread quite as far as the AVeser — would speak of
these deaths mythically as the departure of the mice (i. e. the
souls), and perhaps keeping the tradition, which we know to
be universally Aryan, of a water-crossing, might tell of the
mice as having gone to the water. Or further, they might
feign that these souls were led there by a piping wind god :
he too is the common property of the Aryan folk. Then the
Germans coming in, and wishing to express the legend in their
' Perhaps for a reason like that which made the beetle a symbol of the
soul or immortality among the Egyptians, namely, becaufe the mouse
hibernates like the sleeping earth. It is worth noticing that Anubis, the
Egyptian psychopomp, is also a wind-god. — A. K.
174 THE DAWN OF HISTOKY.
mythological form, would tell how the same Piper had piped
away all the children from the town. So a double story would
spring- up about the same event. The Weser represents one
image of death, and might have served for the children as well
as for the mice : to make the legend fuller, however, another
image is selected for them, the dark, " concealed " place,
namely, Hel, or the cave of Night and Death.
The two images of death which occur in the last story rival
each other through the field of middle-age legend and ro-
mance. When we hear of a man being borne along in a
boat, or lying deep in slumber beneath a mountain, we may
let our minds wander back to Baldur sailing across the ocean
in his burning ship JBHnghorn, and to the same Baldur in the
halls of Hel's palace. The third image of death is the blaziug
pyre unaccompanied by any sea voyage. One or other of
these three allegories meet us at every turn. If the hero has
been snatched away by fairy power to save him from dying,
and the last thing seen of him was in a boat — as Arthur
disappears upon the lake Avalon — ^the myth hold out the
hope of his return, and sooner or later the story of this return
will break off and become a separate legend. Hence the
numerous half-unearthly heroes, such as Lohengrin, who come
men know not whence, and are first seen sleeping in a boat
upon a river. These are but broken halves of complete myths
which should have told of the former disappearance of the
knight by the same route. Both portions really belong to
the tale of Lohengrin; he went away first in a ship in search
of the holy grail, and in the truest version' returns in like
manner in a boat drawn by a swan. In some tales he is called
the Knight of the Swan. He comes suddenly, in answer to
a praj'er to Heaven for help, uttered by the distressed Else
of Brabant. But he does not return at once again to the
Paradise which has sent him to earth. He remains upon
earth, and becomes the husband of Else, and a famous war-
rior; and part of another myth entwines itself with his story.
Else must not ask his name: but she disobeys his impera-
tive command, and this fault parts them for ever. Here
we have Cupid and Psyche, or Prince Hatt and his Wife,
over again. The boat appears once more drawn by the same
' There are at least six differeut versions of the same legend given in
Grimm's Deutselie Sagen.
MYTHOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES. 175
swan, Lohengrin steps into it, and disappears from the haunts
of men. We have already seen how through the Valkyruir
the swan is connected with ideas of death. It remains to
notice how they are naturally so connected by the beautiful
legend — myth or fact I do not know— that the swan sings
once only in life, namely, when he is leaving it, that his first
song is his own funeral melody. A much older form of the
Lohengrin myth is referred toin the opening lines of Beowulf,
where an ancestor of that hero is said to have been found, a
little child, lying asleep in an open boat which bad drifted,
no one knows whence, to the shore of Gothland.
Death being thus so universally symbolized by the River of
Death, it is easy to see the origin of the myth that ghosts will
not cross living water. It meant nothing else than that a
ghost cannot return again to life. In the dark days which
followed the overthrow of the "S^'estern Empire, when all the
civilization of its remoter territories had melted away, there
grew up among the fishermen of Northern Gaul a wild belief
that the Channel opposite them was the mortal river, and that
the shores of this island were the asylum of dark ghosts.
The myth went, that in the villages of the Gaulish coast the
fishermen were summoned by rotation to perform the dreadful
task of ferrying over the departed spirits. At night a knock-
ing was heard on their doors, a signal of their duties, and when
they approached the beach they saw boats lying deep in the
water as though heavily freighted, but yet to their eyes empty.
Each stepping in, took his rudder, and then by an unfelt wind
the boat was wafted in one night across a distance which,
rowing and sailing, they could ordinarily scarcely compass in
eight. Arrived at the opposite shore (our coast), they heard
names called over and voices answering as if by rota, and thev
felt their boats becoming light. Then when all the ghosts
had landed they were wafted back to Gaul.'
Among underground-sleepers, who reproduce the second
image of death, the most celebrated are Kaisar Karl in the
Unterberg — the under-hill, or hill leading to the under- world;
or, as another legend goes, in the Niirnberg, which is really
' This myth is related by Prooopius {B. O. iv.). I have no doubt that
this island, which he calls Brittia (and of course distinguished from Britan-
nia), is really identical with it. The wall which he speaks of as dividing
it is proof sufficient.
176 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
the Niedern-berg, the down-leading hill; and Frederick Red-
Beard sleeping in like manner at Kaiserslautern, or under
the Rabenspurg (raven's hill). Deep below the earth he sits,
his knights around him, their armor on, the horses harnessed
in the stable ready to come forth at Germany's hour of need.
His long red beard has grown through the table on which his
head is resting. Once, it is said, a shepherd chanced upon the
cave which leads down to the under-ground palace and awoke
the Emperor from his slumber. " Are the ravens still flying
round the hill ?" asked Frederick. "Yes." "Then must I
sleep another hundred years."
There are two forms of allusion to the old heathen custom
of fire-burial. One is by the direct mention of a fire — a circle
of fire, probably, through which the Knight must ride; the
second is by putting in place of the fire the thorn which was the
invariable concomitantof thefuneral pile. A thorn-bush having
been employed as the foundation of the fire, a thorn becomes
a symbol of the funeral, and so of death.' Hence the constant
stories of the Sleep-thorn. In the tale of Sigurd the Volsung
both these symbols are used; when Sigurd first finds Brynhild
she has been pricked by Odin with a sleep-thorn, in revenge,
because she took part against his favorite Hiahngunnar ; for
she was a Valkyria. Sigurd awakes her. At another time he
rides to her througli a circle of fire which she has set round her
house, and which no other man dared face. In the myth of
Sigurd, twice as it were riding through death to Brynhild, we
see first of all a nature-myth precisely of the same kind as
the myth of Freyr and Gerda (p. 143),' precisely the reverse
of the myth of Persephone. Brynhild is the dead earth
restored by the kiss of the sun, or of summer. Afterwards
the part of Brynhild is taken by the Sleeping Beauty, and
Sigurd becomes the prince who breaks through the thorn-
hedge. Observe one thing in the last story. The prick from
the sleep-thorn becomes a prick from a spinning-wheel, and
thus loses all its original meaning, while the circle of fire is
' See Grimm's Essay, JJeber das Verb, der Leichen, for the proof of this
fact.
' The fortune which accompanies a myth is very cnrions. That of Preyr
and Gerda is by no means conspicuous in the Edda, and I should not have
been justified in comparing it in importance with the Persephone myth,
but that precisely the same stoiy forms a leading feature in the great
Iforse and Teuton epic, the Volsung and Nibelung songs.
MYTHOLOGIES AND FOLK TALES. 177
transformed into a thorn-hedge, proof sufficient that they
were convertible ideas. Lastly, it remains to say, that the
stories of glass mountains ascended by knights are probably
allegories of death — heaven being spoken of to this day by
Russian and German peasants as a glass mountain — and
perhaps the glass slipper of Cinderella is so too.
8*
CHAPTER XII.
PICTTTBE-WBITING.
Though it is true, as we have said before, that every manu-
factured article involves a long chapter of unwritten history
to account for its present form, and the perfection of the
material from which it is wrought, there is no one of them,
not the most artistic, that wiU so well repay an effort to hunt
it through its metamorphoses in the ages to its first starting-
point, as wUl the letters that rapidly drop from our pen when
we proceed to write its name. Each one of these is a manu-
factured article at which a long, long series of unknown artists
have wrought, expanding, contracting, shaping, pruning, till
at length, the result of centuries of effort, our alphabet stands
clear — a little army of mute, unpretending signs, that are at
once the least considered of our inherited riches— mere
jots and tittles — and the speUs by which all our great
feats of genius are called into being. Does unwritten
history or tradition tell us anything of the people to whose
invention we owe them, or, on the other hand, can we per-
suade the little shapes with which we are familiar to so
animate themselves, and give such an account of the stages
by which they grew into their present likeness, as will help
us to understand better than we did before the mental and
social conditions of the times of their birth ? One question
at least they answer clearly ; we know that while in their
earliest forms they must have preceded the birth of History,
they were the forerunners and heralds of his appearance, and
if we are obliged to relegate their invention to the dark period
t PICTTJEE-WRITIIfG. 179
of unrecorded events, we must place it at least in the last of the
twilight hours, the one that preceded daybreak, for they come
leading sunlight and certainty behind them. It will be hard
if these revealers of other births should prove to be entirely
silent about their own. Another point seems to grow clear as
we think. As letters are the elements by which records come
to us, it is not in records, or at least not in early records, that
we must look for a history of their invention. Like all other
tools, they will have lent themselves silently to the ends for
which they were called into being. For a long, long time they
will have been too busy giving the histories of their employers
to tell us consciously anything about themselves. We must
leave the substance of records then, and look to their manner
and form, if we would unravel the long story of the invention
and growth of our alphabet; and as it is easiest to begin with
the thing that is nearest to us, let us pause before one of our
written words, and ask ourselves exactly what it is to us.
In tracing the growth of language, we have learned that
words were at jfirst descriptive of the things they named, in fact,
pictures to the ear. What then is a written word ? Is it too
a picture, and what does it picture, to the eye ? When we
have written the words cat, man, lion, what have we done ?
We have brought the linages of certain things into our minds,
and that by a form presented to the eye; but is it the form
of the objeqt we immediately think of ? No, it is the form of
its name; it is therefore the picture of a sound. To picture
sound is, surely, a very far-fetched notion, one that may
have grown out of many previous efforts to convey
thought from mind to mind; but certainly not likely to
occur first to those who began the attempt to give permanent
shape to the thoughts floating within them. So great and
difficult a task must have baffled the powers of many enter-
prises, and been approached in many ways before the first
stepstowardsaccomplishingit were securely taken. We shall
find that the history of our alphabet is a record of slow stages
of growth, through which the idea of sound-writing has been
evolved; the first attempts to record events were made in a
different direction. Since, as we have agreed, we are not
likely to find a record of how events were first recorded, and
as the earliest attempts are likely to have been imperfect and
little durable, we must be content to form our notions of the
earliest stage in our grand invention, by observing the methods
180 THE DAWN OP HISTORY.
used by savages now, to aid their memories; and if we wish to
determine the period in the history of the human race when
such efforts are likely to have been first made, we must recall
what we have already learned of the history of primitive man,
and settle at what stage of his development the need for arti-
ficial aids to memory would first press upon him. Stories and
poetry are not likely to have been the first things written
down. While communities were small and young, there was
no need to write painfully what it was so delightful to repeat
from mouth to mouth, and so easy for memories to retain; and
when the stock of tradition and the treasure of song grew so
large in any tribe as to exceed the capacity of ordinary
memories (greater before the invention of writing, let us re-
member, than now), men with unusual gifts would be chosen
and set apart for the purposes of remembering and reciting,
and of handing down to disciples in the next generation, the
precious literature of the tribe. Such an order of remem-
berers would soon come to be looked upon as sacred, or at
least highly honorable, and would have privileges and im-
munities bestowed on them which would make them jealous
of an invention that would lessen the worth of their special
gift. The invention of writing, then, is hardly likely to have
come from the story-tellers or bards. It was probably to aid
the memory in recalling something less attractive and more
secret than a story or a song that the first record was made.
So early as the time of the cave-dwellers, there was a
beginning of commerce. Traces have been found of work-
shops belonging to that period, where flint weapons and tools
were made in such quantities as evidently to have been
designed for purposes of barter, and the presence of amber
and shells in places far from the coast, speaks of trading
journeys. ^Vith bargains and exchange of commodities, aids
to memory must surely have come in; and when we think of
the men of the Xeolithic age as traders, we can hardly be
wrong in also believing them to have taken the next step in
civilization which trade seems to bring with it — the invention
of some system of mnemonics.
No man or woman would be likely to trust their bargain-
ing to another without giving him some little token or pledge
by way of safeguard against mistake or forgetfulness. It
would be a very trifling, transitory thing at first; something
in the nature of a tally, or a succession of knots or woven
PICTUKE-WEITING. 181
threads in a garment, allied to the knot which we tie on our
handkerchief over night to make us remember something in
the morning. It seems hardly worthy of notice, and yet the
invention of that artificial aid to memory is the germ of writ-
ing, the little seed from which such great things have come.
Unfortunately our discoveries of stone-age relics have not
yet furnished us with any helps to understand how the ancient
men managed and carried out the aids to memory they must
have had; but we can trace the process of invention among
still extant races, who keep pretty closely to first methods.
Some tribes of Red Indians keep records on cords called
wampum, by means of beads and knots, and when an embassy
is sent from one chieftain to another, the principal speaker
carries one of these pieces of wampum, and from it reads off
the articles of the proposed treaty, almost as easily as if it
were from a note-book.
In the Eastern Archipelago, and in Polynesia proper,
these cord-records were in use forty years ago, and by
means of them the tax-gath«rers in the Island of Hawaii
kept clear accounts of all articles collected from the inhabi-
tants of the island. The revenue book of Hawaii was a
rope 400 fathoms long, divided into portions corresponding
to districts in the island, and each portion was under the care
of a tax-gatherer, who by means of knots, loops, and tufts of
different shapes, colors, and sizes, managed to keep an
accurate account of the number of hogs, dogs, pieces of sandal-
wood, &c., at which each inhabitant of his district was rated.
The Chinese have a legend that in very early times their people
used little cords marked by knots of different sizes, instead
of writing; but the people who brought the cord system of
mnemonics to the greatest perfection were the Peruvians.
They were still following it at the time of their conquest by
the Spaniards; but they had elaborated it with such care as to
make it available for the preservation of even minute details
of the statistics of the country. The ropes on which they
kept their records were called quipus, from qidpu, a knot.
They were often of great length and thickness, and from the
main ropes depended smaller ones, distinguished by colors
appropriate to subjects of which their knots treated — as,
white for silver, yellow for gold, red for soldiers, green for
corn, parti-colored when a subject that required division was
treated of. These dependent colored strings had again other
182 THE DAWW OP HISTOET.
little strings banging from them, and on these exceptions were
noted. For instance, on the quipus devoted to population —
the colored strings on which the number of men in each
town and village was recorded had depending from them
little strings for the widowers, and no doubt the widows and
the old maids had their little strings from the colored cord
that denoted women. One knot meant ten; a double knot,
one hundred; two singles, side byside, twenty; two doubles,
two hundred; and the position of the knots on their string
and their form were also of immense importance, each subject
having its proper place on the quipus and its proper form
of knot. The art of learning to read quipus must have
been difficult to acquire; it was practised by special func-
tionaries, called quipucamayocuna, or knot-officers, who,
however, seem only to have been able to expound their own
records; for when a quipus was sent from a distant province to
the capital, its own guardian had to travel with it to explain
it. (A clumsy and cumbrous way of sending a letter, was it
not ?) Knot-records were almost everywhere superseded by
other methods of recording events as civilization advanced;
but still they continued to be resorted to under special cir-
cumstances, and by people who had not the pens of ready
writers. Darius made a quipus when he took a thong, and
tying sixty knots on it, gave it to the Ionian chiefs, that they
might untie a knot every day, and go back to their own land
if he had not returned when aU the knots were undone, and
the Scythians who, about the same time, sent a message to
Darius, afford us an example of another way of attaching
meaning to things, and so using them as aids to memory, —
writing letters with objects instead of pen and ink, in fact.
Here, however, symbolism comes in, and makes the mnemonics
at once prettier and less trustworthy as capable of more than
one interpretation. The Scythian ambassadors presented
Darius (as Herodotus tells us) with a mouse, a bird, a frog,
and an arrow, and the message with which they had been en-
trusted was that, unless he could hide in the earth like a
mouse, or fly in the air like a bird, or swim in water like a
frog, he would never escape the arrows of the Scythians.
Such, too, was the bow, too heavy for an ordinary man to
bend, which the long-lived Ethiopians sent to Cambyses; and
the twelve memorial stones which Joshua was directed to
place in the river Jordan, in order that the sons might ask
PICTUKE-WEITING. 183
the fathers, and the fathers tell the sons what had happened
in that place; and again such were the yokes and bonds wliich
Jeremiah put round his neck when he testified against the
alliance with Egypt before Zedekiah, and the earthen pot that
he broke in the presence of the elders of the people. Signs
joined with words and actions to convey a fuller or more exact
meaning than words alone can convey. Perhaps, however,
we ought hardly to call these last examples helps to memory;
they partake more of the nature of pictures, and were used
to heighten the effect of words. We may perhaps regard
them as a connecting link between the merely mechanical
tally, wampum and quipus, and the effort to record ideas we
must now consider — picturing. It must, however, always be
borne in mind that, though we shall speak of these various
methods of making records as stages of progress and develop-
ment, it is not to be supposed that the later ones immediately,
or indeed ever wholly, superseded the first anymore than the
introduction of bronze and iron did away with the use of flint
weapons. The on« method subsisted side by side with the
other, and survived to quite late times, as we see in such
usages as the bearing forth of the fiery cross to summon
clansmen to the banner of their chieftain, and the casting
down of the knight's glove as a gage of battle, or, to come
down to homely modern instances, the tallies and knots on
handkerchiefs that unready writers carry to help their mem-
ories even now.
Helps to memory of all kinds never get beyond being helps.
They cannot carry thought from one to another without the
intervention of an interpreter, in whose memory they keep
fast the words that have to be said; they localize tradition,
but they cannot change tradition into history, and are always
liable to become useless by the death of the man, or order of
men, to whom they have been entrusted.
A more independent and lasting method of recording events
was sure to be aimed at sooner or later; and we may conjec-
ture that it usually took its rise among a people at the period
when their national pride was so developed as to make them
anxious that the deeds of some conspicuous hero should be
made known, not only to those interested in telling and hearing
of them, but to strangers visiting their country, and to remote
descendants. Their first effort to record an event, so as to
make it widely known, would naturally be to draw a picture
184 THE DAWN OF HISTOEY.
of it, such as all seeing the picture would understand; and
accordingly we find that the earliest step beyond artificial
helps to memory is the making of rude pictures which aim at
showing a deed or event as it occurred without suggesting the
words of a narrative; this is called "picturing" as distin-
guished from picture-writing. That this, too, was a very early
art we may feel sure from the fact that rude pictures of ani-
mals have been found among the relics of the eariiest stone
age. We are not perhaps justified in conjecturing that the
pictures actually found are rough memorials of some real
hunting scene, but we learn from them that the thought of
depicting objects had come, and the skill to produce a likeness
been attained to, and the idea of using this power to transmit
events lies so near to its possession, that we can hardly believe
one to have been long present without the other. To enable
ourselves to imagine the sort of picture-records with which
the stone-age men may have ornamented some of their knives,
spears, and hammers, we must examine the doings of people
who have continued in the same stage of civilization down to
historic times.
Some curious pictures done by North American Indians
have been found on rocks and stones, and on the stems of
pine trees in America, which furnish excellent examples of early
picturing. Mr. Tylor, in his Early JBRstory of Mankind, gives
engravings of several of these shadowy records of long-past
events. One of these, which was found on the smoothed sur-
face of a pine-tree, consists merely of a rude outline of two
canoes, one surmounted by a bear with a peculiar tail and the
other by a fish, and beyond these a quantity of shapes meant
for a particular kind of fish. The entire picture records the
successes of two chieftains named Copper-tail Bear and Cat-
fish, in a fishing excursion. Another picture found on the
surface of a rock near Lake Superior is more elaborate, and
interests us by showing a new element in picturing, through
■which it was destined to grow into its next stage. This more
elaborate picture shows an arch with three suns in it — a tor-
toise, a man about to mount a horse, and several canoes, one
surmounted by the image of a bird. All this tells that the
chief King-fisher made an expedition of three davs across a
lake, and arriving safely on land, mounted his horse. The new
element introduced into this picture is symbolism, the same
that transformed the homely system of tallies into the
PICTURE- WRITINa. 185
Scythian's graceful living message to Darius. It shows the
excess of thought over the power of expression, which will
soon necessitate a new form. The tortoise is used as a symbol
of dry land. The arch is, of course, the sky, and the three
suns in it mean three days. The artist v?ho devised these
ways of expressing his thought was on the edge of picture-
writing, which is the next stage in the upward progress of the
art of recording events, and the stage at which some nations
have terminated their efEorts.
Picture-writing differs from picturing in that it aims to
convey to the mind, not a representation of an event, but a
narrative of the event in words, each word being pictured.
The distinction is important, for the change from one system
to the otlier involves an immense progress in the art of per-
petuating thought. Let us take a sentence and see how it
might be conveyed by the two methods. A man slew a lion,
with a bow and arrows while the sun went dotcn. Picturing
would show the man with a drawn bow in his hand, the lion
struck by the arrow, the sun on the horizon. Picture-writing
would present a series of little pictures and symbols dealing
separately with each word — a man, a symbol for slew, say
a hand smiting, a lion, a connecting symbol for " with,"
and so on. AVe see at once how much more elaborate and
exact the second method is, and that it makes the telling of
a continuous story possible. AYe also discover that these various
stages of writing correspond to developments of language, and
that as languages grow in capacity to express nobler tlioughts,
a greater stress would be put upon invention to render the
more recondite words by pictures and symbols, till at last
language will outgrow all possibility of being so rendered, and
another method of showing words to the eye will have to be
thought of — for all languages at least that attain their full
development. That a great deal may be expressed by pictures
and symbols, however, we learn from the picturing and picture-
writing of past races that have come down to us, and from
the present writing of the Chinese, who with their radical
language have preserved the pictorial character that well
accords with an early stage of language.
The Red Indians of North America have invented some
very ingenious methods of picturing time and numbers. They
have names for the thirteen moons or months into which they
divide the year — Whirlwind moon, moon when the leaves fall
186 THE DAWX OF HISTOET.
off, moon when the fowls go to the south, &o., and when a
hunter setting forth on a long expedition wished to leave a
record of the time of his departure for a friend who should
follow him on the same track, he carved on the bark of a tree
a picture of the name of the moon, accompanied with such an
exact representation of the state of the moon in the heavens
on the night when he set out, that his friends had no difficulty
in reading the date correctly. The Indians of Virginia kept
a record of events in the form of a series of wheels of sixty
spokes, each wheel representing the life of a man, sixty years
being the average life of a man among the Indians. The
spokes meant years, and on each one a pictiire of the prin-
cipal occurrences of the year was drawn.
A missionary who accompanied Penn to Pennsylvania says
that he saw a wheel, on one spoke of which the first arrival of
Europeans in America was recorded. The history of this dis-
astrous event for the Indians was given by a picture of a white
swan spitting fire from its mouth. The swan, being a water-
bird, told that the strangers came over the sea, its white plu-
miage recalled the color of their faces, and fire issuing from
its mouth represented fire-arms, the possession of which had
made them conquerors. The North American Indians also use
rude little pictures, rough writing we may call it, to- help them
to remember songs and charms. Each verse of a song is con-
centrated into a little picture, the sight of which recalls the
words to one who has once learned it. A drawing of a little
man, with four marks on his legs and two on his breast, recalls
the adverse charm, " Two days must you fast, my friend, four
da3's must you sit still." A picture of a circle with a figure
in the middle represents a verse of a love-song, and says to
the initiated, " Were she on a distant island I could make her
swim over." This sort of picturing seems to be very near
writing, for it serves to recall words — but still only to recall
them — it would not suggest the words to those who had never
heard the song before; it is only an aid to memory, and its
employers have only as yet taken the first step in the great
discovery we are talking about. The ilexicans, though they
had attained to much greater skill than this in the drawing
and coloring of pictures, had not progressed much further in
the invention. Their picture-scrolls do not seem ever to have
been more than an elaborate system of mnemonics, which,
hardly less than the Peruvian quipus, required a race of inter-
PICTURE-WRITING. 187
preters to hand down their meaning from one generation to
another. This fact makes us regret somewhat less keenly the
decision of the first Spanish archbishop sent to Mexico, who,
on being informed of the great store of vellum rolls, and
folds on folds of cloth covered with paintings, that had been
discovered at Anahuac, the chief seat of Mexican learning,
ordered the entire collection to be burnt in a heap; a moun-
tain heap, the chroniclers of the time call it — lest they should
contain incantations or instructions for the practice of magical
arts. As some excuse for this notion of the archbishop's we
will mention the subjects treated of in the five books of
picture-writing which Montezuma gave to Cortez : — the first
book treated of years and seasons; the second of days and festi-
vals; the third of dreams and omens; the fourth of the naming
of children; the fifth of ceremonies and prognostications.
The few specimens of Mexican writing which have come
down to us, show that, though the Tolteos had not used their
picture signs as skilfully as some other nations have done,
they had taken the first step towards phonetic, or sound-
writing; a step which, if pursued, would have led them
through some such process as we shall afterwards see was
followed by the Egyptians and Phoenicians, to the formation
of a true alphabet. They had begun to write proper names
of chiefs and towns by pictures of things that recalled the
sound of their names, instead of hj a symbol suggestive of the
appearance or quality of the place or chieftain, or of the
meaning of the names. It is diiEcult to explain this without
pictures; but as this change of method involves a most im-
portant step in the discovery of the art of writing, we had
better pause upon it a little, and get it clear to our minds.
There was a king whose name occurs in a chronicle now exist-
ing, called Itz-co-atle, Knife-snake; his name is generally
written by a picture of a snake, with flint knives stuck in it;
but in one place it is indicated in a different manner. The
first syllable is 5t\S\. -pictured by a knife; but for the second,
instead of a snake, we find an earthen pot and a sign for
water. Now the Mexican name for pot is " co-mitle," for
water "atle;" read literally the name thus pictured would
read "Itz-comitle-atle; " but it is clear, since the name
intended was "Itz-co-atle," that the pot is drawn to
suggest only the first syllable of its name, co, and by
this change it has become no longer a picture, but a
188 TTTK DAWW OF HISTORY.
phonetic, syllabic sign, the next step but one before a true
letter. What great results can be elaborated from this
change you will see -when we begin to speak of Egyptian
writing.
We must not leave picture-writing till we have said some-
thing about the Chinese character, in which we find the
highest development of which direct representation of things
appears capable. Though we should not think it, while looking
at the characters on a Chinese tea-paper or box, every one of
those groups of black strokes and dots which seem so shapeless
to our eyes is a picture of an object; not a picture of the
sound of its name, as our written words are, but a representa-
tion real or symbolic of the thing itself. Early specimens of
Chinese writing show these groups of strokes in a stage when
a greater degree of resemblance to the thing signified is pre-
served; but the exigencies of quick writing, among a people
who write and read a great deal, have gradually reduced the
pictures more and more to the condition of arbitrary signs,
whose connection with the things signified must be a matter
of habit and memory. The task of learning a sign for every
word of the language in place of conquering the art of spelling
does seem, at first sight, to put Chinese children in a pitiable
condition as compared with ourselves. To lessen our com-
passion, we may recall that the Chinese language is still in
the root stage (having been checked in its growth in fact by a
too early invention of these same picture-signs), and that con-
sequently it comprehends comparatively few sounds, the same
sound being used to express meanings by a difference in in-
tonation. This difference could not easily be given in writ-
ing; it is therefore almost a necessity to recall the thing itself
to the mind instead of its name.
Pictorial signs are used in several different ways, some-
times as real pictures, sometimes as ideographs, which again
may be divided into groups as they are used — metaphorically,
as a bee for industry; enigmatically, as among the Egyptians,
an ostrich feather is used as a symbol of justice, because all
the plumes in the wing of this bird were supposed to be of
equaJ length; by syndoche, putting a part for the whole; as
two eyeballs for eyes; by metonomy, putting cause for effect;
as a tree for shadow; the disk of the sun for a day, &c.
This system of writing in pictures and svmbols requires so
much ingenuit}-, such hosts of pretty poetic inventions, that
PICTTJRE--WEITING. 189
perhaps there is less dulness than would at first appear in
getting the Chinese alphabet of some ten thousand signs or
so by heart. A^'e will mention a few Chinese ideographs in
illustration. The sign for a man placed over the sign for a
mountain-peak signifies a hermit; the sign for a mouth and
that for a bird placed side by side signify the act of singing;
a hand holding a sweeping-brush is a woman; a man seated
on the ground, a son (showing the respectful position assigned
to children in China) ; an ear at the opening of a door means
curiosity ; two eyes squinting towards the nose mean to ob-
serve carefully; one eye squinting symbolizes the color white,
because so much of the white of the eye is shown when the
ball is in that position; a mouth at an open door is a note of
interrogation, and also the verb to question.
Even Chinese writing, however, has not remained purely
ideographic. Some of the signs are used phonetically to
picture sound, and this use must necessarily grow now that
intercourse with Western nations introduces new names, new
inventions and new ideas, which, somehow or other, must get
themselves represented in the Chinese language and writing.
The invention of determinative signs — characters put be-
side the word to show what class of objects a word belongs to —
helps the Chinese to overcome some of the difficulties which
their radical language offers to the introduction of sound-
writing. For example, the word Pa has eight different mean-
ings, and when it is written phonetically, a reader would
have to choose between eight objects to which he might apply
it, if there were not a determinative sign by its side which
gives him a hint how to read it. This is as if when we wrote
the word vessel we were to add " navigation " when we in-
tended a ship; and "household" when we meant a jug or
puncheon. The Chinese determinative signs are not, however,
left to each writer's fancy. Two hundred and fourteen signs
(originally themselves pictures, remember) have been chosen
out, and are always used in this way. The classes into which
objects are divided by these numerous signs ai-e minute, and
do not appear to follow any scientific method or arrangement.
There is a sign to show that a written word belongs to the
class noses, another for rats, another for frogs, another for
tortoises. One is inclined to think that the helpful signs
must be as hard to remember as the words themselves, and
that they can onlv be another element in the general confu-
190 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
sion. Probably their frequent recurrence mates tbem soon
become familiar to Chinese readers and they act as finger-
posts to guide the thoughts into the right direction. De-
terminative signs have always come in to help in the transi-
tional stage between purely ideographic and purely phonetic
writing, and were used by both Egyptians and Assyrians in
their elaborate systems as soon as the phonetic principle be-
gan to be employed among their ideographs.
It is an interesting fact that the Japanese have dealt with
the Chinese system of writing precisely as did the Phoenicians
with the Egyptian hieroglyphics. They have chosen forty-
seven signs from the ten thousand employed by the Chinese,
and they use them phonetically only; that is to say, as true
sound-carrying letters.
CHAPTER XIII.
PHOITBTIC "WRITING.
We have now to trace the process through which picture-
writing passed into sound-writing, and to find out how signs
(for we shall see they are the same signs) which were origin-
ally meant to recall objects to the eye, have ended in being
used to suggest, or, shall we say, picture, sounds to the ear. A
written word, let us remember, is the picture of a sound, and
it is our business to hunt the letters of which it is formed
through the changes they must have undergone while they
were taking upon themselves the new office of suggesting
sound. We said too that we must not expect to find any
written account of this change, and that it is only by
examining the forms of the records of other events that this
greatest event of literature can be made out. What we want
is to see the signs, while busy in telling us other history,
beginning to perform their new duties side by side with the
old, so that we may be sure of their identity ; and this oppor-
tunity is afforded us by the hieroglyphic writing of the ancient
Egyptians, who, being people disposed to cling to everything
that had once been done, never altogether left off employing
their first methods, even after they had taken another and
yet another step towards a more perfect system of writing,
but carried on the old ways and the new improvements side
by side. The nature of their language, which was in part
radical and in part inflexional, was one cause of this inter-
mixture of methods in their writing ; it had partly but not
entirely outgrown the stage in which picture-signs are most
192 THE DAWW OF HISTOKY.
useful Ideograph is the proper name for a picture-sign,
which, as soon as picture-writing supersedes picturing, becomes
the sign for a thought quite as often as it is the sign for an
object. Very ancient as are the earliest Egyptian records, we
have none which belong to the time when the invention of
writing was in the stage of picturing : we only conjecture
that it passed through this earliest stage by finding examples
of picturing mixed with their other kinds of writing. Each
chapter of the Mitual, the oldest of Egyptian books, has one
or more designs at its head, in which the contents of the
chapter are very carefully and ingeniously pictured, and the
records of royal triumphs and progresses which are cut out
on temple and palace walls in ideographic and phonetic
signs, are always prefaced by a large picture which tells
the same story in the primitive method of picturing without
words.
The next stage of the invention, ideographic writing, the
ancient Eg3rptians carried to great perfection, and reduced to
a careful system. The signs for ideas became fixed, and were
not chosen according to each writer's fancy. Every picture
had its settled value, and was always used in the same way.
A sort of alphabet of ideographs was thus formed. A heart
drawn in a certain way always meant " love," an eye with a
tear on the lash meant " grief," two hands holding a shield
and spear meant the verb "to fight,'" a tongue meant "to
speak," a foot-print " to travel," a man kneeling on the
ground signified '■ a conquered enemy," &c. Conjunctions
and prepositions had their fixed pictures, as well as verbs and
nouns ; " also "" was pictured by a coil of rope with a second
band across it, "and" by a coil of rope with an arm across
it, " over " by a circle surmounting a square, " at " by the
picture of a hart reposing near the sign for water — a signifi-
cant picture for such a little word, which recalls to our
minds, "As the hart panteth after the water-brooks," and
leads us to wonder whether the writer of the Psalm were not
familiar with the Egyptian hieroglyph.
So much was done in this way, we almost wonder that the
need for another method came to be felt ; perhaps a pecvdiarity
of the Egyptian language helped the splendid thought of
picturing saund to fiash one happy day into the mind of some
priest, when he was laboriously cutting his sacred sentence
into a temple walL The language of ancient Egypt, like
PHONETIC WKITING. 193
that of China (being, as we said before, in part a radical
language), had a great many words alike in sound but different
in meaning, and it could not fail to happen that some of these
words with two meanings would indicate a thing easy to draw,
and a thought difficult to symbolize; for example, the ancient
Egyptian word neb means a basket and a ruler; and no/re
means a lute and goodness. There would come a day when a
clever priest, cutting a record on a wall, would bethink him
of putting a lute instead of the more elaborate symbol that
had hitherto been used for goodness. It was a simple change,
and might not have struck any one at the time as involving
more than the saving of a little trouble to hieroglyphists, but
it was the germ out of which our system of writing sprang.
The priest who did that had taken the first step towards
picturing sound, and cut a true phonetic sign — the true if
remote parent indeed of one of our own twenty-four letters
of the alphabet. Let us consider how the thought would
probably grow. The writers once started on the road of
making signs stand for sounds would observe how much fewer
sounds there are than objects and ideas, and that words even
when unlike are composed of the same sounds pronounced in
different succession. If we were employed in painting up a
notice on a wall, and intended to use ideographs instead of
letters, and moreover if the words manage, mansion, manly,
mantles, came into our sentence, should we not beg-in each
of these words by a figure of a man ? and again, if we had to
write treacle, treason, treaty, we should begin each witli a
picture of a tree; we should find it easier to use the same
sign often for part of a word, than to invent a fresh symbol
for each entire word as we wrote it. For the remaining
syllables of the words we had so successfully begun we should
have to invent other signs, and we should perhaps soon dis-
cover that in each syllable there were in fact several sounds,
or movements of lips or tongue, and that the same sounds
differently combined came over and over again in all our
words. Then we might go on to discover exactly how many
movements of the speaking organs occurred in ordinary
speech, and the thought of choosing a particular picture to
■-.represent each movement might occur; we should then have
invented an alphabet in its early stage of development. That
was the road along which the ancient Egyptians travelled, but
they progressed very slowly, and never quite reached its end.
9
194 THE DAWN OF HISTOET.
They began by having syllabic signs for proper names.
Osiri was a name that occurred frequently in their sacred
writings, and they happened to have two words in their
language which made up its sound. Os a throne, iri an eye.
Hence a small picture of a throne came to be the syllabic
sign for the sound os, the oval of an eye for the sound iri;
in like manner Totro, the name of an early king, was written
by a hand Tot and a circle JRo, and thus a system of spelling
by syllables was established. Later they began to divide
syllables into movements of the speaking organs, and to
represent these movements by drawing objects whose name
began with the movement intended. For example, a picture
of a lion {labo) was drawn not for the whole sound (laho) but
for the liquid I; an owl (mulag) stood for the labial m/a, water-
jug (neTn) for n. They had now in fact invented letters, but
though they had made the great discovery they did not use it
in the best way. They could not make up their minds to keep
to phonetic writing, and throw away their pictures and ideo-
graphs. They continued to mix all these methods together,
so that when they painted a lion — it might be a picture and
mean lion, it might be a symbolic sign and mean pre-
eminence, or it might be a true letter and stand for the liquid
I. The Egyptians were obliged to invent a whole army of
determinative signs, like those now employed by the Chinese,
which they placed before their pictures to show when a group
was to be read according to its sound, when it was used
symbolically, and when it was a simple representation of the
object intended.
Another source of difficulty in deciphering the writing of
the ancient Egyptians, is that they were not content with
a single sign for a single sound, they had a great many
different pictures for each letter, and used them in fanciful
methods: for example, if I occurred in the name of a king,
or god, they would use the Kon picture to express it,
thinking it appropriate; but if the same sound occurred in
the name of a queen, they would use a lotus-lily as more
feminine and elegant. They had as many as twenty different
pictures which could be used for the first letter of our alphabet
a, and thirty for the letter h, one of which closely resembles
our capital H in form, being two upright palm-branches held
by two arms which make the cross of the H. No letter had
fewer than five pictures to express its sound, from which the
PHONETIC WRITING. 195
■writer might choose according to his fancy ; or perhaps,
sometimes, according to the space he had to fill up on the
wall, or obelisk, where he was writing, and the effect in
form and color he wished his sentence to produce. Then
again, all their letters were not quite true letters (single
breathings). The Egyptians never got quite clear about
vowels and consonants, and generally spelt words (unless
they began with a vowel sound) by consonants only, the
consonants carrying a vowel breathing as well as their
own sound, and thus being syllabic signs instead of true
letters.
Since much of the writing of the ancient Egyptians was
used ornamentally as decoration for the walls of their houses
and temples, and took with them the place of the tapestry
of later times, the space required to carry out their complex
system of writing was no objection to it in their eyes; neither
did they care much about the diiSculty of learning so elaborate
an array of signs, as for many centuries the art of reading
and writing was almost entirely confined to an order of priests
whose occupation and glory it was. When writing became
more common, and was used for ordinary as well as sacred
purposes, the pictorial element disappeared from some of their
styles of writing, and quick ways of making the pictures
were invented, which reduced them to as completely arbitrary
signs, with no resemblance to the objects intended, as the
Chinese signs now are.
The ancient Egyptians had two ways of quick writing, the
Hieratic (used by a priest), which was employed for the sacred
writings only, and the Demotic used by the people, which was
employed for law-papers, letters, and all writing that did not
touch on religious matters or enter into the province of the
priest. Yet, though literature increased and writing was
much practised by people engaged in the ordinary business of
life (we see pictures on the tombs of the. great man's upper
servant seated before his desk and recording with reed-pen
and ink-horn the numbers of the flocks and herds belonging
to the farm), little was done to simplify the art of writing by
the ancient Egyptians. Down to the latest times when
Hieroglyphics were cut, and Demotic and Hieratic characters
written, the same confusing variety of signs were employed —
pictorial, ideographic, symbolic, phonetic — all mixed up to-
gether, with nothing to distinguish them but the determinative
196 THE DAWN OP HISTORY.
signs before spoken of, which themselves added a new element
to the complexity.
It was left for a less conservative and more enter-
prising people than the ancient Egyptians to take the last
and greatest step in perfecting the invention which the
ancient Egyptians had brought so far on its road, and by
throwing away all the first attempts, allow the serHceable,
successful parts of the system to stand out clear. The
Phoenicians, to whom tradition points as the introducers of
our alphabet into Europe, and who, during early ages, were
in very close political and trading connection with the ancient
Egyptians, are now believed to be the authors of the improve-
ment by which we benefit. They did not invent the alphabet
which the Greeks learned from them; they could have had no
reason to invent signs, when they must have been well ac-
quainted with the superabundance that had been in use for
centuries before they began to build their cities by the sea-
shore. What they probably did was to choose from the
Egyptian characters, with which all the traders of the world
must have been familiar, just so many phonetic or sound-
carrying signs as represented the sounds of which speech is
made up; and rejecting all others, thej' kept strictly to these
chosen ones in all their future writings. This was a great
work to have accomplished, and we must not suppose that it
was done by one man, or even in one generation j as probably
it took a very long time to perfect the separation between
vowels and consonants: a distinction which had already been
made by the ancient Egyptians, for they had vowel signs,
though, as before remarked, they constantly made their con-
sonants carry the vowels, and spelt words with the consonants
alone. You will remember that consonants are the most
important elements of language, and constitute, as we have
said before, the bones of words; but also that distinctions of
time, person, and case depended in an early stage of language
on vowels; and you will therefore understand how important
to clearness of expression it was to have a clearly defined
separate sign for the vowels and diphthongs that had, so to
speak, all the exactitude of meaning in their keeping. The
Phoenicians, of all the people in the early world, were most in
need of a clear and precise method of writing: for, being the
great traders and settlers of ancient times, one of its principal
uses would be to enable them to communicate with friends
PHONETIC WRITING. 197
at a distance by means of writings which should convey
the thoughts of the absent ones, or the private instructions
of a trader to his partner without need of an interpreter.
The advantages of simplicity and clearness had been less
felt by Egyptian priests while inscribing their stately records
oa walls of temples and palaces, and on the tapering sides of
obelisks which were meant to lift sacred words up to the eye
of Heaven rather than to expose them to those of men. They
believed that a race of priests would continue, as long as the
temples and obelisks continued, who could explain the writing
to those worthy to enter into its mysteries; and they were
not sorry, perhaps, to keep the distinction of understanding
the art of letters to their own caste.
It was not till letters were needed by busy people, who
had other things to do besides studying, that the necessity
for making them easy to learn, and really effective as carriers
of thought across distances, was sincerely felt. Two con-
jectures as to the method pursued by the Phoenicians in
choosing theirletters and adapting them to their own language
have been made by the learned. One is, that while they took
the forms of their letters from the Egyptian system of signs,
and adopted the principle of making each picture of an object
stand for the first sound of its name, as labo for I; they did not
give to each letter the value it had in the Egyptian alphabet,
but allowed it to mean for them the first sound of its name in
their own language. For example, they took the sign for an
ox's head and made it stand for the sound a, not because
it was one of the Egyptian signs for " a," but because Aleph
was the name for an ox and " a " was its first syllable. This,
which seems a natural method enough, is, however, not the
method followed by the Japanese in choosing their alphabet
from the Chinese signs; and more recent investigations prove
such a close resemblance between the earliest forms of
Phoenician letters, and early forms of signs for the same
sounds in Hieratic character, that a complete descent in sound-
bearing power, as well as in form, is now claimed for our
letters from those hieroglyphics, which, in our ignorance of
the relationship, we used to consider a synonymous term for
something unintelligible. The Semitic language spoken by
the Phoenicians was richer in sounds than the less developed
language spoken by the ancient Egyptians; but as the Egyp-
tians used several signs for eacli letter, the Phoenicians easily
198 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
fell into the habit of giving a slightly different value to two
forms originally identical, and thus provided for all the more
delicate distinctions of their tongue. A close comparison of
the forms of the letters of the earliest known Canaanite in-
scriptions with Hieratic writing of the time of the Old
Empire reveals a resemblance so striking between fifteen of
the PhcBnician letters and Hieratic characters carrying the
same sounds, that a conviction of the derivation of one from
the other impresses itself on even a careless observer. The
correspondence of the other five Canaanite letters with their
Hieratic counterparts is less obvious to the uneducated eye,
but experts in such investigations see sufficient likeness even
there to confirn the theory.
The gradual divergence of the Phoenician characters from
their Hieratic parents is easily accounted for by the difference
of the material and the instrument employed by the Phoenicians
and Egyptians in writing. The Hieratic character was painted
by Egyptian priests on smooth papyrus leaves with a brush or
broad pointed reed pen. The Canaanite inscriptions are graven
with a sharp instrument on hard stone, and as a natural con-
sequence the round curves of the Hieratic character become
sharp points, and there is a general simplification of form and a
throwing aside of useless lines and dots, the last remnants of the
picture from which each Hieratic character originally sprang.
The names given later to the Phoenician letters, Aleph, an
"ox;" Beth, a "house;" Gimel, a "camel;" Daleth, a
" door; " are not the names of the objects from which the
forms of these letters were originally taken. The Hieratic
" A " was taken from the picture of an eagle, which stood for
" A " in hieroglyphics; " B " was originally a sort of heron;
" D," a hand with the fingers spread out. New names were
given by the Phoenicians to the forms they had borrowed,
from fancied resemblances to objects which, in their language,
began with the sound intended, when the original Egyptian
names had been forgotten. It is hard for us to see a likeness
between our letter " A" and an ox's horns with a yoke across;
or between " B" and the ground-plan of a house; " G " and
a camel's head and neck; " M " and water; " W " and a set
of teeth; "P" and the back of a head set on the neck; but
our letters have gone through a great deal of straightening
and putting into order since they came into Europe and were
sent out on their further westward travels. The reader who
PHONETIC WKITING. 199
has an opportunitj' of examining early specimens of letters
on Greek coins will find a freedom of treatment which
makes them much more suggestive of resemblances, and the
earlier Phoenician letters were, no doubt, more pictorial still.
The interesting and important thing to be remembered con-
' cerning our letters is that each one of them was, without
doubt, a picture once, and gets its shape in no other way than
by having once stood for an object, whose name in the
ancient people's language began with the sound it conveys
to us.
These Phoenician letters, born on the walls of Egyptian
tombs older than Abraham, and selected by Phoenician
traders who took their boats up to Memphis at or before
Joseph's time, are the parents of all the alphabets now
used in the world, with the exception of that one which
the Japanese have taken from Chinese picture-writing. The
Phoenicians carried their alphabet about with them to all
the countries where they planted trading settlements, and
it was adopted by Greeks and Latins, and gradually modified
to suit the languages of all the civilized peoples of east and
west. The Hebrew square letters are a form of divergence
from the original type, and even the Sanskrit character in
all its various styles can be traced back to the same source
by experts who have studied the transformations through
which it has passed in the course of ages. It is, of course,
easy to understand that these ubiquitous. little shapes which
through so many centuries have had the task laid on them
of spelling words in so many different languages must have
undergone some variations in their values to suit the tongues
that interpreted them.
The original family of twenty letters have not always kept
together, or avoided the intrusion of new comers. Some of
the languages they have had to express, being in an early
stage of development, have not wanted even so many as twenty
letters, and have gradually allowed some of them to fall into
disuse and be forgotten; an instance of this we find in the
alphabet of the northern nations — the Gothic — which consisted
only of sixteen runes — called by new names; they were most
probably taken from the Phoenicians and furnished with mystic
sayings belonging only to themselves.
In languages where nicer distinctions of sound were called
for than the original twenty Phoenician signs carried, a few
200 THE DAWN OF HISTORY.
fresh letters were added, but in no case has any quite new
form been invented. The added letters have alwaj-s been a
modification of one of the older forms — either a letter cut in
half, or one modified by an additional stroke or dot. In
this way the Romans made G out of G, bj- adding a stroke to
one of its horns. T^and IT, land J^vrere originally slightly
dififerent ways of writing one letter, which had been taken
advantage of to express a new sound when the necessity for a
greater number of sound-signs arose. At first sight it seems
a simple thing enough to invent a letter, but let us remember
that such a thing as an arbitrarily-invented letter does not
exist anywhere. To create one out of nothing is a feat of
which human ingenuity does not seem capable. Every single
letter in use anywhere (we can hardly dwell on this thought
too long) has descended in regular steps from the pictured
object in whose name the sound it represents originally
dwelt. Shape and sound were wedded together in early days
by the first beginners of writing, and all the labor bestowed
on them since has only been in the way of modification and
adaptation to changed circumstances. Xo wonder that, when
people believed a whole alphabet to have been invented
straight off, they also thought that it took a god to do it.
Thoth, the Great-and-great, with his emblems of justice and
his recording pencil; Oannes, the Sea-monster, to whom all
the wonders of the under-world lay open; Swift Hermes,
with his cap of invisibility and his magic stafE; One-eyed
Odin, while his dearly-purchased draught of wisdom-water
was inspiring him stUl. Xo one indeed — as we see plainly
enough now — but a hero like one of these, was equal to the
task of inventing an alphabet.
Before we have quite done with alphabets, I ought to
mention another system of ancient writing, the cuneiform;
which, though it has left no trace of itself on modem
alphabets, is the vehicle which preserves some of the most
interesting and ancient records in the world. The cuneiform
or arrow-shaped character used by the ancient Chaldsans,
Assyrians, Babylonians, and Persians, is supposed to owe its
peculiar form to the material on which it was habitually
graven by those who employed it. It arose in a country
where the temples were built of unburned brick instead of
stone, and the wedge-shaped form of the lines composing the
letters is precisely what would be most easily produced on
PnONETIC WRITING, 201
wet clay by the insertion and rapid withdrawal of a blunt-
pointed stick or reed. Like all other systems, it began in
rude pictures, which gradually came to have a phonetic value,
in the same manner as did the Egyptian hieroglyphics. The
earliest records in this character are graven on the unburned
bricks of pyramidal-shaped terfiples, which a little before the
time of Abraham began to be built by a nation composed of
mixed Shemite, Cushite, and Scythian peoples round the
shores of the Persiaji Gulf. The invention of the character is
ascribed in the records to the Scythian race, who are always
designated by the sign of a wedge, which was equivalent to
calling them the writers, or the literary people. It is perhaps
allowable to conjecture that the Scythian invention terminated
with the notion of depicting objects by means of wedge-shaped
lines, and using them for picture-writing, such as the Chinese
(also a Turanian people) invented, as you will remember, so
early, that their language was checked in its progress of
development by the premature discovery. The subsequent
unfolding and application of the invention belonged to the
Sheraites. In their "hands it became the vehicle in which the
history of the two great empires of Babylon and Nineveh, and
the achievements of ancient Persian kings, have come down
to us. We have all seen and wondered at the minute writing
on the Assyrian marbles in the British Museum, and stood in
awe before the human-headed monster gods —
" Their flanks with dark runes fretted o'er,"
whose fate, in surviving the ruin of so many empires, and
being" brought from so far to enlighten us on the history of
past ages, can never cease to astonish us. When we look at
them again, let us spare a thought to the history of the
character itself. Its mysteries have cost even greater labor
to unravel than hieroglyphics themselves. To the latest times
of the use of cuneiform by the Seleucidse, pictorial, symbolic,
and phonetic groups continued to be mixed together, and a
system of determinative signs was employed to show the reader
in what sense each word was to be taken. The symbolism,
too, is very complex, and the difficulty of reading the signs
used phonetically is greatly increased by the fact of the lan-
guage from which they acquired their values (a Turanian one)
being different from the Semitic tongue, in which the most
important records are written.
9*
CHAPTER XIV.
COXCLUSION.
At this point, where we are bringing our inquiries to a con-
clusion, we would feign look a little nearer into the mists
which shroud the past, and descry, were it possible, the actual
dawn of history for the individual nations — see not onlv how
the larger bodies of men have travelled through the pre-historic
stages of their journey, but how, having reached their settled
home, each people begins to emerge from the obscurity that
surrounds its early days. What were the exact means, we ask,
whereby a collection of nomadic or haK-nomadic tribes separ-
ated, reunited, separated again, and developed upon different
soils the qualities which distinguish them from all others ?
What is, in fact, the beginning of real national life ?
The worlds which circle round oar sun, or rather, the
multitudinous systems of orbs which fill space, might pose a
like inquiry. There was a time when these which are now
distinct worlds were confounded as continuous nebulae,
a thin vapor of matter whirling round in one unchanging
circle. In time, their motion became less uniform, vortices —
as the word is — ^set in, smaUer bodies of vaporous matter
which, obeying the universal movement, set up internal motions
among themselves, and cooling, separated into separate orbs.
How like is all this to the history of nations. These,
conformed once together in one unstable mass of wandering
tribes, have in like manner separated from their nebulous
brethren, and, setting up their internal vortices, have coalesced
CONCLUSION". 203
into nations. And yet as a system of planets, albeit with their
own distinctive motions, do all revolve in one direction round
one central force, so the different families of nations, which we
may call the planets of a system, seem in like manner com-
pelled by a power external to themselves in one particular
course to play a particular part in the world's historj'. The
early stone age Turanians, the Cushite civilizers of Egypt and
Chaldaea, the Semitic people, may all be looked upon as dif-
ferent systems of nations, each with their mission to the human
race; and thus the Aryan people, after they had become so
separated as to lose all family remembrance, are found work-
ing together to finish an assigned destiny, migrating in every
direction, and carrying with them everywhere the seeds of a
higher civilization.
If we desire to get any idea of the process by which the
separation of the Aryan people became completed, we must
put quite upon one side the idea of a nation as we see it now.
Now, when we speak the word, we think of a political unit
subject to one government, stationary, and confined within
pretty exact limits of space. But verj- difEerent was the nation
during the process of its foundation ; there was scarcely any
political unit}' among them, their homes were unfixed, the
members constantly shifting and changing combinations, like
those heaps of sand we see carried along in a cyclone. Let us
then forget out political atlases, with their different colors
and well-marked boundaries, and think not of the inanimate
adjunct of a nation, the soil on which it happens to dwell, but
of the nation as the men of whom it is made up. The earliest
things we discern are those vortices set up .in the midst of
a homogeneous people, an attractive power somewhere in the
midst of them which draws them into closer fellowship. It
acts like the attractive power of a crystal in selecting from
any of the surrounding matters the fragments most suited to
its proper formation. Thus the earliest traditions of a people
are generally the history of some individual tribe from which
the whole nation feigns itself descended; either because of its
actual pre-eminence from the beginning, the power it had of
drawing other tribes to share its fortunes, or because, out of
many tribes drawn together by some common interest or sen-
timent, the bards of later days selected this one tribe from
among the others, and adopted its traditions for their own.
If we remember this, much that would otherwise appear a
204 -THE DAWN OF HISTOEY.
hopeless mass of contradiction and ambiguity is capable of
receiving a definite meaning.
The first rays of European history shine upon the island-
dotted sea and bounding coasts of the ^gean. Here sprang
into life the Greek people, who have left behind so splendid
a legacy of art and philosophy. These, as has been already
said, made their entry into Europe traversing the southern
shores of the Euxine, along which passed, still as one people,
the ancestors of the Greeks and the Italians. The former,
at all events, seem to have delayed long upon their route,
and it was upon these shores, or perhaps rather in the table-
land of ancient Phrygia, that first began the separation of
two races who reunited to form the Greek nation. Some, the
older race, the Pelasgi, made their way to the Hellespont, and
by that route into European Greece; the others, the lonians as
they subsequently became, passed onward to the sea-shore of
Asia Minor, and, tempted no doubt by the facilities of the voy-
age, crossed from this mainland to the neighboring islands,
which lie so thickly scattered over the ^gean that the mari-
ner passing from shore to shore of Asiatic and European Greece
need never on his voyage lose sight of land. They did not,
however, find these islands deserted, or occupied by savages
only. The Phoenicians had been there beforehand, as they
were beforehand upon almost every coast in Europe, and had
made mercantile stations and established small colonies for the
purposes of trading with the Pelasgi of Greece. The adven-
turous lonians were thus brought early into contact with the
advanced civilization of Asia, and from this source gained in
all probability a knowledge of navigation, letters, and some
of the Semitic mythical legends. Thus while the mainland
Greeks had altered little of the primitive culture, the germs
of a Hellenic civilization, of a Hellenic life, were being fos-
tered in the islands of the ^gean. We see this reflected in
many Greek myths; in the legend, for example, of Minos and
his early Cretan kingdom, in the myth of Aphrodite springing
from the sea by Cythera, and in the worship of Phoebus
Apollo which sprang up in Delos. Legend spoke of two
Minoi, one, the legislator of Crete, representative of all that
was most ancient in national polity, and for that reason
transferred to be the judge of souls in Hell; the second, he who
made war against the Athenians, and compelled them to pay
their dreadful yearly tribute of seven youths and seven
CONCLUSION. 205
maidens to be devoured of the Minotaur in the Cretan
labyrinth. Until Theseus came. No doubt the two Minoi
are but amplifications of one being, who, whether mythical or
historical, is an echo in the memory of Greeks of the still
older Cretan kingdom. In both tales Minos has a dreadful
aspect; perhaps because this "Lord of the Isles" had been
inimical to the early growing communities of the mainland.
The myths of Aphrodite and Apollo have been already
commented upon as enfolding within them the history of
their origin. Aphrodite is essentially an Asiatic divinity; she
springs to life in a Phoenician colony. But Phoebus Apollo is
before all things the god of the Ionian Greeks; and as their
first national life begins in the islands, his birth too takes
place in one of these, the central one of all, Delos. In Homer,
Delos, or Ortygia, is feigned to be the central spot of the earth.
Thus the Greeks were from the beginning a commercial
people. Before their history began, there is proof that they
had established a colony in the Delta of the Nile ; and the
frequent use of the word Javan ' in the Bible — which here
stands for lonians — shows how familiar was their name to
the dwellers in Asia. Wherever these mariners came in
contact with their brethren of the continent they excited in
them the love of adventure, and planted the germs of a new
life, so that it was under their paramount influence that these
primitive Greeks began to coalesce from mutually hostile
tribes into nations. In northern Greece it was that the
gathering together of tribes and cities first began. These
confederations were always based primarily upon religious
union, the protection of a common deity, a union to protect
and support a common shrine. They were called Amphicty-
onies, confederations of neighbors, a name which lived long
in the history of Greece. These amphictyonies seem first to
have arisen in the north. Here too the words Hellenic,
Hellenes, first spring up as national epithets. Hellas never
extended farther north than the north of Thessaly, and was
naturally marked ofE from foreign countries by Olympia and
Pierus. But the term spread southwards till it embraced
all Greek-speaking lands to the extremity of the peninsula,
and over the islands of the ^gean, and the coast of Asia jNIinor,
' The word would be more correctly spelt Yawan. It is known that Ion
has been changed from I von, or rather Xw6n,by the elision of the digamma.
206 THE DAVOf OF HISTOKTf.
on to the countless colonies which issued from Greek shores;
for Hellas was not a geographical term, it included all the
peoples of true Hellenic speech, and distinguished them from
the barbaroi, the " babblers," of other lands.
The two great nations of the Grseco-Italic family kept up
some knowledge of each other after they had forgotten the
days of their common life, and, strange to say, in days before
either of the two races had come to regard itself as a distinct
people, each was so regarded by the other. The Italians
classed the Greeks in the common name of Graeci or Graii,
and the Greeks bestowed the name of 'O^ocds upon the nation
of the Italians. It is curious to reflect upon the different
destinies which lay ahead of these two .races, who came under
such similar conditions into their new homes. Whether it
were through some peculiarity in their national character, or
a too rapid civilization, or the too great influences of a
changeful character and adventurous life, the Greeks never
welded properly together the units of their race; the Italians
through a much slower process of integration Uved to weld
their scattered fragments into the most powerful nation the
world has ever seen.
This second half, then, of the Gr£eco-Italic family, crossing
the Hellespont like (or with) the first dwellers in Greece
proper, proceeded onwards until, skirting the shores of the
Adriatic, they found out a second peninsula, whose fertile
plains tempted them to dispute the possession of the land
with the older inhabitants. Who were these older inhabi-
tants ? In part they must have been those lake-dwellers of
northern Italy to whom reference was made in our second
chapter, and who were evidently closely aUied to the stone-
age men of Switzerland: but besides these we have almost
no trace of the men who were dispossessed by the Italic
tribes, and these last who pushed to the farthest extremity of
the peninsula must have completely absorbed, or completely
exterminated, the aborigines. The process by which the
Italians spread over the land is altog-ether hidden from us.
Doubtless their several seats were not assigned to the different
branches at once, or without bloodshed. Though still no
more than separate tribes, we are able to divide the primitive
ItaUcans into stocks of which the southern most resembled
the ancient type of the Pelasgic family; those in the centre
formed the Latin group; while north of these lay the Etrus-
CONCLUSION. 207
cans, the most civilized of all the three. At this time the
tribes seem to have acknowledged no common bond, nothing
corresponding to the word Hellenic had sprung up to unite
their interests: existence was as yet to the strongest only.
And while the land was in this chaotic state, one tribe, or
small confederacy of tribes, among the Latin people began to
assert its pre-eminence. We see them dimly looming through
a cloud of fable, daring-, warlike, unscrupulous in their
dealings with their neighbors, firm in their allegiance to
each other. This tribe gradually increased in strength and
proportions till, from being a mere band of robbers defending
themselves within their rude fortifications, they grew in the
traditions of their descendants, and of the other tribes whom
in course of time they either subdued or absorbed, to be
regarded as the founders of Rome. They did not accomplish
their high destiny without trials and reverses. More power-
ful neighboring kingdoms looked on askance during the days
of their rise, and found opportunity more than once to over-
throw their city and all but subdue their state. Their former
brethren, tlie Kelts,' who had been beforehand of all the
Aryan races in entering Europe, and now formed the most
powerful people in this quarter of the globe, several times
swept down upon them like a devastating storm. But after
each reverse the infant colony arose with renewed Antsean
vigor.
Thus in Italjr, the development from the tribal to the na-
tional state was internal. No precocious maritime race awoke
in many different centres the seeds of nationalitj-; rather this
nationality was a gradual growth from one root, the slow
response to a central attractive force. The energy of Rome did
not go out in sea adventure, or in the colonization of distant
lands; but it was firmly bound to absorb the different people
of her own peninsula, people of like blood with herself,
but in every early stage of culture from an almost nomadic
condition to one of considerable advancement in the arts of
peace.
When from the Greeks and Romans we turn to the Kelts and
Teutons, we must descend much lower in the records of his-
tory before we can get any clear glimpse at these. The Kelts,
who were probably the first Aryans in Europe, seem gradually
' i.e. the Gauls.
208 THE DAWS OF HISTOEY.
to have been forced farther and farther west by the incur-
sions of other peoples. At one time, however, we have
evidence that they extended eastward, at least as far as the
Rhine, and over all that northern portion of Italy — now
Lombardy and part of Sardinia — which to the Romans went
by the name of Cisalpine GauL The long period of subjec-
tion to the Roman rule which Gaul experienced, obliterated
in that country all traces of its early Keltic manners, and we
are reduced for our information concerning these to the pages
of Roman historians, or to the remains of Keltic laws and
customs preserved in the western homes of the race. The
last have only lately received a proper attention. The most
primitiTe Irish code — the Brehon laws — has been searched
for traces of the primitive Keltic life. From both our sources
we gather that the Kelts were divided into tribes regarded
as members of one family. These clans were ruled over by
chiefs, whose offices were hereditary, or very early became so.
They were thus but slightly advanced out of the most primi-
tive conditions, — ^they cannot be described as a nation. Had
they been so, extensive and warlike as they were, they would
have been capable of subduing all the other infant nationalities
of Aryan folk. As it was, as mere combinations of tribes under
some powerful chieftain (Caesar describes just such), they gave
trouble to the Roman armies even under a Caesar, and were
in early days the most dreadful enemies of the Republic.
Under Brennos, they besieged and took Rome, sacked the
city, and were only induced to retire on the payment of a
heavyransom. A hundred years later, under another Brennus,
they made their way into Thrace, ravaged the whole country,
and from Nicomedes, King of Bithynia, obtained a settlement
in Asia Minor in the district which from them received the
name of Galatia. The occurrence of those two names Brennus
shows us that this could hardly have been a mere personal
name. It is undoubtedly the Celtic Brain, a king or chieftain,
the same from which we get the mythic Bran,' and in all pro-
bability the Irish O'Brien. The recognition of the Celtic
fighting capacity in the ancient world is illustrated by another
circumstance, and this is more especially interesting to us of
' For the story of Bran's head, which spoke after it was cat off, and
which is in its natural interpretation probably the son, see Mr. M.
Arnold's Cdtic Literature.
CONCLUSION. 209
the modern world, whose army is so largely made up of Kelts
from Ireland and Scotland (Highlanders). Hieron I., the
powerful tyrant of Syracuse, founded his despotism, as he
afterwards confessed,'chiefly upon the 30,000 Gaulish mer-
cenaries whom he kept in paj"-.
For the rest, we know little of the internal Keltic life and
of the extent of its culture. Probably this differed con-
siderably in different parts, in Gaul for instance, and in
Ireland. The slight notices of Gaulish religion which Csesar
gives refer chiefly to its external belongings, to the hereditary
sacerdotal class, who seem also to have been the bardic class;
of its myths and of their real significance we know little more
than what can be gathered by analogy of other nations. We
may assert that their nature-worship approached most nearly
to the Teutonic form among those of all the Aryan peoples.
Peculiarly interesting to us are such traces as can be
gleaned of the Teutonic race. The first time that they show
themselves upon the stage of History is in company with the
Kelts, if indeed the Teutones, who in company with the
Cimbri, the Tigurini and the Ambrones were defeated by
Marius (b.c. 101) were really Teutons.' The second of these
four names is the same with the still extant Cymri (pro-
nounced Cumri), the native name of the Welsh, who are of
course Kelts; so that, if this be the first appearance of
Germans, we find them in company with the Kelts, ^^'hat
branch of the German family (if any) the Teutones were, is
quite uncertain. Again, in the pages of Csesar we meet with
several names of tribes evidently of German origin. The
Treviri, the JIarcomanni (ilark men, men of the march or
boundary), Allemanni (all-men, or men of the great or the
mixed ' nation), the Suevi (Suabians), the Cherusei — men of
the sword, perhaps the same as iSa.vons, whose name has the
same meaning.
It is not till after the death of Theodosius at the end of the
fourth century of our era that the Germans fill a conspicuous
place on the liistorical canvas. By this time they had come to
be divided into a number of different nations, similar in most of
the elements of their civilization and barbarism, closely allied
in languages, but politically unconnected, or even opposed.
' For historic doubts on this point, see Latham's Gerinaiiia, Appendix.
'Latham's Oermania.
210 THE DAWN OP HISTORY.
Most of these Teutonic peoples grew into mighty nations and
deeply influenced the future of European history. It is there-
fore right that we pass them rapidly in review. 1. The Goths
had been long settled in the region of the Lower Danube,
chiefly in the country called McEsia, where Ulfilas, a Gothic
prince who had been converted to Christianity, returned
to preach to his countrymen, became a bishop among them,
and by his translation of the Bible into their tongue, the
McEso-Gothic, has left a perpetual memorial of the language.
During the reign of Honorius, the son of Theodosius, a portion
of this nation, the West- or Visi-goths, qiiitted their home
and undertook under Alaric (All-king) their march into
Italy, thrice besieged and finally took Some, Then turning
aside, they founded a powerful kingdom in the south of Gaul
and in Spain. A century later the East-Goths (Ostro-Goths),
under the great Theodoric (People's-king) again invaded Italy
and founded an Ostrogothic kingdom upon the ruins of the
^Yeste^n Empire. 2, 3, 4, 5. The Suevi, Alani, Burgundians,
and Vandals crossed the Rhine in 405, and entered Roman
territory never again to return to whence they came. The
Burgundians (City-men) fixed their abode in east-central
Gaul (Burgundy and Switzerland), where their kingdom lasted
till it was subdued by the Franks; but the other three
passed on into Spain, and the Vandals (Wends) ' from Spain
into Africa, where they founded a kingdom. 6. The Franks,
(Free-men) having been for nearly a century settled between
the Meuse and the Scheldt, began under Clovis (Chlodvig,
Hludwig, Lewis,) (480 a.d.) their career of victory, from which
they did not rest until the whole of Gaul owned the sway of
Merovingian kings. 7. The Longobardi (Long-beards, or men
of the long borde, long stretch of alluvial land), who after the
Ostrogoths had been driven out of Italy by the Emperor of
the East, founded in defiance of his power a second Teutonic
kingdom in that country, a kingdom which lasted till the
days of Charlemagne. 8. And last, but we may safely say not
least, the Saxons (Sword-men, from seaxa, a sword) who
invaded Britain, and under the name of Angles founded the
nation to which we belong, the longest lived of all those which
rose upon the ruins of the Roman Empire.
' And therefore possibly Slaves, Wend being a name applied by
Teutons to Slaves.
CONCLUSION. 21 1
The condition of the German people, even so late as the
time when they began their invasion of the Roman territory,
vi'as far behind that of the majority of their Aryan fellows.
It is likely that they were little more civilized than the Greeks
and Romans were, in days when they lived together as one
people. For the moment when we catch sight of these — the
Greeks and Romans — in their new homes, we see them settled
agriculturists, with no trace left of their wandering habits.
It was not so with the Teutons : they knew agriculture cer-
tainly, they had known it before they separated from the other
peoples of the European family (for the Greek and Latin words
for plough reappear in Teutonic speech'), but they had not
altogether bid adieu to their migratory life ; we see them still
flowing in their nebulous condition into the Roman lands. Even
the Tartars of our day — the very picture of a nomadic people
— practise some form of agriculture. They plant buckwheat,
which, growing up in a few months, allows them to reap the
fruits of their industry without tying them long to a par-
ticular spot. The Teutons were more stationary than the
Tartars, but doubtless they too were constantly shifting their
homes — choosing fresh homesteads, as Tacitus says they did,
wherever any spot or grove or stream attracted them. The
condition of society called the village community, which has
been described in a former chapter, though long abandoned by
the cultivated Greeks and Romans, was still suitable to the
exigencies of their life; but these exigencies imposed upon it
some fresh conditions. Their situation, the situation of those
who made their way into the western countries of Europe, was
essentially that of conquerors ; for they must keep in sub-
jection the original inhabitants, whether Romans or Celts ;
and so all their social arrangements bent before the primary
necessity of an effective war footing. Age and wisdom were
of less value to the community than youthful vigor. The
patriarchal chief, chosen for his reputation for wisdom and
swaying by his mature counsels the free assemblies of the
states, gives place with them to the leader, famous for his
valor and fortunes in the field, by virtue of which he e.xacts a
more implicit obedience than would be accorded in unwarlike
times, until by degrees his office becomes hereditary ; the
partition of the conquered soil among the victors, and the
' e.g. Old German, aran, to plough =K7'rtr€, &c.
212 THE DAWN OP HISTOBY.
holding of it upon conditions of military service, conditions
which led so easily to the assertion of a principle of primo-
geniture, and thence, by slow but natural stages, to the con-
ditions of tenure known as feudal ; these are the marks of
the early Teutonic society.
Such germs of literary life as they had were enshrined in
the ballads, such as all nations possess in some form. The
re-echoes of these have come down to us in the earliest known
poems by men of Teutonic race, all of which are unfortu-
nately of very recent date. All are distinguished by the
principle of versifying which is essentially Teutonic ; the
trusting of the cadence, not to an exact measurement of
syllables or quantities, but to the pauses or beats of the voice
in repetition, the effect of these beats being heightened by the
use of alliteration. Poems of this true Teutonic character are
the elder (or Soemund's) " Edda " in the Icelandic, our Saxon
poem " Beowulf " and the " Bard's Tale," and one or two Low
German ballads, the most celebrated of which, though one of
the latest, is the " Nibelungen lied." These poems repeat the
old mythic legends which had for centuries been handed down
from father to son, and display the mythology and religion
of our German ancestors, such as in a former chapter we
endeavored to. sketch them out. Slight as they are, they are
of inestimable value, in that they help us to read the mind of
heathen Germany, and to weigh the significance of the last
great revolution in Europe's history, a revolution wherein we
through our ancestors have taken and through ourselves are
still taking part, and in which we have therefore so close an
interest.
But having carried the reader down to this point, our task
comes to an end. Even for Europe, the youngest born as it
were in the world's history, when we have passed the epoch of
Teutonic invasion, the star of history sera ruhens has definitely
risen. Nations from this time forward emerge more and more
into light, and little or nothing falls to the part of pre-historic
study.
NOTES AND AUTHORITIES.
NOTES AND AUTHORITIES.
CHAPTERS I. AND II.
Christy and Lartet, J?brcB Aquitanica.
Davis and Thurnam, Crania Jiritannica.
Dawkins, Cave Sunting.
Evans, Stone Implements of G-reat Sritain.
Geikie, The Great Ice Age.
Lyell, Antiqrdty of Man.
Lubbock, Pre-historie Times.
TjloT, JEkirli/ Sistory of Mankind.
Tylor, Primitive Culture.
Wilson (O.), Pre-historio Man.
Mortillet, Origine de la yavigation et de la Piche.
Troyon, Sanitations Lacustres.
Keller, Ffahlbauten (translated by J. E. Lee).
And numerous articles in the Archaeological journals of
England, France, and Germany.
P. 9. The question concerning the history of Palaeolithic man
which presses for the most immediate solution, is that which has
been just touched upon here: whether the variety of animal
remains with which his remains are found associated, do
really point to an immensely lengthened period of his existence,
in this primitive state. AVe have said, that his bones are
found associated with those of the mammoth (Elephas prim,i-
genitis), with the woolly rhinoceros, and with other animals
216 THE DAWK OF HISTORY.
■whose existence seems to imply a cold temperate, or almost
frigid, climate; at another place, or a little lower in the same
river bed (the higher gravel beds are the oldest), we may find
the bones of the hippopotamus, an animal which in these
days is never found far away from the tropics. The conclusion
seems obvious: man must have lived through the epoch of
change — enormously long though it was — ^from a cold to an
almost tropical climate. Some writers have freely accepted
this view, and even gone beyond it to argue the possibilitj- of
man having lived through one of the great climatic revolutions
which produced an Ice Age. (See the arguments on this head
in Mr. Greikie's Ice Age.) And in a private letter, written
from the West Indies, Kingsley says that he sees reason for
thinking that man existed in the Miocene Era (see Life of
Kingsley).
On the other hand, these rather startling theories have not
yet received their imprimatur from the highest scientific
authorities. There are many ways in which they clash with
the stoiy which the stone-age remains seem to tell of man's
primitive life. For instance, the civilization of the caves is to
all appearance in advance of that of the drift-beds; and yet
as we have seen (p. 10), the cave men must have existed
during the earlier part of the stone age, that of the mammoth.
Here we see evidences of a decided improvement, an advance;
whereas between the drift-remains associated with the
mammoth and those associated with the hippopotamus are
seen few or none.
P. 32. The view put forward in this chapter concerning the
races of the neolithic men in Europe, is that which seems to
the writer most consistent with fl^^ the known facts, concerning
the distribution of pre-historic man. As was said in the
Preface, the students in different branches of pre-historic
inquiry have not begun yet to collate sufficiently the results
of their researches, and their opinions sometimes clash. We
have to reconcile the ethnologist with the student of com-
parative philology. Most of the former are agreed that the
earliest inhabitants of this quarter of the globe were most
allied in character to the Lapps and Finns; and were con-
sequently of what we have distinguished (Ch. V.) as the yellow-
skinned family. But they are far from agreed that the bronze-
using men were not of the same race; and some (Keller for
KOTES AND AUTHORITIES. 217
instance) are violently opposed to the notion that the sub-
stitution of metal for stone was a sudden transition, and due
to foreign importation. In some instances there is evidence
that the change was gradual.
But the evidence on the other side is stronger. The human
remains found with the bronze weapons are generally clearly
distinguishable (in formation of skull, &e.), from those
associated with the implements of stone. The funeral rites of
the bronze-age men were different from those of the stone-age
men; for while the former buried their dead, the latter
seem generally to have burnt theirs (see Grimm, Ueber das
Verbrennen der I,eichen). Now we have strong reason for
believing that the Aryan races (see Chs. IV. V.) practised
this sort of interment; and we have further reason for
thinking, that the use of metals was known to them before their
entry into Europe (see Pictet, Les Orlghies indo-eiiropeennes,
and Grimm, GescJdchte der detit. Spniche). Moreover, these
Arj-ans must have come into Europe at some time, and when
they did come, they must have produced an entire revolution
in the life of its inhabitants. No time seems so appropriate
for their appearance as that which closes the age of stone.
This theory does not preclude the possibility of, in many
places, a side by side existence of stone users and bronze users,
or even a gradual extension of the art of metallurgy; and these
conditions would be especially likely to arise in such secluded
spots as the lake-dwellings. Therefore, Dr. Keller's arguments
are not impeached by the theory that the Aryans were the
introducers of bronze into Europe.
CHAPTERS III. AOT) IV.
MuUer, Lectures on the Science of Language.
Id., Sanskrit Literature.
Peile, Introduction to Greek and Latin Etymology.
"VVilson, Introduction to the Big Veda Sanhita.
Pictet, Les Origines Indo-Miropeennes.
Bopp, Yergleichende OrammatiJc.
10
218 THE DAWN OP HISTOBY.
Grimm, GesehicMe der Deut. Sprache.
Kfihn, Zeitsch.fur Verg. Sprachforschung.
Pott, Etymologische Forschungen.
P. 40. Although what is said here concerning the superior
importance of consonantal sounds over those of vowels holds
universally, and must necessarily do so from the characters of
the two sorts of sound, yet the relative position which vowels
and consonants hold varies greatly in different classes of
language.
In Aryan languages the essential root is made up of vowels
and consonants, and the variations upon the root idea are
generally expressed by additions to the root and not by internal
changes in it. In this way, as we saw, all grammatical in-
flexions are made: homo, hom-inis, am-o, am-abam, rraru,
ennrrov, ennfiov, &c. But in Semitic languages the root consists
of the consonants only, and the inflections are produced by
internal changes, changes of the vowels which belong to a
consonant. For example, in Arabic the three consonants k-t-l
(kail) represent the abstract notion of the act of killing.
From them we get Jcdtil, one who kills; Mil (pi. aktal), an
enemy; katala, he slew; kutila, he was slain. From z-r-b
(zarb), the act of striking; zarbun, a striking (in concrete
sense); zardbun, a striker; zaraba, he struck; zuriba, he was
struck. Compare these with occido, occidi, occisor, or with
Twro), TfTv^a, &c., and we see that in the Aryan tongues the
radical remains almost unchanged, and the inflections are made
ah extra ^ but in the Semitic language the inflections are made
by changes of vowel sound within the framework of the root
consonants.
The usual grammatical root in Arabic is composed of three
consonants as in the examples given above. Most of the
Semitic languages are in too fully formed a state to allow us
to see how these roots, which are of course at the least dis-
syllabic, grew up out of single sounds; but a comparison with
some languages of the Semitic family (e.g. Egyptian)- which
are still near to their early radical state, show us that they
must have done so.
P. 43. The Coptic language, which is the nearest we can
get to the tongue of tlie ancient Egyptians, is extremely
interesting in that it displays the processes of grammar
NOTES AND AFTHOEITIES. 219
formation, as has just been said in a more intelligible shape
than we find in the higher Semitic tongues.
P. 59. It must not be forgotten that the ethnology of a
people is not necessarily the same as its language. When we
speak of afamily of language including the tongues of a certain
number of races, we do not imply that they were wholly of
the same ethnological family. This caution is especially
necessary as regards the earliest great pre-historio nations who
seem to have been what are called Cushites — anything but
pure Semites (see Ch. V.) — but whose languages may properly
be ranged in the Semitic family. The Egyptian, for instance,
was more nearly monosyllabic than any other Semitic tongue
(Ch. XIII.); yet such inflections as it has show an evident
relationship with Hebrew and other Semitic tongues (see
Appendix to Bunsen's Egypfs Place in Universal llistory).
CHAPTER V.
Bunsen, Egypfs Place, &g. (ed. Dr. Birch).
Legge, Chinese Classics, with I>ttrodi(c'tion, cfec.
Lenorraant, Manual of fheAncient History of the East (trs.).
Pickering, Races of Man.
RawHnson, Herodotus, with IN'otes.
Id., Five Great Monarchies, cfcc.
Mariette Bey, Abr'ege cle VHist. d'Sgypte.
Maury, JLe Livre et r Homme.
Rouge (Vte. de), Excmien de V Ouvrage de M. Bunsen.
Brugsch, Jtecueils de Monuments Egyptiens.
Id., Histoire d'']Sgy]3t.
Id., Materiaux pour servir, &c.
Lepsius, Chronologie der ilgypten.
P. 71. The word Turanian is untenable as an ethnological
term. It can be used — though with a somewhat loose signifi-
cation — to distinguish those languages which are in the
agglutinative stage. But the reader must be careful not to
suppose that it comprises a class of nearly allied peoples, as
220 THE DAWN OF HISTOET.
the Aryan and Semitic families of language, upon the whole,
do. The only race which includes the Turanian peoples of
Europe and Asia includes also those who speak monosyllabic
languages : this is the yellow race, and is of course a division
of the widest possible kind. It is to be observed that while
the yellow race is spoken of as extending down all the islands
of the Australasian group, it does not include Australia itself,
whose inhabitants belong to the Australian division of the
black race (p. 70). These Australian negroes who difEer
notably from those of Africa are found also inhabitants of
Madagascar. The reader may consult an interesting paper by
Professor Huxley (Proc. of Prehist. Asso.) for some further
views concerning the extension of the Xegritic famUy : though
all these viewshave not been adopted in the foregoing chapters.
Concerning the relationship of the Egyptians to the negroes
a variety of opinions are held. There can be no question that
their type of face forbids us to doubt that there was some
relationship between them ; while the representation of
negroes upon the ancient monuments of Egypt shows that
from the remotest historical period there was a marked dis-
tinction between the peoples, and that from that early time
till now the negroes have not changed in the smallest particular
of ethnical character. The Egyptians and the primitive
Chaldaeans are considered to have been essentially the same
people, the Cushites — or as some call them Hamites — a race
which perhaps anciently spread from Susiana across Arabia
and the Red Sea to Abyssinia and Egypt.
The term Hamitic is altogether misleading, and had better
be unused in ethnical classifications. The real meaning, if
we foUow the intention of its use in the Bible, is to distinguish
from the purer Semites (Hebrews, Moabites, &c.), a number
of races, such as the Canaanites generally, who spoke Semitic
languages, but were very probably of impure blood, very likely
of Semitic and Turanian intermixture. If the word Hamitic
be used to include the rest of the inhabitants of the world
who were not Semitic or Aryan, then, though it will not be
very useful, no objection can be taken to its employment.
But in that case we shall be obliged, forming our classification
by the known rather than by the unknown, to include the
Canaanites (who spoke Semitic languages) in the Semitic
family; and this wiU be in direct contradiction to the use of
Hamitic in the Bible narrative.
NOTES AND AUTHOKITIES. 221
CHAPTERS VI. AND VII.
Maine, Ancient Iicitc.
Id., foliage Communities.
Id., Early Institutions.
Nasse, Agricultural Community (translated by Ouvry).
Coulanges, La Cite Antique.
Lavalaye, La Propriete et ses Formes Primitives.
Pictet, Les Origines Indo-Europiennes.
Grimm, Deutschs Rechts-Alterthilmer.
Maurer, Gesohichte der Dorf- Yerfassmig.
In the account here given of the two most important social
forms, the patriarchal family and the village communitv, the
endeavor has been rather to g-ive such a picture of them
as may exhibit their chief peculiarities in a sufficiently clear
and striking manner, than to enter into a minute examination
of the various remains from which the picture has been
constructed. It must not be supposed, however, that the
representations here given can be completely verified from
existing information. They are rather to be looked upon as
typical of what these forms may have been in their earliest
stage and under favorable circumstances. "We only meet
with traces of them when undergoing decay. Although the
writer fully recognizes the importance of the researches of
McLellan and others concerning the earlier conditions
of society, no attempt has been made to give an account
of the results which have been arrived at in this field of
inquiry. Two reasons may be assigned for this omission.
Firstly, the intrinsic difficulties of treating the subject in
a manner suitable to the " general reader " are, it is conceived,
a sufficient excuse for the omission. Secondly, the results at
present attained are so vague that the mere statement of
them would be valueless without entering into great detail.
AU that can as yet fairly be regarded as established is
either that the Aryan and Semitic races have at one time
possessed social customs and practices similar to those which
are found in the most barbarous peoples; or that they have
222 THE DAWTSr OF HISTORY.
at some time in their histoiy so far amalgamated with, or
been influenced by other races that had emerged from this
state, as to absorb into their traditions and customs traces of
a social condition of a much lower and more primitive kind
than that in which we first find them. If we try to form any
conception of what the earlier state may have been, we at
once see that the results at present attained are almost purely
negative. All that can be predicated is that at one time a
large proportion of the human race did not possess the notions
of the family and the marriage tie which were entertained
bv people in the patriarchal state; that they did not trace
blood relationship in the same way. What particular
customs immediately preceded or led to the patriarchal family,
whether this latter is to be considered as the original social
type, and the lower forms are to be regarded as derived from
it, or vice versa, — to these questions no satisfactory answer can
at present be given.
Each step indeed in social change is to be looked upon, to a
great extent, as simply a phenomenon to be noted, the causes
for which it is impossible to determine accurately. This is
especially the case with the village community. The extent
of its distribution would incline one to the belief, that it is a
natural or necessary result of a certain stage of social develop-
ment; while the elaborate and artificial nature of its con-
struction points to the probability of some common origin from
which its development might be traced. The greatest difiSculty,
however, lies in trying to assign to this institution its due
effect on civilization: for it is frequently found in close com-
bination with institutions to which its spirit seems most strongly
opposed. Thus while we find it flourishing among the Germanic
tribes, we also discover among them a tendency to the custom
of primogeniture much more marked than is discoverable
among other Aryan races. Yet this custom scarcely seems to
find a place in the pure village community beyond the limits
of each individual household. At the same time the patri-
archal power was certainly less among the Grerraans than
among the early Romans, and probably also less than among
the Slaves.
NOTES AND AUTHORITIES. 223
CHAPTERS VIII.— XL
Bunsen, God in History (trs.).
Id., Egypfs Place, &c.
Cox, Mythology of the Aryan Nations.
Mtiller, Op. cit.
Id., Lectures on Sc. of Religion.
Id., Chips from a German Workshop.
Ralston, Songs of the Hussiati People.
Id. Mussian Folk-tales.
Rawlinson, Op. cit.
Bournouf, Commentaire sur le Yafna.
Rouge (Vte. de). Etudes si/r le JRituel des jSgypt.
Busching, Ntbeliinge Xied.
Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie.
Id. Ueber das Verbr. der Leichen.
Id. Seldenh-ich.
Ktihn, Sagen., Gebrduche u. Mdhrchen.
Id. in Zeitschf. v. Sp. and Z.f. deut. Alt.
Lepsius, Todtenbuch.
Preller, GriechiscJie Mythologie.
Simrock, Sandbuch dcr d. Myth.
Welcker, GriechiscJie Gotterlehre.
Edda den eldra og Snorra.
P. 127. I take the liberty of transcribing a passage from
Mr. Max. Mtiller's Lecture on the Science of Refigion.
" One of the oldest names of the deity, among the Semitic
nations, was El. It meant strong. It occurs in the Baby-
lonian inscriptions as Ilu, Grod, and in the very name of
Bab-il, the gate or temple of II. In Hebrew, it occurs both
in its general sense, as strong, or hero, and as a name of God.
ATe have it in Beth-el, the House of God, and in many other
names. If used with the article as ha-El, the Strong One, or
the God, it always is meant in the Old Testament for Jehovah,
the true God. El, however, always retained its appellative
power, and we find it applied therefore, in parts of the Old
Testament, to the God of the Gentiles also.
" The same El was worshipped at Byblus, by the Phoenicians,
224 THE DAWN OF HISTOBT.
and he was called there the Son of Heaven and Earth. His
father was the son of Eliun, the most high god, who had been
killed by wild animals. The son of Eliun who succeeded
him was dethroned, and at last slain by his own son El, whom
Philo identifies with the Greek Kronos, and represents as the
presiding deity of the planet Saturn. In the Himyaritic
inscriptions too the name of El has been discovered.
" With the name of El, PhUo connected the name of Elohim,
the plural of Eloah. In the battle between ElanA his father,
the allies of El, he says, were called Eloeim, as those who
were with Kronos were called Kronioi. This is no doubt a
very tempting etymology of Eloah; but as the best Semitic
scholars, and particularly Professor Fleischer, have declared
against it, we shall have, however reluctantlv, to surrender
it.
" Eloah is -the same word as the Arabic Hah, God. In
the singular, Eloah is used synonymously with El;, in the
plural, it may mean gods in general, or false gods: but it
becomes in the Old Testament the recognized name for the
true God, plural in form but singular in meaning. In Arabic
Hah without the article means a god in general; with the
article Al-Ilah, or Allah, becomes the name of the Gt)d of
Abraham and Moses."'
Nature- Wbi-ship. — The part- which the phenomena of nature
play in training the thoughts of uncultivated men towards
religion, and poetry, and hero-worship, and legendary lore, has
been made the subject of warm controversy. And it may not
be altogether amiss if we bestow a little thought upon the
question, and upon the character of evidence by which this
nature-worship is thought to be established.
That it is in no sense a degradation of our estimate of man
to suppose that his thoughts were led upward from the con-
templation of the objects of sense which lay around to the
contemplation of a Higher Being beyond the region of
sensible things, will become, it is to be hoped, clear upon a
little reflection, and upon a candid examination of what has
been said in pp. Ill, 113. But stiU it may fairly be asked.
Did this process of deifying the powers of nature take place:
why should not the human mind have come independently by
the direct revelation of God's voice speaking in the hearts of
men to a notion of a God ruler of the world, and then by
NOTES AND AUTHORITIES. 225
a natural process of decay, proceed thence to a polytheism, a
pantheon of beings who were supposed to rule over the
different phenomena of nature, just as the different members
of a cabinet hold sway over the various branches of national
government ?
This was, until comparatively recent years, the received
opinion concerning mythology, and it is one which tacitly
keeps its place in the writings of many scholars, especially of
those who have been brought up almost exclusively upon the
study of classical languages and classical religions : for it is
only after a wide study, and comparison of many different
religions in many different stages, that the conviction of the
opposite truth forces itself upon one. It is obvious that for
the purpose of a scientific knowledge of the formation of
religious systems, we must not observe them in their fullest
development, but rather turn to such of their brother-
religions as have remained in a more stunted condition. Nor,
again, should we deal with an extremely imaginative people,
like the Greeks: for with them changes from any primitive
form will be much more rapid and more complete than the
changes in some more meagre systems. The Teutonic mytho-
logies are for this purpose more expressive than those of
Greece; and partly on this account, partly because they are
less familiar to the reader, we have drawn largely upon them
for illustration in our chapters upon Aryan religion and Folk-
tales.
The most useful of all, however, is the religion of the Vedas,
in so far as the Vedas give us an insight into the earliest faith
of the people of India. Here we may often detect the etymo-
logy of a name which would be inexplicable if we onl^' knew it
in Greek or Latin and Norse. We have seen how this is the
case in respect of the word Dyaus; and how the etymology
of this word clearly shows, what from themselves we should
never discover, that Zeus and Jupiter and Tyr are names
which had originally the same meaning as a natural pheno-
menon. We say originally, because the Sanskrit is found by
numberless examples (whereof we give one, dtdiitar) to show
an origin for many words whose origin is lost in other Aryan
languages, and therefore to stand nearest to the primitive
tongue of the Aryans. In this lies the whole force of the
argument. If the old Aryans once used the same word for
" heaven " and for "god," it is impossible to believe that they
10*
226 THE DAWN OP HISTORY.
had the power of separating at will the two ideas which we
receive from these two words; for an examination of formal
logic shows us that notions do not become completely distin-
guishable until thej receive individual names. The inference is
obvious that the gods of our Aryan ancestors were nature-gods
in the strictest sense.
It is equally true, however, that such diversities tend to
fall into certain forms, and accommodate themselves to ideals
which we may believe pre-existed in the human mind. It is
thus that we have noticed the sun-gods and the heaven-gods
fulfilling their separate functions, and answering to certain
defined needs in the human heart.
P. 137. Persephone and Baldur. — The true tragedy of the
death of summer is in the Norse religion portrayed in the
myth of Baldur, the sun-god, which in respect of its force and
intention fully answers to the Persephone myth. It has
often been a subject of surprise that Baldur's-bale, Baldur's
death, was not celebrated at a time of year appropriate to
mourningfor the loss of the sun-god, but at the summer solstice
when Baldur attains his fullest might and brightest splendor.
Why choose such a day as that to think of his mournful
bedimming in the wintry months ? It seems to show a strange,
gloomy, and forecasting nature on the part of our Norse
ancestors to be always reflecting that in the midst of life —
in the midst of our brightest, fullest life — ^we are in death.
I imagine that the custom of celebrating Baldur's-bale in
this way arose not entirely from the desire to preach this
melancholy sermon; though in part no doubt this desire was
the cause of it. It arose also from a dramatic instinct
inducing men for the sake of a strong contrast to surround the
sun-god with all the images of summer at the time when we
are thinking of his death. It gives a dramatic intensity to
\ the moment; and thus it corresponds exactly with the picture
of PersephonS playing in the meadows in spring-time sur-
rounded by all the attributes of spring, just as Hades rises
from the earth to bear her for ever from the light of day.
P. 142. — ^Thorr's journey to the house of giant TJtgardloki
(out-world fire— fire of the under-world of Ch. x., and Ch.
xi. p. 168) is not told in the elder Edda, but appears at some
length in the Edda of Snorro (Daemisogur 44 — 48). There
NOTES ANB ATJTHOEITIES. 227
can be little question of the antiquity of the tale, closely con-
nected as it is with the labors of Hercules as well as with all the
most important elements in the Norse mythology. But it may
very easily be that it has undergone some modifications before
appearing in its present form; and we should be naturally
inclined to signalize as modern additions those parts of the
story which have an allegorical rather than a truly mythical
character. Allegory is a thing altogether distinct from real
myth, and when it springs up shows that the mythical character
of the story is falling into oblivion. The former is a form of
self-conscious fancy, while the latter is the child of genuine be-
lief. For instance — as an illustration of the difference between
allegory and mythology — I should be inclined to signalize the
appearance of the beings Ijogi (fire) and EUi (old age) as
a fanciful, an invented element in the story. Logi and Elli
are not important enough to be genuine deities of Fire and
Age. In fact, the former element has already received
its personification in the person of Loki. Yet the inci-
dents with which they are associated may well have formed an
integral character of the older legend; and in the case of
Elli I feel pretty sure must have done so.
What I imagine to have been the real case is this. Thorr's
journey to Utgardloki is a story closely parallel to the myth of
the Death of Baldur, and tells once more the story of the sun-god
descending to the under-world. This fact is clearly shown by
the name of the giant, who is nothing else than a personification
of the funeral fire, the fire which surrounds the abode of souls
(pp. 153, 176). All the powers with whom Thorr strives are
personifications in some way of death — all, or almost all. He
tugs as he thinks at a cat and cannot lift it from the ground;
but the cat is Jormundgandr, the great mid-earth serpent, in
part the personification of the sea, but also (by reason of this)
the personification of the devouring hell " rapax Orcus "
(compare Cerberus, the Sarameyas, and notice the middle
age change of Orcus to Ogre). He (or, in the story as we now
have it, Loki) contends with a personification of the death-fire,
not with a mere allegorical representation of fire in its
common aspect. And again he contends not with Elli, old
age, but with Hel, the goddess of the under-world.
This is the original form into which I read back the
mythical journey to Utgardloki. It is easy to see how the
story got changed. Loki is made to accompany Thorr instead
228 THE DAWN" OF HISTOET.
of to fight against him; the later mythologies not being able
to understand how Loki could sometimes be a god and dwell
in Asgard, sometimes be a giant of Jotunheim. With this
change the others would easily creep in. Logi is invented to
fight with Loki, and EUi in place of Hel appears in obedience
to a desire for allegory in the place of true myth.
P. 150. Thanatos. — Thanatos and Hypnos belong again to
the region of allegory rather than pure mythology. For in
pure mythology the place of the first is taken by Hades. In
Vedic mythology their part is played by the two Saramayas;
one probably chiefly a divinity of Death, the other of Sleep,
and the two being brothers, as of course Death and Sleep
are.
It has been suggested that among a group of figures sculp-
tured upon the drum of a column brought from the Artemesium
(Temple of Diana) at Ephesus, one is a representation of
Thanatos, Death. The figure is that of a boy, as young and
comely as Love, but of a somewhat passive expression, and
with a sword girt upon his thigh, which Eros never wears.
His right hand is raised as though he were beckoniug: and
with him stand Demeter and Hermes, both divinities connected
with the rites of the dead. Save in this instance — if it be
an instance — Thanatos is unknown to Greek art. Hypnos
when he appears wears a fair womanish face with closed eyes,
scarcely distinguishable from the artistic representation of
the Gorgon. As the moon, this last is in some sense a being
of sleep and death.
P. 159. — Myths and the rules of their interpretation have
been made of late years the subject of controversy almost as
keen as that which has raged round that primary question
concerning the existence of nature-worship which we have dis-
cussed above. In this (Xlth) and the previous chapters the
writers have endeavored to keep before the reader only those
features in a myth which are essential towards the informa-
tion we are seeking. For in stance, the number of myths which
can in any system be traced to the phenomena of the sun is
a matter of the highest importance, as showing the influence
which a certain set of phenomena had upon the national
mind: but of much less significance is the question of the
exact origin of the different features in these legendary tales.
NOTES AND AUTHORITIES. 229
If any given tale be found to originate solely in a confusion of
language, a mistaken, misinterpreted epithet, then it has almost
no interest for us as an interpreter of the popular thought and
feeling: unless indeed the shape which the story takes should
reproduce (as it probably will) some one of the universal
forms which seem to stand ready in the human mind for the
moulding of its legends.
With regard to the particular question of sun (and other
nature) myths and their occurrence, the question which stands
between rival disputants is something of this sort: " All
myths, that is, all primitive legends," says one party which
may be regarded as the Philological school, " are found, if we
examine closely enough into the meaning of the proper
names which occur in them, to represent originally some
natural phenomenon, which is in nine cases out of ten (at
least for southern nations) a story of some part of the sun's
daily course, some one of his innumerable aspects." " Is it
conceivable," say their opponents (we may call these the
Ethnologists) " that man could ever have been in such a condi-
tion that all his attention was turned upon the workings of
nature or upon the heavenly bodies? Far more probable is
it, that these stories arose from a variety of natural causes,
real traditions of some hero, reminiscences of historical events
transformed in the mist of exaggeration, or the legacy of days
when men had strange and almost inconceivable ideas about the
world they lived in, when they thought animals spoke and had
histories like men, that men could and frequently did become
trees, and trees men, &c., &c. Indeed, so strange and sense-
less are the notions of primitive men, that it is wasted labor
to try and interpret them." This is a rough statement of the
two heads of argument. The second, so far as merely negative,
must fall before positive proof, as that the nature-myth hidden
in an immense number of stories can be by philology satisfac-
torily unravelled. There is, however, also positive proof on
the other side, when many stories, which as nature-myths
interpreted on philological principles should only have existed
among the people of a particular linguistic family, are found
among other races who have no real relation whatever to
the first.
Both these sets of facts can be adduced, and to reconcile
them in every case would no doubt be hard. On the whole,
however, it will perhaps be found that, as has just been said,
230 THE DAT^X OF BaSTOET.
certain moulds for the construction of stories seem to exist
already in the human mind, obeying some natural craving,
and into these, as into a Procrustean bed, the myth more or
less easily must fit. These primitive forms do not, however,
preclude the undoubted existence — strange as such a pheno-
menon may appear — of an especial mythopaeic age connected
with man's observations of the phenomena of nature — an age
in which natural religions gained their foundation, and when
the doings of the external world had a much deeper effect
upon man's imagination than in later times they have ever
had.
CHAPTERS XIL AND XHT
Mahaffy, Prolegomena to History.
Rawlinson, Five Monarchies.
Tyler, Early History of Mankind.
Lenormant, Essai sur la Propagation deVAlpJuJiet Phkni-
cien.
Xone of the Semitic alphabets can be considered as quite
complete; as a complete alphabet requires a subdivision of
sounds into their smallest divisions, and an appropriate sign for
each of these. But none of the Semitic alphabets in their
original forms seem to have possessed these qualifications.
They never get nearer to the expression of vowel sounds than
by letters which may be considered half vowels. Each of
their consonants (in Phenician, Hebrew, Arabic) carried a
vowel sound with it, and was therefore a syllabic sign and
not a true letter.
CHAPTER XIV.
Gibbon, with notes by Milman, &e.
Latham, Germania of Tacitus.
Id., Nationalities of Europe.
NOTES AND AUTHORITIES. 231
Curtius, Grk'sch. Gesc/i.
Mommsen, Die utthrital. Dialekten.
Id., Rom. Gusch.
"\'on Maurer, Op. cit.
P. 206. It will be observed that (following Mommsen)
the Etruscans are here spoken of as belonging to the Italic
family. This is liable to grave doubts; but the question is
at present too unsettled to admit of satisfactory discussion
in this place.
INDEX.
INDEX.
« A BANT," 96.
■^*- Abraham, continuous history
begins with, 68, 78.
AcliiUes, 1.54.
Adam gives names to the animals, 37.
Adoption into patriarchal family, SO,
90 ; a mark of decay of patriarchal
system, 91.
Agglutinative stage of language, 47,
53, 54, 71.
" Ago," 40.
Agriculture, 99, 100.
Air personified and worshipped by the
Egyptians, 13*3.
Allegorical phrases, 112.
Alphabet, the history of, 179, 200.
Amber found in remains of second
stone age, 26.
Amenta, 115, IIS.
Ancestral worship among Aryans, SS ;
importance attached to, 91.
Animal worship among the Egyptians,
explanation of, 123.
Ann, 1^5.
Anubis, 134.
Aphrodite, 13S, 305.
Apis, 118.
Apollo, 132, 133, 134, 205.
Art, rudiments of, in stone age, 10;
interest of, 13.
Artemis, 138; and Eadymion, 165
Aryans, 59, 79 ; their origin, 60 ; sepa-
ration, 60 ; migrations, 61 ; lan-
guages, 80 ; not a nomadic race,
80 ; the Western, 81 ; brought
bronze into Europe, 86 ; change of
habits, 100; religions, 12S; my-
thology, 129 ; faculty for abstract
thought, 131 ; their separation,
203.
Ashtoreth, 126.
Assj-rians, 76.
Astarte, 138.
Atum or Amun, 117.
"DAAL, 125.
-" Baal-Zebub. 126.
Baldur, 141, 143, 153, 156, 174.
Bale-fires, 158.
Baltic, mounds on shores of, 19; free
communication with ocean in sec-
ond stone age. 33.
Bards or story-tellers, 180.
'^Beauty and the Beast," 162.
Beetle, sacred, 134.
Belarius, speech of, 13S.
Belgium, caves of, 9.
Bel Merodach (Jupiter), 126.
Beowulf, 1.56, 168, 313.
Bible narrative, blanks in, 4 ; his-
torical part not to be interpreted
too literally, 69.
Bil, 135.
Bone implements, 10.
" Boulutos," 96.
Brennus, 20S.
Bronze age, 33, 93.
Bronze implements, significance of,
86 ; weapons, manuf actiure of, 93.
Brynhild, 176.
Bunsen's "Egypt's Place in History,"
135.
Bargundiaus, 210.
236
ESTBEX
Burial of dead in second stone age, 27 ;
position of body in moand, 27 ;
resemblance to Esqaimanx and
Lapp customs of to-day, 28.
pAXAA:!sITE inBCiiptions, 108.
^ Cannibals, men of stone age not
c, 22.
Canoes, primitive, 2G.
Carlyle, quotation from, 2.
Camae, '2S.
Case endings, ongin of, 44.
Gaspi^m. S^ 151.
Cattle, words relating to, &eqa«it in
Aryan languages, 91.
Cave drawings, 11; oidgin of, ac-
counted for, 12.
Cave dwellers, 11.
Cerbems, 152.
Chaldeans, astronomical knowledge,
74; their kingdom, 75; Turanian
chaiacter of their civilization, 75 ;
their empire overthrown, 76 ; their
mythol<^y, 125.
Chedorlaomer, 75.
Chemosh, 126.
Chinese langna^;, 52 ; the type of the
yeUow class, 70; civilization, 77;
BTKtem of records, 181; writing,
isa
Chlovis, 57.
C^derella, 177.
Civilization, gradual improvement in,
S2.
Commerce in early times, 94^
Commerce in second stone age, 85.
CompeuiatiTe philoh^y, 67.
Comparison of verb *' to be" in Eng-
lish, Sanskrit, and Latin, 45.
Confncius, 77.
Consonants, corresponding, in English
and German, 5&
Cotean des Fraizies, 85.
"Crab," 41.
Cremation practised by Aryans, 154.
Cromlechs, 24.
Cashites, 71.
Customs of patriarchal society, 88.
Cuneiform vreiting, 200 ; difficulty of
interpreting, 201.
Cupid and Psyche, 163.
Cymri,209.
TiAGON, 12a
^ Daphne, 161.
"Daughter," 56, 64, 65, 80, 130.
Demeter, 137.
Demotic writing, 195.
Devonshire, caves of, 9.
D(^, domesticated in second stone age,
21 ; and sm.aller than in bronze
period, 22.
Dolmens, 24^
Domesticatiqu of animals begins with
bronze age, 93.
Dordogne, caves of, 9. 10.
Dravidian class of languages, 54^
Drift implements, 7.
Drift period, 9 ; men of, 82.
'* Druid circles " a misnomer, 29
Dyaus. 130, 132.
T?ADWINE, 1.
^-^ " Echo " class of words, 38.
Edda, the elder, 212.
B^ypt, physical character of, 1 14.
f^ptaan civilization, 73; life. 74;
mythology, 113; system of writ-
ing, 191 ; *' Book of the Dead,"
149.
Egyptians a Semitic race, 59.
El, 127.
Meusinian myEteries, 138^
Elysian fields, 150.
Ei^lish and German brother lan-
guages, 55.
Esquimaux race, connection with men
of stone age, 14, 71.
EfaruEcans, 3C6.
Europe, appearance of, to primeval
man, 6.
ETINMISH class of language, 54
■*- Fire, discovery of, 12 ; the house-,
centre of fomily life, 89.
J^ andjZu, the sounds, 37.
'' Foot of rock." 40, 42.
Franks, 210.
Freyja, 1^.
Freyr, 176.
Frigg, 137, 143.
riAELS, 61.
^^"^Ganls, 62L
Geographical names, 66.
German myths, 169.
Germans, 209.
Gewiss, 40.
Gipsies, their love of wandering, 100.
Glass found in lake settlement, 3L
Gods of E^/ptians, 116.
INDEX.
237
Gold known to men of second stone
age, 27.
Goths, 210.
Government, progress of men of stone
age in, 32.
Qra and gri^ the sounds, 37.
Grseoo-Italio family, 20K.
Grammar, first steps toward, 42 ; defi-
nition of, 47.
Grave mounds, 84^
Greek idea of another world, 1.50.
Greeks, appearance in Europe, 80;
early history of, 204.
fTACKBLBERG, 140, 171.
■^ Hades, Greek conception of, 1.50.
Hamlet, quotation from Shakspere^s,
37.
Hapi, 124.
Hathor, 123.
Hatt, Prince, legend of, 183, 174.
Hawaii, cord-records in, 181.
"Headof rock,"40, 42.
Hebrew letters, 199.
Hel, 156, 174.
Hellas, 205.
Hellenes, the sons of Helen, 69.
Heracles, 136, 141, 153, 160.
Hermes, 135, 136, 152, 160.
EEieratic writing, 195, li^S.
Hieroglyphic writing of Egyptians,
191.
History, written, conditions which
must precede, 3 ; begins with sec-
ond stone age, 19.
Hoa, 135.
Homer's picture of Hades, 150.
Horus, 118.
House-fire, maintenance of, 89.
Huxley, Prof., opinion upon the skulls
of cave-dwellers, 14.
TDEOGRAPHIC writing, 189; of
-•- Egj-ptians, 193.
Implements of second stone age, 2.5.
Indians, North American, lOU.
Indra, 134, 135, 153.
Inflected language, superiority over
agglutinative, 53, 54; two main
families, .55, 50.
Inflexional stage of language, 47 ; the
last stage, 48.
Inflexions sometimes dropped, 49.
lonians, 204.
Ishtar (Venus), 126.
Isis, 123, 123.
Israelites, a nomadic people, 78 ; ten-
dency of their history, 79.
» TACK the Giant Killer," 168.
Japanese alphabet, 190.
Javan, 305.
Joshua, symbolism of, 183.
Jupiter, 130, 132.
TTEIiTICUfe, 209.
•"^ Kelts, 61, 207.
Kitchen-middens, 19, 83.
Kneph,~132.
Kudurlagomer, 75.
T AKE dwellers, their arts, 39 ; their
agriculture, 31 ; gardening, 31 ;
social equality, 33.
Lake dwellings, 29 ; labor of construct-"
ing, 30.
Land, division of, in village commu-
nity, 101.
Language, the first legacy of the ear-
liest inhabitants of our globe, 34 ;
development of, 35 ; what is it ?
35 ; belongs to sound only, 35 ;
formation of, 43; monosyllabio
stage, 47 ; agglutinative stage, 47,
53 ; inflexional stage, 47 ; English
and French, have dropped most
grammatical forms, 49 ; families
of, 50; influence of writing on,
51 ; variable, 51 ; Chinese the on-
ly monosyllabic, 53 ; rules for the
classification of, 58; informs us
of our Aryan ancestors, 86.
Langue-de-chat, 9.
Langue d'oc, 39.
Langue d'om, 40.
Lapp race, connection with men of
stone age, 14.
Law at first inseparably connected
with religion 105.
Laws governing the changes of sound,
63.
Letters of the alphabet, 178 ; origin-
ally pictures, 179 ; invention of,
194.
Logos^ 146.
Lohengrin, 174.
Loki, 144, 166.
Longobardi, 310,
Lot, 76.
Louis, 57.
238
rCTDEX.
lyr^SHOW cave, 11. ]
Mammoth age of man, 7. |
"]lfen,"4l. '
Handoo. 119.
Mankind, divisions of, 70. i
Manofactare of implements for barter '
in second stone age, 85. i
" Mark," 96. \
Market-place in earlj times, 94.
Mirriage ceremonj', significance of, in
patriarchal famHf , 89, 90.
Mant, 121.
Meaningless words, 8S. 42, 43, 50.
Mene3, date of, 73.
Mexican picfcore-scroUs, 187.
Mexico and Pera, early civili^don of,
77.
Minos, 2f&.
Mnemonics, some system o^ among
the men of neolithic age, ISO.
Moloch, 126.
" Monger," 95.
Mongolian race, 7L
MonosTllabic language. 47, 71.
MonosyllaUea, earUest words were,
40.
MonotheiEm, 145.
"Moon," 41.
Moon, the, in ^yptian mythology,
120.
Moon-mySis, 1^
Mythologies, their relationship, 110;
worship of nature lies at the bot-
tom of all. 111 ; of the Aryan na-
tions, iia
Mythology cf Egyptians, 113 ; of Chal-
dseaos, 125 ; and religion, 131.
Myths, 159.
"\"AT1JRE beliefs, decay of, 113.
■^^ Xatnie myths, 134.
Katnre worship has the same objects
evezywhere, 114.
Navigation, rise of, 20.
Neanderthal, caves of, 9.
Nebo (Mercnry), 126.
Neit, 12L
Neolithic epoch, 8.
Xepthys, 123.
Xergal (Mars), 126.
Nibelnngen lied, 213.
NUe, the, 115.
Nin (Saturn), 126i
Noah possessed art of shipbuilding,
20.
Nomadic tribes, unable to rule the
states they conquered, 106.
Norsemen, Iffi.
Xn, 121.
O'BRIEN, 20a
^ Odin, 138, 155, 170, 172.
Oldest traces of man, illustration from
geology, 5.
Osiiis. llf,- 118. 122, 137: iudgment-
hall of, 149.
Ormnzd, 146.
pAIi^OMTHIC epoch, a
^ Pas and Foint, 39.
Pasht. 119l
Pastoral life suited to patriarchal so-
ciety, 93.
Patriardi, the authority of, 106.
Patriarchal family, organization of,
S6; the primitive Aryan Social
orguiization, 87; customs of, SO.
Patriarchal life of the Semitic race,
96.
Patriarchal rule weakened by forma-
tion of village communities, 100.
Patriarchal system dissolved, 99, 104.
Patrodos, f oneral of, 1^
Pecunia, 94.
Pelasgi, 134, 204.
Pelade or Gisco-Italic family, 62.
Persephone, 137.
Perseus and the Gordon, 164.
Persian religion, 145.
Peruvian system of mnemonics, 181.
Phoenicians, a Semitic race, 59, 77,
201; their alphabet, 196, 199;
their language, 197.
Phonetic signs, origin of, 193.
Pictnie-writing, iS.
"Picturing," 184.
Pied Piper of Hameln, 173.
Plough of stone found in Germany, 26.
Polished Stone Age, see Seoond Stone
Age. .
Pottery of Second Stone Age, 26.
Prehistoric conditions, knowledge of,
necessarily inferential, 3.
Prehistoric studies, aids to, 2.
Presigny le Grand, 85.
Primitive man a hunter, 15; habits
of,ia
" Prince Hatt under the Earth," 163.
Proper names, 57.
Properly, idea of, in patriarchal sys-
tem and village oommnnity, VS.
INDEX.
239
Propriety in land of Village Commu- 1
nity, 101.
Pthath, 119.
A, 119.
Bed-Beard, Frederick, 176.
R
Red Indians, their system of records,
186.
Red race, antiquity of their civiliza-
tion, 77.
Religion, 109; and mythology, 131.
Religious rites precede commerce or
writing, 109.
Rents, the three in early communities,
95.
Rex, rik, .57, 65.
Rig-Vedas, poem of, 153.
Romans, their love of law and order,
107.
Root of as-mi, etc. , 44.
Root-consonant-sounds, 41.
Root words, expressions of sensations
from outward things, 113.
Runes, Gothic, 1H9.
« aABHl," SS.
^ Saint Paulinus, 1.
Sanskrit letters, 199.
Saramd, 153.
Sate, 123.
Saxons, 209.
Scythian writing, 201.
Semitic family of languages, 59.
Semitic people, mystic character of
their mythology, 129.
Semitic races, .59.
Sepulchral rites, IB.
Shell mounds, 19 ; antiquity of, 33.
Siegfrid, 168.
Sigurd, 176.
Sin or Urki, 136.
Skeletons, human, found in caves, 13.
Stalls, found in caves, 13 ; Austra-
lian, 14. I
Sky, the chief deity of the Aryans,
129. !
Sky divinities among the Egyptians,
121.
Slaves, 63.
Slaves of Russia, 107.
Slavonian tongues, 63.
Slavonic tribes, the community among,
107.
Social customs, development of, 83.
Social life in the earliest times, S3.
Solomon, the Israelites under, 79.
Sothis, 124.
Soul, the future of, Semitic belief,
149 ; Aryan conception, 149, 153.
Speech, the faculty of, 36.
Stages of language, the three, 50.
Stone age, implements of, 8.
Stone age, second^ climate more mod-
erate than in first stone age, 21 ;
continuous history begins with,
19; navigation in, 20 ; mammoth,
cave lions, etc., not found in, 31 ;
implements of, 25 ; duration of,
26 ; wild bull, the only extinct
species of, 21 ; domesticated ani-
mals in, 26 ; pottery of, 36 ; orna-
ments of, 26 ; religion of, 27, 28 ;
exorcism practised at grave, 27 ;
end of, 31 ; progress toward civ-
ilization, 82 ; men of, of the Mon-
golian type, 72 ; commerce in, 85 ;
manufactures of, 85.
Stonehenge, 34, 28.
Suevi, 210.
Sun in Egyptian mythology, 116.
Sun-god, 160; a type of man's life
148.
Sun-gods of the Indo-European na-
tions, 133.
Sun-heroes of the Greeks, 164.
Symbolism replaces mnemonics, 183.
rPANNHAUSER, legend of, 165.
-•- Tartars, 211.
Teutonic languages, 57.
Teutons, 63, 307, 309, 311.
Thammuz, 126.
Thanatos, 150.
Thmei, 124.
Thorr, 13(i, 141, 160, 166.
Thoth, 120.
Tomb builders, 24.
Tumuli, 34 ; human victims found in,
25.
Tumuli, token of social improvement,
84.
Turanian civilization, 81.
Turanian family, widespread extent
in early times, 73.
Turanian races dwindling, 73,
Turanian tongues, .'i4.
Turanians, their earliest home, 73.
Turkic or It^ngol class of languages,
.54
Typhon, 137.
240
DTDEX.
TTLFILAS, 210.
*^ Drof theC3haldees,75, 136.
Urki,126.
Uisnia, St, 165.
Urvasi, 161.
yALKRnrB. ito, 175.
Verb endmgs, origm of, 44
Village conununity, origin of, &S ;
among the Aryans, 101 ; heads
of, 102 ; laws sad x^nlataons of,
102; in Russia and India, IC<2;
mlTTig power, 103 ; their laws, 106.
Village commnniiies ox Rossia, 107 ;
among tiie Tentons, 108.
TyAMPUM of Red Indians, ISL
Wandering Jew, 17ft
White laccL dirisions, 71.
WiliEhiie, barrows excavated in, 25.
Words, the simpler inherited, 58l
Writii^, the invention of, stops tho
free growth of language, 51, 52L
VA'^A^'AS. 80.
Tellow race, characteristica, 70l
" Yes," origin of the word, 39.
ymm Avesta,146L
^ Zens, 130, 134.
ZoToa£ter, 145l
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