Sanskrit and its kindred literatures Studies in comparative mythology

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SANSKRIT

AND ITS

KINDRED LITERATURES.

SANSKRIT

AND ITS

KINDRED LITERATURES.

Stutiies in Comparati&e Jl2t|)olcigg.

BY

LAURA ELIZABETH POOR.

-/-

I

BOSTON:

ROBERTS BROTHERS.

1880.

■M

THE NEV/ YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY

581014 K

ASTO'R, LENOX AND

TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

R 1932 L

Copyright, 1880,
By Laura Elizabeth Poor.

University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

PREFACE.

This is not an encyclopaedia: therefore every
author will not be found in it. It is an attempt,
first, so to interest people in the new discoveries
in literature as to induce them to study for them-
selves ; in order to do this, only the greatest
writers have been mentioned, and long extracts
given from their works to illustrate the opinions
stated ; second, to put all literature upon that
new basis which has been created by the new
sciences of comparative philology and compara-
tive mythology. For this reason the greatest
space has been given to the Sanskrit literature,
which caused these discoveries, contains so many
elements of all literature, and is so much less
familiar. Some apology is perhaps necessary for
; writing anything upon the Greek philosophers
-J and historians. But I was requested to add this

IV PKEFACE.

chapter. The chapter on modern literature formed
part of the origmal plan. If any should consider
it irrelevant to these new discoveries, I should
say, on the contrary, that the whole book is but
a leading-up to that; for modern literature is the
most elaborate expression of those ideas whose
origin and growth I have endeavored to trace.

CONTENTS.

Chapter Page

I. The Origin of Literature 1

II. Brahmanism and the Maha Bharata . . 37

III. Buddhism and the Ramayana .... 80

IV. Sanskrit Philosophy, Fable, and Drama 109
V. The Persian Literature, — Aryan and

Semitic 143

VI. Comparative Mythology of the Greek

Poetry and Drama 172

VIL Greek Philosophy and History .... 210
VIII. Comparative Mythology of the Latin

AND Keltic Literatures 229

IX. Comparative Mythology of the Teutonic

Literature. — Scandinavian Families . 267
X. Comparative Mythology of the Teutonic
Literature. — Anglo-Saxon and Ger-
man Families 298

XL Medieval Hymns, and Comparative My-
thology OF THE Medieval Ballads . . 329
Xn. Comparative Mythology of Slavonic

Literature 366

XIII. The Modern Poetry of Europe .... 405

Partial List of Books Consulted 453

Index 457

SANSKRIT

AKD ITS KINDEED LITEEATUEES.
CHAPTEE I.

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE.

IPEOPOSE to write about the literature of different
nations and different centuries. I wish to show
that this literature is not many, but one ; that the same
leading ideas have arisen at epochs apparentl}' far
separated from each other ; that each nation, however
isolated it may seem, is, in reality, a link in the great
chain of development of the human mind : in other
words, to show the unit}' and continuit}' of literature.

This has only been possible within a few 3'ears. To
the despairing school-boy of fifty years ago the histories
of Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Eomans, or Greeks, were
so man}' detached pieces of information to be fixed in the
memory by dreary plodding. But the moment the mind
realizes the mighty truth that one nation is connected
with all others, its history becomes delightful and
inspiring ; because we trace its method of reproducing
the ideas we had met elsewhere. And it is to the
Sanskrit language that we owe this entire change in our
standpoint.

Our subject in this chapter is the origin of literature ;
but before we reach it we ought to have, therefore, a

2 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

general idea of the Sanskrit language, its enormous
importance, and its relations to modern science. Max
Muller says, "The discover}' of Sanskrit is in man}'
respects equally important, in some even more important,
than the revival of Greek scholarship in the fifteenth
century ; " that is the Renaissance.

Formerly Greek and Latin were the boundary of
knowledge in the direction of literature. Real students
may have devoted a few thoughts to the ancient Egyp-
tians ; but the average scholar who had conquered these
literatures felt a serene consciousness of having explored
the farthest domain of human thought in one line. Men
were even satisfied to devote a lifetime to poring over
one Greek tragedy : but within the last hundred 3'ears
a new language with its literature has become known,
which has revolutionized all preconceived ideas ; created
two new sciences, and* possibly three. These are
comparative philolog}^ ; that is, the study of different
languages : comparative m3-tholog3' , the stud}' of differ-
ent religions : and Sir Henry Sumner Maine thinks that
another science will soon be cr}-stallized, called com-
parative jurisprudence, the study of the laws of different
nations.

A hundred years ago Sir William Jones and other
Englishmen living in India heard of a literary language
of the Hindoos called Sanskrit. The name means a '' com-
pleted " or ' ' perfected " dialect in distinction from the
Prakrit or " natural " dialect. It was a spoken language
at the time of Solomon, 1015 b. c, also of Alexander,
324 B. c, but for the last two thousand years it has been
kept alive like Latin in Europe, by grammars and diction-
aries, and an educated caste of men. They studied this

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE.

language, and were amazed to find that it contained many
words resembling those of the European languages ; for
example : —

English.

Sanskrit.

Zend.

Latin.

Irish )
Keltic. )

Gothic. 1
Teutonic. )

'

Father

• pitar

patar

pater

athair

fadar

Mother

matar

matar

ruater

mathair

Brother

bhratar

bratar

f rater

brathair

brothar

Sister

svasar

quahar

soror

suu:

svistar

Daughter

duhitar

dughdhar

dear

dauhtar

Door

dvar

fores

dor

daur

Two

do

du

duo

Slavic.

Lord vis-patar or tribe father

weizpater.

They published a gi-ammar of the language and trans-
lations from the literature in 1785, 1787, 1789, 1794,
and thus threw open Sanskrit to the European mind.
Learned men of all nations eagerly studied and com-
mented upon these books. Max Miiller says, " The first
who dared boldh' to face both the facts and conclusions
of Sanskrit scholarship was the German poet, Frederic
Schlegel. He was not a great scholar, many of his
statements have since been proved erroneous ; but he
was a man of genius, and when a new^ science is to be
created, the imagination of the poet is wanted even more
than the accuracy of the scholar."

Man}' minds contributed to the great- work, and the
new science of comparative philology was created.
Max Miiller says, "I may express m}' conviction that
the science of language (comparative philology) will 3-et
enable us to withstand the extreme theories of the
evolutionists, and to draw a hard and fast line between

4 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

spirit and matter, between man and brute." In brief
these are its conclusions. First : if a word is essentially
the same in several languages, it must have existed in
the parent tongue from which all are descended ; there-
fore language is the most reliable proof of relationship
between nations. Second : if this be so, the whole
human race may be divided into four families and lan-
guages, with four great streams. These are, —

1 . The Chinese race : this language is the only relic of
the first forms of human speech, being made up of words
of one syllable, and to the student of language, the
philologist, it is far more interesting and valuable than
the completed tongues, such as Sanskrit, Greek, or
Latin. It shows the real character of language left to
develop itself in its own way. To illustrate what is
meant I will just indicate in the briefest way that there
are three stages of language : The first is monosyl-
labic, " such a deed would be like man." The second
stage is agglutinative where the root remains distinct
from the addition "manlike. Godlike." The third
stage, is inflexional, where the root and inflexions are
so interwoven as to be no longer distinguishable,
"manly," "godly." The Chinese civilization was the
third earliest in the world. Its earliest chronicle dates
from 1500 b. c.

2. The Turanian races, including most of the original
inhabitants of Asia ; the Mongolians in India ; the
Mantchu Tartars in China ; the Finns ; the Lapps ; the
Samoyedes in Northern Europe ; the Turks, Hungari-
ans, Bulgarians of Southern Europe, — the Hungarians
and Bulgarians being the onl}' Turanian races who have
embraced Christianity, — the Mexicans, Peruvians, In-

THE OEIGIN OF LITEEATURE. 5

dians of Xortli and Central America. Some authori-
ties include the Pelasgi in Greece, the Etruscans in Itah',
but Mommsen calls them Aryan. The Eg3-ptians were
formerl}^ called Turanian, but now are said to have a
mixed nationality. Their dialects are also ver}^ valu-
able to the philologist, as marking the second, aggluti-
native stage of language. The Turanian races are al-
wa3s tomb builders. These tombs are sometimes
mounds, — especially in Greece, Itah', and America.
From the implements found in Etruscan tombs and Pe-
ruvian mounds we know that the}' used gold, silver, and
copper, and that they manufactured bronze. They were,
indeed, more civilized than their Arj'an invaders, but
these latter conquered, because they knew the use of
iron.

3. The Semitic races include the Jews, the Arabs,
the Phoenicians, the Carthaginians, the Mesopotamians,
— probably the native inhabitants of Nineveh, Bab}'-
lon, and Ass3-ria. Their languages are of the third
stage, inflexional. They played an important part in
the world while the Ar3-ans were living quietl}' at home.
The Chaldeans, the Moabites, the Edomites, belong to
them, and perhaps partl3' the Egyptians. This Eg3'p-
tian civilization is the oldest in the world. Menes,
their king, dates back 5000 B.C., and their civilization
culminated and began to decline 3000 b.c. The Chal-
dean ci^'ilization was the second : its earliest chronicle
is 2234 B.C.

4. The conquering Aryan race, whose languages be-
long to the third stage, the inflexional. It includes the
Hindus^ with their Sanskrit language ; the Persians^
with the Zend ; the Greeks ; the Romans^ with the Latin

6 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

language and its six children, — The Proven9al, French,
Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Wallachian ; the Kelts ^
to whom belong the Gauls of ancient France ; the
Britonsof ancient England, and their modern languages,
— the Gaelic of Scotland, the Erse of Ireland, the Kym-
ric of Wales ; the Bas Breton of France ; the Teutons^
who include the ancient Goths, Franks, Anglo-Saxons :
their modern languages are Icelandic, Danish, Swedish,
Norwegian, German, Low Dutch, English. The Slavs^
their name, which comes from slowan, to speak, was given
by themselves. They considered all the rest of the
world dumb, because it could not understand them ;
the race includes the Russians, Servians, Montenegrins,
Poles, Bohemians, Dalmatians, and all these are our
kindred. The dark-skinned Hindu of to-day is as much
our brother as the fair-haired Norwegian. What was
the mother tongue of the Aryan families, what language
they spoke before they left their native home, and
separated in such widely scattered directions, we do not
know ; all that precedes this period is hopelessly lost to
us, but these just mentioned are sister tongues with
the family likeness plainly to be seen.

It is our pride and glory to belong to that conquering
Arj-an race, whose beginnings have lately been made
known to us. In the north-western part of Asia lived
these shepherd tribes. The chmate was far colder then
than now ; the winters were longer ; this we know, be-
cause among the words common to all the Arj^an fami-
lies, and therefore in use in their original home, are
none to express great heat or plants dependent upon
heat. They must have lived inland, because there is no
common word for ocean. Yet they must have known

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 7

<

something of river navigation, because all tlie languages

have boat, rudder, oar. They had domesticated the
animals, and surrounded themselves with oxen, sheep,
horses, dogs ; they cultivated the ground, for there are
words for flax, barley, wheat, and hemp. The}" used
the moon to measure time, and divided the year into
twelve months. Incredible as it ma}^ seem, the}' could
count up to one hundred, and they used the same num-
bers which we do. We find the words, father, mother,
brother, sister, husband, wife : but these at first only
expressed the occupations of the persons spoken of;
bhratar^ brother, was he who helps ; swasar, sister, she
who consoles and pleases ; pilar, father, he who protects
and supports ; duhitar, daughter, means a milkmaid.
For the cow was even then the most valuable animal.
In Sanskrit the patriarch is called "the lord of the
cattle;" the morning is the "calling of the cattle."
In German, the word abend, evening, means the " un-
binding of cattle." In Slavonic the title hospodar, their
title for prince, means " the protector of the cattle,"
from gospada, the word go meaning cow. They dwelt in
well-built houses Avith walls around them ; they used
carriages with wheels over plainly defined roads ; they
were divided into families with a name. Those insti-
tutions for self-government, which we fondly suppose to
be the prerogative of the Teutonic family, originated
before the Aryans left their common home. At first
the family existed, entirely independent of any ex-
ternal authority. Each householder united with the
others to form villages, which had their own magistrates ;
these again formed a tribe, subject to a feudal lord, vis
pitar, the "people's father." These village communi-

8 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ties have survived every change of d3'nast3^ in India,
and continue to this da}'. It ennobles human nature
that such ideas should have arisen spontaneousl}'. For
family life implies affection, as law, respect, for others ; so
our ancestors were not solitary savages, but five thou-
sand 3'ears ago the}' were living together in peace and
good government in happy families. But the words of
the different Aryan languages which express wild beasts,
weapons of war and of hunting, are quite different ; and,
since a new word marks a new condition, we know that
they separated. It has been discovered that the Khiva
desert, stretching between the Caspian Sea and the Sea
of Aral, has been formed by the shrinkage of these two
seas. Once fertile land was there, but the desert caused
the migrations of the Aryans westward. Each branch
went on a different path. Wherever it paused it con-
quered the native Turanian tribes, the original inhabi-
tants of the land, and amalgamated their language with
its own, until a new tongue was formed.

Such are the astonishing historical facts revealed to us
by the comparison of words with the Sanskrit words, —
facts that were undreamed of one hundred years ago,
and scoffed at when first proclaimed. But they are as
certain as a mathematical demonstration, and universally
accepted to-day.

The inquiries awakened were pushed still further.
The gods and goddesses of the Sanskrit literature
seemed strangely hke those of Greek literature. The
mythologies of all the Aryan races were carefully com-
pared ; the revolutionary inferences were carried on till a
result was obtained which seemed at first incredible, and
the new science of comparative mythology claimed its

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 9

place among the other sciences. It must be said that
its conckisions are not universalh' adopted as yet, but
the}" are fast becoming so among the most critical
scholars.

When the simple-hearted Ar^-an saw the sun go down
at night and disappear, he cried out that the sun was
dead, just as in French we sa}' "the hre is dead," le
fen est mort, instead of " the fire has gone out." When
the darkness settled down upon the earth, he said that
an enen^vhad killed the sun. " Will the sun ever come
back to us," he cried in terror. AVhen the dawn gradu-
all}" drove awa}- this darkness, and nature and man be-
gan a new life, he thought she was a real person who
awoke the world and brought back the sun. When,
finally", the sun itself came up in its light and splendor,
it seemed to him a being of mighty power. Its beams
shone like spears, and its heat dried up the dew. So
mythology is called " a disease of language," and com-
parative mythology teaches that the gods and goddesses
of the Aryan races are onh^ nature personified ; its
powers put into human form. A few simple objects
were personified in as man}' ways as the unrestrained
imagination of these child-like people could invent, and
gave rise to a host of gods and goddesses. Di/u meant
originally the bright shining sky ; the heaven next it
became the Dyaus pifar, — the heaven father, the protec-
tor. This is the first name given to a god, and we are
sure that this heaven father was worshipped before the
Aryans left their native home, because we find Zeus-
Pater in Greek, Jupiter in Latin, Zio and Tuisco in Ger-
man, Tyr in Norse. The course of the sun from his
rising to his setting became the life of some god ; he

10 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

has a struggling infancy, carl}- prosperity with a beloved
bride ; tlien the bride of his 3'outh is torn from him, and
he goes forth to toils and dangers undertaken for the
good of another. Pie serves beings meaner than him-
self; finall}', after a fierce battle with dark powers
which obstruct him in every way, come rest and victory
and death, and reconciliation with his abandoned bride.
That is the sun struggles through the clouds which ob-
struct his rising ; leaves the dawn liehind ; is covered by
dark clouds which hide him at night, as he sinks out of sight
and sets. The twilight darkness comes, the soft and ten-
der bride soothes the dying hours of her husl)and. Again
the sun loves the dawn, that is Apollo loves Daphne ;
she flies before him ; he tries to overtake her, but of
course the daw^n must disappear before the sun, and
Daphne escapes Apollo. Or else the sun dries up the
dew ; that is Kephalos kills Procris ; when the sun's
scorching heat parches up earth and man, he is sla}^-
ing wdth his spears, that is his rays, and becomes the
enemy of man. When drought comes, they call the dark
clouds w^hich hang near the earth, without giving out rain,
a snake or dragon who is shutting up the rain in prison.
When the thunder rolled, they said this hateful monster
was uttering riddles. When the rain finally burst forth,
and gave relief to man and beast and the earth, they
said the rain had killed the serpent who was devouring
everything. In Sanskrit Indra slew Vritra, the great
serpent ; in Greek Apollo slew the Python ; in Norse
Sigurd slew the worm Fafnir ; in the middle ages St.
Michael conquered the dragon. Balder, the beautiful,
the pride of the Norse pantheon, is the summer, he is
light and heat killed bj- the cold and darkness of winter :

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 11

the myth is exactl}' reversed. The same incidents recur
in all the different mythologies.

Each one has numerous demigods or heroes ; all
have invincible weai)ons, which none but themselves
can wield ; the bow of Odysseus, the club of Herakles,
the sword of Sigurd. The}' are vulnerable onl}' in
one spot, the lieel of Achilleus, the eyes in Isfendyar ;
or by one weapon, the firebrand of Meleagros, the
thorn of Siegfried. All these heroes have fair faces
and golden locks flowing over their shoulders. They
all abandon the bride of their youth ; they all toil
and suffer for others ; they are subject to strange fits
of gloom and inactivity, such as the wrath of Achilleus,
the anger of Rustem. In the end, they overcome
this, break forth in their earl}- cheerfulness, conquer
their enemies, and die on a blazing funeral pile. It
is again the sun ; its rays changed into golden locks,
into invincible spears or arrows. It leaves the dawn,
struggles through dark clouds, and sets hidden by flame-
colored clouds. These are the shirt of flame which en-
wrap and kill Herakles, — simph' a magnificent red sun-
"set. It is a most amusing occupation to trace these
numerous forms of the solar mj'th. Ixion bound upon
the burning wheel is the sun. Tantalus, from whom
food and drink recede, is the sun, whose beams dr}' up
the water and the fruit. Sisyphus continuing to roll the
stone up the hill from which it alwa3's rolls back, is the
sun which no sooner reaches the highest point of the
sky, than it is obliged to go down again.

The comparison has not only been applied to the gods
of mythology, the heroes of epic poetr}', but also to the
popular ballad heroes of the middle ages, and even

12 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

William Tell is recliiced to a solar m3tli ; his unerring
arrows to the rays of the sun, alike dangerous to friend
or foe. Historical investigations have proved that he
did not exist literallj- in the form under which we know
him, and now the comparative n^ythologist claims him
as the lineal descendant of Indra and Apollo and Od^'S-
seus : he bends the bow which none ])ut he can wield.

Of course this is the merest sketch ; I shall allude to
these gods and heroes as we come to them in each liter-
ature, and fill out the outline. We may perhaps be
more ready to accept the conclusions of comparative
mythology when we have studied our own English
poetry, or gazed upon Guido's frescoed ceiling where
the dawn flies before the chariot of the sun, and the
bright hours follow after in human shape. In fact it is
the natural spontaneous utterance of the poetic mind in
every age and countr}^, afterwards accepted as a literal
fact.

The theory has been confirmed from a despised and
unexpected source. That the gods were changed into the
heroes of epics, that they even descended to the popular
ballads might be acknowledged. But how can we be-
lieve what is expected that even the nursery tales of
the different Aryan families are but another form of the
solar myth? It seemed at first too absurd, but the
German scholar Grimm threw "off the yoke of classi-
cal tyranny," and asserted that the popular tale had a
science of its own, and a meaning worth}^ to be explored.
It is true that Jack the Giant Killer, the Sleeping
Beauty, and Faithful John, have found a parallel in
Sanskrit nursery tales told to little Hindu children ; in
the volumes collected from old peasants by the broth-

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATUE. 13

ers Grimm in Germany ; in the Gaelic legends, still
lingering in the Highlands of Scotland ; in the Norse
stories which shorten the long winter evenings in Iceland.
It is pleasant to find onr beloved fair}^ tales taking so im-
portant a place in literatnre after being frowned down
by the stern guardians of our childhood. It is poetic
justice. The same properties are found ever3'where.
The sandals of Hermes become the seven-leagued boots
of Jack the Giant Killer. The helmet of Hades becomes
the invisible cap of Fortunatus. The Holy Grail which
the bad cannot see or touch becomes the horse-shoe nailed
up for good luck, because the bad cannot touch it.
The lovel}' Sleeping Beauty, who pricks her finger with
a spindle, is the eai'th frozen by the sharp sudden touch
of winter. The man}' dead princes who strive to reach
and awaken her are the suns which rise and set in the
first bleak days of spring. " The fated prince with
golden locks " is the sun of summer. With its ardent
kiss it awakens the white earth from its long winter
sleep, and she sleeps in every land and ever}' literature.
The talisman which, for one moment, opens a mountain
or a cave and reveals marvellous treasures within, is
found in Aladdin, in Tannhaiiser and the Breton folk-
tales. It is an arrow or a flower, or the name of some
grain ; and it means the lightning which splits the rock.
Out of a vast number of illustrations I have taken these
familiar ones, but they are sufficient to explain the
theor}^ And so before the Aryans left their common
home, and separated, they had in their memory these
nursery tales which have developed into the folk-lore of
different Aryan families. It is quite impossible that
there should have been any inteicourse between the

14 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

tribes, and 3'et the resemblances are even more striking
than in m3'tholog3', epic and ballad. Folk-lore becomes
a most important witness for the two sciences.

When we realize the bearing of these new ideas, and
the vast change the}^ will produce in human thought,
you will agree that I have not over-estimated the
importance of Sanskrit in its twofold branching, the
language and the literature. The grammatical structure
of the language is not connected with our subject,
so I will go on at once to the delightful literature.

To India we must go for our pioneers — I had almost
said our masters — in every department of literature but
one, that of histor}'. The Hindoo dreamed and speculated
and argued, but he did not observe or record the events
of external, everj'-da}' life. There is no literar}' or politi-
cal history in Sanskrit, so that the chronology of ever\^
work must be judged from internal evidence alone. It
is now full}' recognized that a hymn to a god or gods is
the earliest utterance of the human mind in every nation.
A ccordingl}' in Sanskrit the first book is a general collec-
tion of hymns ; it is called a " Yeda." The word means
"highest knowledge," and there are in Sanskrit four
Vedas. The oldest and best of them is called the Rig or
praise Veda ; the word Hig meaning praise. It contains
one thousand and seventeen h3'mns written in poehy in
stanzas of two lines called astohas. The Ar3'an conquerors
of India were the last to leave the earl3- home. The3' are
supposed to have entered India about 3100 b. c, and the
oldest of the hymns of the Rig Veda are supposed b3' the
best authorities to have been written 2400 b. c, the last
perhaps 1500 b. c. Each Brahman was obliged to learn
\)y heart the one thousand and seventeen hymns during

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 15

the twelve 3'ears that he passed as a student. The}'- were
transmitted b}^ repetition from father to son, — handed
down as sacred heirlooms in different families. This
seems a most astonishing power of memor3\ But even
at the present day there are thousands of Brahmans in
India who know the whole of the Rig Veda by heart, and
can repeat it. Finalh' they were written down on palm-
leaves about 1000 B. c. But the four Vedas themselves
contain no mention of books or of writing.

The Rig Veda w^as sung in the Indus Valle}', the
country of the seven rivers, before the Aryan invaders
had penetrated far into India. Therefore it is our
authorit}' for the earliest manners and customs of our
ancestors as well as for their simple and childhke
behefs, and has a double value, — one to the historian
and philologist, the other to the comparative mytholo-
gist. Max Miiller says, "The whole history of the
world would be incomplete without this first chapter
in the life of Ar^-an humanit}^ which has been pre-
served to us in Vedic literature." There are different
stages of civilization distinctly marked. At first each
head of a family was a warrior, a poet, and a priest.
He raised a single altar of turf and kindled upon it
the sacred fire, which was kept perpetually burning
ever after. Before ever}' meal it was his office to throw
upon the sacred fire some portion of the food, to pour
out upon the ground a part of the drink, to call upon the
gods to receive his offering and grant his requests.

For what then did the Hindoo Aryans pray ? Their
h^Tuns are the outcry of a child to a Father for temporal
good. They are invading India and wish to settle
there, so thej' cay out for lands and cattle, for riches

16 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

and many children, for power and a long life, for a
happ3' immortalit}^ after death, for victory over their
enemies. The hymns are as simple as they are sincere.
They call down curses ; they shout exulting songs of
victory ; but they ver^^ seldom give an^^ rules for action
or any precepts of morality. - They are somewhat vague
and incoherent but charming nevertheless, beautiful
from their ver}^ simplicit}'. The}' are fresh, vigorous, and
poetical, and uttered with absolute, unquestioning faith.
"Whoever asks obtains," is the key-note to them all.
In most of them the worshipper praises and flatters the
god, offers him the soma juice, and calmly asks for
temporal blessings in return. Max Miiller says, " The
language of the simple prayers is more intelligible to us
than anything we find in the literature of Greece or
Rome, and there are here and there expressions of faith
and devotion in which even a Christian can join without
irreverence."

Who then are the gods upon whom he calls ? First,
the spirits of his dead ancestors, and therefore different
for every family : next the aspects of nature personified
with exquisite poetry, and so distinctly described that
they might almost be painted. But we must remember
that there must have been a long process of development,
centuries before their beliefs reached even the stage in
which we find them in the Rig Veda 1000 b. c. Max
Miiller has succeeded, in his lectures delivered in 1878,
in bringing vividly before us the gradual awakenings
which led up to even that degree of expression. The
Aryans called a river the " runner" or "nois}^," or " the
mother which nourished the fields," or the " defender "
as forming a boundary between two countries ; we

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 17

say "it rains," the}^ said "the rainer rains," "the blower
blows : " everj'thing was active, and therefore must be a
person. It was almost impossible to get rid of the idea
of a person connected with everything active. It is
generally supposed that gender was the cause of personi-
fication ; on the contrary, it was the result. When they
wished to say that a thing simpl}^ existed, then came a
great difficulty to these pioneers of thought and its
expression, which is language. " As the most general
act of all human beings is to breathe, they said things
breathe, when we say things are. The verb as means
to breathe ; and in Sanskrit those who breathe, who are,
are called Asura, the oldest name for the living, breathing
gods. The same verb as exists in Norse, where the gods
are called ^sir : it is our EngUsh is. When the
word to breathe was found inconvenient, as for instance
if applied to a tree, they took the root bhu, to grow ;
and called the earth, the growing one ; in English to be.
When something vaster was wanted, the root vas, to
dwell ; English, I w^as ; they applied to those things
which could not breathe or grow. We say the sun is
there ; they said the sun breathes : we say the moon
exists or is ; the}" said the moon grows : we say the
earth exists ; they said the earth dwells." These were
called deva, or bright ; graduall}-, during a thousand
years, one quality shared by many objects came to be
used as a general term for the gods : the devas, the
bright ones. Almost every object which is semi-tangi-
ble is included amongst them. Mountains and rivers ;
the sun, dawn, these can be seen, though not actually
touched. The next step embraced in the devas only
those which could be heard, not touched, nor seen, —

2

18 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the thunder, the wind, the storm. Then the}^ called the
sun like light, next the bringer of light ; the sk^',
bending over and protecting the earth like a father, next
a father. Now these are wholh' intangible. The}' are
asked to listen ; to grant favors ; to protect men, and
this point must have been reached before the Ar3'ans
separated, since we find the name Heaven-Father in
every Aryan language.

Fortunately, we are able to go more into details,
and see how the gods of other mythologies took shape,
by examining closely the Sanskrit devas. There is
some doubt about the number of them, but the}^ are
usuall}^ said to be twelve. If there are fewer than
in the other m3'thologies, it is because ideas are in an
elementar}' condition ; and the characteristics of the
gods are not so often interchanged, as in the more
crystalhzed state of Greek and Teutonic mythology.
The}' are sometimes interchanged, and each god is at
times represented as supreme and absolute over all the
others. There are no settled families. The father
sometimes becomes the son ; the brother becomes the
husband ; she who is the wife in one li^ami becomes the
mother in another. But this very indistinctness and
difference show us how naturally and gradually all Aryan
mythology grew up. It was but the utterance of childish
minds about the world around them, feeling their way
towards clearness. This makes the incalculable value
of the Rig Veda. Miiller says : " While Hesiod gives
us a past theogony, we see in the Veda the theogony
itself; the very birth and growth of the gods, that is of
the word for gods ; and in its later hymns the subse-
quent development of these divine conceptions." In its

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 19

unsettled and growing myths we have the foundation of
the ga}' and briUiant m3'thology of the Greeks, as well as
the dark and sombre mytholog}' of the Teutons. It
contains those elements which have been expanded into
such innumerable forms, and which were never under-
stood until the}' were illuminated b}' this oldest book of
the world. Max Miiller says, " It is the oldest, because
it contains the earliest phases of thought and feeling."

It is hard to define and limit the work of each god,
and his personal character. Dyaus is the most ancient
name for the supreme god. It is derived from a root
which means to shine, or bright ; and becomes Daevas,
in Zend ; Theos, in Greek ; Deus, in Latin ; Divus, in
Italian ; Dieu, in French ; Devil, in English. It meant
at first the bright sk}', the heaven above us. Among
the Hindus, Dyaus, the heaven, married Prithivi, the
earth, and they became the father and mother of the
other Hindu gods. But the sky, originally the bright,
the light-giver, was replaced by various gods who rep-
resented the different actions of the sky, such as the
rain, the storm ; and the power of D3'aus is almost
given up to his son, Indra, the rain-bringer. Be-
cause the Indian land is parched up by the scorching
sun, and depends upon the rain for its fertiht}', the rain
is more grateful there than elsewhere. It pours down
in resistless torrents, so Indra is a strong impetuous
warrior, drunk with soma juice. He drives a chariot
whose rolling wheels are heard far oflT ; that is the thun-
der. It is drawn by pawing and champing steeds, the
clouds : he bears a resistless lance ; that is the lightning.
The lightning pierced the dark storm-clouds and set free
the rain, and thus put an end to the drought. There is

20 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

another explanation of the dark storm-clouds piled up
into hollow cavernous forms. The Aryans called the
sky a plain ; the bright clouds which wandered over it
the}^ called cows, guarded b}^ a lovely maiden, Sarama,
the dawn ; and the dark clouds they called a snake shut
up in a cave. He was said to have stolen the cows and
the maiden, and to have brought them into his hollow
cave. So Indra takes on another character. As the sky
shines out bright and serene, when a storm has passed
away, Indra next becomes the godof the clear, cloudless
sk3\ In this he usurped the character of D3'aus. So
the Hindus said that Indra had killed the snake
who had stolen treasures and a maiden. I describe
this second personification of dark clouds because Indra
in this becomes the original of every hero who delivers
a distressed damsel by fighting with a monster ; whether
he is Perseus in Greek ; or St. George in the Middle
Ages. We shall meet him many a time. As the bright
clear sk}-, Indra has golden locks and a beard which
flashes like gold as he hastens over the heaven. His
arrows have a hundred points, and are winged with a
thousand feathers. All this sounds so verj' like the
Greek mythology which we learned in our childhood,
that it is hard to realize that it grew up in India five thou-
sand years ago.

HYMNS TO INDEA.

" He who as soon as born is the first of the deities, who has
done honor to the gods by his deeds ; he at whose might
heaven and earth are alarmed, and who is known by the great-
ness of his strength : he, men, is Indra.

" He who fixed firm the moving earth, who spread the spa-
cious firmament ; he is Indra.

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 21

" He who, having destroyed Vritra, set free the seven rivers ;
who recovered the cows ; who generated fire in the clouds ; who
is invincible in battle : he, men, is Indra.

" He to whom heaven and earth bow down ; he at whose
might the mountains are appalled ; he who is drinker of the
soma juice ; the firm of frame ; the adamant-armed ; the
wielder of the thunderbolt : he, men, is Indra. May we en-
velop thee with acceptable praises."

" Showerer of benefits, destroyer of cities, propitiated by our
new songs, reward us with gratifying blessings."

" Quaff the soma juice, satiate thy appetite, and then fix thy
mind on the wealth that is to be given to us."

" Slayer of Vritra, ascend thy chariot , for thy horses have
been yoked by prayer. May the sound of the stone that bruises
the soma attract thy mind towards us."

Indra is accompanied by the Maruts, the storm winds.
This is the same root as the Greek Ares, and the Latin
Mars ; and the Teutonic Thor Miolnir, the god of war
in each mj'thology. These Maruts overturn trees and
destro}' forests ; they roar like lions ; they shake the
mountains ; they are swift as thought ; they are brothers
of whom no one is the elder, no one the younger : this
is a perfect picture of the wind ; and in this character
of the Maruts we see blind strength and fury without
judgment.

HYMN TO THE MARUTS.

" 1. For the manly host, the majestic, the wise, for the Ma-
ruts, luring thou, O poet, a pure offering. Like a workman,
wise in his mind and handy, I join together words which are
useful at sacrifices.

" 2. They are born, the tall bulls of Dyaus, the boys of Rudra,
the divine, the blameless, pure and bright like suns, scattering
raindrops of awful shape like giants.

22 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

"3. The youthful Maruts, they who never grow old, the
slayers of the demon, have grown irresistible like mountains.
They shake with their strength aU beings, even the strongest
on earth and in heaven.

" 4. They deck themselves with glittering ornaments for
show; on their chests they fix gold [chains] for beauty ; the
spears «i their shoulders pound to pieces ; they were born to-
gether by themselves, the men of Dyaus.

" 5. They who confer power, the rovers, the devourers of
foes, they make winds and lightnings by their powers. The
shakers milk the seventy udders [clouds], roaming around they
fill the earth with milk [rain].

"7. Mighty are you, powerful, of wonderful splendor,
firmly rooted like mountains ; yet lightly gliding along ; you
chew up forests, like elephants, when you have assumed vigor
among the red flames.

" 8. Like lions they roar. The far-sighted Maruts, they are
handsome like gazelles, the all-knowing. By night, with their
spotted deer [that is rain clouds] and with their spears [light-
nings] they rouse the companions together, they whose ire
through strength is like the ire of serpents.

" 9, You who march in companies, the friends of man, heroes,
whose ire, etc., salute heaven and earth. On the seats of your
chariots, 0 Maruts, the lightning stands, visible like light."

" 12. We invoke with prayer the offspring of Eudra, the
brisk, the bright, the worshipful, the active. Cling for happi-
ness' sake to the strong host of the Maruts ; the chasers of the
sky, the vigorous, the impetuous.

" 13. The mortal whom ye, Maruts, protected with your pro-
tection, he indeed surpasses people in strength. He carries oif
food with his horses, treasures with his men ; he acquires hon-
orable strength and he prospers.

" 14. Give, O Maruts, to the worshippers strength, glorious,
invincible in battle, wealth- conferring, praiseworth}^, known
to all men. Let us foster our kith and kin during a hundred
winters.

THE OHIGIN OF LITERATURE. 23

" 15. Will 3^011 tlien, 0 JMaruts, grant unto us wealth, dura-
ble, rich in men, defying all onslaughts ? wealth a hundred
and a thousand fold, always increasing ? May he [you] who is
[are] rich in prayers [that is the company of the Maruts] come
early and soon ! "

But the wind has a gentler side to its character as it
sinks down into a faint breeze. So the Maruts in the
Veda "assume again the form of new-born babes."
And this is exactly the story told in Greek of Hermes,
as we shall see.

The soft music which the faint breeze makes becomes
the reed pipe of Pan ; the music of the Sirens ; the
lyre of Orpheus, wdiich makes the beasts and trees
dance ; the harp of Arion, which charmed the fishes ;
the marvellous pipe of the pied piper of Ilamclin, in the
Middle Ages. The wind as a harper is one of the pri-
mar}^ myths, organized before the separation of the
Aryans, and found also in two Turanian nations, — the
Finns of Northern Europe and the Indians of Central
America. There is another office which the wdnd per-
forms. It wreaks its fur}', uproots the trees, penetrates
into the most hidden corners ; then, with a low whistling
sound like mocking laughter, it passes on its way. This
also is ver}'^ plainly told in the Greek myth of Hermes,
and the peering thief is visible as Peeping Tom of
Coventry, who can see through a cranny.

The sun becomes in Sanskrit several persons as per-
forming different acts, — Mitra, Vishnu. The holiest
verse in the Vedas is addressed to it. " Earth, Sk}^
Heaven ! Let us meditate on the most excellent light
and power of that generous, sportive, and resplendent
sun. May he guide our intellects ! " It does not fill so

24 SA^^SKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

large a place in the Sanskrit as in tlie other m3tholo-
gies. As Vishnu, it receives its light from another
power. It is called the wide-stepping, and traverses
the heavens in three strides. Tiiis must be the rising,
culminating, and setting of the sun. Vishnu comes for-
ward in the later Brahmanical mythology, and there has
ten incarnations which are called Avatars.

Ever}' mytholog}' has its drink of the gods, but in
Sanskrit only does it become a person. You will notice
that all the hymns offer the soma ; it is the moon plant,
and its juice becomes a fermented liquor. The Hindu
fancied that the intoxication produced by it was a higher
state of existence than his ordinary' life. He felt en-
dowed with new powers while under its influence. It
seemed to him a gift worthy of the gods, and when he
fancied that they were angry, he tried to appease them
by pouring out libations of the precious juice. Here is
one of the most beautiful In'mns in the Rig Veda,
which is addressed to Soma : —

" Where there is eternal light, in the world where the sun is
placed, in that immortal, imperishable world, place me, 0-
Soma.

" Where King Vaivasvata reigns, where the secret place of
heaven is, where these mighty waters are : there make me im-
mortal.

"Where life is free, in the third heaven of heavens, where the
worlds are radiant : there make me immortal.

" Where wishes and desires are, where the place of the bright
sun is, where there is freedom and delight : there make me
immortal !

" Where there is happiness and delight, where joy and plea-
sure reside, where the desires of our desire are attained : there
make me immortal ! "

THE ORIGIN OF LITEHATURE. 25

Agni is another god who is distinctively Hindu ; he
is the fire ; from the root we have the Latin ignis, the
English ignite ; but the word does not appear in the
other Aryan families as the name of a deit3\ There is
no folk-lore connected with him, and his person does
not reappear as the other Hindu deities constantl}^ do.
The Hindus were struck by its sudden appearing and
disappearing; its agile movements, and called it "the
quick ; " or b}' its crackling noise, the}' said : " neigh-
ing like a horse that is greedy for food, it steps out from
its strong prison." This is wonderfull}' descriptive.
The first and last hymns of the Rig Yeda are addressed
to Agni because he was their favorite god. They con-
sidered him the messenger between them and heaven,
who carried up their offerings to Dyaus-Pitar. If the
flame rose bright and clear, they thought their off'erings
were accepted ; if it died down in smoke, that they were
refused. They sacrificed clarified butter to him, think-
ing it to be his favorite food. Of course, any fire will
burn brighter if clarified butter be poured upon it.
Agni was the lord and protector of every household.
JS^o family could be established until the new-made hus-
,band had erected an altar, and kindled upon it the
sacred fire, which was ever after kept perpetuallj' burn-
ing. If l\v an}' misfortune it was extinguished, it could
only be lighted again by rubbing together two sticks of
wood, by friction ; or by a burning-glass brought down
from the sun ; and only tlie husband or wife could ever
touch it. Everytliing most sacred was associated with
the household fire, which was thus the bond of union of
the family. All this was exactly repeated, among the
Romans, in the worship of Vesta.

26 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

And now we come to the loveliest and most widely
spread of all the Vedic deities, Uslias, the dawn, the
same root as our word usher. She was a pure and
white-robed being, from whose presence ever}- dark
thing fled awa}^ night and ghosts, and wild beasts and
robbers. In the dawn of India, there is a peculiar
whiteness in the atmosphere, a delicious coolness, a
serene stillness, which form a refreshing prelude to the
heats of the day, and a contrast to the gloom of the
night. It is no wonder that the dawn seemed a lovely
thing to them, as she brought back their beloved sun.
You will never guess who is the favorite animal of the
Veda. It is the ass, because it is the first to awaken
and announce the coming of the lovely Ushas. She
was accompanied by the Aswins, twin horses ; these
are morning and evening, since the darkness comes at
CA^ening as well as at morning, and these are the origi-
nals of the twin brothers whom we meet in ever}- lit-
erature like Castor and Pollux. Ushas never grows
old, but she makes others old. She reappears as Eos
in Greek, as Aurora in Latin, always the same radiant
being.

HYMN TO USHAS.

" Ushas, nourishing all, comes daily like a matron, conduct-
ing all transient creatures to decay.

" The divine and ancient Ushas born again and bright with
imchanging hues, wastes away the life of a mortal, like the wife
of a hunter cutting up the birds.

"How long is it that the Dawns have risen ? How long will
they rise ?

" Those mortals who beheld the pristine Ushas dawning have
passed away ; to us she now is visible, and they approach who
will behold her m after times."

THE OKIGIN OF LITERATURE. 27

ANOTHER.

" She shines upon us like a young wife, rousing every living
being to go to his work.

" She rose up, spreading far and wide, and moving towards
every one. She grew in brightness, wearing her brilliant gar-
ment. The mother of the cows [the clouds], the leader of the
days, she shone gold-colored, lovely to behold.

" She, the fortunate, who brings the eye of the god, who
leads the white and lovely steed of the sun, the dawn was seen
revealed by her rays : with brilliant treasures she follows every
one.

" Shine for us with thy best rays, thou bright Dawn, thou
who lengthenest our life, thou, the love of all, who givest us
food, who givest us wealth in cows, horses, and chariots.

" Thou daughter of the sky, thou high-born, give us riches,
high and wide."

" Thou, who art a blessing when thou art near, drive far away
the unfriendly, make the pastures wide, give us safety. Re-
move the haters, bring treasures ; raise up wealth to the wor-
shipper, thou mighty Dawn."

ANOTHER TO INDRA AND USHAS.

" This strong and manly deed also thou hast performed, 0
Indra, that thou struckest the daughter of Dyaus, a woman
difficult to vanquish.

" Yes, even the daughter of Dyaus, the magnified, the Dawn,
thou, 0 Indra, a great hero, hast ground to pieces.

" The Dawn rushed off from her crushed car, fearing that
Indra, the bull, might strike her.

" This, her car, lay there, well ground to pieces. She went
far away."

This is the germ of the story of Daphne and of Eu-
ropa. The dawn is also called Dahana, and she is

28 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDKED LITERATURES.

Sarama, who guarded the cows, carried off b}- a monster
(the dark clouds), and rescued by Indra.

In Sanskrit she has another name, Ahana, and
reappears in Greek as Athene : in the Veda it says that
Ahana sprang full-born from the forehead of D3aus; in
Greek that Athene sprang lull-born from the forehead
of Zeus. The meaning is plain. The dawn is the child of
the sky ; as Athene, she possesses the penetrating power of
the light, the calm wisdom which pierces through ever\'-
tliing, as Athene's eyes pierce through every disguise.
She has another and unexpected name, — Ahana, the
dawn, is also Aphrodite, who springs from the water ; that
is the morning often appears at the edge of the ocean
where it seems to join the sk}^, and Aphrodite brings
W'ith her the dazzling loveliness of the earh' morning,
and of the sea-foam. There are man}^ other applications,
but we have not time for them all. Urvasi is another
name, as such she is a nymph married to a mortal hus-
band whom she can never see. If she looks upon him,
she will vanish. Of course the dawn can never see the
sun : one must disappear before the other. So here, in
Sanskrit, is the origin of all the stories of beings who
cannot gaze upon each other, although united in the
closest love. It is Eros and Psj'che in Greek ; Cupid
and Ps3'che, in Latin ; Melusina and Count Raymond,
of Toulouse, in the Middle Ages ; Beauty and the
Beast, in the nurser}' tale ; and a thousand more. This
dawn m3tli is another of the primary Ar3'an myths, and
one of the most fertile.

The work of all these gods is purel3' ph3'sical ; but it
would be unjust to say that these are their onl3' gods.
Max Miiller sa3's, ''Heaven-Father was a better word

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 29

than fire or storm-wind ; but the Hindu soon perceived
that this was too human a name to give to that Infinite
whose presence he felt ever}" where." That part of the
sk}' behind the dawn, from which she came every morn-
ing, from which light came back to the world, was
called Aditi, the boundless, the be3-ond. She was one
of their earliest deities ; so this idea of something infi-
nite, behind and beyond the other deities, was an earl}^
conception. " TJie thought is so abstract that we have
fancied it purely modern. There was a visible revela-
tion of the infinite in that golden sea of light behind the
dawn, something which eluded our grasp while the dawn
itself came and went." As light came from the east,
it was looked upon as the home of the bright gods ;
and then came the thought that the dead had joined
these bright gods in their birthplace, the East. Aditi,
the boundless, is connected with the thought of im-
mortality ; for one poet sang : " Who will give us back
to the great Aditi, that I may see father and mother ? "
This is one of the first intimations of immortalit3\ In
this boundless infinite beyond, the dead must be living
with Aditi.

FUNERAL HYMN.

"Approach thou now the lap of Earth, thy mother,

The wide-extending Earth, the ever kindly :
A maiden soft as wool to him who comes with gifts,

She shall protect thee from destruction's bosom.
Open thyself, 0 Earth, and press not heavily ;

Be easy of access and of approach to him,
As a mother with her robe her child

So do thou cover him, 0 Earth."

)0 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ANOTHER.

" Open thy arms, O Earth, receive the dead
With gentle pressure and with loving welcome ;
Embrace him tenderly, e'en as a mother
Folds her soft vestment round the child she loves.
Soul of the dead, depart : take thou the path —
The ancient path — by which our ancestors
Have gone before thee . Thou shalt look upon
The two kings, mighty Varuna and Yama,
Delighting in oblations. Thou shalt meet
The fathers, and receive the recompense
Of all thy stored-up offerings, above.
Leave tliou thy sin and imperfection here ;
Return unto thy home once more ; assume
A glorious form. By an auspicious path
Hasten to pass the four-eyed brindled dogs,
Advance to meet the fathers who, with hearts
Kindly disposed towards thee, dwell in bliss
With Yama ; and do thou, O Mighty God,
Intrust him to thy guards to bring him to thee.
And grant him health and happiness eternal."

Yama was the judge of the dead. He had a dog
with four eyes and wide nostrils, whom he sent to earth
to collect those about to die, something like the Greek
dog, Kerberos, a primary myth. This idea of a judge
implies a distinction between right and wrong, the good
and the bad. Here is the manner in which it arose.

B}' the return of da}- and night, the weeklj^ changes
of the moon, the successions of the seasons, graduall}^
grew up a sense of something fixed and settled ; of a
law pervading all nature, and as soon as they had formed
the thought, thej^ put it into a word, Rita. It ex-
pressed at first the settled movement of the sun, the

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 31

path of the snn, which was to them the path of Rita.
And so the}' tried to grasp this unknown power which
formed the order of nature, by calling him Rita. Rita
was the power that settled the path of the sun. The
sun moved in the path of Rita. The abode of Rita was
in the east, and the path of Rita was every da}' the
same ; the moon and the stars also travelled in the path
of Rita ; finally every good thing travelled in the path of
Rita. Now, there is no translation of this, except the
straight path, the right path ; and when it was once un-
derstood that the sun, the moon, the dawn overcame
the darkness by following the path of Rita, the path of
right, the worshippers took their next step, and prayed
that they too might follow on the path of Rita, the
right path, and thus overcome sin, which was the same
to them as darkness, because evil-doers never cross the
path of Rita, it is said. With this came up, of course,
the idea of right and wrong ; of a law to be obeyed, and
a wrong-doing to be punished.

This conception of Rita, of right and wrong, belongs
to the Hindus and the Persians ; it is not a conception
of the undivided Aryans, so we do not find it among the
Greeks and Latins. This was never before so clearly
explained ; it is contained in Max Midler's Lectures,
published in 1878.

Mr. Cox says: "There is in the noblest minds a
certain consciousness of sin, even without breaking any
positive law, and this sense of sin weighed heav}' on
the mind of the thoughtful Hindu." At such times he
addressed himself to Varuna, the All-Surrounder, that is
the sk}' as brooding over and covering and surrounding
the earth. These hymns to Varuna are most beau-
tiful and deepl}' religious.

82 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

HYMN TO VARUNA.

" Let me not yet, 0 Varuna, enter into the house ' of clay :
have mercy, almighty, have mercy.

" If I go along trembling like a cloud driven by the wind :
have mercy, almighty, have mercy !

" Through want of strength, thou strong and bright god,
have I gone to the wrong shore : have mercy, almighty, have
mercy !

" Thirst came upon the worshipper though he stood in the
midst of the waters : have mercy, almighty, have mercy!

" Whenever we men, O Varuna, commit an olience before
the heavenly host, whenever we break the law through
thoughtlessness : have mercy, almighty, have mercy ! "

ANOTHER.

" However we break thy laws from day to day, men as we
are, O god, Varuna.

" Do not deliver us unto death, nor to the blow of the furi-
ous, nor to the wrath of the spiteful. Absolve us from the sins
of our fathers, and from those which we have connnitted with
our own bodies.

" Release the poet, 0 king, like a thief who has feasted on
stolen cattle ; release him like a calf from the rope. It was
not our own doing, 0 Varuna, it was necessity, an intoxicating
draught, passion, dice, thoughtlessness ! "

Varuna's characteristics in the Rig Veda are perpelu-
all}^ suggesting the idea of a Divine Being, who made
and upholds all things. Another hymn saj's : —

" Varuna dwells in all worlds as sovereign ; indeed the three
worlds are embraced by him. The wind which resounds
through the firmament is his breath. He has placed the sun
in the heavens and opened a boundless path for it to traverse.

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATURE. 33

He has hollowed out the channels of the rivers. It is by his
wise contrivance that, though all the rivers pour out their
waters into the sea, the sea is never filled. By his ordinance
the moon shines in the sky, and the stars which are visible by
night disappear on the approach of daylight. Neither the
birds flying in the air, nor the rivers in their sleepless flow, can
attain a knowledge of his power or his wrath. His spies be-
hold both worlds. He himself has a thousand eyes. He per-
ceives all the hidden things that have been or shall be done."

In such h3'mns Varuna is plainly the supreme god, as
the others had been in their turn.

Gradually the Hindu seems to have risen to a higher
conception, and all these gods seemed to him but dif-
ferent names for one great being. One hymn says,
" Wise poets make the beautiful-winged one manifold
by words ; though he is but one." Another says,
" Thou, Agni, art Indra, bountiful to the excellent ;
thou art Vishnu, the wide-stepping ; son of strength, in
thee reside all the gods."

That mj'sterious principle of life, which is sought to-
day in protoplasm, but which eludes our keenest search,
our latest knowledge, becomes to the thoughtful Hindu
one god, high over everything ; but manifesting himself
in many different wa3-s and mingling in the affairs of
men. The Rig Veda contains this idea. M. Langlois
sa3's, "The perpetual struggle of nature, the contrast
of heat and cold, light and darkness, seemed to him the
movement of some awful mj^sterious Being. This life of
nature, independent of individuals, found in the vege-
table and animal world, changing its form, dividing itself,
spreading everj^ where ; found also in the spiritual world,
where it creates thought and religious feeling ; all this

3

34 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

animation of moving mind and matter the Aiyans con-
sidered to be a person. lie is called Asoura Medhas,
the wise living one." Afterwards he was called Vis-
wakarman, the maker of all things ; then he grew to be
Pragapati, the one lord of all living things. Thus the}^
expressed their growing thoughts, struggling ever to a
higher conception.

HYMN TO ONE GOD.

" In the beginning there arose the source of golden light.
He was the only born lord of all that is. He established the
earth and the sky. Who is the God to whom we shall offer
our sacrifice ?

" He who gives life, He who gives strength ; whose blessing
all the bright gods desire ; whose shadow is innnortality ;
whose shadow is death : who is the God to whom we shall
offer sacrifice ?

" He who through his power is the only King of the breath-
ing and awakening world ; He who governs all, man and
beast : who is the God to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ?

" He whose power these snow}^ mountains, whose j)Qwer the
sea proclaims, with the distant river ; He whose these regions
are, as it were, his two arms : who is the God to whom we shall
offer our sacrifice ?

" He through whom the sky is bright and the earth firm ;
He through whom the heaven was established, nay, the highest
heaven ; He who measured out the light in the air : who is
the God to whom we shall offer our sacrifice ?

" He to whom heaven and earth, standing firm by his will,
look up, trembling inwardly ; He over whom the rising sun
shines forth : who is the God to whom we shall offer our
sacrifice ?

" Wherever the mighty water cloud went, where they placed
the seed and lit the fire, thence arose He who is the only life

THE ORIGIN OF LITERATUKE. 35

of the bright gods : who is the God to whom we shall offer our
sacrifice ?

" He who by his might looked even over the water clouds,
the clouds which gave strength and lit the sacrifice, He u-ho is
God above all gods : who is the God to whom we shall offer
our sacrifice ?

" May he not destroy us : He, the creator of the earth ; or
He, the righteous, who created the heavens ; He who also
created the bright and mighty waters : who is the God to
whom we shall offer our sacrifice?"

At times the Hindu rose to the height of loving this
being without hope of reward.

" Thou, even Thou, art mother ; Thou my lather ; Thou
my kinsman ; Thou my friend ; Thou art knowledge ; Thou
art riches ; Thou art my all, 0 God of Gods, Thou art my
protector in all places. Then what fear or grief can there be
tome?"

And here closes what has a universal interest for all
humanit}'. The next period is the Hindus' alone.

We wonder, as we read, who wrote these poetical
powerful hymns. They were at first composed by each
head of a famil}' ; tliis is wh}' they are so numerous, and
seem a little monotonous. He uttered his hymn, he
burst into song, while he laid his sacrifice on the sacred
fire, and poured out his oblation on the sacred grass.
How rich the early Ar3^an nature must have been ! how
full of imagination and tenderness, to have produced a
nation of poets ! Tlie religious bard or singer seems to
belong to ever}- race and everj' age. In the second stage
of civilization among the Hindus, rose a class of relig-
ious bards called Rishis, who wrote the h3-mns ; and a
class of priests called Brahmans, who performed the

36 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

sacrifices. The sacrifice of a horse, called an Aswe-
medha, is mentioned in the very latest hymns of the
Rig Veda. It was the first step towards an organized
priesthood.

The Rig Veda was not translated at all until 1833.
Then a few h3^mns were published in a pamphlet b}^
Rosen, a German. Complete translations were made by
Langlois in French ; and by Wilson in English, from
1848 to 1857. But translators are still at work upon it.
At first the Brahmans would not teach the Sanskrit in
which the Vedas were written ; would scarce^ allow for-
eigners to look at the books even. All the enormous
influence of the East India Compan}^ was brought to
bear upon them for j^ears, and much money spent for
books and teachers. Mr. Wilson devoted years of
study to his translation of the Rig Veda. Finally, with
a modest consciousness of good work well done, with
an honorable pride, he w^alked into the office of a Lon-
don publisher and informed him that he had a treasure
to offer, the Rig Veda. The publisher looked blankly
at him, "And pray, sir," said he, "what is the Rig
Veda ? " I hope that we are now better informed than
he.

BEAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 37

CHAPTER 11.

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA.
^•'■^-^ /

THERE are in Sanskrit literature four clistinctl}'
marked periods. First, the Vedic, which we
have examined, — a J03'0U3 age of simple pra^'ers and
kindh' gods and famil}' independence. Second, the
Brahmanical period ; therefore we come now into a
new atmosphere of thought. We leave behind us the
gods which belong to all the Ar^'an race, and go on to
speak of those which are distinctively' Hindu. Their new
gods represent one phase of the Aryan nature, its mys-
ticism. Another phase, its energy, is displayed in the
epic poem of the Maha Bharata. So our subject is the
rise of Brahmanism, and the Maha Bharata.

In our last chapter we examined the Rig Yeda, which
is called sometimes a sanhita. The word means a col-
lection, and we found the Rig Veda to be one general
collection of h3Tims and praters. In it we saw wor-
shipped the sun, the sk}', the dawn ; finalh', one god,
the lord of all these, a m3'sterious self-existent person,
called sometimes Asoura-Medhas, the wise being ; some-
times Viswakarman, the maker of all things. But the
new religion is a denial of all these. One of the poets
said these gods are oiil}' names ; still he maintained
that there was a real god, one alone ; but, instead of
making him a masculine name, they now made him a

38 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

neuter name. The}' considered neuter names to be
higher than either maseuHne or feminine. They wanted
to get as far away from human nature as the}' could to
express this divine being. They gave him two neuter
names, — Atman, which belongs to philosophy, and to
which I shall allude in the Sanskrit metaphysics ; and
Brahman, which belongs to rehgion and literature.
They are best translated by what we call the soul of
the world ; what the}' called the breath of the world.
It means the supreme self-existent spirit in repose.
Brahman is too vast to be understood by. one single
mind, or to be confined to one spot. He pervades
everything : he has no form and no characteristics :
he is not a person at all. But when he moves from
this passive condition and begins to act, then the Hindus
gave him other names. First, he wished to create nature
and man ; then he took the name of Brahma, nominative
masculine, the creator. Next he wished to sustain
and support all this creation, so he took the masculine
name of Vishnu, the preserver. This is only enlarging
the Vishnu, whom we found in the Rig Veda as a name
for the sun. Vishnu had ten incarnations when he
descended to live among men, which are called Avatars.
Monier Williams says, " Vishnu is the most human and
humane god of the Hindu pantheon, — a kind of pro-
test in favor of a personal deity, as opposed to the
impersonal pantheism of Brahman."

Next, Brahman wished to punish all this creation, so
he took the character of Siva, the destroyer. This is
only an enlargement of Rudra in the Rig Veda, the
god of storm and tempest, chief of the Maruts. All
these are far above the old Vedic deities. Indra alone

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 39

retains any prominence. Varuna now becomes the god
of the waters ; and is the same as Nereus in Greek, Nep-
tune in Latin. Each of these gods has a heaven of his
own, but Brahman has no local habitation.

One writer says, "From the restlessness of false
religions, the gods, being subjective, change with the
minds of the people who created them. There are
endless avatars in Brahmanical m3'thology, reproducing
the dreary monstrosities of the Hindu mind." They
showed their imagination in a curious freak. To denote
power they increased the bodies of their gods : Brahma
the creator, has four faces : Siva, the destrojer, has
five heads : Indra, the clear sk}", has one thousand eyes :
all the new gods and goddesses have four arms.

Among several of the Ar3'an nations are traditions of
earl}' ages of goodness and happiness, then a gradual
deterioration, like the four ages of Hesiod in Greek.
The Hindus had also vast periods of time, which they
called Yugas. They agree better with modern science
than the Greek periods, for a Yuga was 4,320,000 mortal
3'ears : no shorter period would have filled the vast
imagination of the Hindu. One thousand of these Yugas
constituted one da}' of Brahma ; then the creator will
sleep and all nature — including the gods, Brahma,
Vishnu, and Siva — will become dissolved; melt away
into Brahman, simple being.

As a natural result, the Brahmans taught the doctrine
of metempsychosis. Mr. Thompson says, "It is the
most novel and original idea ever started in an}' age or
country ; undoubtedly, too, its place of invention is India ;
Egypt took it from there ; Greece took it from Egypt ;
Pythagoras took it in person. It implies the eternity of

40 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the soul." It teaches that the Supreme Spirit, Brahman,
formed everything b}^ changing himself into matter.
He divided himself into innumerable existences ; into
gods, heroes, human beings, animals, plants, even into
stones. All these are not only emanations from Brah-
man, the}' are actually a part of him, smaller or larger
pieces of him. That small piece of Brahman, forming a
man, had a body which died ; then the sonl passed into
another bod}^ If a man's deeds had been sinful, he
went into a lower bod}', even as low as a stone ; if good,
he was born again into a higher body ; but he must
expiate the sins done in a former body. The doctrine
somewhat diminished the sense of personal responsi-
bility ; for great talents and goodness, or great sins and
wickednesses, were both considered to be the result of
powers and habits belonging to some previous exist-
ences ; yet there was not supposed to be any recollection
of these existences in the mind. " Through speaking
ill of his preceptor a man will be born again an ass ; if
he reviles his preceptor, a dog ; if he envies him, an in-
sect." Another said, " If a man steals grain, he shall be
born again a mouse ; if milk, a crow ; if he steals horses,
he shall be afflicted with lameness in a future existence ;
if he steals cloth, with leprosy." What a constant ter-
ror to evil-doers this thought would be !

The doctrine was particularly unpleasant to the
Hindus, for motion in their hot climate is often intoler-
able ; but it will account for the great kindness which
they show to animals. The soul goes on through a series
of transmigrations, — the various hells but purgatories,
the various lieavens but temporary resting-places, —
till it reaches the height of its capacities, its final

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 41

condition, absorption into Brahman. The Veda sa3^s, "As
the web issues from the spider, as little sparks proceed
from fire, so from the one soul proceed all breathing
animals, all worlds, all the gods, and all beings." Next
it says that all these exist separateh^ for a time, but at
length all are absorbed into their source, the Supreme
Spirit. "As from a blazing fire consubstantial sparks
proceed in a thousand wa3's, so from the Imperishable
Spirit various living souls are produced ; and they return
to him too." So all personal life, all individualit}^ is
lost, as seen from the following text: "As flowing
rivers are resolved into the sea, losing their names and
forms, so the wise man, freed from name and form,
passes into the Divine Spirit, which is greater than the
great. He who honors that Supreme Spirit becomes
spirit." Such was their ideal. M. Barbier describes
this mysticism. "The ideal fife is to lose yourself in
the divine essence, to detach yourself from the trifling
interests of humanit3% to feel a contempt for all religious
and moral laws, and the nothingness of all creation in
comparison with the divine love. Little by little, b}^
prayers and meditations, absolute renunciation of the
will, and rigorous mortification of the body, to rise above
this earthl}^ life ; even above the heavenly life ; to anni-
hilate 3'ourself in the great whole until the believer cries
out, ' I am in God,' next, ' I am God.' " One text sa3^s
' ' Thou art I ; I am thou : of what kind is the difference ?
Like gold and the bracelet, like water and a wave."
This is not at all the spiritual communion which
Christianit3' teaches ; it is absolute loss of all identit3'. ^
This was the goal to which the3^ pressed forward,
through penance and austerities and transmigrations.

42 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

i And this Brahman in which they wished to lose them-
selves is not a person at all, like the gods of the Rig
Veda. He is the principle of life, whether 3'ou give him

, the subjective name Atman ; the objective, Brahman.
Mr. Thompson sa3's, '• Brahman has no cause, no origin,
is not produced by anything ; but he is eternal, universal,
single, independent, free from an}^ characteristics, sov-
ereign." It is almost impossible for the human mind to
grasp this idea : but the Indian intellect reached it
without influence from any other nation. What we call
Pantheism sometimes, and sometimes Nature, comes
nearest to conveying the thouglit to us. But this doc-
trine of identification with the supreme principle of the
world is not found in the Rig Veda. No metemps}'-
chosis comes in there, no asceticism as steps to that
result. The Rig Veda distinctly teaches that the soul has
a personal, individual existence after death, as well as
that it is eternal.

Under this new religion, gradually and naturally,
societ}^ separated itself into classes ; but these classes,
instead of being pliable like society elsewhere, hardened
into an iron framework, which has remained unchanged
for centuries. In the Veda, where caste is indicated, it
is quite difterent from what it afterwards became.

The word Brahman applied to a human being meant,
first, one who oflTered a pra^^er to the Supreme Being,
Brahman. Next, these pra3^er-ofi*erers became the re-
ligious teachers of all others : every one was obliged to
learn the Veda b}- heart ; but the}" claimed that they
alone had the right to teach it. Then they took the last

I step and announced that the}" alone could off'er sacrifices ;
a long period must have elapsed since the father of the

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 43

family offered his own simple praj-er, and performed his
own sacrifice. A form for worship and sacrifice grew
up, and this brought about the other three Vedas.
They are far less interesting and valuable than the Rig
Yeda, and, whenever we say " the Veda," we mean the
Rig Yeda. The others were formed when the Aryan
invaders had penetrated far into the land ; the Sama
and Yadjour Yedas when they had reached the south-
eastern slope of the Himala3'a Mountains ; the Atharva
Yeda upon the very banks of the Ganges.

The three later Yedas are liturgies for worship and
rules for performing the sacrifices. The}' give rules for
the great public ceremonials, where three sacred fires
burned upon three sacred hearths, for the worship of the
family, and the private devotion of the individual. Not
merely the custom itself, but every motion and every into-
nation of voice was prescribed by rule ; and these motions
and accents were as divinely inspired as anj- other part
of the Yedas. For the Brahmans claimed that the four
Yedas were directly revealed to the religious bards (the
Rishis) , that they issued like breath from the Divine
Being. The}' were divine knowledge received through
the ear : not merely the thoughts but the actual words
were revealed. Therefore the change of a letter or an
accent was a sin ; and this revelation made to a class of
holy men was transmitted by repetition in the exact form
in which it had been received. It is difficult to determine
at what time the Brahmans set up the claim that the Yeda
was divinel}' revealed, and therefore infalhble. As all the
Hindus (except the Sudras) were obhged to learn the
Yeda, it is plain that the Brahmans had emplo3'ment
enough. They soon grew rich, for they received payment

44 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

for teaching the Veda, for offering prayers and sacrifices :
one kind of sacrifice required the services of sixteen
different classes of Brahmans. " These Brahmans were
men who were intellectually superior, and the}^ took
advantage of the strong sense of religion, which was
natural to the Hindu Aryan, to make themselves power-
ful." Thc}^ claimed that they were born from the mouth
of Brahma, and, therefore, formed the first caste.

As the shepherd tribes rested from their wanderings
and settled upon the land, they became agriculturists.
They needed some one to protect them from their
enemies : there are always men who would rather fight
than till the ground, — so the second caste grew up, the
Kshatriyas or warriors. After a while they became
kings over the peaceful farmers and merchants, and were
called rajas. In fact the rajas were always taken from
the Kshatri3'a or warrior caste. The^^ always had a
Brahman priest, however, for their adviser, like the kings
of the Middle Ages in Europe.

Then the quiet farmers and merchants formed them-
selves into a third caste called Vaisyas. The root vis
enters into this word : it means to enter into, sit down
upon, like the Latin vicus^ a village, and the English
termination wick of the name of a town. It has a second-
ary meaning in vis^ man of the people, vis pater ^ the
father of the people. Sometimes, though very seldom,
some Vaisya would gain great wealth ; then he would
hire Brahmans to perform his praj'ers and sacrifices, and
Kshatriyas to become his body-guard. These three castes
were all noble, all obliged to learn the Veda b}' heart.
Each boy had a sacred cord tied around his waist, and
was then called " twice born : " this corresponds to our

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 45

rite of baptism. The Brahman bo}^ was invested with the
sacred thread at eight jears of age ; tlie Kshatriya, at
eleven ; the Vais^-a, at twelve.

The Sudras, the fourth caste, did menial work. The}-
were servants but not slaves, and their condition was far
superior to the Helots of the Greeks, or the serfs of the
Middle Ages, for the}' were not attached to the soil. They
were not allowed to learn the Vedas, and this drew a sharp
line between them and the three " twice-borii" castes.

At tbe beginning of this Brahmanical period, took
place the events which form the subject of the epic
poems, although the poems themselves were not written
down until after. They are two, — the Maha Bharata,and
the Ramayana. They are quite old enough to be valu-
able, and they show a civilization far beyond the primi-
tive simplicity of the Rig Veda. We find a degree of
civilization which will be surprising to us : palaces and
chariots and jewels ; fruits and flowers ; domestic love
and womanly freedom, in an age and country which we
are fond of calling heathen. Of course the pictures of
life and manners which they give must be faithful, since
the Aryans who entered India were utterly separated
from other Aryan nations. We cannot too often recall to
mind that all the writings of Sanskrit literature are
utterly uninfluenced by contact with other minds, and
this 'makes them as wonderful as they are exquisite:
they are the spontaneous expression of the mind of man
at its very first awakening, and we may well be amazed
to find them so interesting in thought, so charming in
form. Many scholars, among them Dean Milman, con-
sider them more beautiful than those of any other nation.

It is impossible to know when the Maha Bharata was

46 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

written : the critics conflict so much. Monier Williams
thinks it later than the Ramayana. Wheeler places it
much earlier : one critic fixes it at 1500 b. g. ; another at
200 B. c. But this raa}^ be reconciled by assuming that
the Maha Bharata was rewritten at a later date than it
originated. We can but judge from the internal evidence
of the book itself, the only guide in most Hindu chronol-
ogy ; and the manners portrayed in the Maha Bharata are
much earlier than those of the Ramayana, especially the
freedom of the women. The Rig Veda may be called
patriarchal : it has first the family, then the tribe, then an
indication of the feudal lord. But the Maha Bharata is
completely feudal. Its raja was a feudal lord, but little
more powerful than his vassals. The priests were advisers
and friends, not tyrants, and the tone of the poem is ver}^
brave and warlike. Throughout it we are constantl}^
amazed at meeting customs which we supposed peculiar
to the Middle Ages of Europe ; but which must have been
common to the early civilization of ever}' Aryan famil}^, if
they are found in its earliest literature. The Swayembara
was an institution which greatly resembled the tourna-
ments of the Middle Ages. The different young noblemen
displayed their prowess before the raja, and the ladies of
the ro^'al famil}', who then chose one of them for her hus-
band. The position of woman was, therefore, cjuite
different from what it afterward became in India. The
driving of chariots was a favorite amusement and accom-
plishment with the ancient Ksliatri3'as just as with the
ancient Greeks. If the raja did not himself drive, his
charioteer was his confidential friend and adviser. In the
lassitude brought on b}' a hot climate, gambling was
then, as now, a passion ; rajas pla3'ed together for days

BRAHMAN ISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 47

until one had lost everything he possessed, and was
driven out as an exile. The great sacrifice called an
Aswemedha was a high solemnity'. The animal sacrificed
was a horse, and we find the same animal selected by
the Teutonic families : a horse was sacrificed to Odin,
the god of the Norsemen ; but we seldom read of a horse
sacrifice among the Greeks and Romans.

AVheeler, in his histor}' of India, says that " the
Maha Bharata is the most voluminous, and, perhaps, the
most valuable epic which has hitherto been preserved in
any written language." And this is great praise from
him, as he is not at all enthusiastic. There is no com-
plete translation in existence, as fifteen octavo volumes
would ))e required. For the Maha Bharata is seven
times as long as both poems of Homer combined, and
twenty times as long as the Nibelungen Lied. "In
India everything is on a colossal scale. Not onl}" are
the mountains higher, and the rivers longer, but the
poems also are more voluminous." M. Fauche left at
his death an unfinished translation in French in ten
volumes, but it is so diffuse that it is tedious.

The Maha Bharata is regarded with the most awful
reverence by the Hindus : to read it, or even to listen
to it, will prevent a Hindu from committing any sin
for that day ; will ensure prosperity in this world and
eternal happiness hereafter. The changes and additions
made to it by the Brahmans have greath' injured its
simplicity and freshness ; but these can be detected,
and it will ever remain most noble and interesting
in spite of them. Extravagant stories are told :
biUions and trillions of men are said to have been eur
gaged in the battles ; showers of blood to have fallen

48 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

from the skies ; but all these may be traced to the wish
which the Brahman singer felt to glorify the Kshatri^-a
ancestors of the raja to whom he sang. For the Maha
Bharata was originally a collection of ballads sung to some
raja. It is naturalh' greatl}' wanting in nnity : it is a vast
collection of Hindu mythology, legends, and philosophy,
rather than a poem with one subject. But it is our onl}-
source for the histor}' of the period ; for the Hindu, it
will be remembered, never wrote historj^ Its events took
place when the Ar^'an invaders had penetrate d as far as
the cit3" which we call Delhi. The main action of the
poem, however, is the quarrel between the Kauravas and
the Pandavas, who were first cousins, and descendants
of Bharata, a great Indian hero. The word Maha
always means great, so Maha Bharata means the
great war of Bharata. Mr. Wheeler sa3s, "This war
was not a contest with a foreign invader nor a do-
mestic t3Tant, not a crusade of religion. It was simply
a struggle between kinsmen for land and throne."
Mr. Wheeler, therefore, rejects all sj'mbolism, and treats
it simpl}^ as history. But symbolism is as true an
expression of our faculties as histor}', and cannot so
cooU}^ be thrust aside. According to modern interpreta-
tion, a deeper meaning underlies this contest ; it becomes
that same struggle between light and darkness which we
saw in the Rig Veda, and which is in reality that ever-
recurring strife between good and evil which we find in
every Aryan family, and whose origin I shall refer to
again. The heroes of the Maha Bharata are plainl^^ the
same as the gods of the Rig Veda, and can clearh' be
traced to that. In the Maha Bharata, then, the Pan-
davas are good and beautiful and strong. Their chiefs

BEAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 49

are five brethren, each of whom has a distinct individu-
aht}'. Bhima, a giant hke the Greek Plerakles, is one
of them : he carries a club or mace for weapon. The
most interesting hero in our 63^68 is Arjuna. His name
means " dazzUng radiance," and he possesses the quaUties
of Indra : the god has come down to be the hero of an
epic : his weapon is the unerring bow and arrow, he is
therefore a solar m3'th. But the favorite hero in the
Hindu's e3-es is the Raja Yudishthira, who never mani-
fests the slightest feeling, but shows a cold, passionless
stoicism.

The Kauravas are wicked and weak ; but as Hector
was noble among the wicked Trojans, so is Kama beauti-
ful and brave among the wicked Kauravas. He is also
a form of the solar myth : his mother was a mortal maiden ;
his father was the shining sun. \Yhen he was born, he
wore golden ear-rings, and a golden coat of mail envel-
oped him like a shell. In the German m^^tholog^', one
hero is called the " horny Siegfried" because he wore a
coat of mail like horn. When Kama was born he was
put into a basket and floated far away. This same cir-
cumstance is told of Perseus in Greek and Scif in Anglo-
Saxon, and other Aryan heroes. He was picked up b}^
a wagon-driver ; brought up and educated by him. His
coat of mail grew with his growth : he could take it off
and on at pleasure, and was invincible when he wore it.
On a certain day a Swayamvara was held, and it was
-announced that whoever should bend a certain enormous
bow and shoot the^arrow into the mark, should gain the
hand of a lovely princess, Draupadi, the lotns-eved. All
the rajas had tried and failed ; then Kama comes forward
and bends the bow, and the lotus-eyed princess calls out,

4

" I will not wed the base-born son of a wagon-driver,"
so poor Kama is ol^ligcd to give up the bow. Then
Arjuna comes forward, bends the bow, and shoots the
arrow, and hits the mark, and gains the princess. The
practice of polj'andr}' prevails, and she becomes the wife
to the five brethren. Then the cousins gamble together,
and the raja of the Pandavas gambles away his right to the
kingdom and his wife. So all the Pandavas are exiled
into the jungle, but the wife is given back to them :
this exile into the jungle is a favorite punishment among
the Hindus. When they became wear}- in their wander-
ings, the giant Bhima would cany his fatigued brethren
and their afflicted wife upon his shoulders, or under his
arms, and walk on as l^efore. Finally, the difficulty is
settled b}' a grand battle of eighteen da3'S. But the in-
terest lies in the single combats, and these sound like
the stones of the Middle Ages. Here, in this first heroie
poetry of the Ar3'an mind, is the t3'pe which recurred at
diff'erent ages in each Aryan race. Kama and Arjuna
are to settle the question by single combat ; but the
evening before, Kama's true mother comes to him and
reveals his birth to him : he is reall^^ the half-brother
of Arjuna, and begs him to join the side of the Pan-
davas. But he refuses to desert his friends. The}^
fight, and the victory is uncertain, when Kama is slain
from behind, like so many other warriors in Ar3'an
poetr3', — Achilleus, in Greek ; Siegfried, in German.
Then all the widows come to the battle-field to
mourn. How much freedom the women had in these
first ages, to come to so public a place ! They dishevel
their long black hair and sit b3' the corpses. The
mother of the raja said, " The wise and the learned

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 51

alwa^'s used to sit aroniid this son of mine, and nearl}-
all the rajas of the earth took their stations near him,
and prided themselves on it as a promotion ; but this
night the jackals alone have been his courtiers." Then
the widow of the raja placed her husband's head upon
her lap, and the mother said, "This woman whom
neither sun nor moon was once worthy to look upon,
see how she now sits here bareheaded." The bodies are
gathered into great heaps and burned, but each raja had
a funeral-pile of his own. Among the Aryan nations,
burning and burying were each used for the dead, — burn-
ing by the wandering tribes ; burying, b}^ those who settled
on the land. But burning was never adopted by the
masses ; 'only used for great chieftains. In the Iliad,
Hector's body was burned ; among the Teutons it is con-
stantly mentioned, as we shall find later on.
• Another most touching passage is the description of
the dead arising at night from the waters of the Ganges
to revisit their friends. -Mr. Wheeler thinks this one of
the " grandest pictures ever presented to the human eye."
It certainly shows that ' ' touch of nature " which ' ' makes
the whole world kin." The longing of the human heart
to see its dead again must be universal, if it were felt so
long ago, so far away, so independently of foreign
influence. Does it not show how natural and spontaneous
it is to believe in immortality ; to feel that those who
are dead to us are living in another life ? The action
of the widows has a Hindu tone, but the rest is of all
times and all nations.

" After this, while all were talking together of the husbands,
and the sons, and the kinsfolk whom they had lost in the great

52 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

wars of tlie ]\Iaha Bharata, the Sage Vyasa appeared among
them and said, ' I will this day heal all your griefs. Go you all
to the river Ganges and bathe therein, and there each one of
you shall behold the kinsman for whom you have been sorrow-
ing.' So they all went down to the river, and chose a bathing
place for themselves and families, and Vyasa said to them, —
' You shall see this night whom you desire.' And the day
passed away so slowly that it seemed like a whole year to them,
and at last the sun went down, and they all bathed in the river
by command of Vyasa, and said their prayers and went and
stood near him ; and Yudishthira and his brethren were on
the side of Vyasa. and everybody else stood where places could
be found. Vyasa then went into the water and prayed and
bathed, and he then came out and stood by Yudishthira, and
called out the names of each of the persons who had been slain,
one by one. At that moment the river began to foam and boil,
and a great noise was heard rising out of the water, as though
all the slain men were once again alive, and as though they,
and their elephants, and their horses, were bursting into loud
cries, and all the drums and trumpets and other instruments
of music of both armies were striking up together. The whole
assembly was astonished at this mighty tempest, and some
were smitten with a terrible fear when suddenly they saw
Bishma and Droma in full armor seated in their chariots, and
ascending out of the water with all their armies arrayed as they
were on the first day of the Maba Bharata. Next came forth
Abhimanya, the heroic son of Arjuna, and the five sons ot
Draupadi, and the son of Bhima with his army. After him
came Kuna and Duryodhama and Sankivar, and the other sons
of Droma, all in full parade, seated upon their chariots, together
with many other warriors and rajas who had been slain. All
appeared in great glory and splendor, and more beautiful than
they were when all alive, and all came with their own horses
and chariots, and runners and arms. And every one was in per-
fect friendship Avith each other, for enmity had departed from
amongst them. And each one was preceded by his bards and

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 53

eulogists, who sang his pmises, cand very many singing men and
dancing girls appeared with them, singing and dancing. Now,
when those warriors had come out of the river their widows
and orphans and kinsfolk were overjoyed, and not a trace of
grief remained amongst them, and widows went to their hus-
bands, and daughters to their fathers, and mothers to their sons,
and sisters to their brothers, and all the fifteen years of sorrow
w^hich had jjassed away since the war of the Maha Bharata were
forgotten in the ecstasy of seeing each other again. Thus the
night passed away in the fulness of joy; but when the morn-
ing had dawned all the dead mounted their chariots and horses,
and disappeared ; and those w^ho had gathered to behold them
prepared to depart, and Vyasa the Sage said that the widows
who wished to rejoin their dead husbands might do so, and all
the widows went and bathed in the Ganges, and came out of
the water again and kissed every one the feet of Yudishthira
and his wife Gandhavi, and went and drowned themselves in
the river, and through the prayers of Vyasa they all went to
the places they Avished and obtained their several desires."

The Hindus justif}^ from the Vedas the Sati, or custom
of burning widows upon the funeral pile of their hus-
bands. But the Sati is not found in the Rig Veda : on
the contrav}', it is forbidden there.

Mr. Alger, in his work on " Oriental Poetr}^," calls
"the close of the Maha Bharata " the culminating point of
the poetry of the world." He says, "To the touched
hearts and impressed imaginations of the reader, Hasti-
napur becomes a nobler name than Tro}'."

The Pandavas conquer ; Yudishthira gains the throne,
but he is still unsatisfied. He feels that all who wish
for true happiness and rest of mind must abandon
worldh' things, and seek for union with the Infinite.
We fancy this to be a modern doctrine : it is as old as

54 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the soul of c\'eiy Aiyan. It lias been said that this was
added by the feeling of a later age than that which ex-
pressed itself in single combats and Swayamvaras ; and
yet this idea was more or less present to the Hindu in
every stage of development. It was prompted by that
spiritual element which is so much stronger in the Sans-
krit literature than in the literatures of Greece or Rome.
Yudishthira tells his four brethren and their one wife, of
his restless yearnings, of his intention to renounce that
throne which had cost such blood a^id treasure, and go
forth to seek the heaven of Indra. So he takes off his
royal robes, and the six clothe themselves in the garb of
pilgrims, and wander forth together, accompanied by a
faithful dog. All graduall}^ drop down b}' the wa}', ex-
cept the cold, stoical Yudishthira ; he reaches at length
the heaven of Indra. But Indra will not admit the dog :
Yudishtliira refuses to abandon a faithful friend, and
Indra consents. Then Yudishthira inquires for his four
brethren and the tender princess Draupadi, the faithful
wife. Indra informs him that they are in hell. So he
refuses to sta}^ in heaven without them, goes down to hell
and hears the voices of his brethren in dreadful torment.
The hell is even worse than Dante's : there is a dark-
ness which can be felt, the wicked are burning in flames
of fire. It is a dense wood whose leaves are sharp
swords ; the ground is paved with razors ; the path
strewn with mutilated corpses. The brethren implore
Yudishthira not to leave them, and he promises to stay
and share their torments. Then Indra tells him that
these were all maya or illusions to try his character :
the four brethren, and Draupadi, the lotus-eyed, are
really in the heaven of Indra, where the}' live happily
ever after.

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 55

In the poem there are innumerable episodes. One of
them relates the adventures of the playful Krishna, who
was married to sixteen thousand damsels, each of whom
thought herself his onl}^ wife. This reallj' means that
Krishna is the sun, reflected in sixteen thousand dew-
drops. Another episode is met again in Keltic folk-lore :
it tells of a city with all its inhabitants submerged,
drowned for its wickedness. Here is another little
touch which suggests the Middle Ages. Each hero car-
ries a conch-shell for a trumpet, which has a name, as
if personified. We are accustomed to the naming of
swords, but this is still more hero-like. Arjuna blew
his shell, called Deva-datta, "the god-given;" the
words sound like Latin : Yudishthira blew his, called
'' eternal victory."

There is another episode of the Maha Bharata, which
ma}' be quoted for its beauty simply, but also for the
close resemblance it bears to the story of Alkestis in
Greek literature. Like her, the heroine is willing to die
for her husband ; and these two nations unconsciously
worked out the same idea. Its root, therefore-, must
have been the same ; we shall learn the meaning when
we take up the Greek form of the thought. Savitri, the
beautiful daughter of a king, loved Satyavan, the son of
a hermit, but was warned b}' a seer to overcome her at-
tachment, as he had only one 3'ear to live. ' ' Whether his
3'ears be few or man}', be he gifted with all grace or
graceless, him my heart hath chosen, and it chooseth
not again," she replied ; and they were married. The
bride strove to forget the ominous prophecy ; but as the
last day of the year approached, her anxiety became
"irrepressible. She exhausted herself in prayers and

5(j SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

penances, but dared not reveal the fatal secret to her
husband. At last the dreaded day arrived, and Satj^a-
van set out to cut wood hi the forest. His wife asked
leave to accompan}^ him, and wallved behind with a
heav3^ heart. He soon made the wood resound with his
hatchet, when suddenly a thrill of agony shot through
his temples, and feeling himself falling he called out to
his wife to support him.

" Then she received her fainting husband in her arms and sat

herself
On the cold ground, and gently laid his drooping head upon

her lap.

All in an instant she beheld an awful shape
Standing before her, dressed in blood-red garments, with a

glittering crown
Upon his head ; his form, though glowing like the sun, was

yet obscure,
And eyes he had like flames, a noose depended from his hand ;

and he
Was terrible to look upon, as by her husband's side he stood
And gazed upon him with a fiery glance. Shuddering, she

started up
And laid her dying Satyavan upon the ground, and, with her

hands
Joined reverently, she thus with beating heart addressed the

shape,
' Surely thou art a god ; such form as thine must more than

mortal be !
Tell me, thou god-like being, who thou art, and wherefore thou

art here ? ' "

The figure replied that he was Yam a, king of the dead ;
that her husband's time was come, and that he must
bind and take his spirit.

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 57

*^ Then from her husband's body forced he out, and firmly with
his cord

Bound and detained the spirit, clothed in form no larger than a
thumb.

Forthwith the body, reft of vital being and deprived of breath,

Lost all its grace and beauty, and became ghastly and motion-
less."

After binding the spirit, Yama proceeds with it to-
wards the place of w^hicli he is guardian ; the faith-
ful wife follows him closely-. Yama bids her go home
and prepare the funeral rites, but she persists in follow-
ing, until Yama, pleased with her devotion, grants her
an}' boon she pleases, except her husband's life. She
chooses that her husband's father, who is now bUnd, may
recover his sight. Yama consents, and bids her now re-
turn home. Still she persists in following. Two other
boons are granted in the same way, and still Savitri
follows closely on the heels of the king of death. At
last, overcome by her constanc}^ Yama grants her a boon
without exception. The delighted Savitri exclaims, —

" Nought, mighty king, this time hast thou excepted : let my

husband live ;
Without him I desire not happiness, nor even heaven itself ;
Without him I must die. ' So be it ! faithful wife,' replied

the king ;
Thus I release him, and with that he loosed the cord that

bound his soul."

But the most beautiful, as well as celebrated of the
episodes, is the stor^- of Nala and Damayanti. It has
been translated into many modern languages. I w^ill give
you Wheeler's prose translation. It is told in the most

58 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

naive and delicious manner. Dama3-anti talks to the
mountains and trees as if they were living beings.

There is one point in which the Indian epics ai"e
different from those of ever}' other nation. The gods
themselves take upon tliem a human form and take part
in the action. But I think this is an interpolation of the
Brahmans, for it is contrar}' to the natural processes of
the human mind. Whereas, it is quite natural to lend
to the hero the characteristics of a god ; more fitting to
raise a mortal than to degrade a deity.

One trait which reveals the gods is found in other
poems. The Greek and Latin gods never wink. In the
Iliad Helen recognizes Aphrodite by her " marble ej'es."
They mean the full, fixed eyes of the Hindu deities,
which puzzled commentators, until they were found in
Sanskrit literature.

THE STORY OF NALA AND DAMAYANTI.

In ancient times there lived in Nishadha a certain raja
named Nala; and he was handsome, brave, majestic, and splen-
did, gifted with the choicest virtues, renowned for his skill in
archery and in taming horses, of unblemished truth, admired
by noble women, but loving dice exceedingly; and he was also
deeply read in the Vedas, and had brought every sense and
passion under control. Farther south, in the city Vidarbha,
reigned Raja Bhiina, terrible in strength, whose blooming and
slender- waisted daughter, Damayanti, was famous among all
the rajas for her radiant charms and exceeding grace. And
Nala, the tiger among rajas, had so often heard of the exquisite
loveliness of Damayanti, the pearl of maidens, that he was
enamored without having seen her ; and the soul-disturbing
Damayanti had, in like manner, so often been told of the god-
like comeliness and virtues of the hero Nala, that she secretly
desired to become his bride.

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 59

Now, on a certain day Eaja Nala wandered to a grove and
pondered on his deep love for Damayanti, when a flock of
swans with golden plumage flew into the grove, and he canght
one of the bright birds. And the bird cried out, *' Slay me
not, O gentle raja, and I will so praise thee in the presence of
Damayanti that she shall think of no other man but thee."
So Nala set it free ; and the bird of golden wing flew away
with all its companions to the city Vidarbha, and entered the
garden of Raja Bhima. And the beautiful Damayanti was
sporting with her maidens in the garden, when they all beheld
a flock of swans who dropped their golden plumes; and the
slender-waisted chased the bright birds about the garden, when
suddenly a swan turned round to Damayanti and said in the
language of men, *' O Damayanti, thou art the loveliest of
maidens, and Nala is the handsomest of heroes ; if the peerless
wed the peerless, how happy will be the union ! " Then the
royal maiden softly said to the bird, " Speak the same words
to Nala." And the bird fluttered its golden wings, and flew
away to Nishada, and told all to Nala.

I\Iean while the beautiful maiden grew pale and dejected in
her father's court at A-^idarbha. She could not sleep, she often
wept, she found no joy in banquets or in conversation, and
she gazed upon the sky at night-time with a look of wild dis-
traction; for her heart was wholly possessed with a deep love
for Nala. So the maidens told her royal father that Dama-
yanti was fading away into a deep melancholy. And the Raja
of Vidarbha said, " My daughter is full-grown, and must be
given away in marriage." And he sent Brahmans round the
world to proclaim a Swayamvara; and all the rajas of the earth
who had heard of the divine loveliness of Damayanti flocked to
the court of Bhima, with all the pomp of chariots and horses,
and elephants, and armies. And Bhima welcomed them all
with due courtesy, and entertained them well.

Now, at this time the holy sage Narada ascended on high to
the heaven of Indra. And Indra gave him honorable wel-
come, and said, " Where, O sage, are all the rajas, that they

60 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

come not to my abode ? " And Narada replied, " 0 cloud-
compeller, all the rajas and their mighty sons have gone to
the Swayamvara of Damayanti ; for she, the loveliest of
maidens, is about to choose a husband for herself." Then the
gods were stricken as they heard of the transcendent beauty of
Damayanti, and they excj.aimed, " "We, too, will go to her
Swayamvara ! " And Indra, lord of Swarga, and Agni, god of
fire, and Varuna, who rules the seas, and Yama, who judges
the dead, called for their celestial chariots, and drove through
the air to the city of Vidarbha; and, as they approached the
earth, they beheld the hero Nala, as radiant as the sun and as
comely as the god of love; and they stayed their chariots in
the blue air, and said to the heroic one, " 0 Nala, we pray
you to do our bidding." And Nala stood with folded hands,
and said, "Whatsoever you command, that will I do." So
Indra, sovereign of the gods, said to Nala, " Go now and tell
the fair daughter of Bhima that the four immortal gods have
come from heaven to woo her, and that she must choose from
amongst them whom she will." But Nala replied, " Oh ! spare
me this ; for I, too, am enamored with the damsel, and how
can I woo her for another V But all the gods spoke out with
one accord, " Have you not pledged yourself to do whatsoever
we command 1 Delay not, therefore, nor belie your word/'
Then Nala said, " The palace of Bhima is strongly guarded,
and I cannot enter the presence of the maiden." But Indra
replied, " No man shall stop you ; only go." Then Eaja
Nala entered the palace of Bhima, and no man hindered him ;
and he reached the inner apartments, and beheld the beautiful
damsel sitting amongst her maidens ; and, when the damsels
saw him, they sprang from their seats, and marvelled at his
wondrous beauty. And Nala smiled sweetly upon Dama-
yanti ; and she, with lovely eyes, smiled sweetly in return, and
said, " O hero, how came you hither ? Have you escaped the
guards my father has set around us/" Then Nala replied,
" 0 loveliest of damsels, my name is Nala, and I am a mes-
senger from the gods, and through their power I have passed

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHAKATA. 61

the gates unseen by men. Now, the four gods desire to wed
you, and pray you to choose one of their number to be their
lord." And Damayanti bowed in reverence to the gods, and
then smiled again upon Nala, and said, " 0 raja, the language
of the golden-plumaged swan has kindled my soul, and I will
choose no otlier but you; and, if you spurn my love, I will
take poison, or plunge into the water or the fire.'^ And Nala
replied, *' O beautiful maiden, how can you choose a mortal
man in the presence>of the bright gods ? How can you refuse
to be arrayed in heavenly raiment, and bright amaranthine
flowers, and all the glory of the celestials ? Where is the
damsel who would not wed the radiant Agni, god of fire,
whose mouths consmne the world ? or the bright Indra, sov-
ereign of the gods, at whose dread sceptre all the assemblies
of the earth are forced to do justice and Avork righteousness ?
or the majestic Varuna, lord of waters? or the mighty Yama,
judge over all the dead?" But Damayanti trembled at the
words of Nala, and her eyes were filled with tears, and she
said, "I will pay due homage to all the gods; but you only
will I choose to be my lord." And Nala went his way, and
told to the expectant gods all that Damayanti had said.

2. THE SWAYAMVARA OF DAMAYANTI.

At length the day of happy omen, the great day of the Swa-
yamvara, dawned upon the city of Vidarbha. And all the
rajas, sick with love, passed through the glittering portals and
the court of golden columns, and entered the Hall of State,
like lions entering their mountain lairs. And all the rajas
were adorned with fragrant garlands, and rich ear-rings of costly
gems were hanging from their ears. And some had long arms,
robust and vigorous as the ponderous battle-mace; while others
were as soft and delicately rounded as a smooth serpent. With
bright and flowing hair and arched eyebrows, their faces were
as radiant as the stars; and they filled the Hall of State, as the
serpents fill the under- world, or as tigers fill the caves in the

62 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

mountains. But, when D.imayanti entered the hall, every eye
was fixed, and every soul entranced at her dazzling loveliness;
and all the rajas gazed upon her beauty, and were stricken
with deep and passionate desire. Then the name of every
raja was proclaimed aloud, and Damayanti glanced around her
at the glittering crowd of suitors, and she saw in. her dismay
that there were five Nalas in the hall, for each of the four
bright gods had taken upon himself the form of Nala. And
Damayanti trembled with fear, and after a while she folded
her hands in reverence to the gods, and said in sad and
humble tones, " Since I heard the language of the swan, I have
chosen Nala for my lord, and have thought of no other hus-
band. Therefore, 0 gods, I pray to you that you resume your
own immortal forms, and reveal Nala to me, that I may choose
him for my lord in the presence of all." And the gods heard
the piteous prayer of Damayanti, and they wondered at her
steadfast truth and fervent love; and straightway they revealed
the tokens of their godhead. Then Damayanti saw the four
bright gods, and knew that they were not mortal heroes; for
their feet touched not the earth, and their eyes winked not,
and no perspiration hung upon their brows, nor dust upon
their raiment, and their garlands were as fresh as if the flowers
were just gathered. And Damayanti also saw the true Nala;
for he stood before her with shadow falling to the ground,
and twinkling eyes, and drooping garland; and moisture was
on his brow, and dust upon his raiment; and she knew he
was Nala. Then she went in ail maidenly modesty to Nala,
and took the hem of his garment, and threw a wreath of radiant
flowers round his neck, and thus chose him for her lord. And
a sound of wild sorrow burst from all the rajas; but the gods
and sages cried aloud, " Well done ! " And Nala turned to the
slender- waisted damsel and said, "Since, 0 maiden with the
eye serene, you have chosen me for your husband in the pres-
ence of the gods, know that I will be your faithful consort,
ever delighting in your words ; and so long as my soul shall
inhabit this body I solemnly vow to be thine, and thine alone."

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 63

Then the blest pair approached the gods with reverence, and
the gods gave rare gifts to Nala. To him Indra gave the
sight which sees the nnseen in the sacrifice, and the power to
go unhindeied where he pleased; and Agiii gave him the mas-
tery over fire, and power over the three worlds ; and Varuna
gave him the mastery over water, and the power of obtaining
fresh garlands at will ; and Yama gave him a subtle taste for
food, and eminence in every virtue.

Then Raja Bhima in his joy and pride performed the marriage
rites of his beautiful daughter and her chosen lord, and in due
time Raja Nala carried away his bride to his own city. Thus
the tiger among rajas obtained the pearl of maidens ; and
henceforth the bliss of Nala and Damayanti was equal to that
of the giant-slayer Indra and his beautiful Sachi. Radiant and
excellent as the sun, Nala ruled all the subjects of his raj
with a just and equal sway. He performed an Aswemedha,
with many rich gifts to holy men ; and Damayanti bore him
two children, — a handsome son named Indrasen, and a beauti-
ful dauirhter named Indrasena.

3. THE GAMBLING MATCH BETWEEN NALA AND
PUSHKARA.

Now, when the bright gods were returning from the Sway-
amvara to the heaven of Indra, they met the evil spirit
Kali, accompanied by Duapara. And Indra said to Kali,
"Whither art thou going, 0 Kali ? " And Kali replied, "I
am going to the Swayamvara of Damayanti ; for I have set my
heart upon having her for my bride." And Indra laughed and
said, " The bridal of Damayanti is ended, for in our presence
she chose Raja Nala to be her lord." Then Kali was filled with
rage, and, bowing with reverence to the gods, he said,
"Since she has preferred a mortal man to the immortal gods,
heavy shall be her doom." But the four gods replied, " It
[ was with our consent that Damayanti chose her lord ; and what
maiden would not incline to one so virtuous as Nala ? And he

64 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

who has read the Vedas, and constantly adores the gods with
pure offerings, and is gentle to all living creatures, and true in
word and deed, he is equal to the immortal gods." Then the
gods ascended on high, but Kali said to Duapara, "I will
not stay my wrath, but henceforth I will keep watch on Nala,
and you shall abide in the dice ; and when the hour comes I
will enter his sonl and gain the mastery over him until I have
cast him out of the raj and parted him from his sweet bride."
And from that hour the two evil spirits, Kali and Duapara,
dwelt in the palace of Nala.

Twelve years passed away, and none in all the world were so
supremely blessed as the beautiful Damayanti and her husband
Nala. But on a certain evening Nala failed in duty, for he
prayed to the gods with feet unwashen ; and Kali seized the
opportunity, and straightway entered into him and possessed
his inmost soul. And Nala had a brother named Pushkara, and
Kali said to Pushkara, " Go you and play at dice with Nala,
and I will make him the winner of his raj." And Pushkara
challenged Nala to a game at dice, and Nala and Pushkara
sat down to play in the presence of Damayanti. And they
played for gold and jewels and raiment, and for chariots and
horses ; but Nala was worsted at every throw, for Duapara
embodied the dice, and Kali had mastered him body and soul.
Then the faithful friends of Nala prayed him to throw no
longer ; but he was maddened with the love of play, and
shut his ears to all they said. And all the chief men of the
raj assembled at the gate of the palace to arrest the frenzy of the
raja. And the charioteer entered the hall and said to Damay-
anti, "Lo, all the city are gathered together, for they fear
lest some dire misfortune befall the raja." And Damayanti was
stricken with deep sorrow, and she entreated the raja to listen
to the voice of his people ; but he turned away from her beauti-
ful and tearful eyes, and answered not a word ; and so the play
went on, and the people returned to their houses, saying,
" Surely this gambler cannot be the raja." And when Nala
had lost all his treasures, the sorrowing Damayanti told her

BRAHMAKISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 65

nurse to summon the council ; and the council assembled at the
palace, and Damayanti announced their presence to Nala, but
he heeded not her words ; and she was filled with shame, and
left the hail and went to her own rooms.

Then Damayanti sent for the charioteer and spoke to him
winningly, and said, "You know what trust my lord, the
Eaja, has ever placed in you. Go now and harness the steeds to
the chariot, and take my children to my father's city and
leave them in my father's house ; and then dwell there, or go
wherever you will." And the charioteer went to the council
and obtained their consent ; and he took the noble boy and the
beautiful maiden to the city of Vidarbha, and he gave them in-
to the charge of Raja Bhima ; and then he went his way with
great sadness of heart to the city of Ayodhya and entered the
service of Raja Rituparna.

Meanwhile, Nala had lost all his treasures, and his chariots
and his horses ; and he staked his raj and the vestments
which he wore, and he lost all to Pushkara. And Pushkara
smiled and said, " 0 Nala, you have lost your all, excepting
only your wife, Damayanti." At these words the heart of Nala
was rent asunder, and he said not a word. And he took off all
his robes and raiment and looked sadly upon Pushkara, and
went out with but a single scanty covering, and Damayanti al-
so had but a single covering, and she followed him slowly be-
hind.

4. THE EXILE OF NALA AND DAMAYANTI.

Then Pushkara proclaimed throughout the city, " "Whoever
shall give food or shelter to Nala shall be put to death."

And for three days and three nights Nala lived on fruits
and roots, and his sorrowing Rani followed behind him and did
the same. Then Nala saw a flock of birds upon the gro.und and
he said within himself, " This day we shall have food."
And he threw his only garment upon the birds, but they flew
into the air and carried the garment with them. And the birds

5

66 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

spoke in human language and mocked Nala in his miser}'", and
said, "0 foohsh Nala, we are the dice, and we came hither
to rob you of your covering, for whilst you had a single garment
left our joy was small." Then Kala was in an agony, and he
said to Damayanti, " Weep not for me, but go to the house of
your father ; yonder lies the road, and it passes through woods
that have abundant fruits, and on the way are many hermitages
of pious sages." But Damayanti burst into tears and re})lied,
" 0 my lord, your words will break my heart : How can I
leave you in this lonely wood, when you have been robbed of
all ? No, I wall stay and soothe your weariness, I'or the M'isest
physicians say that a true wife is the best balsam in every time
of sorrow. If I go to my kindred it must be with you, and we
must both go together." But Nala had not the heart to take
refuge in the house of his wife's father ; and he said, "I will
not seek refuge in your father's raj ; once I went there in joy
and pride, but now should I appear there I should only increase
my shame."

So Nala and Damayanti journeyed on together, and they made
one garment suflice them. And they came to a brook and Nala
caught two fishes and laid them before his wife and went into
the brook to bathe ; and Damayanti in her hunger put her hand
upon the fishes, but the touch of her fingers revived them like a
draught of soma and they sprang back into the water. And
when Nala returned he thought that Damayanti had eaten the
fishes, but he said nothing, and so they still wandered on.

Now when both Raja and the Rilni were wearied Math their
toil, and faint with thirst and hunger they reached a little hut,
and there they lay and slept upon the bare ground. And
Damayanti was oppressed with sleep, but Nala was distraught
with sorrow. And Nala awoke and thought of the raj he had
lost, and the friends who had deserted him, and of his weary
wandering in the jungle ; and he grew frantic, for the evil spirit
of Kali was working within him ; and he said within his
heart, " If Damayanti remains with me she must bear certain
sorrow, but if I leave her she may return to her father's house :

BEAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 67

If I go, I know not which is better for me, — life or death ; but
for her, no one will harm a wife so devoted and so beautiful."
Then Nala pondered how he should divide the single garment
between them ; and he saw a sword that lay in the cabin, and
he severed the garment in two, and he clothed himself with the
half of the garment. Then he fled into the jungle, but came
back again and beheld his wife sleeping, and he wept bitterl}^
and said, " My love, whom neither sun nor moon dared look
upon, how will she awake ? How will she wander alone
through the deep jungle haunted by serpents and wild beasts ?
May the sun god and the god of wind protect her, though her
virtue is her best guard." Then the mind of Nala was swayed
to and fro, first by love and then by despair, until at last he left
his wife alone in the hut, and rushed like one who is mad into
the depths of the jungle.

5. NALA'S DESERTION OF DAMAYANTI.

Now when the slender-waisted Damayanti awoke from her
deep slumber and found herself abandoned in the jungle, she
shrieked aloud in grief and pain, and ran about the wood
leaping in madness; and she sobbed very bitterly and sai;l,
" May that evil one who has caused this dreadful suffering to
Nala be smitten by a curse more fatal still." Thus she went
wailing through the forest, until suddenly there came a great
serpent and seized her in his grasp and coiled around her ; and
she cried out in great terror, and a huntsman heard her screams,
and shot an arrow at the serpent's face, and released her from
her peril Then the huntsman brought her water and food,
and refreshed her ; and at his bidding she told him all her
story, but as he gazed upon her beautiful form, which was
scantily covered by half a garment, a deep passion burned with-
in him, and he whispered words of love. Then Damayanti
was filled with wrath, and she cursed him in her bitterness of
soul, and he fell down dead like a tree that has been stricken
with liorhtnintr.

68 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Then Damayanti wandered on in quest of Nala until she
met a caravan of merchants, with elephants and camels and
chariots and horses ; and when the people saw her so beautiful
and noble, and yet so pale and worn, they took compassion on
her ; and they told her they were going to the city of Chedi.
And Damayanti went with the caraA^an, and when it was even-
ing they came to a pleasant lake fragrant with lotus flowers,
and they pitched their tents and encamped there. But at
midnight there was a great cry, for a horde of wild elephants
of the jungle rushed down upon the encampment, like mount-
ain-tops rolling down to the valley ; and they trampled upon the
sleeping people, and crushed many with their heavy tread,
and gored others with their fierce tusks. And the merchants
shrieked aloud with terror, and some began to fly and others
stood gasping, blind with sleep ; whilst many struck each other
down, or stumbled over the rough ground, or climbed the trees,
or hid themselves in the holes in the earth. And, Damayanti
awoke amidst the dreadful turmoil ; and some said that she
was a woman of evil omen and had worked all the mischief ;
and she was filled with shame and fear, and fled once again
into the depths of the jungle.

After many days Damayanti entered the city of Chedi, and
she was famished and distiessed, and broken down with sorrow.
And she was clad in only half a garment, and her long hair
was hanging dishevelled over her shoulders, and her gaze was
wild and distracted, and her face was emaciated from long
fasting. And the people of the city thought that she was mad,
and a crowd of boys followed her and mocked her. And, as she
approached the gate of the palace, the mother of the raja be-
held her from the terrace, and sent her waiting- woman to bring
the wanderer in. Damayanti entered the palace and told how
her husband was a raja, who had lost his all by dice, and how
she had followed him into exile through the greatness of her
love, but how he had left her in the jungle with only half a
garment. And the eyes of Damayanti were filled with tears,
and the gracious lady bade her take up her abode in the palace

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 69

while the servants of the household went abroad in search of
Nala. And Daniayanti said to the mother of the raja, " O
mother of heroes, I will dwell with you, but I will not eat the
victuals left by others, nor wash the feet of others, nor converse
with strange men," And the mother of the raja agreed, and
called her daughter Sunada, and bade her take Damayanti to
be her friend. And Damayanti dwelt in the palace many days
as friend and companion of the princess, Sunada.

6. ADVENTURES OF NALA.

Now when Rajah Nala left Damayanti in the hut, he beheld
a great fire in the forest, and he heard a voice crying^ " Hasten,
Nala, and come hither ! " And Nala remembered that on his
bridal day, the god Agni had given him power over fire; and
he plunged into the bright flame and saw the raja of serpents
coiled up in a ring. And the serpent said, "I deceived the
sage of Narada, and he has cursed ine, that fire should surround
me until you save me." And the serpent shrank to the size of
a finger, and Nala lifted him up and carried him out of the fire.
Then the serpent bit Nala, and immediately the form of Nala
was changed into that of a deformed dwarf, so that no man
could know him. And the serpent said to Nala, "My
poison shall work on the evil spirit who has entered your soul,
until he leaves you free. Take now the name of Vahuka and
enter the service of Rituparna, Raja of Ayodhya, and you shall
teach him the art of taming horses, and he shall teach you
all the secrets of the dice ; therefore, sorrow no more, 0 Nala !
for you shall see again your wife, your children, and your raj ;
and when you would again resume your proper form, put on
this change of raiment and think of me." So saying, the ser-
pent gave a change of raiment to Nala, and vanished away
from his sight.

Then Nala journeyed on to the city of Ayodhya, and offered
bis services to Raja Rituparna, both as a tamer of horses, and as
skilled in the art of cooking viands ; and the Raja engaged him.

70 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

and bade him take heed that the horses were swift of foot ; and
he gave him Varshneya and Jivala to be his adjutants. Now
Varshneya had been charioteer to Nala, and had driven his
children to the city of Vidarbha ; but Nala's form had been
changed by the serpent, and Varshneya knew him not. And
every evening Nala used to sing this single verse : —

"Where is she whom I left in the jungle, to suffer hunger, thirst

and weariness ? "
"Does she think of me, her foolish lord, or does she sit in the

presence of another ? "

And Jivala said to Nala, "Who is she, 0 Vahuka! for
whom you are grieving?" And Nala answered, "A man
there was bereft of sense, who had a faithful M'ife, but in his
foolishness he forsook her in the wilderness ; and ever since
that time the man wanders to and fro in despair, for, whether
she lives or no, he cannot say."

7. DISCOVERY OF DAMAYANTI.

Meantime, Eaja Bhima of Vidarbha had sent holy Brahmans
to every land in quest of his daughter, Damayanti, and her
husband, Nala ; and the joyful Brahmans, hoping for rich re-
wards, went through every city and every clime, but nowhere
could they find a trace of those they sought. At length a
certain Brahman, whose name was Sudeva, went to the pleasant
city of Chedi, and there he saw the slender- waisted Damayanti,
standing in the palace by the side of the princess Sunada ; and
her beauty was dim, and seemed like the sunlight struggling
through a cloud, yet he failed not to see that she was the
daughter of Raja Bhima. And the Brahman spoke to her say-
ing, " O daughter of Bhima, your father has sent me to seek
for you ; and both he and your mother and your brethren are
all well ; and so too are your little ones, who are dwelling in
your father's palace."

And Damayanti remembered Sudeva, and made inquiry

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 71

about all her friends. And the mother of the raja came in and
saw her talking to the Brahman ; and presently she took the
Brahman aside, and said, "Who is this lady to whom yon have
spoken? Who is her father, and who is her husband?"
Then the Brahman told all to the mother of the raja, and he
said, " I knew she was the daughter of Bhima, because of her
peerless beauty ; but from her birth a lovely beauty-mark was
to be seen between her eyebrows, and now it has passed away."
When the princess Sunada heard these words of the Brahman,
she took water and washed away the traces of tears that were
between the eyes of Damayanti, and the beauty-mark was
present to the eyes of all. Then the mother of the raja ex-
claimed to Damayanti, " You are the daughter or my sister !
I know you by the mark, for I myself was present at your
birth. Lo, all I have is yours ! " And Damayanti bowed to
her mother's sister, and prayed that she might be sent to her
two children at Vidarbha. And the palanquin was prepared,
and a guard was ordered, and Damayanti was carried to her
father's palace at Vidarbha. And when she saw her children
her heart was filled with joy, and she passed the night in sweet
slumber; but in the morning she went to her mother and softly
said, "0 mother, if my life is dear to you, I pray you to
do all you can to bring back Nala," And her mother went to
Bhima and said, " Your daughter is mourning for her hus-
band, Nala."

Then Raja Bhima sent the Brahmans once again to every
land in search of Nala ; and, before the Brahmans departed,
Damayanti sent for them, and entreated them to cry aloud
these words in every public place, "Whither didst thou go,
0 gambler, who severed thy wife's garment, and left her in
the lonely forest, where she still sits sorrowing for thee ? " So,
the Brahmans went forth to all lands, and they searched every-
where, in crowded cities and in quiet villages, and in the her-
mitages of holy men, and everywhere they repeated aloud the
words of Damayanti, but no man took heed of the question
respecting Nala.

72 SANSKEIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

8. DISCOVERY OF NALA.

Now, after a while, a certain Brahman went to the great city
of Ayoclhya, where reigned Raja Rituparna, and where Nala
was dwelling in the guise of a charioteer and under the name
of Vfihuka. And the Brahman cried aloud the question of
Damayanti in all the streets and ways and market-places in the
city; but no man heeded him. So he took leave of the raja
and prepared to depart, when Vahuka came to him, and
groaned in anguish and wept bitterly, and said, " Even in the
extremity of misery a noble woman is mistress of herself ; and,
even when abandoned by her husband, she will not give her
soul to anger." At these words the Brahman left the city of
Ayodhya with all speed, and hastened to the city of Vidarbha,
and told Damayanti all that Vahuka had said; and the eyes of
Damayanti overflowed with tears, for she thought that she had
found Nala. Then Damayanti went to her mother, and said,
" 0 mother ! I must send a message to the city of Ayodhya
which my father Bhima must not hear; and I will deliver it in
your presence to Sudeva, that best of Brahmans, who found me
in the city of Chedi ; and as he brought your daughter to
her father's house, so may he swiftly bring my royal husband
from the city of Ayodhya." So she sent for Sudeva, and re-
quested him, in the presence of her mother, to go to the city of
Ayodhya, and to seek out Raja Rituparna, and say to him as
if by chance, " Damayanti, daughter of Raja Bhima, is about
to choose a second husband, and all the rajas and sons of rajas
are hastening to Vidarbha. If you would be there, you must
make good speed; for to-morrow is the appointed day, and at
sunrise she makes her choice; for Raja Nala cannot be found,
and no man knows whether he be alive or dead."

And Sudeva went to the city of Ayodhya and performed
the bidding of Damayanti; and, when Rituparna heard the
tidings that Damayanti was about to choose another husband,
his heart burned to be there, but the way was far. Rituparna

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 73

went to Vahuka, his charioteer, and spoke to him with win-
ning words like one that asks a favor, and said, " On the mor-
row the daughter of Bhima will choose a second husband; I,
too, would seek to win her, but the city of Vidarbha is afar
off. Say, then, if you have horses that can reach it in a single
day." Then the heart of Vahuka was smitten with anguish,
and he wondered that the holy Damayanti should be driven to
a deed so unholy, and he thought within himself that he would
see if the tidings were true. So he folded his hands in rever-
ence to the raja, and said, " I promise in a single day to reach
the city of Vidarbha." And he went to the stables of the
raja, and pondered long over the horses ; and he chose four
that were very slender, but fleet and powerful for the road,
and they had broad nostrils and large jaws ; and he har-
nessed them to the chariot of the raja. But when Rituparna
saw the slenderness of the coursers, he cried out, " What steeds
be these ? Have they strength and wind for such a journey ? "
And Vahuka replied, " These horses will not fail to carry you
to Vidarbha, but, if you desire others, tell me which you will
have, and I will harness them." But the raja said, '' You know
the horses best, and may harness what you will."

9. NALA'S DRIVE FROM AYODHYA TO VIDARBHA.

Now when the chariot was ready, Raja Rituparna took his
seat, and commanded Varshneya to ascend likewise, whilst
Vahuka drove. Then the fiery horses began to prance and
paw the air; but Vahuka gathered up the reins, and cried out
to the horses in a soothing voice, and they sprang into the air
as if they would unseat their driver, and then tore along the
ground as»swift as the wind. And the riders were wellnigh
blinded with speed ; but the raja marvelled and rejoiced
greatly at the driving of Vahuka; and Varshneya said within
himself, as he felt the rattling of the chariot and beheld the
driving of Vahuka, '* Either this Vahuka must be the charioteer
of Indra, or else he is my old master, Raja Nala."

74 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Thus the chariot jflew along, like a bird in the air, through
the deep forests, and over thp rivers and mountains and broad
lakes. And the raja dropped his mantle, and prayed Nala to
halt a moment and pick it up ; but Nala said, " The mantle is
miles behind, and we cannot return to recover it." And they
passed a certain tree, and the raja said to Nala, " Mark now
my skill in numbers; for I know the secrets of dice and the
rules of calculation. On these two branches hang fifty millions
of leaves and two thousand and ninety-five berries," And Nala
descended the chariot to count the leaves and berries, and,
whilst the raja cried out that he could not wait, Nala per-
sisted, and after a while Nala found that the numbering of the
i-aja was true to a single leaf. And Nala said, " O raja, teach
me this skill of yours, and you shall learn from me all the
secrets that I know in horsemanship." And the raja did so;
and, when Nala knew the secret of the dice, the evil spirit
Kali went out of him, and Kali vomited the poison of the ser-
pent that was burning within him. And Nala would have
cursed Kali; but he fled away and entered a tree. Thus Nala
was released from his sufferings; but still he took not his own
form of Nala, but remained in that of Vahuka the charioteer.

Now when it was near the setting of the sun, the chariot
approached the city of Vidarbha, and the heart of Nala beat
faster and faster ; and, when they reached the city gates, the
watchmen on the walls proclaimed the coming of Raja Ritu-
parna ; and the rushing of the horses and rolling of the
chariot-wheels were like the thunder which heralds in the
coming rain ; and the peacocks on the palace walls raised their
necks and clamored, and the elephants in the stables roared
tumultuously. And the heart of Damayanti thrilled with
delight as she heard the old familiar sound of her husband's
driving, and she said, " Unless Nala comes this day, I will no
longer live, but will perish by the fire."

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 75

10. DAMAYANTI RECOVERS HER HUSBAND.

Then Damayanti ascended to the terrace on the roof of the
palace, and looked down into the middle of the court; and she
saw Raja Rituparna, and her old charioteer Yarshneya, and the
dwarfish and deformed Vahuka; and she beheld her father
Raja Bhinia receive Rituparna with all courtesy, although
amazed at the suddenness of his coming ; and she remembered
Yarshneya, and thought that he had learned to drive furiously,
like Nala; for she knew not Yahuka, because of his altered
form. But still her heart thrilled, and she pondered deeply ;
for she remembered what Yahuka had said to the Brahman.
And she called her fair-haired handmaiden, Kesini, and said to
her, " Go, my little maid, and speak to that chariot-driver who
is short of stature, and find out who he is; and do you repeat
to him the message which was brought to me by the Brahman,
and tell me what he says." So, whilst Damayanti watched
from the terrace, the blameless little maiden went into the
middle of the court to speak to Nala.

Meantime Nala had taken the chariot to the stall ; and,
after he had tended to his horses, he mounted the chariot and
sat there alone. And the fair-haired Kesini went to him and
said, " I salute you, 0 charioteer ! and pray you to hear the
message of my mistress Damayanti. She desires to know
whence you came and wherefore you have come." Nala an-
swered, " When my master, the raja, heard that Damayanti
would wed again, and would choose another husband on the
morrow, he bade me drive him hither with all speed; and, lo !
we have come this day all the way from the city of Ayodhya."
Then Kesini said, "And who is that other charioteer who
came with you?" Nala answered, ''That is the renowned
Yarshneya, who was once the charioteer of Nala; and, when
his raja went into exile, he took service with Rituparna. And
I, also, serve Rituparna ; for I am his chaiioteer, and the chief
of all his cooks." And Kesini said, further, "Does Yarsh-

76 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

neya know aught of Nala?" Nala answered, " It was Varsh-
neya who brought the children of Nala to this city, and then
he went his way, and heard no more of his old master." And
Kesini said, still further, "The Brahman that lately went to
the city of Ayodhya was commanded by my mistress to cry
aloud in every place, ' Whither didst thou go, 0 gambler !
who severed thy wife's garment, and left her in the lonely
forest, where she still sits sorrowing for thee ? ' Now, it was
you who gave the Brahman his answer back; so I pray you to
repeat that answer again, for my mistress desires to hear it."
At these words of the blameless little maiden the heart of
Nala was wrung with a deep sorrow, and hi^ eyes overflowed
with tears, and, with a voice half choking from weeping, he
thus repeated his reply, " Even in the extremity of misery a
noble woman is mistress of herself ; and, even when abandoned
by her husband, she will not give her soul to anger." And
Nala wept afresh ; and the maid went back to Damayanti, and
told her all that Vahuka had said, and described to her the
bitterness of his sorrow.

Then Damayanti was still heavy at heart, wondering
whether the charioteer could possibly be Nala; and she said,
*' Go again, 0 Kesini, and watch this man, and observe all that
he does, and see that no fire or water be given to him ; and
whatsoever he does, be it human or divine, come back and tell
to me." And Kesini went out and watched Nala, and presently
she returned and said, " 0 Damayanti, never before did I behold
a man so god-like; for if he approaches a low portal he never
bows his head, but the portal rises above him; and when he
prepared to dress the victuals for his master, the vessels were
filled with water directly he looked at them ; and when he had
washed the meat he held some blades of grass towards the set-
ting sun, and they blazed with fire of their own accord." And
Damayanti remembered the gifts which the gods had given to
Nala on his marriage-day, and she said with a gentle voice,
*' Go again, Kesini, and bring me some of the meat which the
charioteer is cooking." So the little maiden went into the kit-

BRAHMANISM AND THE MAHA BHARATA. 77

chen and brought some of the food to Damayanti, and Damay-
anti tasted it and cried aloud, " The charioteer is Nala ! " And
her heart was stirred with vehement emotion, and she directed
her maid to carry her two children to the charioteer. And
when Nala beheld his son and daughter, as beautiful as the
children of the gods,- he wound his arms around them and
pressed them to his bosom, and burst into a flood of tears ; and
he said to Kesini, " 0 blameless maiden, the children are so like
my own, that I have been compelled to weep."

When Damayanti heard from her handmaid of the deep
affection of the charioteer, she was seized with a deep longing
to behold Nala, and she sent Kesini to her mother, saying, " We
have watched the charioteer most closely, and we suspect him
to be Nala, only that his form is changed. I pray you, there-
fore, either to permit him to be brought to you, or give me
leave to have him brought to me, with or without the know-
ledge of my father." So the mother of Damayanti told to
Bhima all the secret counsel of his daughter, and the raja
permitted Damayanti to summon the charioteer.

Then Damayanti sent for Nala, and as she saw him she
trembled greatly, and her hair was dishevelled about her shoul-
ders, and she was arrayed in a mantle of scarlet, and the eyes
of both Nala and Damayanti overflowed with tears. And Dam-
ayanti was almost overcome by her strong emotion, and she
said, " 0 Vahuka, did you ever know an upright and noble man
who abandoned his sleeping wife in a wood ? Who was he
who thus forsook a beloved and blameless wife but Kaja Nala ?
He who was chosen by me, and for whom I rejected the gods ;
me, whose hand he had clasped in the presence of the immortal
gods ; me, to whom he had plighted his faith before the nuptial
fire : where is that promise now ? "

And Nala gazed upon his long-lost wife like one in a dream,
and he said, " I lost my raj by the dice, but the evil was
wrought by Kali; I forsook you in the jungle, but the guilty
deed was the work of Kali. Long time has Kali dwelt within
me, but now he is subdued and gone, and for thy sake I made

78 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

haste to come hither. But how may a high-born woman
choose a second husband ? Yet heralds are proclaiming
throughout the world that the daughter of Bhima will cele-
brate a second Swayamvara."

At these words Damayanti trembled and said, " Do not sus-
pect me of such shameless guilt. The Brahman proclaimed a
second Swayamvara only to find thee, and to bring thee here,
I call on the all-seeing wind, the sun, the moon, who are the
three gods who govern the three worlds, to attest the truth of
what I say." Then the voice of the wind was heard in the air,
" ISTala, she has neither done nor thought evil, but for three long
years hath treasured up her virtue in all its fulness. The
second Swayamvara was a plot to discover thee. Thou hast
met with the daughter of Bhima, and the daughter of Bhima
has met thee. Take thy own wife to thy bosom ! "

Even as the wind was speaking, the flowers fell in showers
from heaven, and the gods sounded sweet music ; and every
doubt of the blameless Damayanti passed away from the mind
of Nala, and he threw off his disguise and put on the garments
that the serpent had given him, and at once resumed his prop-
er form as Raja Nala. And Damayanti shrieked aloud, and
embraced her husband ; and Nala, radiant as of old, clasped her
to his heart, and the children were brought in, and the night
passed away in the fulness of joy.

11. NALA RECOVERS HIS RAJ.

And when the white-robed dawn was awakening a sleeping
world, the sound of rejoicing ran through the city of Vidarbha.
In every street the people exulted in the safe return of Raja
Nala, and adorned the houses with banners and garlands, and
liung chains of flowers from door to door, and strewed the road-
ways with leaves and blossoms. And all was gladness in the
palace at Vidarbha, for Raja Bhima was transported with joy
when he beheld the long-lost husband of his beloved daughter ;
and Raja Rituparna was filled with wonder and delight when

BRAHMANISM AND THE MA HA BHARATA. 79

he knew that his fiercely driving charioteer was no other than
Kaja Nala. Then they took counsel together how they might
compel tbe evil-minded Pushkara to restore the raj to his
elder brother. And Nala had learned the whole art of throw-
ing dice from his old master, Raja Rituparna, and he saw how
Pushkara had won the raj, and resolved to win it back in like
manner. So Avhen one month had passed away and Nala was
perfect in the game, he set off to Nishadha, with elephants and
horses and chariots, and challenged his brother Pushkara to
another throw, in which he would stake Damayanti against the
raj ; and the wicked Pushkara eagerly agreed and exulted in
the certainty of winning the wife of Nala. But the throw was
against Pushkara, and thus Nala won back his raj and all his
treasure ; but, when Pushkara humbled himself before him,
Nala forgave him all, and dismissed him with many gifts to his
own city. Then Nala returned to Vidarbha and brought away
his beautiful Damayanti ; and henceforth he reigned at Nish-
ada, as Indra reigns in heaven, and performed every holy rite
in honor of the gods, with all the munificence of a royal
devotee.

80 SANSKRIT AHD ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

CHAPTEE III.

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA.

AS these studies are literaiy and not theological,
it ma}'^ be wondered that I allude to the two
religions ; it is because we could not understand the
poems without them. The Maha Bharata, with its
Swa3'amvaras and single combats and feudal tone, is
transitional. The Brahmanical age soon became a
gloomy sacerdotal period, where Brahman priests tyran-
nized over the Kshatriya rajas ; and therefore we shall
trace next the rise of Buddhism, and the epic poem,
the E am ay an a, which form the third period, called the
Buddhist period.

The Brahmans based their authorit}-^ upon the Vedas,
which we spoke of in our last chapters, and also on
the laws of Manu, their great lawgiver, which is the
oldest code of laws after the three Vedas. The}' con-
tain old material ; but, in their present form, they are of
much later date than the three Vedas. They were not
revealed in their actual form like the laws in the three
Vedas ; the thought was sacred, but written down in
human words, and handed down b}^ smriti, tradition,
instead of sruti, revelation, so that sometimes a letter
or a word might be changed. The word Manu is the
same as the Greek Minos, which also means lawgiver,
and has the same root as our words " mind " and " man.'*

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 81

Therefore it is not })rol)able that he was a real person.
The code of Mann means probably the laws of a man,
instead of the laws revealed by the gods in the three l
Vedas. -

These laws of Mann give rales for the religious ob-
servances, the civil customs, and the domestic life of
priests and la3'men. By their commands, the Hindu
knows how to act towards his gods, his fellow-citizens,
and his family. And those remarkable village commu-
nities, still existing in India, ai-e governed by Manu's
laws. Man}' of them seem to us trivial and subser-
vient ; I fear we shall not admire our Hindu brethren in
them as much as we did in the Rig Veda and the Maha
Bharata. A few noble ones are scattered throughout,
like these : —

" The witness who speaks falsely shall be fast bound under
water in the cords of Varuna ; and shall be wholly deprived
of power to escape torment during one hundred transmigrations.
Let mankind therefore give no false testimony. The soul is its
own witness : offend not thy conscious soul, the supreme inter-
nal witness of men."

" The sinful have said in their heart, ' None sees us'; yes, the
gods distinctly see them, and so does the spirit within their
breasts."

These laws are quite different from our idea of a code ;
there is no sj'stematic arrangement in them. The real
laws for government and civil customs, which ought to
form the greatest part of any code, occupy part of three
books. There are twelve books in all : of these, six
are devoted to the duties of Brahmans : two, to the
duties of Kshatriyas, including rajas ; one book, to the
other two castes. The state of society is pure, unmixed

6

bZ SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Brahmanism. The world evidentl}' was created for the
Brahmans. The}' are the great central body around
which ever3'thing revolves. The}' are bound together
by most stringent rules, and the other three castes
were powerless to resist them, because they were for-
bidden to combine, by equally severe laws. These are
rules : —

"A Brahman, whether learned or unlearned, is a mighty
divhiity ; just as fire is a mighty divinity, whether consecrated
or unconsecrated."

" From priority of birth, from superiority of origin (in being
born from the mouth of the Creator), from possession of the
right of teaching the Rig Veda, from being the first to receive
the sacred thread, the Brahman is lord of all the classes."

" A raja nuist never kill a Brahman, though he be found
guilty of all possible crimes ; let him be expelled from the
kingdom unharmed in body, and intact in property. There is
no greater injustice on earth than killing a Brahman. The
raja, therefore, nuist not harbor a thought about putting him
to death."

" The superiority of the Brahman is by birth and divine
right ; it is as much a law of nature and divine appointment as
the differences between elephants, lions, and horses."

" Although the kings rule by divine right, they are expected
to be fathers to their people. Determination not to retreat in
battle, protection of the people, and obedience to Brahmans, are
the best duties of kings, and secure their felicity in heaven."

We learn that coined money was not common, from
the laws about interest, which was allowed for borrowed
goods, but was alwa}'s paid in kind, if fruit, grain, or
wool. The laws about property are very patriarchal,
and suggest the early tribal government of the Aryan
race : they did not allow the owner to make any will :

BUDDHISM AND THE KAMAYANA. 83

there is no such word as "will," or "testament," in
the Sanskrit language. In an}' patriarchal state of
society* all property was held in common, the head of
the family being the head partner. The family was a
corporation, and the property could not be divided un-
til the father and mother were both dead : if the father
died JSrst, the eldest son managed the family until the
mother died. Women had no legal title to the propert}- ;
if unmarried, a share was generally given to them.
Married women had no property- except gifts which had
been made them : for instance, —

" Whatever was given over the marriage fire, whatever she
received while being led in procession from her father's to her
husband's house, whatever was a gift from her husband as a
token of affection, or a similar gift from her mother, her brother,
or her father, — these were her own peculiar property."

If a man had no son, his daughters inherited, but this
almost never occurred. The other laws about women
would sound very strangel}' to the advocates of woman's
suffrage. These are literal quotations : —

147. " By a girl, or a young woman, or by a woman advanced
in years, nothing must be done, even in her own dwelling-place,
according to her mere pleasure."

148. "In childhood a female must be dependent upon her
father; in youth, on her husband ; her lord being dead, on her
sons ; if she have no sons, on the near kinsmen of her husband ;
if he have left no kinsman, on those of her father ; if she have no
kinsmen, on the sovereign. A woman must never seek in-
dependence."

150, "She must always live with a cheerful temper, with
good management in the affairs of the house, with great care
of the household furniture, and with a frugal hand in all her
expenses."

84 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

154. " ThoiigTi a husband should he unohservant of approved
usages, or devoid of good qualities, he must constantly be revered
as a god by a virtuous wife."

155. "No sacrifice is allowed to women apart from their
husbands, no religious rite, no fasting; as far only as a wife
honors her husband, so far is she exalted in heaven."

156. " Women have no business w4th the text of the Veda."

157. "A husband must never eat with his wife, nor look at
her while she is eating."

158. " The names of women should be agreeable, soft, clear,
captivating the foncy, auspicious, ending in long vowels, re-
sembling words of benediction."

When Gandhari, a princess, heard that her future
husband was born blind, she from that moment showed
her respect for hnn b}' binding her own eyes with a
handkerchief and always remaining blindfold in his
presence. She had evidently learned the spirit of Manu.
There are other laws wiiicli seem very suitable to the
climate of India : against cutting down green trees for
fuel ; against selling a garden, or a tank of water. But
the law^s against selhng a wife, a child, or a cow are
less consonant to our ideas.

But the rules for daily life are the most curious of all.
There was a fixed form for Brahmans, another for rajas,
but the whole life of every twace-born man was marked
out. Before his birth even, his parents had to perform
certain sacrifices, without which the child could not be-
come a member of society, or, what was the same thing
with the Brahmans, a member of the church : after his
birth certain food must be given to him in a certain wa}'.
From seven to eleven years of age his student-life began.
He was sent awa}' from home, and given to a master to
be educated ; and his education consisted in learning

BUDDHISM AND THE EAMAYANA. 85

the Vedas by heart. Some students remained twelve
3'ears, which was the shortest period allowed ; others,
fortj'-eight 3-ears ; others, all their lives. From nine-
teen to twenty-two came the second stage, — that of
married life. His wife must be from eight to twelve
3'ears of age, chosen b3" certain rules. Then a new
house must be erected, and the sacred fire kindled
according to a prescribed form. Then his daily life
began : their theory of life was, that man is born a
delator, and he must repay this debt by five sacraments,
performed e^'er3' da3-.

First. Homage to his dead ancestors, by offering them
cakes of rice and meal mingled with water. There was,
in addition, a funeral offering to deceased ancestors,
monthly, on the new moon, and annualh', on the anni-
versary of their deaths, as far back as great-grandfather.
The family was a corporation, consisting of father, grand-
father, and great-grandfather, among the dead ; son and
grandson, among the living ; and the oblation from the
living to the dead was the bond of union. No one
could go to heaven unless he had a son : the dead spirit
could not rest till its funeral rites had been performed
b3" a son.

Second. To all beings, b3' throwing rice grains on the
house-tops, or outside the door, for animals to devour.

Third. To the bards who received the revelation of
the Vedas , this was done 1)3' repeating the Vedas. The
twice-born man was to go in an easterl3' or northerl3'
direction, wearing the sacred thread over his shoulders.
Having rinsed his mouth, he was to sit down on sacred
Kusa grass whose points were directed towards the
east ; then, to draw in his breath tlu'ee times, to sa3'

8b SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the sacred syllable Auin (Om), which is the condensed
essence of the four Vedas ; then, the three mj^stical
words, earth, air, heaven ; then, the holiest verse of the
Veda, " Let ns meditate on the most excellent light
and power of that generous, sportive, and resplendent
Sun ; ma}- He guide our intellect " ; then, as many
more verses from the Vedas as he chose, in a low tone,
or even inaudibl3^ This was the most meritorious of
all religious acts, and made him fit for final beatitude
and absorption into Brahman, whether he performed
other acts or not.

Fourth. Homage to men by hosi)italit3\ Here is a
very pleasing encouragement to this dut}' : —

" Grass and earth to sit upon, water to wash the feet, and
affectionate speech, are at no time wanting in the mansions of
the good, although indigent. . . . No guest must be dismissed
in the evening by a householder: he is sent by the retiring
sun, and, whether he come in fit season or unseasonably, he
must not sojourn in the house without entertainment."

Fifth. Homage to the gods, by an ofl^ering thrown
on the sacred fire. I describe these five sacraments so
minutely that one ma}^ have some shght idea of the net-
work of forms which enveloped ever}' moment of the
Hindu's day and night. The laws of Manu and the
Vedas sa}', " The man who does not perform these
five sacraments ever}^ da}' lives not, although he may
breathe." As time went on, a Guru, or family priest,
was established in every household. But he was far
more than a teacher, — far more, even, than a mediator
between the gods and man : he was the present god,
the actual, visible incarnation of Brahman. The re-

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 87

ligion of the Hindus, therefore, came gradually to con-
sist in performing all the ceremonies, obeying all the
rules, maintaining caste, and, finall}^, in doing pen-
ances to pro[)itiate the anger of the new gods ; for to
brealv any of these forms was a fearful sin. The joy-
ous feasts of the Kshatriya rajas, where bards sang the
glories of their ancestors, were turned into gloom}'
sacrifices and penances to appease the wrath of Siva.
Severe penances inflicted by the persons themselves
were more honorable than legal penalties inflicted b}' a
judge. Here is one penance : —

" He who says ' Hush! ' or ' Pish! ' to a Brahman, or ' thou'
to a superior, must immediately bathe, eat nothing for the rest
of the day, and appease him by clasping his feet with respect-
ful salutation. . . . He who has committed a crime for the first
degree shall be absolved if he attend a herd of cattle for one
year, mortifying his organs, and continually repeating the texts,
living entirely upon food given by charity."

So the slightest neglect of these duties brought loss of
caste in this world, and eternal punishment in the next.
Meditations were considered especiall}' hoi}' ; and the
Hindu sat under a tree for 3'ears meditating upon
Brahman. One man meditated so long that ants threw
up a mound as high as his waist without being dis-
turbed, and birds built their nests in his clotted hair.
One traveller saw a man standing motionless and medi-
tating with his face towards the sun. After sixteen
years he revisited the spot, and found the same man in
the same place : he had been there ever since. To
appease the new gods, the}^ also practised the most
dreadful austerities. During the three hottest months,

88 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

April, INIay, and June, one man sat between four
blazing fires, with a burning sun above his head. He
stood on one leg, gazing at the sun ; then he stood
on his head for tlu'ee liours, with liis feet in tlie air.
Out of many laws and penances, the few I have given
will bring the daily life of the Hindu before you, and
easil}' account for the necessit}' of some change. Hu-
man nature could bear no more. There was one relief
afforded by Brahmanism ; but it was applicable only to
one class of peoi)le, necessarily^ very few in number
When the householder among the Hindus had reared
up a son and a grandson, to perform the funeral
sacraments, he reached the third stage of that life
which ever}' twice-born man wished to lead. He had
then done all that this world required of him, and was
at libert}' to begin the fourth stage. He said farewell
to his famil}', he gave awa}' all his share in the family
property, and he retired to the forest. He became
what we call a hermit. He meditated upon life and
death ; instead of performing a peculiar sacrifice to
free himself from transmigration and second birth, he
went through it mentall}', and obtained the same result.
Then he took another step, and sought to concentrate
his thoughts on Brahman, to bring himself into absolute
communion with the eternal soul of the world. As
soon as he had reached tliis point, he could no longer
remain separated from his parent existence. In order
that he might the sooner be absorbed into Brahman, he
killed himself. Now, this fourth stage, this forest life,
was not exile : it was, on the contrar}-, the highest
privilege of a twice-born man. It could onl}^ be al-
lowed after he had passed through the other stages, —

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 89

had been a student, a father, and a grandfather.
Therefore this high glory was not attainable by all.
One would fancy that the past steps would be dis-
carded, and this desirable condition become the pre-
rogative of all ; but the great peculiarit}- of Brahmanism
is that it preserved every religious thought which had
been handed down ; it never outgrew anything and put
it awa}'. There are still families where the son learns
the Vedas, tbe father performs the daily sacrifices, the
grandfather becomes a hermit, gives up all sacrifices,
and seeks absorption into Brahman. But, for the ordi-
nar}' man, the innumerable penances and sacrifices,
the system of caste, and the dread of transmigration,
weighed heavier and heavier upon the priest-ridden
people ; and at length a religious reformer arose.

The rise of Buddhism was simpl}^ one of those reac-
tions which will occur when opinions have been pushed
too far. It brings us to the third, or Buddhist, period
of the literature. Max Muller says that the Sanskrit
literature before this period is what is really historically
important, — of use in tracing the development of the
human mind and the rise and growth of ideas ; and
adds, " What would Plato and Aristotle have said if
they had been told that in their time existed in that
India which Alexander had just discovered, an ancient
literature far richer than anything they possessed in
Greece ? " There were ten thousand separate manu-
scripts in Sanskrit before Alexander conquered India.
Now at length we get a date. Sakya Muni was born
623 B. c, died 543 b. c. ; the era commenced about 500
B. c. Gautama was the tribe of his clan, he belonged
to the warrior caste, and therefore, in the eves of the

90 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Brahmans, was utterly disqualified from ever becoming
a religious teacher. He was more : he was a prince,
the son of a raja. He became Buddha, or " the en-
lightened," and he founded Buddhism. It increased so
much that it became the state religion of India, under
the Constantine of India, Asoka, 245 b. c. It was
carried far and wide b}' Buddhist missionaries, — to
Thibet, to China, to Siberia, to Ce3'lon. The Turanian
races proved peculiarl}' susceptible to its influence, and
it numbers more than one tliird of the human race to-
da3\ This account of its origin is taken from an Indian
book : —

" One day when the prince drove through the eastern gate
of the city, on his way to one of the i)arks, he met on the road
a man broken and decrepit. * Who is that man ? ' said the
prince to his coachman. ' He is small and weak ; his flesh and
his blood are dried up ; his muscles stick to his skin ; his head
is white ; his teeth chatter; leaning on his stick he can hardly
walk, stumbling at every step. Is there something peculiar in
his family, or is his the lot of all created beings ? ' — ' Sir,'
said the coachman, 'that man is sinking under old age. This
is the appointed end of all creatures.' — ' Alas ! ' said the
prince, * are creatures so ignorant, so weak and foolish, as to
be proud of the youth by which they are intoxicated ? Coach-
man, turn my chariot tpiickly. What have I, the future prey
of old age, to do with pleasure?' Another time the prince
drove through the western gate, to a pleasure garden, when he
perceived on the road a man suff'ering from illness, parched
with fever. Having questioned his coachman and received the
answer he expected, the prince cried, ' Alas 1 health is the sport
of a dream. Who having seen this frightful spectacle could
think of pleasure ? ' A third time he was driving to a pleasure
garden, when he saw a dead body lying on a bier, covered with
a cloth. The friends stood around weeping. The prince cried

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 91

out, ' Woe to this life, where a man remains go short a time !
If there were no old age, no disease, no death ! Let us turn
back. I must seek how to accomplish deliverance.' Again,
he drove through the northern gate, to a pleasure-ground. He
met a devotee, a mendicant. He had renounced all pleasures,
all desires, and led a life of austerity. He sought to conquer
himself. ' That is well,' said the prince. ' The life of a dev-
otee will be my refuge : it will lead to real life, to happiness,
to immortality.' He turned his chariot, and went back to the
city."

There is something morbid and unhealth}' in this.

So after a day of revelry and mirth Prince Sakya
Muni left his father's palace at night without saying
farewell to his sleeping wife, and went out into the
world to relieve its miseries, and to seek deliverance
from them. He put on the yellow dress of a beggar,
and begged his food from door to door. He began
by doing charitable works : he taught the ignorant
Sudras ; he fed the poor ; he nursed the sick. Since
old.age, sickness, and the loss of friends made life onlj^
a misfortune, Gautama felt that the good man would
pass his own life in trying to alleviate the miseries of
others. Then he meditated, sitting under a tree ; after
seven years he became enlightened ; then he taught his
doctrine. He denied that the Vedas w^ere revealed, and
were therefore infallible authorit}^ His followers said
that the Brahraans established all the ceremonies, as a
means of livelihood. This was one of the great points
of difference between Brahmanism and Buddhism.
Buddha denounced caste, and divided mankind into two
classes : la3'men, those who are still attached to the
world ; and ascetics, those who wish to be delivered

92 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

from it b}" mortif3lng themselves and performing works
of charit}'. He admitted Sudras to be ascetics as well
as twice-born men. Now, these ascetics are not ver}^
unlike the hermits of tlie fourth stas^e amono^ the
Brahmans ; the difference being that Buddha admitted
all men of any caste to this stage at once. He gave
them individual freedom without going through the
preliminar}^ stages which the Brahmans insisted upon.
He denied that sacrifices would take away sins, and
taught that men should be pure, gentle, patient, and
courageous ; that the}^ should do good deeds and show
sympath}" to every living thing, especially to animals ;
that is, he taught a lovely life, and he led such a life
himself. He gave five commandments to laymen, —
thou shalt not kill, steal, commit adultery, become
intoxicated, lie ; thus he gave them a pure and simple
religion.

All this sounds very much as a matter of course to
us brought up under Christianit}^ We must throw
ourselves into the life and thought which existed
around the Buddha before we can comprehend what an
immense advance he made upon Brahmanism. For the
ascetics Buddhism cannot receive such unqualified
l^raise. It was stern and inexorable for them ; it
stripped life of every illusion. The ascetic renounced
five things, — wife, children, propert}', life, and self.
Instead of crushing out the passions b}" austerities,
Buddha said that all the objects for which men strive —
wealth, pleasure, power, human affection — are but Ma3'a
(vain illusions) ; that we should hush our mind into
dreamy contemplative repose, and cease to desire
an3^thing. " Not nakedness, nor platted hair," he said,

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 93

" nor dirt, nor fasting, nor lying on the earth, not rul)l)ing
■with dust, nor sitting motionless, can purify a mortal
who has not overcome desires." This dull indifference
would lessen the sufferings caused by the " endless vor-
tex of transmigration." But Buddha taught the doctrine
of transmigration distinctly ; that the wicked passed
through one hundred and thirty-six different hells, the
good through as many heavens, temporary purgatories,
before reaching the final result. After successive births
in this world and others, death would become the great-
est of blessings, and the good man would be rewarded
by what? — by utter disappearance. Nirvana; and the
better he was, the sooner he would pass through the
necessary transmigrations and reach this result.

There has been endless discussion about the meaning
of Nirvana. The latest authorities saj' that it is not
exactly annihilation, though practically it amounts to
the same thing. " It may rather be figured under the
form of the morning mist disappearing in space, — not
destroyed, 3'et not cognizable by any human sense, or
to be described by any form of words." It has been
the fashion of late 3'ears to glorif}' Buddhism ; it may
have been a lovely life, but it is a dreary creed.
Mr. Wheeler says : " Brahmanism answers to the natu-
ral instincts of the human heart, that good deeds will
be rewarded, and bad ones punished, in a future life.
But Buddhism is essentially an aristocratic creed,
suitable only to the philosophic 3'earning of a rich and
noble class, in whom self-indulgence in every pleasure
had produced a surfeit. The^' were driven by sheer
satietv to a life of abstinence and contemplation, which
tended to a dreamy existence of eternal repose and

94 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

undisturbed slumber, where all individuality was lost
in the ocean of Nirvana." The different authorities
agree that Buddhism is practicall}' atheism. It can
hardl}' be called a religion at all, for Biiddlia recognized
no supreme god. The only god was what man himself
could become. Of course there was no need of sacri-
fice to propitiate an angry god. There was no need
of prayer either, for there was no god to pray to.
Strictl}^ speaking, a Buddhist never prayed, — he onl v
meditated. There was no need of a priest, for there
was nothing for him to do. Indeed, the ascetics are
much more like our idea of monks, than of priests.

Buddhism spread with incredible rapidity. Convents
and monasteries sprang up all over India, filled with
monks and nuns, seeking deliverance by meditation.
Whenever a scorching wind blew over the plains, a
disgust of life seemed to seize upon all mankind, and
the lazy dreaming of a Buddhist convent or monastery
seemed to offer the speediest relief from the' misery of
existence ; which ma}- acconnt for their number. At
first there was no ceremonial ; but since human nature
is prone to worship something, they afterward wor-
shipped Sakya Mum Gautama, the Buddha. His tooth
is still preserved in a temple of Ceylon, which is, there-
fore, the most sacred spot of the world to all Buddhists.
It was shown to the Prince of Wales during his visit to
India, but is seldom seen b}" profane eyes. There
were temples built also ; in each of them was a statue of
the Buddha, and these rock-hewn temples, whose ruins
exist in India, are the admiration of architects, as well
as of uneducated travellers. Instead of raising a lofty
building upon a plain, as we do, the Buddhists selected

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 95

some high rock or mouiitiini. Thej^ levelled a space in
front of it ; the}' excavated the inside and formed one
lofty room. Tliey carved the face of the rock into a
beautiful facjade, with doors and one immense window,
through which the light streamed into the interior,
which they had hollowed out. The effect is most
curious and beautiful. Grass and trees grow above the
temple front, as if some lovely building had been pushed
bodily inside a mountain and only its front could be seen.
One may wonder that the}- are in ruins, for they would
have resisted the mere attacks of time ; but finally war
arose in India, — a religious war between the Brahmans
and the Buddhists. The monasteries and temples were
burned : the Buddhists utterly driven out of India, to
Ceylon and Burmah. They have never been allowed to
return to the land where their religion originated. The
power of organization and caste proved too strong to be
permanently overcome : Buddhism too lost its energy
and simplicit}' ; and then arose the fourth period of
Sanskrit literature, — the Brahmanical revival. It is
put at different dates, from a. d. 300 to a. d. 800, and
it is still in force in India.

In these dark and troublous times of religious warfare
arose a poet named Valmiki. He is supposed to have
lived at the close of the Buddhist j^eriod, or the begin-
ning of the Brahmanical revival ; and he rewrote the
other epic poem of India, the Ramayana. There are
two other Ramayanas, but this is considered much the
best. He gives an account of the j'outh of the hero
Rama, and his contest with the giants and demons of
the island of Sanka, to recover his wife Sita, whom they
had stolen. Valmiki must have derived his original plot

96 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

from an old Vedic tradition of a hero Rama, who drove
out tlie inhabitants of the Dekhan, or Southern India.
This must have l)cen a contest between the Ar3'an in-
vaders and the Turanian aborigines. But Valmiki takes
a wider sweep ; he had a loftj' religious purpose. "He
wished to afford consolation to the soul," Mr. Wheeler
sa3's, '' when the world seemed to be going wrong, and
the divine government doubtful." In his poem Rama is
an incarnation of the god Vishnu ; Sita, of Vishnu's wife,
the goddess Lakshmi : and he is sent into the world to
deliver the Brahmans from the persecutions of the
Buddhists. The plot is simple, and the poem is unlike
the Maha Bharata ; first, because it has only one hero
and heroine; and, second, because it is written by a
person whose name we know. It would form about six
volumes octavo : the three periods, Vedic, Brahmanical,
and Buddhist, are strangely mixed' up in it. I think
there can be no question that it is later than the Maha
Bharata ; for a vast interval of thought separates the
patriarchal and feudal manners of the Maha Bharata
and the monarchical tone of the Ramayana, where
despotism is checked only bj^ the power of the priests.
The Ramayana is more than religious ; it is sacerdotal :
this is tlie only fault of the poem : beautiful as it is, it
is marred b}' the fault of the Hindu character, its sub-
servienc}' to priesth* tyrann3\ Everywhere we find in
it this hierarchy of [)riests, mediators between the gods
and men, forbidding any sacrifice to be offered except
b}' themselves, interfering in the familv life ; and thus
exercising powers which were never allowed them in the
Maha Bharata. Monier Williams sa3's :" There are
few poems in the world's literature more charming than

BUDDHISM AND THE RAM AY AN A. 97

the Rama3'ana. Its moral tone is far above that of the
Iliad. It teaches the hopelessness of victoiy without
piiviU' of soul, and abnegation of self" In one thing-
all the critics of Sanskrit epics agree, unbounded ad-
miration.

To a modern mind it is also a most amusing book.
It is so new, so different from other books, that it is
delightful to a reader seeking a new sensation. The
civilization is so unlike our own, that we seem to be
living in another world, and can hardl}' realize that such
customs ever existed. It is as marvellous as a fairy
tale, as naive as a child's prattle: the pictures of
scenery are lovely, and yet it has a human element.
The descriptions of childhood are especially charming ;
the domestic life of Rama and Sita, most tender and
perfect ; and the characters, noble and lovely. The
friendlj' monke}', Hanuman, is a model of every virtue.
There is no female character in all Greek literature
so modest and loving, yet so firm and brave, as Sita,
who is gentle, yet high-spirited. The translation in
poetry b}' Griffith is very unsatisfactor}^ and disagree-
able ; he has introduced so many episodes, and taken
awa}^ the naivete of the story. I shall use Wheeler's
prose translation, which has the merit of being simple
and unpretending. To the Hindu, the Ramayana be-
comes a deeph' rehgious poem. It is regarded with the
most awful reverence, equally with the Malia Bharata,
although both belong to Smriti, tradition. It closes
with the promise that whoever reads or listens to the
Ramayana will be freed from all sin. The mere utter-
ance of the name of Rama (because he is an incarnation
of Vishnu) is equal in religious merit to giving one

7

yy SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDIIED LITERATURES.

hundred ornamented cows to a Brahman, or to perform-
ing an Aswemedlia. So, in the cool of the evening,
when the labors of the day are over, some Brahman
priest appears in an Indian village, and all crowd around
him with respectful attention, while he reads from palm-
leaves the story of Rama.

The Ar^-an invaders had now reached the very centre
of the countr}', and established themselves with power
and splendor. The story opens with a description of
the famous city of Ayodhya, the modern Oude, — to-
day a heap of ruins, but formerly the most magnificent
city hi Hindostan. It gives us the Hindu ideal, and
Ijaints —

" temples richly decorated ; stately palaces, with domes like
tops of mountains ; surrounded by pleasant gardens, lull of
birds and flowers, and shady groves of trees loaded with deli,
cious fruits. And the tanks in the city were magnificent
beyond description, and covered with the white lotus. The
city was perfumed with flowers and incense, and decked out
with gorgeous banners ; and it was ever filled with the sweet
sounds of music, the sharp twanging of bows, and the holy
chanting of Vedic hymns. The city was encompassed round
about with very lofty walls, which were set in with variously
colored jewels ; and all around the walls was a moat filled
with water, deep and impassable. No one was poor, or wore
tarnished ornaments ; no one was without fine raiment and
perfumes, or was unclean, or fed upon unclean things, or I neg-
lected the sacraments, or gave less than a thousand rupees to
the Brahmans. No man was without learning, or practised a
calling that did not belong to his family or caste, or dwelt in
a mean habitation, or was without children and kinsmen. In-
specting the world by his spies, as the sun inspects it by his
rays, the Maharaja found no person of hostile mind ; and he
shone resplendent, and illuminated the whole earth."

BUDDHISM AND THE EAMAYANA. 99

Now this civilization, and also that described in the
demon's home at Lanka, are far higher than anythirig
found at Troy or Sparta or Ithaca. Onl^' the allusion
to spies shows that it was a despotism. There were
no spies over the haughty vassals in the Maha Bharata.
In this blissful spot Rama is born by a miraculous
birth ; his father being a god, his mother the Ranee, or
queen. I will quote part of the lovel}' description of
his childhood, pecuharly Hindu, as showing their great
fondness for children. It gives a pleasanter idea than
we had before of their domestic life ; though one can
hardly imagine Beaconsfield or Gladstone summoned
from the cares of empire to hush the cries of a little
prince.

*' And Eama was a very lovely babe ; and as he slept in a
white cot he appeared like a blue lotus floating upon the waters
of the Ganges. [His complexion was dark, evidently.] When
Rama was sufficiently grown to run about, he was the delight
of his mother and the Maharaja. So it happened one evening
the full moon arose in all its splendor, and Eama felt a very
strong desire to have the beautiful moon to play with for a
toy. And he put out both little hands towards the moon, in
order to obtain it ; but his mother could not understand what
he wanted, and thereupon he tried to beat her. And she asked
him many times what he wished to have, and he continued to
point to the moon ; so that at last she came to understand what
it was that he wanted, and she said to him, ' Do not desire, O
my child, to possess the moon; because it is a thousand miles
off, and it is not a plaything for children, and no child ever
got it. If you wish, I will bring you some jewels that are
brighter than the moon, and you can play with them.' So
saying, she brought some beautiful jewels, and placed them
before the little boy ; but Rama threw them away in anger,
and began to cry, until his eyes were red and swollen with

. - _. -^rf-^^a ilk A /H 4

100 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

weeping. No\v, by this time a number of women were gath-
ered around him, but no one could console him. One said,
'Perhaps he is hungry ' ; but he refused to take any food. An-
other said, ' Perchance he is sleepy ' ; and she took him on
her lap, and sung him the lullaby ; but she could not quiet
him, and he still continued to cry. Then one of the women
said, ' The goddess Susti has become unpropitious, and must
be propitiated with offerings of curds, plantains, and fried
paddy.' Another said, ' A ghost is troubling him ; so send for
a man who can repeat a verse and drive the ghost out.' But
all these were of no effect, and Rama was still as unpacified as
before. So the Eanee sent for the Maharaja ; and, when the
Maharaja heard that Rama was ill, he came to him immedi-
ately, and tried his utmost to console the child ; but he could
do no more than those who had tried before him, and Rama
continued to cry, and would not be comforted. Then the
Maharaja sent for his chief councillor of state, and told him all
that had happened ; and when he heard that Rama was cry-
ing for the moon, he desired those about him to bring him a
mirror. So a mirror was brought, and placed in the hands of
Rama ; and when Rama saw the image of the moon in the
mirror, he was fully satisfied, and left off weeping, and was
soon as merry as before, and the whole family were at ease."

When grown up, after various adventures, Rama
hears that whoever can bend an enormous bow, and
shoot its arrow, shall win the lovely princess Sita lor a
bride. The age of Swayamvaras has passed awa}' ; but
Sita willingl}^ accepts Rama, who bends the bow, after
numerous other suitors have failed ; and they are mar-
ried. After a w'hile they are banished into the jungle
for fourteen years, — a fLivorite form of punishment in
India. Rama is unwilling that Sita should accompan}'
him ; but she finally prevails upon him, in a speech
which follows : —

BUDDHISM AND THE EAMAYANA. 101

" ' 0 beloved one, I must depart to the great forest ; and do
you remain here, obedient to the command of Raja Bharata,
and never praise me in the presence of Bharata, for a raja can-
not bear to hear the praises of any one beside himself.'

" Sita, angry but yet humble, replied as follows : ' 0 Rama,
what words are these ? A wife must share the fortunes of her
husband ; and if you this day depart to the forest, I must pre-
cede you and smooth the thorns. Wherever the husband may
be, the wife must dwell in the shadow of his foot. I shall live
in the jungle with as much ease as in my father's house, and
shall enjoy happiness with you in the honey-scented wood ; I
have no fear, and I long to roam in the forest with you, and
view the lakes and rivers, and the flowers and water-birds. I
will be no burden to you, but if you leave me I will die.'

"Then Rama, wishing to turn the mind of his wdfe from
going with him into the forest, spoke to her as follows : ' 0 Sita,
the forest is not always pleasant, but I know it is always dan-
gerous. You are very delicate and the beloved daughter of a
raja ; you have never been in the sun out of your own room ;
how then can you brave the dangers of the wilderness ? You
are surrounded and attended every day by your maids ; how
then can you go out into the jungle without a servant near you ?
Your feet are as delicate as the petals of the lily, and the peb-
bles and briers will aftect you grievously : you are like butter
which will be melted away by the sun at mid-day. You will
have to cross many rivers, in which there are serpents, and
crocodiles, and sharks. The roaring of the lions and the
thundering of the cataracts are fearful to hear. The roads are
infested with wild elephants and filled with thorns ; and the
jungle is covered with rank weeds, in which venomous snakes
lie concealed, so deadly that their breath alone will kill a man.
Sometimes you will have to subsist upon grass-seed ; sometimes
upon bitter roots and fruits ; and sometimes you will not even
find these things, and will have to fast for many days. At
times you will be athirst, and there will be no water. For
garments, you will have to wear the bark of trees, or the skin

102 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

of an antelope ; and at night you will have to sleep upon grass,
or upon the bare earth. Reptiles, mosquitoes, flies, scorpions,
and fierce birds will bite and sting you, and afflict you in yeur
Bleep. Fearful Eakshasas infest the wilderness, and will eat
Up a whole man at a single meal. Your beautiful locks of hair
will become a tangled mass, and will lose their color from want
of oil. Besides all this suftering, you will be without friends ;
and how can this be endured by a woman ? It is my knowl-
edge of all that you will have to suffer that prevents my taking
you with me. Exposure to the heat, cold, and wind render the
frame lean and emaciated. What enjoyment then can you ex-
perience in the forest, whilst I shall be filled with distress at
the sight of your afflictions ? You are dearer to me than my
own life, and I cannot consent to your suffering pain on my
account ; so take my advice and remain at my house. Though
I may be travelling in distant parts, yet still you shall always
be present in my thoughts ; and though separated in our eyes,
we shall never be separated in our hearts. Moreover, separa-
tion often inc-reases affection, and he 'alone can jDerfectly enjoy
the felicity of connubial love who knows what it is to have
been separated from his wife. So bear all these things in your
mind, and relinquish your plan of accompanying me, and do
you determine to remain here.'

"Hearing the words of Rama, Sita was greatly distressed, and
her eyes were filled with tears, and she replied in a low tone
thus : ' 0 Rama, I am fully aware of all the evil things that
have been described by you, but in your presence all that is
evil will be turned to good ; the fierce animals of the jungle,
the elephants, the lions, the tigers, and all the beasts of prey,
will fly when they behold you ; the grass and the seeds, the
roots and the fruits, will in your presence be more delightful
than amrita ; and if I should fail to procure these things for
food, I can never be deprived of the amrita of your words. As
for garments of bark and antelope's skin, I am not sorry to
wear them, for the goddess Parvati wore them for the sake of
her husband Siva. Sleeping with you upon a bed of grass will

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 103

give me more delight than sleeping by myself upon a bed of
the softest down : without you my life is not worth preserv-
ing, but with you not even Indra can terrify me. 0 my lord,
by following my husband through affection, I shall be faultless,
for the husband is the chief deity of the wife. It is written in
the Yedas that the woman who always attends upon her hus-
band, and follows him like a shadow in this life, will in like
manner follow him in the world of spirits, it becomes you,
therefore, 0 Rama, to take me with you, that I may share in
your pleasures and in your pains, for the desert with all its evils
is far better in my sight than all the pleasures of this palace
without you.' "

They wander about in the jungle for ten years, and
describe the beautiful scenery in a most vivid manner.
They visit the dwellings of the most celebrated hermits ;
a female hermit, named Anasuya, talks to Sita, who tells
her of her birth, and says, —

" My preceptor taught me ever to reverence my mother
earth, and to strive to be as pure and true and brave as she, and
he called me Sita, because I sprung out of a furrow of the
ground." Anasuya says, " Thou hast indeed the courage of the
brave earth-mother, for thou hast not feared to face the scorch-
ing heat, and the biting winds, and the angry storm ; and thou
art as noble, too, Sita, for thou hast lavished thy beauty on
the sorrowful, and hast sought to make even the path of exile
sweet to thy beloved."

Now these hermits are Brahmans, and saints into the
bargain. These holy beings are disturbed in their wor-
ship by Ravana, a giant, and the Rakshasas, demons
who accompany him. But these are no ordinary de-
mons; the}' are worse, — Buddhists in disguise. The
saints beg Rama to assist them against the demons ;
but he refuses at first, because he is not a Brahman,

104 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

only a Kshati^ya. Fiiiall}^, Ravana fills up the measure
of his crimes, and carries awa^' the fiiithful 8ita. She
is not, like the Grecian Helen, a willing victim ; she is
borne struggling through the air, to the demon's home
at Lanka.

"Adorned with golden ornaments, and arrayed in yellow
silk, Sita appeared in the air like a flash of lightning. She,
bright as the most burnished gold, appeared, while held by the
black raja of the Rakshasas, like a thread of gold round the
loins of an elephant. Ravana wishes to make her his wife,
and says, ' Cast aside your foolish hopes of rescue, and con-
sent to become my chief Rani.' She replies in anger :
* The day is not far off, 0 wicked Ravana ! when your golden
Lanka will be a heap of ashes, and your numberless army fall
under the arrows of Rama. As for your bravery, you need say
nothing. I know its worth from the stealth with which you
carried me away. There is as much difference between you
and Rama as there is between a mouse and a lion ; a hedgehog
and an elephant ; a mosquito and a hawk ; a glow-worm and
the noonday sun ; a grain of sand and a precious stone; a star
and the full moon ; a burnt brick and a mountain ; the river
Carannasa and the Ganges. Boast as long as you do not meet
Rama ; but the moment he is here, consider yourself and your
whole family as dead persons.' "

Rama rouses himself. He forms an alliance with the
bears and monke^^s of the Dekhan, or Southern India.
This introduction of the bears and monkey's gives a
delightfully Hindu tone to the story. They continually
compare their heroes to animals. You remember that
Kala was the "tiger among rajas," and the highest
beauty attributed to a Hindu heroine is that she has
"the rolling gait of an elephant." The monke3^s were
supposed to be descended from the gods, and to be

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 105

saints and Brahmans, stronger and better than men ;
they have supernatural powers and talk in human speech.
The animals of iEsop are borrowed consciousl}', — we
shall see how in another chapter ; but these animals who
speak appear among the Norse, and the German fami-
lies of the Teutonic branch : Reynard, the fox, Bruin,
the bear, are brothers of the good monkey, Hanuman in
the Ramayana ; but they are not borrowed nor stolen.
They arose spontaneously from the Aryan feeling. Now
the monkey's of Southern India really are wonderfully
intelligent and strong. They swing themselves over
immense distances by their long arms, and seem superior
to human beings : so it is not strange tliat the Hindus
deified them. These good monkeys prove to be most
friendly. Hanuman takes a flying leap of sixty miles,
from the main-land to Lanka ; and he and the other
monkeys build a bridge of stone, sixty miles long,
across the deep ocean. Actuall}- the Buddhists had
been driven to Cejdon ; so it became the demon's home :
a chain of rocks extends now from the main-land to the
island of Ceylon ; so that ever}^ vessel to or from the
Ganges must circumnavigate that island. The Hindus
firml}' believe it to be Rama's bridge : the stones which
crop out tlu'ough Southern India are said to have been
dropped by the monkey builders. On this bridge the
arm}' crosses to Lanka, and Rama engages in single com-
bat with the giant, Ravana. He is like the Hydra, or
hundred-headed serpent, whom Herakles kills in Greek
mytholog}' ; for Ravana has ten heads, and one grows
again as fast as Rama cuts it off. Finally Rama is
roused to the last degree ; he shoots the terrible arrow
of Brahma, the Creator, and not till then does the mon-

106 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ster fall dead. Gods and demons are watching the
contest from the sk}', and flowers fail down in showers
on the victorious hero. This lovel}' idea constantl}' re-
curs through all the Hindu literature. There are no
wanton cruelties on the battle-field. The victors refuse
to give Ravana a funeral pile ; but the generous Kama
said, "I am much grieved to hear these words from
you ; Havana is now dead, and he is therefore no longer
A'our enem}^, but your elder brother, and it is proper for
you to perform his funeral rites." And he gives the
giant a splendid funeral pile ; his body is consumed by
fire, which is quite different from the treatment of Hec-
tor's dead body by Achilles.

Then Rama allows Sita to come into his presence on
foot, in the sight of the whole arm}'. This shows that
on grand occasions women were seen in public, even at
this late period : it was not until after the Mohammedan
conquest, a. d. 1000, that the}' were so entirely enslaved.
Jo}' and grief and anger divide Rama's heart : Sita was
carried away against aU her own struggles and efforts,
it was true ; but as she spent so long time in the palace
of Ravana, Rama is not wilhng to receive her as his
wife until she has proved her innocence by going
through the ordeal of fire. This seems like a princess
of the Middle Ages, but it must be a custom of all the
Ar3'an families, if we find it here.

" ' Agni, God of purity ! ' prayed Sita among the flames, ' if
I am true, and clean, and bright of soul as thou, then prove
my innocence to Rama and all this host.' Agni brings her
out of the fire unhurt. [The Vedic Agni reappears here.]
Then Rama wept, and said, ' It was needful there should be
no speck on thy soul's whiteness, for thine own sake first, then

BUDDHISM AND THE RAMAYANA. 107

for the sake of all these here ; that they might learn that love-
liness of outward form cannot make vice more tolerable ; ancT
that where there is not utter reverence, there is no true
love.' "

Then all return in triumph to A3odliya. But the
Brahmans are still unsatisfied. They banish Sita into
the jungle for fourteen years. She bears this trial with
the perfect meekness of a typical Hindu wife, and after
this is allowed to hve happily ever after. Stripped of
that religious meaning which makes it sacred to the
Hindu, it has yet a rehgious meaning to us. For the
Ramayana is but one more form, one other aspect, of
that contest between good and evil which has gone on
in every country to which the Arvans carried the ideas
the}' had imbibed in their common home. Even the
sceptical Monier "Williams acknowledges the Ramayana
to be a contest between good and evil. We shall meet
this strife in ever}^ Arj'an literature which we shall take
up in turn. It will take on the different local coloring,
but it will be at heart the same, varying with the vary-
ing climate. For Rama is a very simple form of the
solar myth, more easily traced than Arjuna and Kama.
His birth is supernatural ; he wins his bride by bending
a bow ; he suffers for the good of others ; he fights with
the powers of evil and darkness ; he wms by a magical
weapon, which he alone can use. His bride is Sita, a
n3'mph of celestial birth ; the name means '' a furrow '' ;
she is therefore the earth married to the sun. In the
bright clime of India the conflict of nature is brief;
so the sun, victorious over the darkness, returns in joy-
ful trimnph to its earl}' home.

108 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDEED LITEKATUEES.

CHAPTEE IV.

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA.

WE have spoken of the Hindu religions and forms
of worship, — their austerities, sacrifices, and
meditations. There was never a nation so priest-ridden
as the Hindus : yet the}^ indulged in the most unre-
strained freedom of thought. India is, above all others,
the countr3' of theology and metaph3^sics ; and nowhere
else have these taken such a hold upon a nation. Mr.

Dasent sa3's : —
t
" 111 this passive, abstract, unprogressive state they have

remained, stiffened into castes, and tongue-tied and hand-tied
by absurd ceremonies. Heard of by IJerodotus in dim legends ;
seen by Alexander ; trafficked with by imperial Rome and the
later Empire ; becoming fabulous in the Middle Ages ; redis-
covered by the Portuguese ; alternately peaceful subjects and
desperate rebels to England ; — they have been still the same
immovable and un])rogressive philosophers, though akin to
Europe all the time."

Their history is intellectual, not political, — a history
of opinions, not of actions. Greece might fade awa}^ ;
Rome might arise and shal^e the world ; Christianit}',
with gentle but irresistible power, might penetrate into
every other country ; but India dreamed on. Not until
it was first conquered by the Mohammedans, a. d. 1000,
was India influenced bV the rest of the world : and

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 109

even that war was a religious war. Yet a peculiar and
beautiful architecture grew up there, as well as htera-
ture ; so there must have been a varied life of the mind :
this ver}' isolation and independence give an interest
and value to what they did. Left to itself, the imagina-
tion took an undue share of the mind. And there was
never a time when the Hindu did not speculate. Even
in the Rig Yeda we find one of the original hymns
(that one to which I alluded in the first chapter) full
of ideas which would seem to imply a long previous
period of metaphysical speculation. After all, is it not
natural that man should speculate? — should wonder
from whence he came and whither he is going? This
hymn has the conception of a state when nothing ex-
isted except the Supreme Spirit. Max Miiller sa3's,
' ' Man}' of its thoughts would seem to come from mystic
philosophers, rather than simple shepherds ; but there
they are, in this oldest book of the world." I should
prefer a prose translation, but have not been able to
find it. The poem is certainl}- one of the gi-andest in all
literature. The word rendered " love" by this transla-
tor is not at all what we mean bj' the sanieword. This
Kama is the same thing as Eros in Greek or Wuotan
in German. Kama, like Eros, afterwards became the
god of love ; but originally, and here in this connection
it means the wish or desire of the mind to perform
some action before the will has resolved to do it. This
Is rather metaphysical, but I think there is no clearer
wa}^ of stating it ; for, of course, the wish to do an3'thing
precedes the will or resolution to do it. In Greek as
well as Hindu mytholog}^, Kama and Eros are among
the oldest deities, and are self-existent.

110 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

" Nor aught nor naught existed : yon bright sky
"Was not, nor heaven's broad roof outstretched above.
What covered all ? what sheltered ? what concealed ?
Was it the water's fathomless abyss ?
There was not death ; hence was there naught immortal.
There was no confine betwixt day and night.
The only One breathed breathless in itself;
Other than it, there nothing since has been.
Darkness there was, and all at first was veiled
In gloom profound, an ocean without light.
The germ that still lay covered in the husk
Burst forth, one nature from the fervent heat.
Then first came Love upon it, the new spring
Of mind, — yea, poets in their hearts discerned,
Pondering, this bond between created things
And uncreated. Comes this spark from earth
Piercing and all-pervading, or from heaven ?
Then seeds were sown, and mighty power arose,
Nature below, and Power and Will above :
Who knows the secret ? Who proclaimed it here
Whence, whence this manifold creation sprang ?
The gods themselves came later into being.
Who knows from whence this great creation sprang 1
He from whom all this great creation came,
Whether his will created or was mute.
The Most High Seer that is in highest heaven
He knows it, — or perchance e'en He knows not."

This last expression of doubt seems sad and startli

His:

&'

after the poet had so firml}- asserted his belief in one
overseer and creator. Sanskrit literature has an im-
mense number of books upon metaphysics. There are
six systems of philosophy ; the very thought of these is
appalling. Victor Cousin says, " The history of meta-
l^hysics in India is an epitome of its histor^^ every-

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. Ill

where." It is curious to know that the same problems
which agitate speculative minds to-da}- agitated the
dreaming Hindu three thousand \'ears ago. The meta-
ph3-sical books which grew up in Sanskrit without the
slightest contact with other minds go over the same
ground with the mental philosophy of Greece 600 b.c,
or of Germany to-da}'. The books sound as if the}-
had been written yesterday, and no more is knowni oil
the subject of metaphysics than the Hindus knew.
Max Miiller says: "We find in many cases a treat-
ment of philosopliical problems which wdll rouse sur-
prise and admiration, — the whole development of philo-
soi)hic thought in a nut-shell." Mr. Thompson says :
" There are few countries w'here philosophv has devel-
oped itself clearh', independenth', and spontaneoush'.
Greece and India ma}' be considered as the only two
such : the great sj'stems of China, Persia, and Egypt
are a species of religious mysticism."

The rise of philosoph}' in India was much like tlie
rise of the new Brahmanical religion, and, if you have
followed that, you will understand this. The Aryans
in India always speculated ; but there was a long period
before their speculations crystallized into a definite sys-
tem, — a long time before the brave warriors who in-
vaded and conquered this fertile land became a nation
of priest-ridden dreamers.

The\' gradually succumbed to the enervating climate,
which brought on inertia and sloth. The first system
of metaph3'sics was written by Kapila about 700 b. c.
It was adopted b}' a few thoughtful men of the twice-
born castes, whose speculations w'cre winked at by the
rehgious teachers. They were allowed to specuUite as

112 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

much as they pleased, to beheve what they chose, if
they would faithful!}^ observe those rules and forms of
worship which are described, maintain caste, the ascen-
dency of the Brahmans, and their exclusive right to be
teachers of religion and philosoph}'. " All the founders
of philosophy were Brahmans themselves, and probabl}^
school-teachers," Mr. Thompson says. The important
period in metaphysics is therefore the period before the
rise of Buddhism. Just as in the poetry, there are
four periods of metaph3'sics : — First, the Vedic, with
the hymn just quoted, not interpolated. Second, the
Brahmanical, — that of Kapila. Probably the Hindus
would have been contented to dream on forever,
meditating under a tree, if the Brahmans had been
more prudent. But their 3'oke grew to be intolerable,
and the Buddha arose, and founded a philosophy as
well as a religion. It was a tremendous social revo-
lution also, for it opened metaphysics to the whole
people, as it had religion : everybody speculated,
instead of a small knot of cultivated men. Bud-
dhism increased so fast and so far that the Brahmans i
in despair felt that something must be done. So they \
ver}^ wisely ceased to oppose the Buddhist philosophy.
They merely remarked that all these doctrines upon
which the Buddhist philosophers prided themselves
could be found in the Vedas, hinted at, if not clearly
expressed. Then they proceeded to interpolate into
the Vedas and the epic poems the doctrines which the}^
wished to find there. This brought about the fourth
period of philosoph}^, — the Brahmanical revival. In it
the Brahmanical metaphysics of Kapila took a broader
ground and a peculiar mysticism. It is impossible to

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 113

define what they did think, as a mj'stical meaning was
given to eveiy difficulty. The}' claimed that the foun-
dation of all philosoph}' was found in an original part
of the Yedas, called the Upanishad, or mj'stical doctrine.
These are vague, mystical speculations about the origin
of the world and of man, and the character of the Su-
preme Being. ^ The}' mean literally "sessions," — that
is, assemblies of pupils around a master. "They do
not contain a completed S3'stem of philosoph}'. They
are, in the true sense of the word, guesses at truth,"
Max Miiller says. The first Brahmans alwa3's included
them in their sacred code. They belong to Sruti, that
is, revelation : for the philosophy of the ancient Risliis
was as sacred to them as their hymn of praise. As
everj'thing in the Upanishads is sacred truth, all the
opposing S3'stems of metaph3'sics justif3' themselves from
these. Brahmanism and Buddhism divide the six S3's-
tems of metaph3'sics between them. And I will simpl3^
mention those features which distinguish the Hindu from
the other metaph3'sies of the world.

I described fuil3', in the second chapter, that the Su-
preme Spirit, after receiving various names, was finall}'
called Brahman when in a state of repose ; that he
divided himself into innumerable pieces, — into gods,
heroes, human beings, animals, plants, — even into
stones. Finall3', all these emanations from Brahman
were absorbed back into him.

" There is one only Being who exists :
Unmoved, yet moving swifter than the mind :
Who far outstrips the senses, though as gods
They strive to reach him : who, himself at rest,
Transcends the fleetest flight of other beings :
8

114 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Who, like the air, supports all vital action.

He moves, yet moves not ; he is far, yet near ;

He is within this universe and yet

Outside this universe : who e'er beholds

All living creatures as in him, and him,

The Universal Spirit, as in all.

Henceforth regards no creature with contempt."

Now exactl}^ the same idea comes into the Brahraani-
cal philosophy : only now the Supreme Spirit in a pas-
sive state is called Atman. Max Miiller says, ''The
conception of Atman was too transparent for poetr}',
and therefore was handed down to philosophy-, which
afterwards polished and turned and watched it as the
medium through which all is seen, and in which all is
reflected." It is the same word as the Latin animus^
and it means breath or air. It is the idea of the prin-
ciple of life pervading ever3'thing, like the air, accom-
panying all beings wherever they go : of something
incessantl}' round us, like the atmosphere. We shall
meet this again in the Teutonic mythology : Tennyson
has the same thought when he says, —

" Closer is he than breathing, nearer than hands or than feet."

But Atman lost its meaning of breath ver}' soon, and
took a still more abstract meaning. It became the
self, like our reflective pronoun, I, myself; he, himself.
The self is he who uses the mind and the senses, but is
distinct from them ; for instance, the eyes are but in-
struments to see with, used by some one who is the
seer, the self. So Atman was called the self of the
universe, who existed before all created things, and each
individual was a piece of Atman. His highest aim,

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 115

therefore, was to recognize consciously the Atman
within himself, put himself into harmonj' and identity
with it, and be absorbed into it. The Upanishads
taught, " Know thyself," that is, know thy own Atman,
and recognize that it is a piece of the great Atman,
that eternal self which underlies all the universe. " The
Atman within thee is the true Brahman, from whom
thou wert estranged b}- birth and death, who receives
thee back again as soon as thou returnest to it."
This was the final solution of the search after the
Infinite. Atman became the subjective soul of the uni-
verse,— utterl}- without form, not a person at all, —
even more impossible to seize than Brahman, the objec-
tive soul.

But the Buddhist metaph3'sics do not recognize any
supreme spirit at all : disappearance was the end of
each person, melting away like mist. " There is not
much to choose between this and being absorbed like a
drop of water." The philosoph}' of the Brahmans and
the Buddhists reached the same conclusions as their
religion : with the Brahmans pantheism, with the Bud-
dhists atheism ; but we must not forget that the Bud-
dhist religion taught men to lead lovel}' lives in spite of
its dreadful doctrines. But both of these s^'stems are
mere schemes for getting rid of the evils of life by the
extinction of all personal existence, all individuality.
Buddhism is especially distinguished hj its doctrine of
Maya, or illusion. This teaches that the world does not
exist ; it onl}- seems to us to exist, through the medium
of our own senses. If we had no eyes, there would be
no hglit ; if we had no ears, there would be no sound ;
if we had no senses, there would be no ideas formed in

116 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

our mind. The doctrine has since been taught by
Spinoza and Berkeley (the ideal theory) ; but Buddha
went farther, and said, if there is no realit}^ in all tlie
creation, of course there is no creator : and thus he
ignored spirit altogether. Buddha pronounced all meta-
ph3'sical discussion vain and useless. In one of the
Upanishads the soul is compared to a rider in a chariot ;
the body is the chariot ; the intellect is the charioteer ;
the passions are the horses ; the mind is the reins ;
the objects of sense are the roads. The unwise man
neglects to appl}^ the reins ; in consequence of which,
the passions, like unrestrained vicious horses, rush about
hither and thither, carrying the charioteer wherever
they please. We ought particularly^ to notice and re-
member this passage, because the same idea is found in
the most celebrated passage of Plato : but this is from
the very earliest metaph3^sical writings in the world.
We do not know who wrote the Upanishads, but we do
know the names of the six writers of the later meta-
ph3'sical books. I will spare the reader a catalogue of
names.

The metaph3^sical book best known outside of India is
the " Bhagavat Gita," or Song of the Divine One. The
god Vishnu became incarnate as Krishna, the chariot-
eer of the hero Arjuna. Krishna has another name,
Bhagavat, and while the two armies were drawn up in
battle array he delivered this long discourse, at a very
inopportune time. It was named from him "the di-
vine " ; in this fourth period, the Brahmanical revival,
it was written, and interpolated into the Maha Bharata.
The author was a poet as well as a philosopher, and he
sought to combine all the S3'stems together, and put

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 117

them under the patronage of the Brahmans, himself
being a Brahman. It was the same spirit which in-
dneecl Valraiki the poet to rewrite the Ramayana. INIr.
Thompson saj's, " To unite the skilful and elegant poet
with the clear and S3'stematic philosopher, and these two
with the shrewd and successful reformer, is an under-
taking of no small merit, and this was achieved 1)}' the
autlior of the Bhagavat Gita."

It is almost incomprehensible : it attempts to describe
the supreme being Atman or Brahman, but I have been
able to find onl3'one passage which interests the general
reader. Arjuna, the hero, hesitates to begin the battle,
and win the throne through the blood of his kindred.
But Krishna tells him that he must fulfil the duties of
his caste, however unpleasant, and throw aside all con-
siderations of affection. He consoles him, however, by
these thoughts : —

*' The wise grieve not for the departed, nor for those who yet

survive.
Ne'er was a time when I was not, nor thou, nor yonder chiefs

and ne'er
Shall be a time when all of us shall be not : as the embodied

soul
In this corporeal frame moves swiftly on through boyhood,

youth, and age.
So will it pass through other forms hereafter : — be not grieved

thereat.
Know this, — the Being that spread the universe
Is indestructible. Who can destroy the Indestructible ?
These bodies that enclose the everlasting, inscrutable,
Immortal soul have an end : but the soul
Kills not, and is not killed ; it is not born, nor doth it ever

die."

118 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

So Arjuna cheerfully kills all his kindred, knowing
they will pass through transmigrations and be born
again. To put the duties of caste above all others is
the main object of the Bhagavat Gita ; it has had great
influence in preserving the caste S3'stem in India, not-
withstanding all the efforts of the Mohammedan and
Enghsh conquerors. It belongs to the very close of
metaphysics, and is eclectic, seeking to combine all
the preceding systems. It is greatty admired b}' the
Hindus ; — partly on that account, partly because they
did not know what else to translate, it was chosen as
the first direct translation from Sanskrit into English.
It was published in 1785, and dedicated to Warren
Hastings.

The Hindus to-day care nothing for the Yedas,
except the Upanishads ; but there is an immense Brah-
manical literature ; it is the foundation for their religion
and theolog}^, but does not come within our book, wiiich
is literary, and not theological. It has books of laws for
the priests and people, and legends about the new gods,
called Puranas. These Puranas are much studied at the
present tune. It grew up in the fourth period, the
Brahmanical revival, and most of it was written about
300 A. D. India has but one literature accepted by all,
the Sanskrit. The different modern dialects have no
literature at all ; and the latest Sanskrit books are two
plays, one written in 720, the other in 1100 a.d.

There is in Sanskrit an admirable and original scien-
tific literature. It will be remembered that the S3^stem
of counting by tens (the decimal S3'stem) was used among
the undivided Arj^ans : how long ago we cannot tell.
The figures which every modern nation uses come from

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 119

the Hindus, and so does the game of chess. There are
man}' books upon arithmetic and algebra. Here is a
prett}' question : —

" Eight rubies, ten emeralds, and a hundred pearls, which are
in thy ear-ring, my beloved, were purchased by me, lor thee, at
an equal amount ; and the sum of the rates of the three sorts
of gems was three less than half a hundred ; tell me the rate,
auspicious woman? "

One of their astronomers maintained that the earth
moved on its own axis, which produced the alternations
of day and night. Is it not amazing that he should
have thus anticipated the Copernican S3-stem ? The idea
was not followed out by his countrymen, although there
are books about astrononi}' which are very valuable.
There are also books upon medicine and music, these
three sciences being alwajs the first to arise in every
nation. The shepherds watch the stars and observe the
influence of the moon upon the tides, so astronomy
takes form There are alwaj^s sickness and death, and
it is the first instinctive effort of human nature to avoid
them, among the tribes of our ancestors, as much as
in our own complex civilization : so medicine naturally
grows into a science very earl}-. And as to music, we
have already seen that a hymn to a god is the very first
ntterance of humanity. The shepherd priest bursts into a
song, so his pra3'er is accompanied with music, at first
simple, but soon reduced to rules. As to arithmetic, it
is plain that no sort of commerce, no interchange of the
simplest commodities, is possible without counting, and
we can understand the rise of arithmetic. The early
existence of algebra is difficult to explain, but at any
rate they are all in Sanskrit literature, and, what is

120 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

veiy foreign to our ideas, these scientific and meta-
physical books, hke the Vedas and the Code of Manu,
are written in poetrj', in astokas, stanzas of two lines ;
and consequently there are books upon versification and
rhetoric. But there are none upon the fine arts, or the
mechanical arts.

Grammar, on the contrar}^ is the ver}' last science to
arise. In the deca}' of original thought, man}' fall to
discussing outside form, and Sanskrit literature is no ex-
ception to this rule. There are hundreds of works upon
grammar : they are mostly commentaries upon Panini's
grammar, which is of portentous size, and contains
four thousand condensed rules. Alas for the school-
bo3'S in that country ! It is considered the most origi-
nal product of all the Hindu has written. He regards
grammar as something to be loved and studied for its
own sake. Max Mtiller says, "There are onl}^ two
nations in the history of the world which have con-
ceived independently the two sciences of Logic and
Grammar. Our grammatical terms come to us from
Greece, through Alexandria and Rome. In India its
histor}' is parallel, 3xt independent." These books are
less interesting than the poetical literature, but they
show us that the scientific as well as the metaphysical
t^'pe of mind arose in India ; although , as ever^^where
else, at a later period than the poetical type.

In Sanskrit are man}' stories, which are chiefly inter-
esting as being the foundation of some of the stories
of the Arabian Nights. That earliest of travellers,
Sindbad the Sailor, started on his journe3's in India ;
he has gone long and far since then, and was first
translated into Persian. But the stories seem slight

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 121

sketches compared with the completed glories of the
Arabian Nights. The nurser}' tales' are amazing as
well as charming. The good heroines are most lovely
and gentle ; the bad ones verj- shrewd and clever ; and in
spite of the subordinate position which women are sup-
posed to occup3' in India, in these stories they express
their minds with great freedom to the haughtiest rajas,
and bring about the success of the plot by their own
wit and energy. We find in India the cruel step-mother,
the haught}' elder sister, the gentle maiden whose mouth
drops pearls and diamonds, the sleeping beaut}' killed
by a Raksha's claw, the beautiful golden dress glitter-
ing like the sun, and the stupid ogre, called a Raksha
here. There are two things that especiall}^ suggest
other Ar3'an stories. The life of one princess is
bound up in a gold necklace : it is stolen, and she dies ;
it is brought back, and she comes to life. Another is
of a raja who dies ; a beautiful marble statue of him is
put in a little chapel, and ever}" night he comes to life
for a few hours. He might be a lunar myth. The lovely
German stor}' of Faithful John is almost word for word
like the Sanskrit stor}' of Rama and Lux and man.
In fact, in reading the folk-lore, you find j^ourself in a
familiar atmosphere, and 3'ou accept the theorj' which
tells us that these stories are the original inheritance of
ever}" Aryan family, and a strong proof of relationship
between them. I copy this one because it is the shortest.

HOW THE SUN, THE MOON, ■ AND THE WIND
WENT OUT TO DINNER.

One day, the Sun, the Moon, and the Wind went out to dine
with their uncle and aunt, the Thunder and Lightning. Their

122 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

mother (one of the most distant stars you see far up in the sky)
waited alone for her children's return.

N ow both the Sun and the Wind were greedy and selfish. They
enjoyed the great feast that had been prepared for them, with-
out a thought of saving any of it to take home to their mother ;
but the gentle Moon did not forget her. Of every dainty dish
that was brought around, she placed a small portion under one
of her beautiful long finger nails, that the star might have a
share in the treat.

On their return, the mother, who had kept watch for them
all night long with her little bright eye, said, " Well, children,
what have you brought home for me ? ^' Then the Sun (who
was the oldest) said, "I have brought nothing home for you.
I went out to enjoy myself with my friends, not to fetch a
dinner for my mother." And the Wind said, " Neither have I
brought anything home for you, mother. You could hardly
expect me to bring a collection of good things for you when I
merely went out for my own pleasure." But the Moon said,
" Mother, fetch a plate; see what I have brought you." And,
shaking her hands, she showered down such a choice dinner as
never was seen before.

Then the Star turned to the Sun, and spoke thus : " Because
you went out to amuse yourself with your friends, and feasted
and enjoyed yourself without any thought of your mother at
home, you shall be cursed. Henceforth your rays shall be ever
hot and scorching, and shall burn all that they touch, and men
shall hate you, and cover their heads when you appear."

(And this is why the Sun is so hot to this day.)

Then she turned to the Wind, and said : " You also, who forgot
your mother in the midst of your selfish pleasures, hear your
doom. You shall always blow in the hot dry weather, and shall
parch and shrivel all living things, and men shall detest and
avoid you from this very time."

(And that is why the Wind in the hot weather is still so
disagreeable.)

But to the Moon she said : " Daughter, because you remem-

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 123

berecl voiir mother, and kept for her a share in your own enjoy-
ment, from henceforth you shall he ever cool, and calm, and
bright : no noxious glare shall accompany your pure rays, and
men shall always call you blessed."

(And that is why the Moon's light is so soft and cool and
beautiful even to this day.)

I will not apologize for reading this child's story, be-
cause in it you see so clearly- how the objects in nature
were personified. The long finger-nails are considered
a great beauty in India.

It is in vain to hope to escape the moralist : he ex-
pands into large proportions in India. We used to sup-
pose that -^sop the Greek invented these prett}' stories,
•where animals speak, with a moral at the end which we
carefull}' skipped. But a study of Sanskrit literature
shows that they originated in India long before, without
intercourse with any other people, — a growth indigenous
to the soil. There are two collections, the Panchatantra
and the Hitopadesa : the latter was taken as the second
translation from the Sanskrit, in 1787. The morals and
the stories of the Hitopadesa are so interwoven that you
must swallow them both in spite of 3'ourself : the fables
are strung together, one within another, so that a new
one is begun before the first one is finished. The fond-
ness for animals which the Hindus showed arose before
their behef in transmigration : but it doubled after this
belief was established. 'How could one be cruel to an
ape, or a jackal, or an elephant? he might be 3-our dead
uncle or first-cousin. Those introduced in the fables
are chiefly those which surrounded the Hindu, — fishes
and insects rarely come into the fables. Mr. Thomp-
son says, " The characters given to each — the good-

124 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

natured gnllibilit}- of the elephant, the bumptious stu-
pidit}^ of the ass, the insidious flattery of the jackal, the
calm philosoph}^ of the tortoise, and the folh^ of the ape
— are proofs of the early attempt to affirm that they
possessed souls." They were each true to their beast
nature, at first. The attempt to turn them into men
disguised, and make them moralize, is a secondary
development.

" The fool who gives way to his anger, before knowing the
truth, experiences regret, like the Brahman who killed his
ichneumon. There was at Ayodhya a Brahman named Ma-
thara. His wife one day went out to bathe, leaving him to
take care of the baby. In the mean time the king sent for the
Brahman to perform a sacrament for the dead, called a Par-
vana Sraddha. As soon as he had received this invitation, the
Brahman, who was poor, said to himself, ' If I do not go there
very quickly another will know it, and will receive the present
for performing the Sraddha. When it is a question of receiv-
ing, of giving and performing a sacrifice, if one does not hurry,
time will carry away all the benefit of the work. But there is
nobody here to take care of the child. What am I going to do
then ? Well, I will confide the care of my son to this ichneu-
mon, which I have supported for a long time, and which I
love as if it were my child ; then I will go.' The Brahman
did as he said, and went to the sacrifice. The ichneumon saw
a black snake which was coming towards the child, and killed
it ; when it saw the Brahman returning, it ran to meet him,
with its jaws and paws all bloody, and rolled at his feet. The
Brahman, seeing it in such a state, believed that it had de-
voured his child, and he killed it. He immediately approached
to look, and saw the child safe and well, and the snake dead.
He recognized then that the ichneumon had saved his son, and,
seeing what it had done, he regretted his being carried away
with anger, and fell into a deep melancholy."

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DEAMA. 125

The Welsh story of the dog Gellert comes to muid.
The Hindus themselves claim that the}' invented teach-
ing b}' fables ; and it is quite true that these fables were
a secondary development of the beast epic, and were
copied b}' the Persians ver}' long ago. During the
Greek and Persian wars the}'^ were carried into Greece ;
there transformed again b}^ ^sop. Does not this make
histor}' ver}' living and real? Max Miiller sa3'S, " The
fables of the Hitopadesa and Panchatantra are excellent
specimens of what stor3'-telling ought to be."

This moralizing and philosophizing tone is found
throughout Sanskrit literature : in the two epics, in the
present rewritten form, are countless moral reflections
and precepts ; in the poems and stories of this fourth
period, the hero constantl}' turns aside from the plot to
ofier a few didactic thoughts. There are many poems,
but the}' show the effect of a later and an artificial age ;
the}' have nothing of the freshness and naturalness of the
Rig Veda, nor of its universal value and interest ; they
have not expressed the whole origin of literature like
that ; but, nevertheless, it is most interesting to find these
different branches of literature invented spontaneously ;
and all show great skill in managing the difl^culties of
Sanskrit metre and grammar. One of them, the " Cloud
Messenger," by Kalidasa, has a most poetical plot, and
lovely descriptions of nature : a Yaksha is exiled from
his wife, and sends her a message by the clouds floating
over him : it is considered a most pure and perfect work
of art. The Hindus of this fourth period wrote the
following : —

" Now for a little while a child, and now
An amorous youth ; then for a season turned

126 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Into the wealthy householder ; then stripped

Of all his riches, "with decrepit limbs

And wrinkled frame, man creeps towards to the end

Of life's erratic course; and like an actor

Passes behind Death's curtain out of view."

Of course one will at once think of Shakespeare's
" seven ages."

But when we read the drama, Sanskrit literature rises
to the level of every other literature ; and I do not hesi-
tate to say that the Sanskrit plays equal all others,
except those of Shakespeare. This is high praise ; but
I have great authorities to support me. Mr. Fergusson
compares the exuberant Indian architecture to the rich
irregularit}' of Gotliic architecture in Europe ; certainl}^,
the Sanskrit drama ma}^ be compared to the romantic
drama of Europe. Strange to sa}', in the twelfth cen-
tury is a pla}^ where all the characters are vices and
virtues personified, just like the morality pla3^s in the
Middle Ages ; which seems A^ery surprising. This con-
test between the classic and romantic drama has en-
gaged so much attention of late years, that the friends
of the romantic drama are delighted to find such perfect
examples of it, arising spontaneously, in this literature,
hitherto unknown : it is most curious that this drama,
uninfluenced by other human beings, should have taken
such a diflerent form from the Greek drama. There
will be found in the Sanskrit pla^^s strong feeling for
nature and lovely descriptions of scenery ; characters
noble and 3'et natural, tragic and comic, taken from
high and low life, in the same pla}', intermingled as in
real life. There will be witty dialogues, dramatic situa-
tions, and an amusing plot. None of them are unmixed

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 127

tragedies or comedies : a little suffering is given to
touch the feelings ; then a happ}^ ending comes. The
pla3's are divided into acts ; they all have a prologue.
The ordinar}' couA^ersation is in prose ; but reflections,
and descriptions of scenery, and bursts of feeling, are in .
lovely poetr}'. There is always a buffoon, who is some-
times witty, alwa3's liveh^ : he is a Brahman, a humble
friend, not a servant ; and makes an agreeable contrast
to the melanchoh' hero. Unmarried women of good
famih' are introduced upon the stage ; married women
are allowed to go anywhere, and do as the}- please : all
these characteristics belong to the romantic drama in
every age and countr}^ In India there are two pecuhar-
ities. First, unmarried women are not allowed to re-
plj' to their lover, although they ma}^ listen to him : they
are always accompanied b}- a female confidant, to whom
they speak, and she answers for them. Second, — and
this is the great peculiarity of the Sanskrit plaj's, —
the different characters speak different dialects in the
same pla}' : the higher male characters use Sanskrit ;
the lower male, and the female characters, Prakrit.
There are but few pla3's in Sanskrit ; not more than
sixt}' h^ave been discovered. One play is ver}^ long ; it
was seldom performed more than once, and was written
to do honor to some high state ceremony. The earliest
and best of them w^ere written b}' Kalidasa. He wrote
only three plays, and lived about 200 b. c, — perhaps
100 B. c. He was a contemporary of the poet who
wrote the Bhagavat Gita, and also of Valmiki, w^ho
wrote the RamaA'ana ; and thus belongs to the fourth
period, — the Brahmanical revival. One of his pla3'S is
the Yikramorvasi, — the dawn myth put into a dramatic

128 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

form. The m'lnph Urvasi is turned into a vine as soon
as she beholds her lover ; and she is the original of
Ps3xhe in Greek literature, of Melusina in the Middle
Ages, of Beauty in the nursery tale of Beaut}^ and the
Beast, of all the beings who cannot gaze upon each other,
though full of the tenderest affection or united in the
closest ties ; for the lover is the sun : Urvasi is but an-
other name for the dawn, which of course never can see
the sun. The vine, in one version of the play, bleeds
and speaks when broken : it appears in this form in
the Greek mythology and the ballads of the Middle
Ages : from them it went into the poems of Tasso and
Spenser ; but it arose in the Sanskrit literature. For
all nature was peopled with living forms, small as well
as great : each mountain and brook was supposed to
be a distinct individual. Perhaps the personifications
are not as numerous as in the Greek and Teutonic
mythologies, but they are present.

Kalidasa's best play is the charming Sakoontala, —
the most artless, fresh, and poetical of books. Yet the
characters are distinctl}" drawn and clearly defined, even
the subordinate ones : the two constables who arrest
the fisherman are as individual as the grave-diggers in
Hamlet. The characters are noble, the situations dra-
matic ; and one might fancy that the play was written
in our own centur3', instead of almost two thousand
years ago. This stor}^ of the ring is found in Greek
literature, — the ring of Polycrates ; also, in modern
German. It must have been one of the stories of the
undivided Aryans : the Germans must have copied it ;
but Herodotus could not. The events of the play took
place in the Vedic period, and were copied from an

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DEAMA. 129

episode of the Maha Bharata. We see this from the
manners, especialh' the freedom of the women. It is
probable that the present condition of the Hindu women
was copied from the Mohammedan conquerors. Sa-
koontala was the third direct translation from the San-
skrit b}' Sir WilUam Jones, in 1789. It spread over
Europe in a very short time : Goethe read it, and
wrote : —

" WoiJdst thou the blossoms of spring 1 the autumn's fruits ?

AYouldst thou what charms and thrills ? Wouldst thou what
satisfies and feeds ?

AVouldst thou the heaven, the earth, in one sole word com-
press 1

I name Sakoontala, and so have said it all."

SAKOONTALA; OR, THE LOST RING.

ACT I.

Scene. — A Forest.

Enter KixG Dushyanta, armed with a how and arrow, in a chariot,
chasing an antelope, attended by his charioteer.

KiXG {looking about him).
Charioteer, even without being told, I should have known
that these were the precincts of a grove consecrated to peniten-
tial rites. {Alighting.) Groves devoted to penance must be
entered in humble attire. Take these ornaments. {Delivers
his how and ornaments to the charioteer.) What means this
throbbing of my arm 1 Hark ! I hear voices to the right of
yonder grove of trees. I will walk in that direction. Ah !
here are the maidens of the hermitage coming this way to
water the shrubs, carrying watering-pots proportioned to their
strength. I will conceal myself in the shade, and watch
them.

9

180 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Enter Sakoojjtala, with tivo female companions, who converse, and
ivater the shrubs.

Sakoontala.
Ah ! a bee, disturbed by the sprinkling of the water, has left
the young jasmine, and is trying to settle on my face. Help,
my dear friends ! deliver me from the attack of this trouble-
some insect.

Pritamvada and Anasuta.
How can we deliver you 1 Call Dushyanta to your aid.
These sacred groves are under the King's special protection.

King {advancing hastily).

When mighty Puru's offering sways the earth.

And o'er the wayward holds his threatening rod,

Who dares molest the gentle maids that keep

Their holy vigils here in Kanwa's grove ?

[They converse.

Nay, think not I am King Dushyanta. I am only the
king's officer. [They converse.

Pritamavda and Anasuta.

Noble sir, permit us to return to the cottage.

[All rise.

Sakoontala.
A pointed blade of Kusa grass has pricked my foot, and my
bark mantle is caught in the branch of a Kuruvaka bush. Be
so good as to wait for me till I have disentangled it.

[Exit with her two companions, after making pretexts for delay that
she may steal glances at the King.

King.

I have no longer any desire to return to the city. Sakoon-
tala has taken such possession of my thoughts that I cannot
turn myself in any other direction.

My limbs drawn onward, leave my heart behind,
Like silken pennon borne against the wind.

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 131

ACT III.

Scene. — Jlie Sacred Grove.

Enter King Dushtanta, loith the air of one in love. Talks to him-
self. Walks about.

Ah ! yonder I see the beloved of my heart reclining on a
rock strewn with flowers, and attended by her two friends.
Concealed behind the leaves, I will listen to their conversation.
Sakoontala and her two attendants discovered.

Priyamvada.
I have observed that Sakoontala has been indisposed ever
since her interview with King Dushyanta. She looks seriously
ill. Dear Sakoontala ! we know very little about love mat-
ters ; but, for all that, I cannot help suspecting your present
state to be something similar to that of the lovers w^e have read
about in romances. Tell us frankly what is the cause of your
disorder.

[They converse.

Sakoontala.

Know then, dear friends, that from the first moment the
illustrious prince who is the guardian of our sacred grove pre-
sented himself to my sight —

[Stops short, and appears confused.

Priyamvada and Anasuya.
Say on, dear Sakoontala, say on.

Sakoontala.

Ever since that happy moment ray heart's affections have
been fixed upon him, and my energies of mind and body have
deserted me, as you see.

[They converse.

Priyamvada.

I look upon the affair as already settled. Did you not observe
how the king betrayed his liking by the tender manner in

132 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

which he gazed upon her, and how thin he has become in the
last few days, as if he had been lying awake thinking of her ?
An idea strikes me. Let Sakoontala write a love-letter. I
will conceal it in a flower, and drop it in the king's path.

[ They converse.

Sakoontala.
Dear girls, I have thought of a verse, but I have no writing
materials at hand.

Pritamvada.
Write the letters with your nail on this lotus leaf, which is
smooth as a parrot's breast.

Sakoontala {ajier writing).

Listen, dear friends, and tell me whether the ideas are
appropriately expressed : —

I know not the secret thy bosom reveals ;

Thy form is not near me to gladden my sight ;
But sad is the tale that my fever reveals

Of the love that consumes me by day and by night.

King- {advancing hastily towards her).
Nay, Love does but warm thee, fair maiden, thy frame

Only droops like the bud in the glare of the noon ;
But me he consumes with a pitiless flame.

As the beams of the day-star destroy the pale moon.

Priyamvada and Anasuya.

Welcome, the desire of our hearts, that' so speedily presents
itself! Deign, gentle sir, to seat yourself on the rock on which
our friend is reposing.

[The King sits down. Sakoontala is confused. All converse.
Then Priyamvada and Anasuya move away. The King and
Sakoontala converse.

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 133

ACT IV.

Scene. — The Garden of the Hermitage.

Enter Axasuya and Pritamvada, gathering flowers.

Anasuya.
Although, dear Priyamvacla, it rejoices my heart that Sa-
koontala has been united to a husband every way worthy of
her, nevertheless I cannot help feeling somewhat uneasy in
my mind. You know that the pious king was gratefully dis-
missed by the hermits, on the termination of their sacrificial
rites. He has now returned to the capital, leaving Sakoontala
under our care, and it may be doubted whether in the society
of his royal consorts he will not forget all that has taken place
in this hermitage of ours.

Pupil ( entering joyfully ) .

Quick! quick! come and assist in the joyful preparations
for Sakoontala's departure to her husband's palace. This very
day, her father proposes sending her to the king's palace,
under charge of trusty hermits.

Pritamvada.

See, there sits Sakoontala. Let us join them : the holy

women of the hermitage are congratulating her and invoking

blessings on her head, while they present her with wedding gifts

and offerings of consecrated rice.

[They approach and converse.

Sakoontala.

Come, my two loved companions, embrace me both of you.

Pritamvada and Anasdta.

Dear Sakoontala, remember, if the king should by any
chance be slow in recognizing you, you have only to show him
this ring, on which his own name is engraved.

[They converse. Exit Sakoontala with her escort.

134 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ACT V.

Scene. — A room in the Palace. The King {seated).

Chamberlain.

Victory to the king ! So please your Majesty, some hermits

have arrived here bringing certain women with them: they

have a message from the sage, Kanwa, and desire an audience.

[They converse.

Enter the Hermits leading Sakoontala attended by a matron, Gau-
TAMi ; and in advance of them the Chamberlain and the Domes-
tic Priest.

Sakoontala (aside).

What means this throbbing of my right eyelid? Heaven
avert the evil omen !

Hermits.

Victory to the king ! {They converse.) The venerable
Kanwa bids us say he feels happy in giving his sanction to the
marriage which your Majesty contracted with this lady, and
bids thee receive her into thy palace.

King.
What strange proposal is this ?

Hermit.
Dost thou hesitate ?

King.

Do you mean to assert that I ever married this lady ?

Gautami (to Sakoontala).
Be not ashamed, my daughter. Let me remove thy veil : thy
husband will then recognize thee.

King (wrapped in thought and gazing at Sakoontala).

Holy men, I have resolved the matter in my mind, but the

more I think of it, the more I am unable to recollect that I ever

contracted an alliance with this lady.

{All converse.

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 135

Sakoontala.

If, then, thou really believest me to be the wife of another,
and thy present conduct proceeds froin some cloud that obscures
thy recollection, I will easily convince thee by this token.

King.
An excellent idea !

Sakoontala {feeling for the ring).
Alas ! alas ! woe is me ! There is no ring on my finger !

\Looks with anguish at Gautami.

Gautami.

The ring must have slipped off when thou wast in the act of
offering homage to the holy water of Sachi's sacred pool.

King (smiling).
People may well talk of the readiness of woman's invention !

Here 's an instance of it !

[All converse.
Gautami.

Speak not thus, illustrious prince : this lady was brought up
in a hermitage, and never learned deceit.

King.

Holy matron, e'en in untutored brutes, the female sex
Is marked by inborn subtlety, — much more
In beings gifted with intelligence.

Sakoontala {angrily).

Dishonorable man, thou judgest others by thine own evil

heart, thou at least art unrivalled in perfidy, and standest alone,

— a base deceiver, in the garb of virtue and religion, — like a

deep pit whose yawning mouth is concealed by smiling flowers.

[The Hermits depart and will not take Sakoontala home with them ;
theKisG will not receive her, so the Domestic Priest leads her away
with him. Then a voice behind the scenes cries, "A miracle!"

Priest {entering with astonishment).

Great prince, a stupendous prodigy has occurred. Sakoon-

136 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

tala, as soon as the hermits had departed, was bewailing her
cruel fate, when a shining apparition in female shape descended
from the skies and bore her up to heaven.

ACT VI.

Scene. — A Street.

Enter the Superintendent of police ; with him two Constables
dragging a poor Fisherman, who has his hands tied behind his back.

Both the Constables {striking the prisoner).
Take that, for a rascally thief as you are, and now tell us,
sirrah, where you found this ring, — ay, the king's own signet-
ring. See, here is the royal name engraved in the setting of
the jewel.

Fisherman (with a gesture of alarm).
Mercy ! kind sirs, mercy ! I did not steal it, indeed I did

not.

[They talk.
Superintendent.

Let the fellow tell his own story from the beginning.

Fisherman {makes along story).
One day when I was cutting open a large carp I had just-
hooked, the sparkle of a jewel caught my eye, and what should
I find in that fish's maw but that ring.

[Continues to talk.
Superintendent.

"Well the fellow emits such a fishy odor, there is little doubt
of his being a fisherman. Come, we '11 take him before the
king's household. On with you, you cut-purse!

[All move on. Exit Superintendent.

First Constable {after an interval).
The Superintendent is a long time away. My fingers itch to
strike the first blow at this victim here : we must kill him with

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DEAMA. 137

all the honors, you know. I long to begin binding the flowers
around his head.

[Pretending to strike the Fisherman.

Second Constable.
Here 's our Superintendent at last : see, he is coming towards
us with a paper in his hand. We shall soon know the king's
command ; so prepare, my fine fellow, either to become food lor
vultures, or to make acquaintance with some hungry cur.

Superintendent {entering).

Ho there ! set the fisherman at liberty : his story is all correct
about the ring. (Constables talk.) Here, my good man, the
king desired me to present you with this purse : it contains a
sum of money equal to the value of the ring.

Fisherman {taking it and boiving).
His Majesty does me too great honor.
First Cons'iable.

You may well say so : he might as well have taken you from
the gallows to seat you on his state elephant.

Second Constable.

Master, the king must value the ring very highly, or he never
would have sent such a sum of money to this ragamuffin.

{Looks envioushj at the Fisherman.

Superintendent.

I don't think he values it as a costly jewel, so much as a
memorial of some person he tenderly loves : the moment it was
shown him, he became much agitated, though in general he
conceals his feelings.

Fisherman.

Here 's half the money for you, my masters. It will serve to
purchase the flowers you spoke of, if not to buy me your good-
will.

138 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

First Constable.
Well now, that 's just as it should be.

Superintendent.
My good fisherman, you are an excellent fellow, and I begin
to feel quite a regard for you : let us seal our first friendship
over a glass of good liquor.

All.
By all means. \Exeunt.

ACT YII.

Scene. — Another Sacred Grove.
Charioteer.
Great prince, we are now in the sacred grove of the holy
Kasyapa : if your Majesty will rest under the shade of this
Asoka tree, I will announce your arrival.

King [feeling his arm throb).
Wherefore this causeless throbbing, O mine arm ?
All hope has fled forever. — Mock me not
With presages of good, when happiness
Is lost and naught but misery remains.

Enter a Child attended by two women, and playing with a lion's whelp.

Child.
Open your mouth, my young lion, I want to count your
teeth.

King.
Strange, my heart inclines toward the boy with almost as
much aff"ection as if he were my own child.

Attendant.
The lioness will certainly attack you, if you do not release
her whelps.

SANSKKIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAIMA. 139

Child {laughing}.
0, much I fear her to be sure ! let her come.

[Both converse. The Child pouts his under lip in dejiance.

King.

I feel an unaccountable affection for this wayward child.

How blest the virtuous parents, whose attire,

Is soiled with dust, by raising from the ground

The child that asks a refuge in their arms !

And happy are they while, with lisping prattle,

In accents sweetly inarticulate,

He charms their ears, and with his artless smiles

Gladdens their hearts, revealing to their gaze

His tiny teeth just budding into view.

[All

converse-.

Attendant {entering with a china bird).
See, what a beautiful Sakoonta [bird] !

Child.

My mother ! AYhere ? Let me go to her 1

Attendant.
He mistook the word Sakoonta for Sakoontala. The boy
dotes upon his mother, and she is ever uppermost in his
thoughts.

King (aside).
That is his mother's name, Sakoontala, but the name is com-
mon among women.

Attendant {in great distress).
Alas ! I do not see the amulet on his wrist.

King.

Don't distress yourself. Here it is : it fell off while he was
struggling with the lion.

[Stoops to pick it vp.

140 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Both Attendants.
Hold, toucli it not for your life ! How marvellous ! he has
actually taken it up without the slightest hesitation.

[Both gaze in astonishment.

King.

Why did you try to prevent my touching it ?

Attendant.
This amulet was given to the boy. Its peculiar virtue is
that when it falls on the ground no one except the father or
mother of the child can pick it up unhurt : if another person
touches it, it instantly becomes a serpent and bites them.

King {with rapture).
Joy, joy ! are then my dearest hopes to be fulfilled?

Enter Sakoontala in widow's apparel, her long hair twisted into a
single braid.

Sakoontala {gazing at the King, who is pale with remorse).

Surely this is not like my husband, yet who can it be that
dares pollute by the pressure of his hand my child, whose amu-
let ought to protect him from a stranger's touch ?

King.

My best beloved, I have indeed treated thee most cruelly, but
am now once more thy fond and affectionate lover; Refuse not
to acknowledge me as thy husband.

[Both converse aside, the Child speaking.

Sakoontala.
Rise, my own husband, rise! thou wast not to blame. My
own evil deeds committed in a former state of being brought
down this judgment upon me. How else could my husband,
who is of compassionate disposition, have acted so unfeel-
ingly ?

[All go to the presence of the sage Kasyapa, and converse.

SANSKRIT PHILOSOPHY, FABLE, AND DRAMA. 141

Kasyapa.

My son, cease to think yourself in fault : the delusion that
possessed thy mind was not brought about by any act. of thine.
By my divine power of meditation I ascertained that thy re-
pudiation of thy poor, faithful wife had been caused entirely by
the curse of the angry sage Durvasas, not by thine own fault,
and that the spell would terminate at the discovery of the ring.

King [draioing a deep breath).
O, what a weight is taken off my mind now that my charac-
ter is cleared of reproach !

Sakoontala.
Joy J joy • iny revered husband did not then reject me with-
out good reason, althoifgh I have no recollection of the curse
pronounced upon me : but probably I unconsciously brought
it on myself, when I was so distracted at being separated from
my husband so soon after our marriage.

142 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

CHAPTER V.

PERSIAN LITERATURE, — ARYAN AND SEMITIC.

IT is correct to write next about the Persians, the
second branch of that brilUant Aryan race whose
first appearing we have followed in India. We must
utterly dismiss from our minds the Persian of to-daj^, ef-
feminate, treacherous, a Mohammedan in his religion, a
sensualist in his life, and go back to a period 2234 b. c,
when there was Aryan government in Persia. We find
a repetition of what occurred in India. An Aryan
race, of brave, warUke shepherd tribes had come in,
conquered the native Turanian tribes, settled in the land,
absorbed the native dialect to make a new idiom, which
is called Zend. It was an important witness in forming
the new science of comparative philolog}^, as all its words
were like the Sanskrit, some of them identical with it.

Their sacred book is called the Avesta. It was trans-
lated into French in 1771, and excited much comment.
For a long time it was sneered at as a forgery. Even
the great Sir William Jones threw the weight of his
scholarship against it, showing that the wisest men may
sometimes make mistakes. This was before the period
of the Sanskrit translations. Not until it proved to be
such a valuable ally in explaining the words as well as
the thoughts of Sanskrit literature, was it accepted as
genuine. This sacred book, the Avesta, is another Lllus-

PERSIAN LITEEATURE. 143

tration of the first two periods of mental growth. It is
written in poetry- : its oldest portion is a collection of
hymns ; but the Avesta contains in one volume what
expanded into four in India. First come the h3'mns,
next the pra3'ers, next the laws ; and these three sacred
books formed a liturgy which was used b}^ the priests
alone, when the people were not present. Each priest
was obliged to repeat the three sacred books once every
twent3^-four hours, in order to purif}^ himself; and he
would recite them for others, if paid for doing so.

These were all written in Zend, and it is not too
much to think that the h^mns, which are much the old-
est, ma}^ go back to the first Ar^an date we have in
Persia, 2234 b. c. The language is older than that
used on the cuneiform Inscriptions on the oldest monu-
ments : it differs essentially from that used by C3-rus,
559 B.C., or that of the first great struggle between
the Persians and Greeks, 490 b. c. ; if not later than
these, it must be earlier than the cuneiform inscriptions.

The fourth part of the Avesta consists of pra3'ers,
and confessions of sin : it formed a liturg3^ for the
people. A ver3^ little of it is written in the Parsee lan-
guage, and must be ver3^ much later than the rest. But
the books have been so carefulty collected and preserved
that there is no doubt that the3^ are genuine ; and they
sound as if they were.

It is almost impossible to understand the Avesta.
The translator himself often gives up in despair. The
hymns, priests' prayers, and laws are ver3^ obscure, and
loaded down with repetitions ; the3" are utterh" unlike
the simple realit3^ of the Vedas. The3" are addressed
fii'st to Ahura Mazda ; next to seven spirits, who appear

144 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

to personif}' the powers of nature, but treated so difn
fereutly from the Vedic manner that it is impossible to
tell who is meant. The reader will at once recognize
Ahura Mazda. He is often shortened into Ormazd,
but is plainly the Asoura Medhas, " the wise spirit" of
the Rig Veda, the one God, the mysterious principle
of life. Ahura means spiritual ; Mazda^ maker.

The climate of Persia, then called Iran, was far more
severe then than now ; the winters were so long, the
cold so intense, the darkness so profound, that gloom
and suffering filled the heart. But the summers wxre
so warm and brought such blessed relief to man and
beast and earth, that the Aryans of Iran felt there must
be a good god who protected them, and brought back
light and heat and summer. Accordingly, Ahura Mazda
becomes that good god, that kind creator of life and
growth. But they considered him far above the other
friendly gods, who sank down to mere servants to do
his will. The kindly sun, the fertihzing rain, the pleas-
ant light, were sent by this Supreme Being, his sub-
jects, not his equals ; they become the seven good spirits,
called Genii. Since winter and cold and darkness re-
turn, they are not really conquered by Ahura Mazda ;
therefore, they must be gods too, so they become Devas,
or Devs, bad spirits. (The word Deva, however, as used
originally in the Rig Veda, meant simply a spirit, and
had nothing bad connected with it, although we derive
our word devil from the same root.) Here, in this
contest of nature, more severe in Iran than in India,
arises our distinction between devil and angel. Over
all these Divs ruled one supreme Div, called Ahriman,
the spirit of darkness. He is constantly thwarting

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 145

Ahura Mazda ; for instance, Aliura Mazda created a
beautiful warm countrj' ; tben Ahriman created Azhi-
dahaka, the biting snake of winter. He has triple
jaws, three heads, six e^^es, a thousand strengths
(that is, the strength of a thousand beings) , and is slain
b}' a mighty hero, Thraetaona. Does not this remind
one of Indra killing Vritra, in the Rig Veda ? He is
the same ; though the winter is to Persia what the
drought was to India, the eneni}' most to be dreaded.
But the Avesta teaches that finall}' Ahura Mazda will
conquer Ahriman forever : then perpetual summer,
peace, and prosperitj^ will smile upon Iran. This same
idea will be found in Scandinavian m3'thology.

These h3'mns, called Gathas, and these prayers, are
said to have been written by different bards and priests.
They have an antiquity greater than we can know, and
they contain one thought which we found in the hymns
of the Rig Veda, and do not find in the other Aryan
languages. Max Miiller, in his latest book, pubhshed
in 1879, sa^'s : —

"Although we look in vain for anything corresponding to the
word rita in the oldest Aryan languages, and cannot claim an
antiquity for it exceeding the first separation of the Aryan
races, the word and the thought existed before the Iranians,
whose religion is known to us in the Avesta, became finally
separated from the Indians, These two branches remained to-
gether a long time, and extended in a southeasterly direction,
after they had separated from the others, who went in a north-
westerly course. The word rita became aslia in Zend ; and it
is used to denote the right path, the universe following the
law of aslia. Think what it was to believe in a right order of
the world ; all the difference between chaos and cosmos, be-
tween blind chance and an intelligent providence. It was an

10

146 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

intuition which underlaid the most ancient religion, older than
the oldest Gatha of the Avesta, the oldest hymn of the Veda, '
It is far more important than the stories of Ushas, Agni, Indra,
and the others."

The third part of the Avesta belongs to the next step
of civilization. It is a code of religious laws, and it was
written by a religious reformer named Zarathustra ; we
usually speak of him by the Greek form, Zoroaster.
Some of the first laws order very severe penalties for kill-
ing dogs ; and it was especially these which Sir William
Jones ridiculed. But, on the contrary, these are the very
things which prove the antiquity of the Avesta, because
dogs would be especially valuable to a shepherd commu-
nity, living near mountains, — such a country as the Per-
sian Ar3^ans actually did inhabit. These laws enforce
the greatest purit}^ of body ; and also of mind, for here
comes in the otlier and deeper side of this religion.
The physical struggle of India becomes spiritualized in
Iran. Zarathustra must have had deep spiritual in-
sight ; for he transferred this struggle from external
nature to the heart of man. Asha was not the right
path for the universe alone, but for each person : life
became a contest between breaking these laws and obey-
ing them, therefore. This involves two ideas : first, of a
distinction between good and evil, which never was very
prominent in India ; second, of the power to choose
between them. Zarathustra also taught that there were
two spiritual worlds, to which all would return at their
death. Finally, Ahura Mazda would conquer Ahriman,
once and forever. Then would be a resurrection from
the dead, when the good would be rewarded, the bad
punished. He taught also another idea, which is so

PERSIAN LITEEATUEE. 147

beautiful that I will give it to 3'ou iu the veiy words of
the Avesta.

"Zarathiistra said to Ahura Mazda, 'Where does the soul of
the pure man go after his death ? ' Ahura Mazda said, ' When
the lapse of the third night turns itself to light, the soul of the
pure man goes forward : there comes to meet him the figure of
a maiden ; one beautiful, shining, with shining arms ; one
powerful, well grown, slender ; one noble, with brilliant face ;
one of fifteen years, as fair in her growth as the fairest creatures.

" Then to her speaks the soul of the pure man asking,
'What maiden art thou whom I have seen here as the fairest
maiden in body ? '

" Tlien replies to him the maiden, ' I am, 0 youth, thy
good thoughts, words, and deeds, thy good law ; the law of thine
own body.

" Thou art like me, 0 well-speaking, well-thinking, well-
acting youth, devoted to the good law; thou art in greatness,
goodness, beauty, such as I appear to thee.' "

80 Zarathustra said that, besides the Genii, servants
to do the will of Ahura Mazda, each individual had an
attendant spirit called a Fravashi ; not like our idea of
a guardian angel, but the nature of the man himself,
his own character, put into a spiritual body ; and this
Fravashi would be made pure and beautiful, or ugl}'
and hideous, by the actions of the man himself. It
would be this Fravashi which would arise for the resur-
rection and final judgment.

The religion of the Hindu Arj'ans was to dream ; the
religion of the Persian Aryans was to fight. It was
while the Persians were braA^e, hard}- , and poor, that
they won their brilliant successes under C3TUS the
Great, 559 b. c. Perhaps they owed their noble char-
acter to their noble religion ; and it is curious to think

148 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

what might have been, if the}' had not become cor-
rupted by prosperity. If Marathon and Salamis had
been gained by the Persians, the reUgion of Ahura
Mazda, reformed by Zarathustra, might have over-
spread the heathen world. Even when conquered by
Alexander, 334 b. c, the Persians retained their re-
ligion. Not until they were conquered by the Moham-
medans, 641 A. D., did it lose its power. But the Per-
sian nobles cherished a secret love for the religion of
their ancestors, and kept it alive in the distant prov-
inces. A few of them fled to India, where the small
sect called Parsees exists to-day, and still observes the
lavvs of Zarathustra. Some of the wealthiest men of
Bombay are Parsees, and worship fire, as the symbol
of the sun. Probably the caste system of India forced
them into a caste of their own in self-defence. In
the later times of Parseeism in Persia, Zarathustra's
idea of a god was too abstruse and philosophical for the
common people ; and there were splendid temples built
to the sun, whom the}^ called Mithras. This is like
Mitra, one of the names of the sun in the Rig Veda, it
will be remembered. In these temples was an altar on
which burned the sacred fire perpetuall}'. I will quote
the shortest and simplest hj^mn I can find in the Avesta.
The others are incomprehensible : the sense is so over-
laid with repetitious.

HYMN.

THE PRIEST SPEAKS.

" I invite and announce to the lords of the heavenly, the lords
of the earthly, the lords of those who live in the water, the
lords of those which live under heaven, the lords of the winged,
the lords of the wide-stepping (that is, the cattle), the lords of
the beasts with claws, the pure lords of the pure."

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 149

This means that he invites the spiritual presence
of Aliura Mazcla and the se^-en good Genii, and an-
nounces that he is about to perform the religious cere-
monies. Then he drinks the Haoma juice, which is Hke
the Vedic Soma, and eats the sacred bread. Then he
says: —

" Good is the thought, good the speech, good the actions, of
the pure Zarathustra. May the good spirits accept the hymns !
Praise he to you pure song."

Here at last is the hymn : —

"1. Here praise I now Ahura- Mazda, who has created the
cattle ; who created purity, the water, and the good trees ;

" 2. AVho created the splendor of light, the earth, and all
good.

" 3. To Him belongs the kingdom, the might, and the
power.

" 4. We praise Him first among the adorable beings

"5. Which dwell together with the cattle."

This means the good spirits who protect the cattle,
and would be much venerated by shepherds and
farmers.

" 6. Him praise we with Ahurian name Mazda.

" 7. With our own bodies and life praise we Him.

'' 8. The Fravashis of the pure men and women we praise.

" 9. The best purity we praise ;

" 10. What is fairest, what pure, what immortal,

" 11. What brilliant, all that is good.

"12. The good spirit we honor; the good kingdom we
honor ;

" 13, And the good rule, and the good law, and the good
wisdom."

150 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

This one example is enough to show how much repe-
tition tliere is : also, that ideas are worshipped, instead
of the living, real people that crowd the Rig Veda.
The word Asha is also applied to the right performance
of the sacrifices. It means, then, correct in the pro-
nunciation, or the form of sacrifice, without a mistake.
The prayer Ashem means the right, proper prayer, the
good prayer.

The form of prayer for the people is more interest-
ing ; it is very much later. And, certainly, the pra3^ers
and confessions of sin are very beautiful. In the lit-
urgies and the laws, Zarathustra is represented as con-
versing with Ahura Mazda. Here is a prayer : —

" I. Zarathustra asked Ahura Mazda, 'Ahura Mazda, Heav-
enly, Holiest, Creator of the corporeal world, Pure One ! wherein
alone is contained thy word, which expresses all good, all that
springs from purity ? ' "

" 2. To him answered Ahura Mazda : ' The prayer Ashem, 0
Zarathustra.

" 3. ' Whoso utters the prayer Ashem with believing mind,
from the memory, praises me, Ahura Mazda : he praises the
water, he praises the earth, he praises the cow, he praises the
trees, he praises all good things created by Mazda, which have
a pure origin.'

" 4. Zarathustra asked Ahura Mazda, ' What is that prayer
Ashem which in greatness, goodness, and beauty is worth all
that is between heaven and earth, and this earth and those
lights created by Mazda, which have a pure origin 1 ' "

^here are many more verses, — thirteen more; but
this is the last : —

" 15. To him answered Ahura Mazda : * That prayer, 0 pure
Zarathustra, when one renounces all evil thoughts, words, and
deeds.' "

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 151

Here is the praj- er : —

" 1. Purity is the best good.

" 2, Happiness, happiness is to him ;

" 3. Namely, to the best pure in purity."

Then come veiy long confessions of sin against those
laws. The confession begins : —

" I praise the good thoughts, words, and deeds with thoughts,
words, and deeds. I curse wicked thoughts, words, and deeds
away from thoughts, words, and deeds. I lay hold on all
good thoughts, words, and deeds. I renounce all evil thoughts,
words, and deeds. I praise the best purity. I hunt away the
Divs. I confess myself a follower of Zarathustra, an opponent
of the Divs, devoted to the faith in Ormazd. I am wholly
without doubt in the existence of the good MazdayaQnian faith ;
in the coming of the resurrection and the later body ; in the
stepping over the bridge Chinvat ; in an invariable recompense
of good deeds and their reward, and of bad deeds and their pun-
ishment, as well as in the continuance of Paradise, and the
annihilation of Hell and Ahriman and the Divs ; that the god
Ormazd will at last be victorious, and Ahriman will perish,
together with the Divs and the offshoots of darkness."

Then there is a long Hst of sins, — pages of them.
Repeating a sin without having previously repented of
the first commission of it made the guilt greater than
before.

And then the conclusion : —

" In what kind soever I have sinned, against whomsoever
I have sinned, however I have sinned, I repent of it with
thoughts, words, and deeds ! Pardon ! "

This is the very depth of penitence.

From a literary point of view, the A vesta is far below

152 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the Vedas ; it has none of the lovely poetry which
breathes through ever}- line of the Rig Vecla. Morally
it surpasses the Rig Veda : those beautiful aspirations
towards goodness which occasionally are poured out
there become the settled principle of daily life in the
Avesta. Historically it is verj^ valuable to all believers
In Christianity ; for here is the source of the contest
between good and evil which Christianity has so glori-
fied. For the Avesta is the true development of the
Rig Veda, rather than Brahmanism ; and, in a history-
of thought, would come between the two.

The reader will remember that Indra and Vriti^a are
purely physical in the Rig Veda ; but in the Avesta,
Azhidahaka, the biting snake of winter, is called in
addition " the evil for the world, the wicked one, which
Ahriman created for slaying the purity of the world,"
so under the later and spiritual interpretation of Zara-
thustra, the hero who sla^^s him is all good fighting
against all evil : and this idea came into Christianity in
two waj's. First, the Jews brought it back from their
captivit}' in Bab3'lon. Before that the}^ had no idea of
devils or bad spirits. M. Breal says that " Satan, in
Job, is meant for an angel, not a devil ; he is an angel,
that is, a messenger to do the bidding of the Most High.
In 1st Chronicles xxi. 1, Satan appears as an evil
spirit, and tempts David to number the people." (We
must remember that the Books pf Chronicles were not
written down until long after the events described had
taken place, — until the Jews had come back from their
captivity in Babjion among the Persians.) M. Breal
says, " Through the Jews it came into Christianity, and
i^ found very strongly expressed in the Book of Revela-

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 153

tion." Mr. James Freemaa Clarke sa3's, "Such a
picture as that b}' Guido of the conflict between Michael
and Satan, such a poem as Goethe's Faust, or Milton's
Paradise Lost, would never have appeared in Christen-
dom but for the influence of Zoroaster's religion, first on
Jewish, after that on Christian thought." There is
another idea which the Jews brought back : Yama, the
judge of the dead, in the A^edas, becomes Yima in the
Avesta : instead of living in a spiritual world he lives
here in a beautiful country', an earthly paradise. The
souls of the good live there until the final judgment.
I quote from the Avesta: "In the wide rule of Yima
there was no cold, no heat, no old age,' no death, no
envy (the creation of the Divs) . Father and son walked
along together, fifteen 3'ears old in countenance, each of
the two : the eatable food was inexhaustible : men and
cattle were immortal : water and trees never dried up,
all on account of the absence of the lie, until Yima, him-
self untrue, began to love lying speech : then when he,
himself untrue, began to love lying speech, his majesty
flew awa}' from him visibl}^ with the bod}^ of a bird."
Here is the conception of the fall of a good spirit
through haughtiness of mind : the reader will at once
think of the fall of Satan. This belief in an earthly
paradise constantly recurs in the literature of the Middle
Ages : when we come to that, I shall refer to the second
way in which these ideas reached Christianit}'.

There is one thing more which we probabl}' owe to
the Avesta and the Parsees. It will be remembered
that the undivided Arj^ans used the moon to measure
time: the words "moons" and "month" mean meas-
ures, and time was measured b}' months — that is, by

154 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

moons — long before it was divided into weeks. Tlie
Parsees had a different Genius, or good god, for ever}"
day of the month, except the 1st, 8th, loth, and 22d,
which were sacred to Ahura Mazda. Although it is
not yet fully proved that we get our division of time into
weeks from the Aryans of Persia, I think it is a fair
conclusion, and scholars say that it is probably so. If
I have dwelt so long upon the Avesta, it is because its
historical value is so great ; it is the inner meaning,
the last resultant of the principles of the Rig Veda, and
one would be incomplete without the other. We even
could not understand literature itself without tracing its
ideas back to their sources, — sources unknown and un-
suspected one hundred years ago, despised and doubted
w^hen first made known ; to have discovered them is a
splendid triumph of the human mind ; and to follow
the footsteps of these great scholars is a lofty pleasure
for us.

There is no literature in Zend except a religious one,
a few books developing the principles laid down by
Zarathustra. The Persian literature proper is compara-
tively modern. It was well known in Europe before the
AA^esta had been translated, or the two new sciences
of comparative mythology and comparative philology
formed. But Persia has a really great poem and a true
poet. The great Sultan Mahmoud, who invaded and
conquered India near a. d. 1000, felt that the glory of
empire was not enough for him : he longed to be a pa-
tron of literature, so he ordered the poet Firdousi to col-
lect and rewrite into an harmonious whole the legends
and ballads relating to the history of Persia. Since the
Mohammedan conquest of Persia, two hundred and fifty

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 155

3'ears before, these legends had been kept alive by the
Persian nobles who had preserved in secret the faith of
their ancestors, the religion of Zarathustra ; but we owe
their present form to two Mohammedans, Mahmoud and
Firdousi. The poem is a true national epic, and is called
the Shah Nameh, or "Book of Kings." The Sultan
promised to pa}^ him sixty thousand pieces of 'gold, one
thousand pieces as soon as each thousand couplets
should be completed ; but Firdousi preferred to receive
the whole amount at once, because he wished to build
stone ditches and drains to irrigate and improve his na-
tive cit}^ After thirty-five 3'ears of toil the great poem
of sixty thousand couplets was completed ; but the prime
vizier of Mahmoud disliked Firdousi, and persuaded
the Sultan to send him sixty thousand pieces of silver.
Firdousi received them at the bath ; he was so indignant
that he on the spot divided the mone}^ into three parts,
gave one to each of the two slaves who had brought it,
the other to the attendant at the bath : then he wrote a
stinging satire upon Mahmoud and fled to his native
cit}', Tus. After some years Mahmoud repented, and
sent an elephant loaded with sixt}^ thousand pieces of
gold to Tus : but at the gates they met the funeral pro-
cession of Firdousi. His daughter nobly refused the
gold, but his sister remembered the dream of Firdou-
si's youth : she took the gold and built the drains and
ditches in stone. So Firdousi became a benefactor to his
native city, but like others he suffered for an ungrateful
country, — like Dante, Tasso, Camoens. Ampere, the
French critic, calls him one of the great poets of the
world, and his story throws a mournful interest around
his poem. A magnificent French translation was begun

156 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

by the French government at ninety francs a yohime, but
the death of M. Mohl has left it unfinished : there is a poor
translation in English, very much abridged, pubhshed
in 1832.

We find collected in the Shah Nameh the national
traditions for an estimated period of three thousand six
hundred years. This is rather apocr3'phal, since he
makes one king rule seven hundred years, and another
one thousand. It describes the civilization founded by
Djemschid, reformed by Zarathustra, and overthrown
b}' Alexander. Alexander is called Sikander, and the
'Persians have certainly a right to claim him, as he
adopted Persian manners. Of course it is not literal
history, although it is carried down to the Mohammedan
conquest in a. d. 641 ; it is rather a picture of the man-
ners and the thought of the country and the time. There
is a want of unity in it since so man}' kings and heroes
are described ; it resembles in this respect the Maha
Bharata, but it has nothing of that theocratic character,
that government of the priests, w^hich runs through the
two Sanskrit epics. It is an heroic stor}' of a brave and
warlike people, pure in their lives and full of simple faith ;
yet it has a religious meaning, and represents the con-
test between good and evil. Iran is the principle of light,
and Turan of darkness ; Iran, which is Persia, being
constantl}' at war with a countr}^ called Turan. From
this comes our word Turanian, applied afterwards to
all those native races which fought ao'ainst all the other
Ar3*an invaders. Each new hero who arises carries on
the hol}^ war, and is accompanied by good spirits called
Peris and Genii. The Turanians are accompanied by
Divs, both directly traceable to the Avesta, of course.

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 157

The heroes and heroines are so much alike that one
becomes rather wearied with the repetition of the same
adventures over and over again ; but the poem is most
interesting as a hnk in the histor}' of the human mind,
and as another proof of the brotherhood of the different
Aryan famiUes. These ballads must have grown up
soon after the separation of the Iranians and Indians ;
the}' somewhat resemble the early feudal epic of their
Hindu brethren, but not at all the later theocratic one.
The literature of Greece had been well known in Persia
b}' means of Zenobia and her prime minister, Longinus,
seven hundred years before they were collected ; yet the
ballads seem utterly uninfluenced by Greek thought.
Persia had been conquered bj' the Mohammedans two
hundred and fifty 3'ears before their collection, yet there
is no trace of the Arabian mind in them. The Crusades
came one hundred years after they were collected, so
that no influence could have been exerted by the Chris-
tians : the}' are an original growth, a product of the soil,
and yet they are exactlj' like the chivalric romances
which arose in Europe in the Middle Ages. The same
brave and warhke heroes perform the most amazing feats
of valor, and are attended by good and evil spirits : the
same moon-faced heroines, with musk}' hair, and cj'press-
like forms, as much alike as a row of lay figures, fall in
love at first sight. Yet the poem is most spirited, full
of prodigies of valor performed by the different heroes,
and the demons fly about with the most deUghtful pro-
fusion and energy.

It is eas}' to recognize in these heroes the ancient
heroes and divinities of the Rig Veda and the Avesta,
who have been made into men, and thus become the

158 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

heroes of the epic poem. The greatest as well as the
first king was Djemschid, distinguished for learning and
wisdom. In his reign coats of mail were invented,
swords and other armor ; garments of silk were woven ;
desert lands were cultivated ; vessels were put upon
the rivers and seas ; water and clay were formed into
bricks to build him a splendid palace. In this palace
he every year assembled Genii and Divs, men and
beasts and birds. Over all these his empire extended.
Nature herself was subject to him ; for his government
lasted seven hundred years. Nobody died, and nobody
was ill. Then his heart was filled with pride. He said
to his nobles, " Was there ever a king of such magnifi-
cence and power as I?" And the nobles replied,
" Thou art the mightiest, the most victorious : there is
no equal to thee." Then the just god beheld this foolish
pride, and cast him down into utter misery. Does not
this remind one of the story of Yima in the Avesta?
Eugene Burnouf, the greatest Zend scholar in the'world,
says that Yima reappears in Djemschid.

The first great hero of the Shah Nameh is Feridun.
A king named Zohak had committed dreadful -crimes,
assisted by a Div named Iblis. As his reward, Iblis
requested permission to kiss the king's shoulder, which
was granted. Then from the shoulder sprang two
dreadful serpents. Iblis told him that these must be
fed every day with the brains of two children. So the
country gradually was becoming depopulated, as the
object of Iblis was to destroy the human race. Then
arose a youthful hero named Feridun. When yet a
bab}^, he had been abandoned by his mother, and nursed
by a cow. The reader will at onoe think of other

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 159

Aiyan heroes who have been brought up b}' some
frienclh' animal, — Romuhis and Remus, or OLdipus.
Feridun had been educated by a mountain hermit. He
grew up beautiful and strong, and finall}' he killed the
serpent-king Zohak, and delivered his country. Eu-
gene Burnouf has discovered that Zohak is the same
as Azhidahaka in the Avesta, — the biting snake ;
Feridun has been identified with Thraetaona, the hero
of the Avesta. And thus another hero fights with a
monster ; that is, good fights with evil, for the contest
has now become spu'itualized. The poet Firdousi uses
every opportunit}' to introduce religious and moral re-
flections ; which are, however, both beautiful and ap-
propriate. He says : —

" Feridun
First purified the world from sin and crime :
Yet Feridun was not an angel; nor
Composed of musk and ambergris. By justice
And generosity he gained his fame.
Do thou l3ut exercise these princely virtues,
And thou wilt be renowned as Feridun."

The second and greatest hero is Rustem. He is a
compound of Herakles the Greek and Roland of the
Middle Ages, as we shall see later. His infancy is pro-
tected by a marvellous bird, — the Simurgh. He is
like the bird Garuda in Sanskrit, and develops into the
roc of the Arabian Nights. When an infant onty,
he performs prodigies of valor, like Herakles ; when a
child, he kills an elephant. When grown up, the king
and his army being shut up in the demon countr}^ by
the king of Turan and his Divs, Rustem, all alone,
performs seven labors, and frees the king. This is

160 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

again like Herakles. But Riistem is as pious as he is
brave. He prays to his god before every encounter,
and gives thanks after every victor}^ He has a mar-
vellous horse, whom he loves more than wife or child.
These traits suggest Roland. He is in fact a perfect
tj'pe of the mediaeval hero, except in one thing, his
indifference to women : he leaves his 3'oung wife, the
daughter of a king, to look for his horse, which had
strayed awa}^ and never goes back to her, although he
kindly sends once to inquire for her. Now, many of
these traits identify him at once as a solar myth. If
he is so much more pious than the Greek hero, it is
that he expresses the simple faith of the noble Persian
character. His marvellous strength when an infant is
the power of the sun, resistless even at its rising; the
seven labors which he performs for the good of others,
the demons which he slays, are the dark clouds which
obstruct his path. When in the middle of his life,
Rustem feels that his labors for others have not been
appreciated, and he sits apart, gloomy and sullen, in his
tent, while the war goes on. This will at once suggest
the wrath of Achilleus. It is the dark cloud again, ob-
scuring the beneficent sun. The bride whom Rustem so
coolly leaves is the same bride whom all the other solar
heroes abandon, — the dawn. And at last, when Rus-
tem dies, he is not killed in fair fight, but in ambush, —
like Siegfried, slain from behind. There is one cir-
cumstance connected with the solar myth as represented
b}^ Rustem which onl}^ recurs once again in the other
Aryan literatures. The great hero kills his unknown
son, Sohrab. This comes into the old High German
ballad of Hildebrand and Hadubrand ; and this is sim-

PEESIAN LITERATURE. 161

ply a reversal of the usual form. Sohrab is also a
solar myth, — the light of one day slain by another;
for Rustem never grows old. The kings of the Shah
Nameh pass away and die, and new ones arise ; but
RjListem is still the great champion. He may be said
to have a thousand lives, like the light, which never
dies. Matthew Arnold's exquisite translation is so well
known that readers can at once refer to it for the epi-
sode of Sohrab and Rustem.

There is another hero in the Shah Nameh, named
Isfendiyar, — also a solar mjth, because he can be slain
only b}^ an arrow from one particular tree, the thorn ;
this is the same thorn which killed Siegfried in Ger-
man, the mistletoe which killed Balder in Xorse, the
thorn which pricks the sleeping beauty. And of course
Rustem, the summer, kills Isfendiyar, the dark winter.
These four are the most famous heroes of the Shah
Nameh ; there are no women so sweet, yet so strong,
as Damayanti and Sita, but a totall}' new type is intro-
duced, Gurd-Afrid, an amazon w^ho fights in armor like
a man. This certainty proves the early independence
of the Persian women ; the later tj^pe of Persian woman
is Mohammedan, not Ar3'an. Until this discovery it
was considered that the Greek am^azon, Atalanta, w^as
the original; but the type belongs to all the Ar3'ans,
not to the Greeks alone.

The Persians of this late day still love and reverence
the Shah Nameh. Many places are associated with its
events. The ruins of Persepolis are called the throne
of Djemschid. A traveller relates that, in 1830, he
aecompanied an embassy from Persepolis to Shiraz.
One of the grooms began to recite verses from the Shah

11

162 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Nameli, while the}' moved along. When he ceased, a
nobleman of the embassy took up the passage where the
servant left off. Rustem is still the national hero of
Persia. Three hundred villages bear his name. Like
Eoland's with the Pyrenees, his name is associated
with the province of Mazenderan. Stones in the desert
are pointed out as the tracks that Rustem's camel left
behind him. In the Persian wars, during the first cen-
turies of this era, his exploits were still sung, like the
exploits of Roland, sung at the battle of Hastings.
There are hundreds of these ballads in Persia, which
have been collected into Nameh, or books, but the}' do
not equal the Shah Nameh. All belong to the Aryan
period, pure and unmixed.

Of course, the Shah Nameh is not literal history ; so
that you will not be amazed to find its heroes possess-
ing the attributes of the solar myth. But it is curious
that they should have also attached themselves to a
real historical person. There is no doubt that Cyrus
the Great lived, and conquered the Medes, and followed
the religion of Zarathustra, and was a warlike Aryan,
like all the earl}^ Persians ; but the stories told of him
are too much like those of many another hero to be
quite • true historically. We owe our account of Cyrus
to Herodotus, the Greek. Before his birth it was pre-
dicted that he should destroy his grandfather ; so, as
soon as he was born, Astya,ges ordered him to be ex-
posed to death on a mountain-side. He was wrapped
in golden and parti-colored robes, and left to die ; but
the kind wife of a herdsman, filled with pit}^, nursed
him and brought him up as her own child. Her name
was Spaca, which means a dog, and it was always said

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 163

that Cj'rns was nursed b}' an animal, like the heroes
Feridim and Romulus. When Cyrus grew up, he was
so strong and fair that the boj's chose him to be king
in all their games. He acted like a king, — made laws,
and punished all offenders who disobe3'ed him. Then
one of the bo3'S complained to his father, who was a
nobleman, and 3'oung C^^rus was brought before the
real king, Astyages. Then Astyages recognized him
to be the grandson whom he had exposed to die, and
sent him to his father, who was a Persian. When
Cyrus grew older, he raised an army of Persians, came
and conquered the Medes, and overthrew his grand-
father, Astyages. Thus he fulfilled the prophecy that
he should destroy his own grandfather. The same
prophecy was made about Romulus and Perseus. It is
an historical fact that Cyrus did unite the Medes and
Persians, — those verj- Medes and Persians whom we
used to meet at our Sundaj'-school lessons ; but it is
also true that the Aryan imagination of our Persian
brethren threw around him those circumstances which
clearlj^ indicate the solar m\'th, wherever found. The
sun often rises behind a mountain, wrapped in golden
and colored clouds, and the sun always destroys the
darkness, its father ; for here comes in the strongest
proof of the mythical element attached to Cyrus, — the
name -of the grandfather Astyages is the same word as
Azhidaka, the biting snake of the A vesta, and Cjtus
becomes another of the heroes of light fighting against
darkness and evil. It was not consciously composed,
of course, this story of C3TUS, but grew up spontane-
ousl3^

I came to the Shah Nameh utterl3' ignorant of what

164 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

it was, and was amazed as well as delighted, it was
so unlike m}^ idea of Persian poetry. But when I
studied the modern poetr}^ I found what I had ex-
pected, — the luxuriance and indolence and Epicurean-
ism which we associate with the East, but which are not
found in the Sanskrit literature at all, nor in the ancient
literature of Persia. The modern Persian language is
an Aryan language, the child of Zend ; but the thoughts
are Mohammedan and Semitic. You will remember
that there is no modern literature in Sanskrit. There
is a great deal in Persian. It has been the fashion in
France and Germany. Goethe wrote a whole volume
called the " West-Easterl}" Divan," which was a won-
derful imitation of Hafiz.

Hafiz is the greatest of the modern Persians. He
lived in the fourteenth century, at Shiraz. He wrote
songs in praise of love and wine, the rose and the night-
ingale, the nightingale and the rose, until one gets very
weary of their monotony. The metre is ver}' peculiar
and pleasing ; it is called a Ghazel. They have a vague
mysticism running through them ; and some devout
Mohammedans use them as a devotional book, and
claim that they have a spiritual meaning. The love
poems are said to describe the soul's love of God ; but
I cannot think this Hafiz's own meaning. They are
interesting as an expression of one side of the national
character, although a very low side ; for Hafiz was an
infidel and a sensualist. He belongs to the same class
as Anacreon in Greek, or Catullus in Latin. Hafiz
is so celebrated that we cannot ignore him in a sketch
of the national literature ; but he will never have in
Europe the popularity he enjo3^s in the East. The

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 165

specimens I shall quote are veiy favorable to him. Out
of a whole A'olume, the3^ are the clearest I could find.'
The others seem confused and stupid ; but certainl}- these
are ver}^ prett}' in their way. The rose is the national
emblem of Persia, the bulbul (tlie nighthigale) is the
favorite bird, the cypress the favorite tree ; and when-
ever one meets these three in a European poet, one may
know that he has sat at the feet of Hafiz and Saadi.

" Without the loved one's cheek, the rose

Can charm, not.

The spring, unless the wine-cup flows,

Can charm not.

The greenwood's border and the orchard's air.
Unless some tulip cheek be there.

Can charm not.

The sugar-lipped, the fair of rosy frame,
Whom kisses nor embrace can claim.

Can charm not.
The dancing cypress, the enrapturing flower,
If no nightingale gladden the bower,

Can charm not.
The painter's picture, though with genius rife.
Without the picture that has life.

Can charm not.

Wine, flower, and bower abound in charm, yet they.
Lack we the friend who makes us gay.

Can charm not.

Thy soul, 0 Hafiz!
Is a coin that none prize ;
And it, though poured forth
Largess-wise,

Can charm not."

166 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

*"Tis a deep charm which wakes the lover's flame;
Not ruby lip nor mnsky locks its name.
Beauty is not the eye, hair, cheek, or mole :
A thousand subtile points the heart control."

Saadi is the other great writer of modern and Mo-
hammedan Persia. He lived in the twelfth centur}^ of
our era, one hundred and fifty years before Hafiz, and
so was less corrupted b}^ Mohammedan thought. He
will have in Europe some portion of the popularity he
enjoys among the Mohammedans. He travelled over
Europe and Asia, and wrote many books. The best of
them are the Gulistan, or "Rose Garden," and the
Bostan, or "Fruit Garden." Their very names show
the allegory of w^hieh the Semitic nations are so fond.
They are composed of short stories in prose, with a
moral in verse attached, which is supposed to be as
valuable and beautiful as roses and fruits. In every
sentence of the original, Persian and Arabic words
are intermixed, as if we should make a sentence with
English and Latin words ; yet nevertheless he writes
with charming ease : even through a prose translation
the gi^ace is felt, and the Gulistan would be accepted as
the masterpiece of Mohammedan literature. It is witty
and wise and shrewd. Saadi preaches and moralizes,
and overflows with good sense. But he has no faith, no
enthusiasm, no spirituality. This cool, calculating self-
righteousness is exasperating to the last degree ; and one
feels inclined to say that such a goodness, which comes
only from prudent self-interest, is no goodness at all.

Here is one of the finest proverbs : —

" 0, square thyself for use : a stone that may
Fit in the wall is not left in the way."

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 167

We give an extract from the Gulistan : —

" I was sitting in a boat, in company with some persons of
distinction, when a vessel near us sunk, and two "brothers fell
into a whirlpool. One of the company promised a mariner
one hundred dinars if he would save both the brothers. The
mariner came and saved one, and the other perished. I said,
' Of a truth the other had no longer to live, and therefore he
was taken out of the water last.' The mariner, laughing,
replied, ' What you say is true ; but I had also another motive
in saving this one in preference to the other, because once,
when I was tired in. the desert, he mounted me on a camel,
and from the other I received a whipping in my childhood.'
I replied, ' Truly the great God is just ; so that whosoever
doeth good shall himself experience good, and he who com-
mitteth evil shall suffer evil. As far as you can avoid it, dis-
tress not the mind of any one ; for in the path of life there are
many thorns. Assist the exigencies of others, since you also
stand in need of many things.' "

Here is the fatalism of the Mohammedans : —

" 0 thou who art in want of subsistence, be confident that
thou shalt eat. And thou whom death hath required, flee not ;
for thou canst not preserve thy life. With or without your
exertion, Providence will bestow on you daily bread ; and if
thou shouldst be in the jaws of the lion, or of the tiger, they
could not devour you excepting on the day of your destiny."

The story of the perfumed clay is too old and fa-
miliar to be quoted ; but it originated in Persia. ' ' Je
ne suis pas la rose ; mais j'ai vecu avec elle."

There are many poets belonging to this modern period
in Persia, — said to be twent3'-five thousand. I do not
know who is left to form an audience. The period ex-
tends from the eleventh centur}^ (the collection of the

168 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Shah Nameh) to our time. One of them, Omar Khay-
yam, the astronomer-poet, who died in a. d. 1123, was
translated a few 3'ears ago. He reads hke Heine, full
of scepticism and irony. " This life is but an inn," he
cries; "let us eat and drink and be merr}^" Mr.
Emerson says, "The poet stands in strict relation to
his people ; he has the overdose of their nationality."
It seems melanchol}^ that the brave and believing Per-
sians should be represented by the sensualism of Hafiz,
and the worldly wisdom of Saadi ; but the Aryan ele-
ment was not quite crushed out of Persia. Because
Persian poetry is the meeting of two distinct races, the
Ar3'an and the Semitic, two modes of thought, the Ve-
dic and the Mohammedan, it has a universal interest, a
claim to consideration.

It burst forth first in mysticism, — that curious phase
of the Arj^an race, which breaks out in every famil}-,
modified by external surroundings, and is so prominent
in modern Persian poetry that it cannot be passed over.
The third great poet is Djellaleddin Roumi. His mys-
tical poem, called the Mesnevi, is the third great poem
of Mohammedan literature. It is a fusion of the two
elements ; but the mysticism which was barely percepti-
ble in Hafiz preponderates in the Mesnevi. The doc-
trine is like the pantheism of Brahmanism, and it was
so fully explained in the second chapter that I need
not repeat the account. The individual is said to be a
piece of the Divine Being, and finally to be absorbed
into him. The believer cries out, "I am in God";
next, " I am God." There is a set of Mohammedan
mystics called Sufis, who admire and follow this poem.

We must return for a moment to the Shah Nameh.

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 169

It has an interest to us far more than these three
poems, — far more than that of an}' mere Uterary
monument of a past age. It is the source of many of
our own ideas. The Persians are our brothers : they
were once a brave and chivalrous people ; and as the
Avesta introduced a spiritual fight into our religion, so
the Shah Xameli brought it down into our nurser}" tales
and folk-lore.

The second manifestation of the Aryan element is in
the popular stories of modern Persia. The reader will
remember that a few of them originated in India, prin-
cipalh' the geographical story of Sindbad the Sailor.
They were translated and enlarged in Persia. With a
little thought the reader can separate the Yedic and
Mohammedan features. The}* have Peris who are the
seven great Genii of the Avesta in reduced circum-
stances, and who mean the bright clouds of the Veda ;
they have demons who are the Divs of the Avesta, the
dark clouds of the Veda. The}^ have an earthly para-
dise, or dark halls of Iblis, from the Shah Nameh ; mar-
vellous talking birds, and human beings turned into
beasts, again from the Shah Nameh. But the manners
and customs are such as Mohammedans would naturally
adopt, as the man}' wives, the seclusion of the women.
The signet ring of Solomon, which gave power over
Genii and Divs, was Mohammedan ; but the cup of
Djemschid, which revealed all the secrets of creation
to him who gazed in it, was from the Shah Nameh, and
reappears as the magic goblet in ever}' Aryan family.
If Ihe Persian stories differ from the nursery tales which
are the common inheritance of every Aryan branch, it is
because they did not grow up until after the separa-

170 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

tion of the families : although starting in India, they
received in Persia a coloring which has only lately
been understood. These supernatural stories, with their
mixed origin, influenced Europe in the Middle Ages
almost as much as the heroic ballads, and both have
come down to us from the Shah Nameh. In the chap-
ter upon Mediaeval Literature I shall speak of the two
roads which they took.

There is something else, too, which we owe to modern
Persia, that is, the historical novel. Strictly speaking,
the epic is confined to poetr}^ It tells a story of national
character, and national fortunes, and it includes national
ballads. In fact, it is founded upon them. But, in a
broader sense, an epic may be written in prose. Popu-
lar traditions of heroes and gods are indispensable to
an epic poem ; but, later on, faith in the marvellous dies
out, and then the story is put into plain prose. If the
facts are national, it becomes the historical romance ; if
the facts relate only to private individuals, it becomes
the novel. So the modern Persians could not make a
poetic epic, but they invented a prose epic, the histori-
cal novel. The first one was founded upon the life of
Alexander the Great, and called "The Tale of Is-
kander." Do we not owe a debt of thanks to our Per-
sian brethren ?

The Sanskrit literature contains no history. The
mixed element of modern Persia has produced many val-
uable histories. Within a few years Persia seems to be
composing another Ar^^an form, regaining something of
its old vitality. There were never any plays in Zend,
or in Persian ; but some rude popular dramas by un-
known authors are now acted. They have excited much

PERSIAN LITERATURE. 171

interest among French scholars because the}- are so
very much like the M3'ster\' plan's of the Middle Ages,
and have been translated within two 3'ears into French.
They are wholl}' religious in their tone, and never men-
tion love or daily life, which are the usual subjects of
plaj-s.

172 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

CHAPTEE VI.

COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY OF THE GREEK POETRY
AND DRAMA.

WE approach in this chapter the third branch of the
noble Ar3'an family, — our brothers the Greeks.
Their literature has been so studied and commented
upon, so slavishly copied, so blindly worshipped for
centuries, that little would remain to be added if we
followed the footsteps of the past. But I wish to look
at Greek literature in the new light which comparative
philology and compavative mythology have thrown over
it. Of course it would be impossible, within the limits
of one chapter, to do more than mention the names
which have rendered Greek literature so famous in epic
poetrj^, 13'ric poetr}^, the drama, ph3^sics, metaphysics,
histor}^, and political eloquence. I do' not pretend to
exhaust the subject in one chapter. We shall devote
our attention to the comparative m3'thology found in
the Greek poetr3^ and the Greek drama.

Every well-educated person expects to have some
definite knowledge of books which have been so cele-
brated. Undoubtedly the3^ have man3" beauties ; but it
is not probable that they will again rule the world as
the3^ have done. Since these new discoveries, the3^ tak^
a place which is quite different from their old one, but
perhaps it is equall3^ important. Instead of being the
one standard b3" which every other literature must be

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 173

judged, Greek becomes but one of man}' sister literatures.
Books are now considered worthy of attention if they
are not exactl}' like Greek books ; and it is no longer
thought sacrilege to suggest that Greek literature may
be criticised. For these new sciences have proved that
it is but one of many links in the development of the
human mind ; and therefore it may be judged by its
intrinsic merits.

In judging the Sanskrit literature, we must not for one
moment forget that it was absolutely self-developed ;
that it grew up without anj^ contact with other nations.
The Greek literature is not so independent a manifesta-
tion of human thought. It is true, that it inherited no
forms ; it copied no models, but it is greatly indebted
to the mind of Egypt and Assyria. From a modern and
Christian stand-point it seems far less beautiful than
those earh' spontaneous writings ; for Sanskrit litera-
ture seems spiritual, pathetic, and noble ; while the
Greek seems unspiritual, artificial, and immoral. I may
repeat Max Miiller's remarks: "The language of the
simple prayers of the Rig Veda is more intelligible to
us than anything we find in the literature of Greece or
Rome ; and there are, here and there, expressions of
faith and devotion, in which even a Christian can join
without irreverence." Saint Augustine, even when a
Pagan, never loved the Greek literature ; and Bossuet,
the greatest French preacher, complained of " le grand
creux " which he found in all classical antiquity.

The diff"erent authorities have not yet settled whether
the Pelasgi of Greece were Ar^^an or Turanian. It is
onl}' a question of pushing a little farther back the Aryan
invasion ; for we know that the original inhabitants were

174 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

a Turanian race. We do not know when the powerful
Aryans entered Greece, but they conquerd the Trojans
1184 B.C., and from this date they became masters of
Greece. For three centuries after, history is a blank.
But the Grecian Arj^ans developed the germs the}' had
brought with them from the common home. Uncon-
sciously they went through the same mental processes
which every other Ar3'an nation has gone through ; and
from these ideas of the undivided Ar3'ans resulted the
Greek mythology. It is only a completer development
of these intuitions which we have already examined in
the Rig Veda. But we must not for a moment think
it was borrowed from there. India was unknown to
them : even the cradle of their undivided race had long
been forgotten. The Greek mythology is much more
complex and puzzling than the Sanskrit ; it was never
understood until latel}^ A thousand explanations of it
have been made, but the new light thrown upon it by
the Rig Veda has given its true and final interpretation,
for the gods of all the Ar3'an mj-thologies are now con-
sidered to be nature personified. Its powers, such as
the sk}', the sun, the wind, the dawn, become real
persons. In Greek m3'thology, each different aspect of
nature had many different names, because a few simple
elements crystallized into many different forms. This is
wh}' there are so many gods and goddesses.

There are books in Greek which" tell us these stories
of their gods and goddesses ; but there is no book like
the Vedas, or the Avesta, full of prayers and hymiis and
thanksgivings, — full of a spu'itual life ; in a word, there
are no sacred books, and this is a sufficient comment
upon the Greek character. The}- seem to have had

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 175

origiiiallj' the usual Aiyan form of worship. The}^ poured
out Ubiitions of wine, and offered part of the food, at
ever}^ meal ; the}' sacrificed animals upon an altar ; each
head of a famil}" was his own priest, and performed his
own sacrifice. Agamemnon was priest and king himself.
Afterwards they erected altars ; then temples to every
god, — the bad as well as the good, — even to the god of
thieves, Hermes. But a Greek temple did not contain
a congregation of worshippers, hke a Christian church ;
at first, it was onl}' large enough to hold the statue and
altar of some god. Art has preserved to us a feature
of distinctively Greek worship : a long procession led
b}' naked men, who danced and sang in honor of the
gods. It is true that they had solemn and dreadful
mysteries in honor of Kj'bele, and Dionysos, which are
supposed to have been brought from Eg3'pt by the
Turanian aborigines, and to have survived the Ar3'an
conquest. These horrid festivals had some lij^mns and
poems called Orphic sayings, but they do not belong to
united Greece : they only represent that Turanian ele-
ment which was not entirely crushed out. The oracles
of the gods spoke occasionally at the temples, but gave
no connected utterance. Of rehgious literature, such as
other nations possess, there is none. That sense of sin,
which weighed down the thoughtful Hindu, that clear
distinction between right and wrong which nerved the
Persian to spiritual struggle, can scarcel}' be said to
have been present to the Greek mind.

We have seen that the first utterance of the human
mind is a hymn to a god ; the next, a code of religious
laws and duties. The Greeks seem not to have gone
through these two periods of mental growth : at an}' rate,

176 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

there is no trace of them left, because the first collected
book in Greek is the Iliad. And what is that? Ever}'-
bod}' knows that the Iliad is a poem which tells two
stories ; — of a war between the Greeks and Trojans
to recover a Grecian woman named Helen, who had
run away from her lawful husband with a Trojan hero
named Paris, and carried a great treasure witli her ;
also, of the anger of Achilleus, a Grecian hero, and
the dreadful consequences it brought upon the Grecian
army, encamped upon the plains around Troy.

The latest investigations have succeeded in proving
that the Iliad is a collection of heroic ballads ; and that
there were, in early Greek literature, hundreds of these
heroic ballads, of which the Iliad and the Od3'sse3' are
the only ones which have survived to us, though not
necessarily the best. There are said to have been
several versions of these stories ; but thej^ were finall}^
collected by Peisistratos and Solon, 600 b. c, and in
this authorized form they have come down to us. They
were sung by minstrels, called rhapsodists, at pubUc
assemblies.

The Odyssey is the second book collected. It tehs the
stor}^ of a Greek warrior, Odysseus, and his wanderings
after Tro}^ was captured, until he reached Ithaca, his
home, during ten years. Both of tliese belong to the
third period of mental growth, the ballad age. It was
once believed that they were the unaided work of one
mighty mind, the poet called Homer ; but along with
the ballad theory, which is now an accepted fact, comes
another, not yet accepted full}', — that these ballads
were composed by several different poets. In a few
years the question will be definitely settled ; the most

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 177

advanced thinkers maintain the theoiy. It is from
these Homeric poems, these two, that we get om' first
ideas of the Greek gods and goddesses. They take
part in the siege of Tro}' ; the}' take sides in the quarrel ;
the}' act like human beings, and ver^' weak and wicked
human beings too. There is nothing noble or elevated
in the m3'tholog3' of the Homeric poems.

It is a relief to turn aside from them to the poems of
Hesiod, where we find almost the onl}' pure morality- of
Greek poetr}'. Some religious feeling breaks out in the
poem called " Works and Da3's." It is an agricultural
l)oem, which tells what work in cultivating the ground
should be done upon certain dajs ; also which da^'s are
luck}' or unluck}'. "On the fourth da}' of the month
lead home a bride." "The first ninth day of a month
is wholly harmless to mortals ; but avoid the fifth days,
for they are mischievous and hurtful." Here is the
finest passage of Hesiod : —

" Now the gods keep hidden for men their means of sub-
sistence ; else easily mightest thou in one day have wrought
so that thou shouldst have had enough for a year, even though
being idle. Badness you may easily choose ; easily in a dead
level is the path, and right near. But before virtue the im-
mortal gods have set exertion, and long and steep and rugged
is the way at first to it ; but when you shall have reached the
summit, then truly it is easy, difiicult though it may have been

before And with him gods and men are indignant who

lives a sluggard's life, like in temper to stingless drones, which
lazily consume the labor of bees by devouring it. Now work
is no disgrace, but sloth is a disgrace."

The descriptions of the proper times for beginning
work are quite poetical.

178 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

" Mark, too, when from on high out of the clouds you shall
have heard the voice of the crane uttering its yearly cry, which
brings the signal for ploughing, and points the season of rainy
winter ; then truly feed the crumpled-horned oxen, remaining
within their stalls."

" When the artichoke flowers, and the tuneful cicada, perched
on a tree, pours forth a shrill song ofttimes from under his
wings, is the season of toilsome summer."

It is dull reading to moderns, but it is the model from
which many poems have been copied, the Georgics of
Virgil being one. Its chief importance in the histor}'' of
ideas is, that it contains, in one of its episodes, an ac-
count of the origin of mankind, and thus tells us what
the Greeks thought on this matter. It has also that
idea, which we found among the Brahmans, of an early
age of virtue ; and of the degeneracy of the race. It
describes four ages : first the golden ; then the silver ;
then the brazen, an age of heroes ; then the iron, in
which we are living, — an age of toil. Its idea of the
origin of evil in the world seems too frivolous to be
connected with so aw^ful a subject. It is the story of
Pandora. These three episodes belong to the " Works
and Days."

It has been said, that Hesiod also means a class of
poets, not one man ; and it is not unlikely, for it seems
impossible that the same mind which thought out the pure
morality of the " Works and Days," could have written
down the shocking stories contained in the "Theogon}^"
It gives the Greek ideas of the origin of the universe
and of the gods ; — not of mankind ; that was contained
in the "Works and Days." It is an endeavor to make
a connected S3'stem, and until the Rig Veda was dis-

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 179

covered it was the fountain-head for all mythology.
But Max Miiller says, "The Rig Veda, and not the
poem of H^siod, is the real theogony of the Arj'an race."

We have been accustomed to speaking of the Greek
gods by their Latin names, but I shall use the Greek
names, because they are nearer to the Sanskrit : so the
connection can be more easily traced. There are con-
tradictor}' accounts in the different theogonies ; but the
gods described in them are a most unpleasant and dis-
, reputable set. The genealogies are in inextricable con-
fusion. Brothers marry sisters, mothers marry their
sons, and fathers eat up their own children ; and over
them all brooded a dark fate, which the gods themselves
were unable to avert. No wonder that the noblest minds
among the Greeks turned from these wicked and power-
less gods in despair. But the new science of comparative
mythology comes to our aid. It enables us to take a
more encouraging view of the Greek nature, for all
these shocking, repulsive stories lose their bad qualities
when understood to be only the personifications of the
appearances of nature.

Hesiod says that Ouranos, the surrounding heaven,
married Gaia, the earth ; one will recognize the San-
skrit Yaruna, the all-surrounder. One of their sons was
Kronos, who ate up his children as soon as they were
born. Kronos is time ; our word chronology comes from
the same root, and time devours the days which spring
from it. But Ouranos has not the prominence of Varuna
in Sanskrit. He soon loses his power, and jields his
characteristics to his mighty grandson, Zeus.

Zeus is the same as the Sanskrit Dyaus, and the
Dyaus Pitar of the undivided Aryans, the god of the

180 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDEED LITERATURES.

bright sk}'. He. reigns undisturbed in the cloudless
ether, far above storms and conflicts, the king of gods
and father of men. As such, the onl}^ spiritual element
in Greek m3-thology belongs to him. He represents the
only perception thej had of one god ; and thus he re-
tains those characteristics of D3'aus Pitar which the
Greeks had brought with them and developed. He
has two characters : sometimes he is spoken of as the
righteous judge, who distinguishes good from evil and
punishes wrong-doing. Hesiod speaks of him very
beautifully in this wa}^ ; and in times of extreme dis-
tress, the Greeks called upon him : the prayers of the
heart always went up to Father Zeus. But usuallj^ he
is governed b}' most ignoble motives in his actions : he
cannot bear Siny comparison with the majestic deities
whom the Hindus and Teutons and Persians reflected
from their own natures and worked out from their own
instincts. We can have but a low idea of the Greek
mind, when it imagined such a god. Zeus is married to
many different wives ; when we look upon him as a
nature myth, and see that the bright sk}- must look
down on man}' lands, his visits to different countries
are explained.

Phoibos Apollo was very widely worshipped in Greece,
as the god of wisdom. His temples were found evevy-
where, and he had great influence in forming the Greek
character. Phoibos means the lord of life and light ;
he is therefore the sun, whose light penetrates every-
where, sees and knows ever3lhing, so he becomes the
god of wisdom. He was the child of Leto, the dark-
ness, the same word as Lethe, forgetfulness ; he was
born in Delos, the bright land. He has another name,

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 181

Apollo, the dcstro3-er ; he has that same irresistible
weapon which appears so many times, and always marks
the solar myth. He slays the children of Niobe, the
mist ; they are the clouds which the sun melts away.
He also kills a more important person, the awful serpent,
the Python, which was shutting np a spring of water.
His meaning must be transparent by this time ; the sun
drives awa}' the dark clouds, the rain comes down, and
the land is dehvered from the drought. Athene is the
dawn mjih, and shares the worship paid to Apollo.
As the dawn, she too, has the penetrating power of the
light. She springs from the forehead of Zeus, hke
Ahana in the Rig Veda, as the light of the dawn often
flashes out with a sudden splendor, at the edge of the
sky. Hera, the lawful wife of Zeus, is the bright air
of the upper regions, above the changes of the middle
air. The moon is Selene ; she moves across the sky in
a chariot, drawn bj' white horses, or she is a huntress
roving over hill and dale. She comes to gaze upon the
sun, just as it sets, plunging apparently into the deep
sea, or going into the unknown land of Latmos, the
darkness. Then the sun is called Endymion. The
goddess of love is Aphrodite. She is but another name
for the dawn, as it springs out of the sea with dazzling
radiance. The god of war is Ares, the same root as the
Maruts of the Rig Veda, the storm-winds.

There are in Greek a few h3Tiins, called the Homeric
h3'mns, addressed to the different gods ; but nobody-
knows who wrote them, or when, or where they gi-ew
up. There is nothing spiritual in them ; therefore, they
are not at all what we think of when we use the word
Hj'mn. They are descriptions of the different gods, and

182 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

one of them, the Hjinn to Hermes, is the most amusing
book in Greek hterature. I shall quote part of it,
partly because it is not so hackneyed as the Iliad, but
chiefl}^ because it is so perfect a description of the wind,
in two characters ; lirst as the harper, then as the master
thief of all Aryan literature. Hermes is born in a cave.
Before the babe is an hour old, he leaves the cradle,
and manufactures a harp or Ijre, from which he draws
soft, soothing music. His strength grows rapidly ; at
noon he is a strong man ; he steals the cattle of Phoibos
because he is hungr3\ He drives them backward and
forward, but he covers his feet with leaves so that his
tracks cannot be seen. Then he reaches a forest, rubs
the dried branches together till he kindles a flame. At
daybreak he steals back again, turns himself into a
bab}^ goes through the key-hole, and lies down in his
cradle. We can follow all this. The wind is silent at
morning, then makes a soft harping, then with mighty
strides it drives the clouds along, and strew^s the roads
with leaves and trees. It blows the boughs together,
till fire comes ; then, tired out, the wind sinks down
into a faint breeze, and penetrates through the key-
hole. Phoibos Apollo suspects him, and accuses him.
He replies : —

" ' What a speech is this !
Why come you here to ask me what is done
AVith the wild cattle, whom it seems you miss ?
I have not seen them, nor from any one
Have heard a word of the whole business ;
If you should promise an immense reward,
I could not tell you more than you now have heard.
An ox-steal er, I should be both tall and strong,
And I am but a little new-born thincj,

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 183

Who yet at least can think of nothing wrong.

My business is to suck and sleep and fling

The cradle clothes about me all day long,

Or, half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing ;

And to be washed in water clear and warm,

And hushed and kissed and kept secure froni.harm.

O, let not e'er this quarrel be averred.

The astounded gods would laugh at you, if e'er

You should allege a story so absurd

As that a new-born infant forth could fare

Out of his house, after a savage herd.

I was born yesterday. My small feet are

Too tender for the roads so hard and rough.

And if you think that this is not enough,

I swear a great oath, by my father's head,

That I stole not your cows, and that I know

Of no one else who might, or could, or did.

I do not even know what things cows are,

For I have only heard the name.' — This said,

He winked as fast as could be ; and his brow

Was wrinkled, and a whistle loud gave he,

Like one who hears a strange absurdity. .

Apollo gently smiled, and said, ' Ay, ay,

You cunning little rascal, you will bore

Into many a rich man's house, and your array

Of thieves will lay their siege before his door.

Silent in night ; and many a day

In the wild glens rough shepherds will deplore

That you, or yours, comrades of the night.

Met with their cattle, having an appetite !

And this among the gods shall be your gift.

To be considered as the lord of those

Who swindle, house-break, sheep-steal, and shop-lift,

You are the master thief.'"

But when Hermes plays upon bis sweet harp, Apollo,

184 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

entranced, forgives him all his misdeeds. They swear
eternal friendship, and Apollo allows him to wear his
own swift sandals. He can go everywhere that Apollo
goes, except to the deep ocean. This means that the
wind cannot penetrate into the ocean, although the light
can. The poem closes by saying that Hermes loves
Apollo more than he loves mankind ; that is, the wind
will do more mischief at night, while the sun is gone.
Certainl}', the poem is exquisitel}' pretty, and describes
perfectly the wind as that harper and as that thief
whom we find in every Arj^an literature. Hermes had
another oflflce ; he was the Psycopompos, and carried
the souls of the dead to the underworld. This idea
comes into each mythology. In Anglo-Saxon, the ex-
pression is used, "Beowulf curled to the clouds." The
smoke was supposed to be the soul of the dead ; this is
why they burned the body on a funeral pile, — that the
soul might more easily be set free ; and naturally the
wind would cany it away. There was alwa3's a river to
cross. In Sanskrit it was guarded b\' two dogs ; the
unburned or unburied ghosts could not cross the river,
but wandered disconsolately^ about. Here is the origin
of the superstition, that ghosts cannot cross running
water. The happy dead among the Greeks sought the
islands of the blest : this idea of Paradise recurs in
the Keltic m3^thology ; the unhapp}^ ones were sent to
the dark underworld of King Hades.

Now this is just the thought of the Teutonic mj-
thology. There is no idea of the devil, or punishment,
connected with King Hades, an}^ more than with Queen
Hel ; both were persons, not places, and very respect-
able persons, and mean darkness, the unseen, the under-

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 185

world. King Hades is sometimes called Ploutos, as be-
ing the guardian of the mineral treasures underground.
He is connected with the purest and sweetest of all the
m3'ths, which tells of Demetcr mourning for her lost
daughter. It was repeated among the Eomans, where
it is called Ceres and Proserpine. The lovely maiden
is carried awa}' by the dark king of the underworld, and
her despairing mother seeks her everywhere. The earth
is dried up : no grain or fruit will flourish while Demeter
neglects her care of them. So Persephone is the sum-
mer, carried away by the dark winter, and Demeter,
the earth, will not yield fruit or flower till the summer
comes back. But Persephone must spend half the 3'ear
with King Hades ; so the summer must give half the
year to darkness and winter.

Besides all the great divinities, every spring and river
had its protecting Nymph (the word means water) ;
every tree had its gentle Drj'ad, which bled and spoke
when the tree was broken. Each production of nature
was a living being to them ; the earth was filled with a
jo3'ous and kindly life, which is the pleasantest side of
the Greek mythology. It is not peculiar to that alone,
for it is found in the Sanskrit and Teutonic mythologies
as well.

Viewed from our standard of character, the Grecian
heroes are no more satisfactory than the Grecian gods.
In the Homeric poems they behave very much like a
parcel of schoolboys ; the king, Agamemnon, is tyranni-
cal and vindictive ; the great hero Achilleus sulks in his
tent like a child, deprived of a favorite to}'. His treat-
ment of Hektor's dead body is simph' brutal. He drags
it round the walls of Troy, till no shape is left to its

186 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

bruised form. Odysseus uses poisoned arrows, and
tells lies, and stabs his enemies behind their back.
Hektor, the Trojan, is the noblest character, but even
he countenances Helen. Hektor's wife, Andromache,
is pure and lovely, and the parting scene between them
is as fresh and beautiful to the human heart as when it
resounded in the ears of the Greeks. Priam's grief over
Hektor's dead body is most touching, and Helen's
lament over it is very natural and real, although her
grief is purel}^ selfish. She pities herself for losing such
a friend. Yet it is not strange that the Homeric poems
should have lived so long. The}^ are full of poetrj^, and
vitality, and movement. It is not likel}" that they will
ever die. If they seem un satis factor}-, and unworth}^ of
their great fame to a modern and a Christian mind, there
is a way of looking at them in which thej" gain. They
too can be subjected to the tests of comparative my-
thology, and then their characters become copies of the
gods and goddesses, personifications of the aspects of
nature.

Achilleus is child of the sea goddess ; so the sun often
appears to rise out of the water. His bride is torn from
him, and he sulks in his tent ; so the sun must leave the
dawn and be hidden by dark clouds. He lends his
armor to Patroklos, except the spear ; none other can
wield the spear of Achilleus ; so no other thing can
equal the power of the sun's raj's. His mother gives
hhii new armor : it bears up the hero like a bird on the
wing ; the helmet gleams, the shield flashes like a bea-
con hght ; but no earthly armor could produce such an
effect ; only the sun. Then he goes forth to battle,
but he fio'hts in the cause of another ; so the sun breaks

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 187

forth from the gloomy clouds, conquers the darkness,
and blesses the waiting earth. Achilleus tramples on
the dead bod}- of Hektor ; but Hektor is of dark powers,
though noble in himself: so a blazing sunset tramples
down the darkness. Finallj^ Achilleus is slain b}' an
arrow from a Trojan. He is vulnerable onl}' in the heel,
but the arrow finds him there. So the sun is conquered
by the darkness, in his turn, and disappears, a short-
lived brilMant thing.

A critic has said, that the "monstrous shapes and
strange adventures of the Odyssey differ from the prob-
able events of the Iliad ; it is a land of magic and gla-
mour." But it affords still more striking evidence as to
the theory of the nature-myth. It is delightful to trace
the details, and to interpret them, through so rich a field.
Od3-sseus is the sun in another character, as a wanderer ;
and his adventures describe the general phenomena of
day-time, from the rising to the setting of the sun. He
leaves the bride of his 3'outh, that is the twilight, and
journej's in darkness and silence, that is the night, to
the scene of the great fight. Ten weary 3'ears go on
during the fight with the powers of darkness, then the
victor}' comes ; that is, the night passes, and light comes
agam. Yet the hero has fought in another's quarrel ;
he serves the Grecian king and arm}', beings meaner
than himself ; so the sun benefits others. Od}- sseus uses
poisoned arrows ; so the ysljs of the sun are like poison
in the veins on the burning plains of Tro}^ ; but the vic-
tory cannot be gained by any other weapon. Then he
journeys for ten weary j^ears, before he can return to his
beloved bride. That is, the sun cannot meet the twihght
again till the da}' is done. "His journey is full of

188 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

strange changes of happiness and misery, successes and
reverses, hke the Ughts and shadows of a gloom}^ clay,"
Mr. Cox sa^'S. He reaches the land of the lotos-eaters,
that is, the clear, cloudless, deep blue heaven. Then he
meets the Kyklops and sla3's the one-eyed giant ; these
are the vast shapeless storm-clouds ; like all other giants
they are killed and outwitted b}^ the keen-e^xd sun.
Then he meets the cattle of Helios ; the}' were in seven
herds, fifty in each herd ; his companions kill these
sacred cattle, and then are killed in return. Helios
means the sun ; his three hundred and fifty cattle are
the daj'S ; and the companions of Odysseus do not return
to him, because thc}^ wasted their time till too late, they
killed the days. Twice Odysseus is brought under the
enchanted spell of women ; each time he breaks awaj^
Now Kirke and Kal3^pso are the same, — the beautiful
night, which veils the sun from mortal eyes in her cave,
flashing with jewels, which are the stars. Hermes comes
to deliver him ; that is, the morning wind, which blows
away the darkness. Then he reaches the Phaiakian
land, and sees with delight their gorgeous golden towers
and palaces ; and the kindly Phaiakians give him a ship
which may bear him home to Ithaka. These mysteri-
ous vessels have neither rudder nor Oar, but the}' know
the minds of man, and go wherever he wishes. These
mj'sterious ships come into ever}' mytholog}' ; the good
ship Skidbladnir in Teutonic, the ship which bears
Arthur in Keltic mythology : they sail, and they sail
without rigging or tackle, and they reach their destined
haven. You may see them yourselves, when you look
up mto the sky and watch the clouds as they sail. Odys-
seus conquers all obstacles by his marvellous sagacity,

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 189

which pierces every plot. Sometimes, alas ! he seems
full of craft and cunning. This is the sunUght peering
into every nook, and piercing through every disguise.
In his early home, Penelope, his wife, weaves and ravels
her web, till Odysseus may have time to return. The
suitors trouble her, and eat up her fortune. So the
dawn must see her gold-colored clouds scattered by
dark mists ; but she must weave and ravel their graceful
net-work over and over again ; for she is the twilight
as well as the dawn, and she knows that her hero must
return to her at night. He comes back alone in beggar's
rags, and the suitors jeer at him. Then he seizes the
mighty bow which none could bend while he was away ;
one b}" one, the suitors fall before him, till the vast hall
swims in red blood ; it is a slaughter-hall. Then his
3'outhful vigor comes back to him, the brightness of his
e3'es, the golden glor^^ of his hair, and his bride recognizes
him, and he puts on his ro^^al robes, and he shines forth
in splendor. So the sun comes to it« setting, wrapped
in dark clouds, but it bursts out in all its early glory,
and every dark cloud is dispersed b}^ its rays, and its
career closes in splendor. The bright red clouds, which
often surround the setting sun, and stream out in every
direction, to form a red sunset, are turned into the red
blood of the slain. I beg the reader particularly to re-
member this slaughter-hall, swimming in red blood, and
these beggar's rags. Mr. Cox saj^s, "The victory of
Odysseus in his beggar's rags is the victory of the poor,
despised outcast over those who pride themselves on
their grandeur and strength." We must not be sur-
prised when we find him in any nursery tale ; he will
be always the sun breaking through dark clouds.

190 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

The pli}- sical explanation has been carried still further,
and applied to the siege of Troy itself. Professor Max
Muller sa3's, " The siege of Troy is a repetition of tlie
daily siege of the east, by the solar powers that are
robbed of their brightest treasures in the west." This
is not quite plain ; let us go on to hear what Mr. Cox
says: "Few will venture to deny that the stealing
of the bright clouds of sunset by the dark powers of
night, the weary search for them through the long night,
the battle with the robbers, as the darkness is driven
away b}' the advancing chariot of the lord of light, are
favorite subjects with the Vedic poets."

But whether the germs of the Iliad and the Odj'ssey
exist in the Rig Veda, or not, the mythical histor}^ of
Greece exhibits a series of movements from the west
to the east, and from the east back again to the west.
These movements are for the purpose of recovering a
stolen treasure, and the heroes who have been robbed
return with the prize, which they have regained after a
long struggle. Now this stolen treasure is the light of
day, carried off by the darkness, and brought back again
in the morning, after a long struggle. Let us apply
this to the siege of Troy. Helen and her treasure,
that is, the golden light of day, are carried awa}' by
the Trojans, the darkness and night. The Greeks, the
bright powers, go after her from the west to the east.
The weary voyage, the ten j^ears' siege, are the long-
night, the long absence of the sun. The Greeks cannot
conquer until Iphigeneia has been sacrificed. She is
the dawn, which must completely fade away before the
day can come back. In the Odjssey, the Greeks re-
turn with the treasure and the woman : so the li^ht

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 191

journey's back from the east to the west, whence it started.
Mr. Cox takes another step and sa3-s : "If such a
war took place, it must be carried back to a time pre-
ceding the dispersion of the Arj'an tribes from their
original home ; and the scene can be placed neither in
the land of the seven rivers, nor on the plains of Asiatic
Tro}" ; not in Norwa}' nor German}' nor Wales. Carr}'-
ing ns back one step farther, these legends resolve them-
selves into phrases which once described, with force and
vividness never surpassed, the various phenomena of
the earth and heavens. These phrases furnish an inex-
haustible suppl}' of themes for epic poetr}' ; and the
growth of a vast epical literature was inevitable when
the original meaning of the phrases was forgotten."

That the Iliad and the Od3'sse3^ are taken from the
vast stores of m3'thical tradition common to all the
Ar3'an nations, ma3^ be corroborated b}" evidence taken
from other poems. Even in Greek literature, there are
several other vo3'ages, singularl3' resembling each other
in their objects and their details ; something bright is
taken awa3', and a collected bod3' of chieftains go in
search of it. The stor3" was first told in the vo3'age of
the Argonauts for the golden fleece. In Sanskrit, Indra
is often called a bull, who carried awa3' Dahana, the
dawn. In Greek, the sun becomes a ram with a golden
fleece ; he carries awa}^ Phrixos and Helle, who are the
children of Niphele. This is the same root as Niobe,
as Niblungs in Norse, and our word "nebulous"; it
means the mist. Phrixos and Helle are the twilight,
children of the darkness, who carries awa3' the golden
sunlight. So Jason collected a band of bright powers,
all chieftains ; the3^ are solar heroes, seeking for the

192 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

light on which their life depends. They sail in the good
ship Argo, which like Skidbladnir in Teutonic mythol-
ogy, contracts or expands as necessit}^ requires. This
is another of those cloud-ships which we found in the
Od^^ssey. They have a weary voyage, with many dan-
gers. Jason is aided by the wise Medeia. She means
the dawn, which penetrates everywhere, sees and knows
all ; for wisdom is always the attribute of the light, as
we saw in Phoibos and Athene. She even brings the
dead to life in her magic caldron. This is exactly what
is said in the dawn h3^mns of the Eig Veda. "She
awakens the sleeping to a new life." The myth is still
true to itself. Jason, the sun, conquers and gets back
the golden fleece. But on their journey home, like
Odysseus and his companions, perils and dangers attack
them. Finally, he abandons Medeia, the wise woman.
So the sun must leave the dawn, and go on to another
land, and a checkered career. But the wise dawn be-
comes also cruel, and sends to Jason's new bride,
Glauke, a glittering dress, which burned to her bones
when she put it on. It is here, that same shirt of flame
which enwrapped, and ate into, and killed Herakles,
— another name given to the glittering, flame-colored
clouds of sunset. How strikingly this resembles the
Odyssey ! I will not describe the other voyages : these
are t3'pes of all.

There are also expeditions of single heroes who have
been robbed of a rightful inheritance, and go in search
of it. This inheritance is the bright land where the
sun sinks to rest after his journey through the heaven.
Ever}' city of Greece had its own hero, whose tale was
told in those other ballads lost to us. Let us take

MYTHOLOGY OF GEEEK POETRY AND DEAMA. 193

Theseus, the hero of Athens, and see what features of
the solar ' m3'th are prominent in him. Before his birth
it was foretold that he should kill his father. So he is
banished when born, and lives poor and unknown.
But he has a hero's soul, and he longs to do some great
work. An awful monster called the Minotaur ate up
every 3'ear seven jouths and seven maidens, and Theseus
washes to slay him, but he has no weapons. Under a
stone lie marvellous weapons, but all the noble 3'ouths
of the court have tried in vain to lift it. But Theseus
raises it, and puts on the sword and sandals, which are
of course the rays of the sun. The monster is enclosed
in a lab^-rinth ; but Ariadne gives him the clew, and he
penetrates within. She is the wise dawn. When he
has killed the monster, he abandons Ariadne. But we
will no longer blame the faithless Theseus : he is only
fulfihing the instincts of the sun to journey on. When
he sails back, he forgets to put up a w^hite sail in
place of the black one which always accompanied the
fated vessel which carried the dreadful tribute to the
Minotaur, and the king, thinking he has been con-
quered, throws himself into the sea. Then it is dis-
covered that Theseus was his unknown child, and had
ignoranth' killed his father, according to the prophec3%
So the sun of one da}^ must destroy the sun of j'ester-
day.

But the story of Perseus is the most complete and
the most beautiful of all. He is the hero of Argos. It -
was foretold to the kins; that his daus^hter Danae should
bear a son who should destro}' him. The same storj^ is
told of Krishna in Sanskrit, of Cjtus among the Per-
sians, of Romulus among the Romans. So the king

13

194 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

shut up Danae in a tower. Now this is the same
tower which comes into the Sleeping Beautj^, or any
other tale : it means the darkness of night. Danae is
the da'wn, and Zeus in the form of a shower of gold
.married her; that is the dayhght streaming in. So
Perseus is the grandchild of the night, the child of the
dawn and the bright day. But Perseus and his mother
were set adrift by the cruel king, in a little boat. This
boat comes into the Anglo-Saxon story of Beowulf; it
is the sun rising on the water. The3' are carried to a
new land, where Perseus grows up beautiful and strong,
but unknown, and living in a stranger's house. This is
the youth also which is given to Sigurd the Volsung
in Teutonic mytholog3\ But his mother tells him of his
birth, and he goes forth to seek his rightful inheritance.
Athene gives him weapons, the penetrating light for a
sword, the swift-moving light for sandals. He kills the
gorgon Medusa : she is simply the darkness. The
snakes of her hair are those same snakes which appear
so many times : they bit Eur3Tlike, and she died ;
Medusa's snakes turn all to stone, but she is only the
night. In the story of Perseus, the myth is carried to
another stage of development. A victim is rescued, who
is a woman ; she can be traced back to the Rig Veda.
Vritra, the black snake, not only stole the cows, but
also the maiden Sarama, and shut them up in his cave.
Then came Indra, and set free the cows — that is, the
bright clouds — and the maiden, the dawn. Here arose
the distressed damsel, wherever she may reappear. So
the noble Perseus rescued Andromeda, the dawn, from
the dark monster, the night. Then with Andromeda
he sought the court of the king, his grandfather, who

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 195

received and acknowledged him. But the prophec}^ was
fulfilled ; for when he was shooting in the games one
day, an arrow glanced aside and slew the king, his
grandfather, the night.

Certainly every characteristic of the solar mj'th is
reproduced in the lives of Achilleus, Od3^sseus, Hera-
kles, Theseus, Perseus : and it explains, in a perfectly
satisfactorj' manner, as nothing else does, the charac-
ters and the actions which are so contrary to our stand-
ard of right and wrong. "Whether the theor}' be true or
not, an}' one who has read the hero stories must long
ago have noticed how very much they resemble each
other : one hero is so much like another, that it would
be eas}' to construct a thousand of them. Yet this is
the very strongest argument to prove that they all
originated in a common source.

There is another kind of poetr}" which may be consid-
ered the representative poetry of Greece pre-eminentty ;
not only because it arose spontaneousl}', but also be-
cause it reached its highest development there. The
lyric poetry of Greece has been copied in every lan-
guage ; but it is doubtful if any others have sung so
well of love as Sappho, of wine as Anakreon, of victory
as Pindar. For their songs were true to these poets,
a genuine and natural expression of a genuine feeling,
and the}' bear that stamp of reality which cannot be
counterfeited. The song was accompanied by the music
of a Ijre, — thence its name ; and it expressed feeling,
instead of action, either of an individual or of a whole
nation. The greatest stress was laid upon the metre in
which it was written : a different measure being adopted
for love and for war songs. Milton says, " AYrap me

196 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

in soft L^'dian measures" ; and the words made music,
even without the instrument. There were nine lyric
poets ; but these tliree were greatest. Anakreon's
st\'le is so ^charming that for a moment one forgets liow
utterly his poetry should be condemned ; the English
poet Cowley may be considered his best imitator. He
was born 560 b. c. Sappho, 620 b. c, has been much
calumniated. The German investigators say that she
did not tlu'ow herself from the Leukadian rock for love
of Phaon. The Greek comic dramatists introduced her
on the stage in an unfavorable character. This, and a
literal interpretation of her impassioned poetry, have
given her a false reputation. She was a rich and
respectable widow, with one child, to whom she wrote a
charming little ode, which I shall copy ; it is less famil-
iar than the Odes to Aphrodite and The Beloved.

" I have a child, a lovely one,
In beauty like the golden sun,
Or like sweet flowers of earliest bloom,
And Cleis is her name ; for whom
I Lydia's treasures, were they mine,
Would glad resign."

But Pindar's tyrics are different. The}^ were written
to celebrate the victor at those four famous games
which were the great national festivals of Greece.
There were chariot-races, and athletic games on foot,
and contests in music. The victor was crowned before
assembled Greece, but with a wreath of leaves only.
The heralds proclaimed his name, that of his father,
and his city. When he returned to his city, a singing
and dancing procession of his fellow-citizens met him,
and a breach was made in the walls, through which he

IMYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DEAMA. 197

entered ; he was considered to have bestowed enduring
honor upon the state. These Odes of Pindar were
sung b\' a chorus in these processions ; but they are not
religious hymns : they are exulting songs of triumph,
and even through a translation their lofty music stirs
one's blood. It is not that the}^ touch the heart, but
the}' awaken a high enthusiasm and a proud love of
countr3\ At first reading the}^ are hard to understand,
because so disconnected. They begin with an invoca-
tion to some god : this is sincere and deeply felt ; for
Pindar was a religious man, and meant what he wrote.
Then mythological stories are dragged in. In Pindar's
time, belief in the gods and heroes had not died out.
He regarded the victor}^ as the necessary result of the
whole previous life of the victor and his ancestors ;
because in Greece man was regarded not so much as an
individual as a part of his famil}' or state : so Pindar
traced the good qualities which gained the victor}', back
through his ancestors, to some hero of ancient Greece.
Or if the man came from the lower ranks, and had no
ancestors, he compared his good traits to those shown
by the ancient heroes, and thus made a relationship of
character instead of blood. Then again the thread
seems to be lost by moral reflections and precepts ; but
these are meant to induce others to copy the virtues
of the victor, because good deeds will be rewarded
and bad ones punished in a future existence. This
is so familiar a thought to us that we hardly realize how
original it is in Pindar. Here is the gi'eatest merit and
highest praise of this lofty poet. Instead of the resist-
less fate that runs through Greek mythology and poetry,
he teaches a sovereign law of right and wrong over all.

198 SANS-KRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

He sa^^s, "King of all mortal and immortal things,
Law establishes with an omnipotent hand the absolute
power of justice." Villemain sa3's, if he sung the
praises of kings, it was because they represented to his
mind that idea of law and order and justice which was
his highest ideal ; not because they were rich and pow-
erful.

His life is interesting too. He was born at Thebes,
518 B. c. He is the sole representative of Doric litera-
ture : what we call, rather vaguely, Greek literature
includes onlj^that of Ionia, Athens, and, later, of Alex-
andria. He was educated to be a musician. He wrote
hymns to the gods, and funeral odes, but onl}^ his
triumphal odes have been preserved. These made him
venerated throughout all Greece. A portion of the
people's first-fruits was laid aside for his support ; an
iron chair for liim was erected in the very temple of
Phoibos Apollo. He was courted by the rulers and
people of other lands : wherever the Greek language
was known he received rich gifts and heart-felt hom-
age. In later times, when Thebes was captured by a
foreign foe, the house which he had inhabited was twice
spared by the conquerors. In one of his odes he
praised Athens so much that his own city, Thebes, be-
came jealous, and ordered him to pay a fine of ten
thousand drachmas. The Athenians paid back double
the sum, and erected a statue to him in Athens beside.
Poets were royally treated in those days. The finest
odes are, to my mind, the 1st, 2d, and 12th Olympic;
the 1st and 4th Pythian ; the 7th Nemean ; and the
3d and 8th Isthmian. Their perfect m.usic gives them
a charm even in these later days when their thoughts

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 199

seem so remote. The religious feeling of Pindar can
never cease to make ns admire and wonder, 3'et I doubt
if that would cause him to be read without the match-
less charm of his style. Matthew Arnold quotes him
and his best imitator, Gra}^, as examples of the power
of mere style to thrill us. Gray's Ode on the Progress
of Poesy w^as suggested by the 1st P^'thian.

The Greek ode leads directly up to the Greek drama ;
for scholars agree that it is onh^ a development of the
singing and dancing chorus so t^'pical of Greeee, in
which the ode was sung b}' many individuals, instead of
one. One writer says: "Greek drama sprang from
the worship of Dionysos (Bacchus), in all probability
the indigenous religion of the countr}', and, as it
gathered development, absorbed the creeds of all the
other tribes, till the ver}^ form of tragedy, as it existed
in the days of Aisch3'16s, had a deeply religious and
ethical signification." Then there was a dialogue be-
tween the chorus ; that is, it became antiphonal. Then
one actor was introduced. Then Aisch3'los, 521 b. c,
took a great step, and is therefore called the founder of
the drama. He introduced two actors upon the stage
at once, w^ho spoke in prose, and reduced the impor-
tance of the chorus. It sung when one actor left the
stage ; but it became usually a listener to the dialogue,
or an intermediary between the actors and the audience,
a running commentar3\ It is supposed to express the
real sentiments of the author. It is sometimes an echo ;
and when the situations are tragic, the wails and groans
of the chorus are ver}'- effective. It is onl^^ fair to sa}^,
that, while the nation was still full of belief and patriot-
ism, the choruses had noble thoughts, expressed in

200 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

grand 13'ric poetry. Aischj'los was a contemporar}^ of
Pindar. Some of his choruses are as religious and
patriotic as Pindar's odes. Also the chorus uttered
reflections ; sometimes it is very ndwe ; its reflections
being full of worldly wisdom, and its anxiety to keep on
the winning side very apparent.

Any national, self-developed growth has a certain
interest which it can never lose ; but it is incompre-
hensible that any one who can read Shakespeare can
for a moment suggest the Greek drama as a model to
be copied. The blind reverence, the extravagant admi-
ration, the devotion of a hfetime, which these plays
have received, are simply amazing. It must have been
caused by the charm of form, b}' the resounding poetry
of their choruses ; and this no translation can adequately
render. They resemble our idea of poems far more
than of plays ; and to understand them we must put
away every association with the word drama which we
have in our modern minds. The theatre was utterly
different. A vast space was enclosed, and a stage built
with seats rising from it in the shape of a semicircle ;
a stage not deep like ours, but broad and shallow, so
that the actors grouped themselves like a bas-relief,
like statues ; all this in the open air. Imagine to your-
selves the blue and sunn}' sky of Athens above, the white
marble temples gleaming through the olive groves in the
distance ; and on the stage figures which seemed more
than human, pacing with a slow and stately step, speak-
ing in a solemn and measured voice, with a distinct
rhj^thm, which we should irreverently call sing-song.
There was a reason for this : the Greeks did not aim at
fidelity to real life ; their object was the ideal hfe. They

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 201

did not wish to draw upon the sj^mpathy of the aiidience,
so much as upon their reUgious feeUng. Aisch3-los and
Sophokles really wished to make the drama a religious
teacher. To this end it was necessar}' to merge the in-
dividualitj' of the actor : a mask increased the volume
of his voice ; a cothurnus gave him height ; padding
gave him size, and the monotone in which he spoke,
solemnit3\ Of course, he would be obliged to move
slowly, so that all action on the stage was impossible.
It took place behind a scene, and was described in long,
tedious speeches. There was no gradual development
of character as with us. The people in the play had no
mental struggles, they immediatel}' proceeded to act.
A critic says: "Tragic representation was divorced
from ever^'-day life : so delineation of mental conflict
became impossible, and the dialogue was retrospective."
The plays were not divided into acts, but went on in one
unbroken stream of song from the chorus and prose
from the actors. This was because the unities must be
observed, of time, place, and action. The time must
not exceed a few hours ; the place must be always the
same ; the action must be performed by one set of char-
acters alone, while in our plan's there are often two or
three plots, each with its own set of characters. There
was no plot : if an}' difficult}' came up, it was not re-
moved by the energy and wit of the characters, but a
divinity from Otympqs came down, and put an end to it
by his supernatural powers. The Greek drama deals
only with kings and heroes ; the lower classes are never
distinctl}^ drawn, or clearl}' individualized. This may
be because the}' are more conspicuous examples of that
idea of retribution which is the key-note of the drama.

202 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES,

"The prevailing idea of the Greek reUgion was har-
mony," one critic saj^s : "an act wrought in violation
of this harmony was invariably followed b}' retribution ;
the gods became simply the instruments of revenge."
This idea of a dark and dreadful fate runs through all
the plaj's. It hangs over some family, — the gods
themselves cannot avert it ; but the sins of the fathers
are visited upon the innocent children ; they struggle in
vain against this relentless destin}^ One play did not
close the theme ; there were usnally three, called a
trilogy, continuing the same subject, or the fortunes of
the same family. The}^ never mix tragic scenes with
comic, or everj'-da}^ life scenes, as we do : one dreary
monotony of gloom runs through the whole play. It is
plain, therefore, how very simple and undramatic they
appear to a modern mind. The stories are simply
horrible ; they were drawn from those ballads which
preceded the Iliad and the Odyssey, and which are
lost to us. They are told over and over again by the
three great dramatic poets, and the same characters
reappear in the three different authors. In fact, they
are so horrible that they cease to be natural ; they seem
taken out of the range of all human interest.

But here again the new science of comparative my-
thology comes to our relief, and enables us to give to
these sickening stories a different tone. Of course, at
the close of one short chapter, I cannot examine every
play in detail ; but we will take up the only trilogy of
the vast, vague, sombre Aischylos which remains to us.
It tells the fortunes of the house of Pelops, sometimes
called the house of Atreus. Agamemnon, a descendant
of Pelops, returns from the siege of Troy. He is wel-

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 203

corned by his wife, Klytaimnestra, and enters his palace
with her. He has brought back with him as a captive the
Trojan maiden Kassandre, who has the gift of prophecy.
As he disappears in the palace, Kassandre bursts into
wails of woe. She describes in magnificent poetry the
awful deeds of the Atreidai in the past. Tantalos and
Thyestes had both cut up their children, roasted them,
and served them at table, where they had been eaten.
Th3'estes unconsciously had eaten up his own son. The
mother committed suicide ; and Thyestes ran away
with his brother's wife. Then the prophetess prQclaims
what is even now going on in this house of blood ;
Kl3-taimnestra is murdering Agamemnon in his bath ;
and in a moment Klytaimnestra herself appears, and
proudly justifies the awful deed, because Agamemnon
had killed his own daughter, the lovely Iphigeneia.
Then she marries her husband's cousin Aigisthos, who
had aided in the murder. In the second play, Orestes,
the young son of Klytaimnestra, returns from a dis-
tant land, whither he had been banished ; murders his
mother and Aigisthos ; but he is haunted by the awful
Furies with gory locks, and in the third play he seeks
the temple of Apollo. There b}^ rites of expiation he
is purified, absolved, and the curse is lifted from the
house ; which seems a ver}" insufficient atonement. But
w^e shall be much more interested in this unnatural tale
when we learn that Tantalos and Thyestes are only the
sun, which dries up with its heat the fruits of the earth.
Agamemnon again is the sun, who had killed the dawn,
Iphigeneia ; he in turn is killed by the dark^iess as he
sinks into the water. Orestes also is the sun, again
coming back from the west into the east. He is one

204 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

of those heroes who travel back to regain a rightful
heritage. He murders his mother, the dark night. lie
is pursued bj^ the Erinnys ; now this word comes from
the Sanskrit Saran3^u, the dawn which creeps along the
sky : they are therefore the light which sees and knoM^s
everj'thing. Later in the development, the}" become
avengers, but when appeased b}^ rites of penance and
expiation, they are gentle and kind ; then thej' are the
Eumenides, the gentle twilight.

The idea of fate was prol^abl}' derived from the re-
sistless course of nature, the Kosmos ; or from time,
which seems hurried on by a power bej^ond itself.
The thought often occurs to a modern mind even, for
nature seems bound by stern necessity now as then.
It comes out ver}^ strongly In the tale of the house of
Labdakos. We will take the account which is given m
Sophokles's sweet and polished dramas. They are more
interesting to most people than those of Aisch^'los ; the
speeo^es are shorter, there is more dialogue, — he intro-
ducecT three actors on the stage at one time. The cho-
ruses are exquisitely poetical, and perfect in form, and
have a religious spirit. They teach that the sins of the
individual in addition to the curse of race brought pun-
ishment ; and that the great invisible powers will finallj^
do justice. The first play is Oidipous, the king of
Thebes. He came a stranger to Thebes, and found the
city in despair. A dreadful monster called the' Sphinx
sat on a cliff, near the cit}', and shut up all access to
the springs of water. She roared and muttered a
riddle, and could onl}^ be overcome by whoever could
solve the riddle. Oidipous solved it ; the Sphinx threw
herself from the cliffs, and the imprisoned waters

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AND DRAMA. 205

gushed forth. The queen's husband had just been
killed, so he married the queen, lokasta. Now it had
been foretold long before to the queen and king, Laios,
that their son should destroy his father ; so the babe
had been exposed to die on the side of a mountain.
One day Laios was driving in his chariot, when he was
met and killed l^y a youthful stranger. And by and by
it comes out that Oidipous was this youthful stranger ;
still more, that he was the babe who had been exposed
on a mountain, nourished and brought up b}^ a kind
shepherd. Horror-stricken, Oidipous discovers that he
has married his own mother. He puts out his eyes ;
she coimnits suicide. In the second pla}', Oidipous
wandA-s to Kolonos, accompanied b}' the loveliest hero-
ine of Greek literature, Antigone, his daughter. There
he dies ; but he passes away in a storm, and nnseen
by mortal eyes. In the play of Antigone, the sweet
and noble heroine is condemned to die, because she per-
sists in giving burial to the body of her brother. She bids
farewell to the light and hfe, and then the " last lone
scion of a kingh^ race," she is dragged away to die in a
cave ; so she expiates the curse, and dies through her
own self-sacriticing heroism. The explanation becomes
plainly perceptible. The babe exposed to die on a
mountain is the same as Feridun and C^^rus, the sun
rising behind a mountain. The Sphinx is of course the
drought ; its mutterings, the rumbling of the thunder,
like Vritra in the Rig Veda ; the waters are set free, the
rain comes down, as the sun pierces the dark clouds.
Laios, his father, is the night ; lokasta, his mother, is
the dawn. Like other solar heroes, Oidipous has a m3^s-
terious death ; in storm and thunder he passes away, —

206 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the sun setting amid storm and thunder. Antigone is
tlie twilight, tlie pale light which springs up opposite
the setting sun ; a cave always means the darkness :
here the twilight dies away in the darkness.

Philoktetes is really a most beautiful poem ; it is
nearer to a modern standard, because it has one com-
plex character, Neoptolemos, and mental struggle, and
so it is interesting : but it deviates from the typical
Greek drama. When Herakles la}^ dying, he gave his
unerring bow and poisoned arrows to Philoktetes, whom
he loved. Philoktetes sailed for Troy with seven ships
of his own. Landing at an island, he rasbl}^ entered
the sacred ground of a nymph, and was Ijitten b}^ a
serpent. The stench of the wound and his groans
annoyed the Greek chieftains, and they sent him to a
lonely island, and left him alone in a cave. After nine
3'ears it was foretold that Tro}^ could not be taken
without Philoktetes's poisoned arrows. So Od3'sseus
and Neoptolemos, son of Achilleus, were sent to seek
him. They deceive him with fair words, and get away
his bow, and seek to carry him b}" guile to Troy.
Then Neoptolemos repents, gives him back his bow, and
promises to carry him to his old home, knowing that,
nevertheless, Troy cannot be conquered without him.
In all this perplexity Herakles, a deity, descends, and
induces Philoktetes to go to Troy of his own free will.
Thus all ends well, and Neoptolemos wins our highest
admiration. Now, this is a very interesting manifesta-
tion of the solar myth. Philoktetes is bitten b}^ the
snake of darkness. During the long night he suffers ;
but since he is the sunlight, Tro}'-, the dark power,
cannot be conquered till he returns and shoots his

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETRY AXD DRAMA. 207

arrows of light. The two chieftains who seek him are
also solar powers. They too must aid, or Troy can-
not fall. Philoktetes dwells in a cave, for darkness
has overcome the bright sun. It is supposed that
Sophokles was influenced in composing this drama, so
different from his others, by the new and rising genius
Euripides, and the tone he introduced.

Aischylos, born 521 b. c, fought agahist the Per-
sians in the battles of Marathon and Salamis. Sopho-
kles, 495 B. c, when sixteen years old, led the chorus
which celebrated these victories, and in middle age
became a general of the Athenian army. But Euripi-
des, 480 B. c, studied with the Sophists, and learned
to argue on both sides of the same question. Natu-
rally his plays would have a different spirit. He seems
prosaic and argumentative, after the vague grandeur of
Aisch^^los and the finished harmony of Sophokles. His
characters are not so noble as theirs, but he has his
own good points. There are reaUty and pathos in his
plays ; they are interesting too ; the}^ have more devel-
opment of character and dramatic action ; three or four
actors are introduced upon the stage at one time. But
this is directly opposed to the legitimate, Greek drama,
and critics sa}^ that he was not sufficiently imbued with
poetry to enable his chorus to take its proper position,
and fill out the action by appropriate illustrations. In
Aischylos and Sophokles the choruses and the tragedy
were perfectl}' connected ; in Euripides the}' are not,
although thej^ are occasionally poetical and beautiful.
There are man}^ plays, and they are very unequal. It
is becoming the fashion to praise them. One critic
says, " He was the first to make his characters play a

208 SANSKRIT AND ITS KIISDRED LITERATURES.

sustained dramatic part." And in spite of all critical
objections, his pla3's go straight to the heart. But
when we demand from him faith and reverence towards
the invisible powers, and in the final triumph of justice,
we feel his limitations. He said plainlj-, that, if the
gods are righteous, the stories of the poets are wretched
falsehoods ; if the stories of the poets are true, and the
gods do such things as the poets ascribe to them, they
are not gods at all. Ke is intensel^^ sceptical, and the
gods in his plays are as jealous and tyrannical and
spiteful as human kings. They argue and reason like
sophists.

Of the plays, the Iphigeneia in Aulis is most com-
plex and interesting, with dramatic action and a most
pathetic and noble heroine. You have alread}' learned
from comparative mythology what she is. Euripides
is remarkable for his noble and self-sacrificing women.
We find another of them in the Alkestis. It is like
a modern play : it has a comic vein and ever3^-day
life scenes. We will take up this best known and
loveliest of his pla3's, the Alkestis, and look at the
comparative mythology to be found in it. Admetos,
the king of Thessaly, is dying of a fever. Apollo,
remembering some kindness shown b}^ Admetos to him,
says that he may recover if some one will die in his
stead. His aged father and mother refuse his request ;
but his sweet wife, Alkestis, says that she will willingl}^
die that he may live ; and she expires. While the
whole famil}^ plunged in grief, are celebrating her fu-
neral rites, Herakles arrives. Admetos entertains him,
hospitably trying to conceal his grief. But some ser-
vant tells the whole story to Herakles, and he is so

MYTHOLOGY OF GREEK POETKY AND DRAMA. 209

miich pleased with Admetos's hospitality under such
tiTing circumstances that he goes down to the kingdom
of Hades, and brings back Alkestis. But what can be
said for that poor creature, Admetos? Simpl}^ that he
is a solar m3'th, the sun ; and Alkestis is the beautiful
twilight, who must die if he is to hve again, and glad-
den the world with his light. She must die too, and be
carried awa}' by the dark nigiit, if she is to live again
herself, and stand before her husband in her ancient
beauty ; for she is also the dawn, brought back from
the apparent death of darkness and night by the brave
Herakles, the triumphant sun. The stor}' must be a
primitive Ar3'an myth, for it is found with a little va-
riation in the Maha Bharata, where Yima carries away
the husband to die, and the wife, Savitri, follows him
until he restores her husband to her, on her promising
to die in his stead. This is the strongest proof of its
mythical element.

14

210 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDKED LITERATURES.

CHAPTEE VII.

GEEEK PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORY.

THE gods of the poets and dramatists had ceased to
satisfy the thoughtful minds of Greece, and the
philosophers had long been endeavoring to build up
gods for the people. Buddha in India, before the rise
of the second school of philosophers in Greece, the
Eleatics, had pronounced all metaphysical discussion
to be vain and useless: Goethe says, "Man is not
born to solve the mysteries of existence." Mr. Lewes,
in his history of philosophy, acknowledges that human
reason alone cannot solve the problems of metaphysics.
But I hope it is not presumptuous to try to get a few
distinct ideas about the principal steps the Greeks took
in their struggles towards clearness and precision in
these matters.

The philosoph}^ of Greece ruled the ancient world
and Europe for centuries ; yet it is neither more origi-
nal nor more profound than the Sanskrit metaph3'sics,
which arose before it and existed contemporaneousfy,
though only made known to us within the last fifty
years. The Greeks unconsciouslj' w^ent over the same
ground, and the Germans are going over it in our day,
and the questions are still unsettled. I want particu-
larly to express that we moderns divide philosophy into
two branches, and we are correct in doing so : meta-

GREEK PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORY. 211

ph3'sics, or the pliilosophy of the mind ; physics, or
science, the philosoph}' of external nature. But the
Greeks made no such division. It is curious that their
first speculations belong to what we very property call
physics. The first problem which the Greeks sought to
solve was the origin of the world and of mankind.
Thales of Miletos, 600 b. c, is the father of Greek
philosophy, and he taught that water is the beginning
of all things. Some one has said: "The schoolboy
w^onders wh}' this should be called the beginning of
philosoph3\ Because it was the first bold denial that
the gods had made the world, the first open protest
against the religion of the crowd. It had to be re-
peated again and again before the Greeks could be
convinced that such thinkers as Herakleitos and Xeno-
phanes had as good a right to speak of the gods as
Homer and the itinerant singers." The next philos-
opher taught that air is the beginning of all things,
and these philosophers wrote in poetr}^, in hexameter
metre. Herakleitos declared that religion is a disease
arising from the sick heart of man (600 b. c.) ; which
was repeated b}' the German Feuerbach, when he said
that "religion is a radical evil inherent in mankind."
Herakleitos was the first Greek to write in prose ; he
said that fire is the beginning. Then another pro-
claimed the atomic theor}^, which is so fashionable to-
day, — that an innumerable quantity of the smallest
atoms is the beginning. But Anaxagoras said that
there was something more than matter, there was mind,
in this creation : so he was the first to recognize a
Supreme Intelligence. So they struggled on : dis-
covered independently the sun-dial, the geographical

212 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

map ; wrote books on astronom}^ geometiy, and mnsic
(music being an important part of their worship) . Then
came the theor}^ that the beginning is a kind of cha-
otic matter, called Infinite Substance, containing withhi
itself a motive power. Then Pythagoras, a most inter-
esting character, taught that this Infinite Substance is
one, therefore number is the beginning.

Finally Xenophanes, a rhapsodist who wandered over
many lands uttering the thought that was in him, in
wild, vague poetry proclaimed that this one of Pythago-
ras was God, self-existent and intelhgent ; that he was
far above the gods of the poets, whom Xenophanes
denounced. His wild and turbulent verse was dcA'cl-
oped by others into a system of what we very properly
call metaphysics. It belongs to the idealist school
named the Eleatic, from the cit}^ of Elea. Then fol-
lowed arguments against this and the realist, or Ionic
school, b}' the Sophists. They argued equall}' well on
both sides, and taught that we really know nothing,
and that there is no such thing as right or wrong ])y
nature, onl}" b}?" the customs of societ}'. Mr. Lewes
sa3^s : "While the brilliant but dangerous Sophists
were winning money and renown b}^ protesting against
metaphysics and teaching the word -juggling which the}^
called disputation, and the impassioned insinceritj' they
called oratory, there suddenly appeared among them a
strange antagonist. He made truth his soul's mistress,
and with patient labor and untiring energy did his large
wise soul toil after communion with her."

Sokrates was born 469 b. c. His earl5' studies were
devoted to science, but left him unsatisfied. He fought
in thi'ee battles, and served in the Senate before he

GREEK PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORY. 213

begun to teach, which was about the middle of his
career. He did not give lectures, nor write books ; he
onl}' argued. " He would seize on a person whom he
met in his walks, and by searching argument and
homel}^ illustration constrain him into contact with the
truth." His rules were: "Before speaking or acting,
know what 3'ou propose. If 3'ou speak, know what
you speak ; if 3^ou beheve, know what 3'ou believe.
Ascertain what your own mind in verity is, and be
that." His method was to ask questions until the an-
tagonist had accurately defined what he thought ; from
these definitions Sokrates reasoned to a conclusion.
He used very homel}' ilhistrations from every-da}" life.
In a history of pliilosoph}' he would be said to have
invented, first, abstract definitions ; second, inductive
reasoning ; and he owes his position in metaphysics
wholly to this invention of a method. But his peculiar
work lay elsewhere. He turned away from meta-
ph3sics to morals, and invented what we call moral
philosophy, — the distinctions between right and wrong.
Before Sokrates, the religion of the Greeks consisted
in oflTering sacrifices to each particular god : to pro-
pitiate his anger or win his favor was the only needful
thing. But Sokrates insisted that our conduct, our
own actions, were the necessary things to make us
happy here or in the future life. To the Athenians,
mad in the pursuits of luxury or ambition, he pro-
claimed that these would be their ruin ; that truth,
wisdom, and temperance were the onl}' treasures. No
wonder that the Athenians hated the man who so boldly
rebuked them. He condemned the gods of the poets,
and taught that there was one God. Now, this was the

214 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

heres}^ of that day ; so he was accused of corrupting
the youth of Athens, and made to drink poison. " His
heroic death, his moral teachings, and his invention of
a method in metaphysics, are his titles to fame," Mr.
Lewes says. He taught and believed that, on critical
occasions, he was guided b}^ a daemon, who always
accompanied him. Probably he was a ver}^ religions
man, and believed in spiritual communications.

Plato (b. c. 429) is the culminating point of all Greek
philosophy : its various and conflicting tendencies were
harmonized in his might}' mind. The two schools met
in him. This is an interesting summing up of them : —

The Eleatic, The Ionic,

OR Idealist. ^^^ ' or Realist. .

The One. The One in all. The All.

Unity. Unity and Variety. Variety.

Being. Life. Motion.

Pantheism. Divine in Nature. Naturalism.

Substance. Substance and Manifestation. Phenomena.

Plato's fame is world-wide ; but some of the ideas
about him are erroneous. I was amazed to find that
Plato is not eloquent, his style not poetical. It is
simply the most exact definition of what 3'ou think ;
then the closest reasoning, step by step. " His writ-
ings are dialogues where each character states his opin-
ions, which are refuted with sarcasm or good-natured
banter." His illustrations are drawn from familiar life,
— are very homely ; the dialogues are highly dramatic,
therefore, and full of animation, and bring the manners
of Athens before us. * Lewes says: "In truth, Plato
is a very difficult and- somewhat repulsive writer. He
is an inveterate dialectician, a severe and abstract

GREEK PHILOSOPHY AND HISTOEY. 215

thinker, a great quibbler. His metaphysics would
frighten awa}' an}' but the most determined student ;
but he is occasional!}' eloquent and poetical." His
descriptions of natural scener}- in his first work, the
Phaidros, are beautiful : in that the soul is compared to
" a chariot, with a pair of winged horses and a driver.
In the souls of the gods, the horses and driver are
entirel}' good ; in other souls, only partiall}' so, — one
horse excellent, the other vicious. So the business of
the driver is clifScult and troublesome." His education
was excellent. In gymnastics he was sufficientl}' skilled
to contend in the Pythian and Isthmian games. He
first studied poetr}' ; next, philosoph}' with Sokrates,
whom he attended through his trial till his death. Then
he travelled, and returned to Athens to found the
Academe in the olive groves near Athens. Plato based
his argument for immortalit}' upon the theory that ideas
are eternal. Humanity has in it, mingled with much
that is evil, the remnants of another and better nature.
So he said that all our ideas are but reminiscences of
another existence, — an existence of which we had lost
all memor}' and almost all the glor}' ; that the soul had
lived in another sphere, pure and undefiled ; that in the
transition it had lost much of its higher nature, and
the little left was tarnished by union with the body and
contact with this world. "But the immortal soul is
stung with resistless longings for the skies, and sol-
aced onty b}' the reminiscences of that former state."
Wordsworth has this ver}' idea in his Ode to Immor-
tality ; and Goethe sa3's, "The soul of man is highl}^
endowed on its arriA^al, and we by no means learn
evervthing. We brino- much with us." Sokrates be-

216 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

lieved and taught the immortaUt}^ of the soul, but Plato
"established the doctrine by solid arguments." We
cannot take Plato for a typical heathen ; for he also
taught the existence of one God, with attributes much
like those we believe in. He made this idea the starting-
point of his whole sj'stem. He supported it by the
favorite modern doctrine that God is proved to exist
b}^ the need we feel for him, by the ver}^ affinit}- to his
nature which stirs within our own souls. He first used
the inductive method of Sokrates ; but his later dis-
coveries were made by the deductive method, which
assumes a theorj^ to be true, and proves it afterwards.
Plato, too, tried to make men better ; but he utterly
ignored their instincts and their passions. He said, if
people did wrong, it was only because thej^ did not
know what was right. We must admire his pure, clear
intellect, and his spiritual insight ; but there is an un-
pleasant side to him. He is terribly wanting in human-
ity. Mr. Lewes says: "The thinker predominated
over the man. He was intensel}' melancholy ; he had
man}' admirers, but no fiiends. His Republic, where
he paints his ideal of society, is not suited to human
beings, only to logicians." The Republic taught that
wives, children, and propert}' should be held in com-
mon : they belonged to the state ; and chiklren should
be taken from their parents, and educated b}' the state.
He banished all poets, because the}- enervated the soul
and taught a life of pleasure : they also told fictions
about the gods. Here 3'ou see his dissatisfaction with
the Greek gods. He banished all musicians who were
plaintive and harmonious : onlj' the Dorian music,
which was warlike, or the Phrygian, which was calm.

GREEK THILOSOPHY AND HISTORY. 217

was admitted. The most celebrated and interesting
dialogue is the Phaidon, on the immortalit}' of the soul.
The thoughts are all Plato's, the characters being sim-
ply mouthpieces for him, dramatis personce. This is a
little confusing, when one takes up Plato for the first
time. I have not alluded to his metafi:)hysics ; for its
vast, vague speculations are difficult to comprehend.
Our chief interest is in the man who proved one God,
and immortality. Plato's position has been admirabl3"
defined as follows : —

" The belief in immortality was almost unknown to the
Greek religion. The Iranians founded on their ethical dualism
a positive and intelligible theory of immortality; a theory
which, passing first into Judaism, then into Christianity, has
played so great a part in the religious history of the world.
The Teutonic tribes so conceived the future as to reduce death
to a ' home-going,' — ' a return to the Father.' The Kelts
believed in a metempsychosis which made the future life
as active as the present. The Hindu Aryans evolved from
their early naturalism a religion whose distinctive character-
istic was the continued existence of the transmigrating soul.
The causes of this peculiarity in the religious development of
Greece are, first, the national mythology crystallized into per-
manent form before the national mind attained to full reli-
gious consciousness ; second, religious thought did not develop
within, but without, this mythology. The functions of religion
passed in Greece to poetry and philosophy. The poets be-
came the true priests of Greece, embodying, in epic or ode or
tragedy, the ideas of moral law and order, and judgment. The
philosophers became her true prophets, revealing mind in
nature, — the supreme Good within, above, and before man.
But the words God and Creator were not to the Greek synony-
mous, as to the Hebrew. Plato was the true prophet of this
belief to the Greeks."

218 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

When we come to Aristotle, 384 b. c, we are in a
different world. He wrote metaph3'sics, and for cen-
turies it divided the world with that of Plato. It has
been said that every man is born a disciple of Plato
or of Aristotle, such opposite types do the}' represent.
But we do not now value Aristotle for his metaphysics.
He may justly bear the proud title of Father of Science.
(The Sanskrit scientific writings are valuable ; but they
have not yet exercised any influence Over the world.)
He observed and wrote down the facts of external na-
ture. Alexander was his friend, as well as pupil ; and
during all his campaigns in Asia he sent to Aristotle
the birds, plants, and animals of different countries.
Besides, he gave Aristotle a sum of money equal to a
million dollars of our money to expend upon his ' ' His-
tory of Animals and Parts of Animals," and several of
the most astonishing discoveries of modern naturalists
have since been found distinctly described by Aristotle.
Even on subtle questions in natural histor}^, scientists
are often forced to come back to Aristotle's classifica-
tions. His discoveries were wonderful, and made by
the inductive method ; in which the facts are carefully
collected and studied, then a theory is reasoned out,
based upon these facts ; it was the method invented by
Sokrates, abandoned by Plato, perfected by Aristotle.
Naturally, therefore, he would consider reasoning, or
logic, to lie at the foundation of all knowledge. He
invented logic, and considered it the fundamental sci-
ence. He also invented grammar ; and tlie categories
or principles, the fundamental forms of thought, for
these two sciences, have never been superseded. Mr.
Lewes thinks him " the greatest intellect of antiquit^s

GREEK PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORY. 219

at once comprehensive and subtile patient, receptive,
and original." He is not an interesting writer. Mr.
Maurice sa^'s : "A student passing from the works of
Plato to those of Aristotle is struck with the entire
absence of that dramatic form, those living human
beings, with whom he has been familiar. But there is
ample compensation in the precision and dignity of the
style." He wrote an astonishing number of books,
three fourths of which have been lost. In another
chapter, I shall speak of the curious path by which the
remaining books reached us. He lectured whilst walk-
ing up and down a shady grove, attended by his eager
listeners : so his school at Athens was called the Peri-
patetic, or walking school. His father was a rich and
eminent physician of Stagira ; but Aristotle came to
Athens when only seventeen, that he might stud}^ with
Plato. He was rich enough to bu}^ books, which was a
great advantage ; and before making up his own opin-
ions he faithfully studied those of others.

We cannot leave Greek metaph3'sics without speaking
of two other forms whose names are well known to us,
although both views have been often misunderstood. Epi-
kouros was born in the decaj" of Grecian glor}^, 342 b. c,
and founded a school at Athens. He taught in a gar-
den, and made a s^'stem of his own. He said the object
of philosoph}^ was not to learn the truth, but simply to
learn how to live. Philosoph}' was the power by which
reason conducted men to happiness, and happiness was
the object of life. Happiness consisted in avoiding pain,
so it is not the enjoyment of the present moment only
that we must seek, but the enjoyment of the whole life.
Therefore you must be temperate to-da}' if 3^ou would

220 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

be comfortable to-morrow. But the pleasures of the
body are less than those of the soul; so 3'ou must be
virtuous if you would be happ}', because virtue gives
more lasting enjo3^ment than vice. This does not seem
a very elevated motive to appeal to, yet Epikouros led a
simple and modest life, and was always poor and tem-
perate. He despised metaphysics, because he con-
sidered that they were useless and contributed nothing
to happiness. But we cannot greatly admire a goodness
so founded upon self-interest and prudence ; and his doc-
trine possessed one fatal error. He taught " that a total
secession from public and civil business was the funda-
mental principle of a wisely regulated mode of life."
In a state like Athens, where every citizen had once
considered it his proud privilege to discuss public affairs,
to criticise the generals of the army, — where the act-
ual labor was performed by slaves, and the free citizens
passed most of their da}^ in talking, — where the life was
spent out of doors, and the philosophers taught in a
grove or in the market-place walking about among the
people, — the change was radical. If they did not dis-
cuss government and politics, they gave up the privilege
of freemen, and allowed themselves to be governed by
demagogues. Such indifference would ruin any country,
and the Stoics endeavored to recall the Greeks. Mr.
Lewes says, "Greece was falling to decay, and there
was nothing to counteract scepticism, indifference, and
Epicurean softness, except the magnificent but vague
works of Plato, or the vast but abstruse system of
Aristotle."

Alarmed at the scepticism which inevitablj^ followed
metaphysics, Zeno, the Stoic, fixed his mind also upon

GREEK PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORY. 221

the art of living ; but he made virtue, and not happi-
ness, to be the object of life ; and virtue was not in a life
of contemplation and speculation, but of activity. "O
Plato, man was not made for speculation onl}' ; wisdom
is not his onl}' pursuit ! O Epikouros, man is not made
for pleasure alone ; he was made to do somewhat, and to
be somewhat. Philosophy is a means, pleasure ma}' be a
means ; but the aim is to lead a virtuous life." Now this
is a noble and energetic doctrine : it recalls the morals
of Sokrates, the man^y energy of the early days of the
Greek history ; but it assumes that man is all intellect.
The pleasures and pains of the bod}' are not to be toler-
ated ; they are to be absolutely despised. It is man's
duty to surmount his passions and his senses, that he
may be free, active, virtuous ; only the pains and pleas-
ures of the intellect are worthy to occupy man. There is
something noble in this doctrine : as a reaction against
the low state of society it accomplished something,
the noblest Greeks and Romans became Stoics : but it
is a one-sided doctrine, and hardens and deadens the
heart. The struggle was vain, moreover, and scepticism
settled down over the world.

Of the Aryan races, the Greeks may be said to have
invented history ; for the Hindus did not winte it at
all, the Persians not until very much later. The tran-
scendent ablUty of the Greek historians has rendered
them the models of the civilized world for more than
two thousand years. The philosophical school in history
has outgi'own them ; but for a simple recital of actual
facts, they are still unsurpassed. The first in time is
the delightful Herodotos ; one is tempted to call him the
greatest. He used to be called the Father of Lies ; but
late discoveries have proved that his stories mostly are

222 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

true. He was born 484 b. c. He travelled far, into
Eg3'pt and Persia. He read his books which describe
the Persian wars before the assembled Greeks at the
Otympic Games. What an inspirhig audience for the
historian ! What admiring love the people must have
bestowed upon the man who could so well describe their
national glories ! His work is a faithful chronicle of
what he saw ; very long-winded , and full of episodes
and amusing gossip. He must be hard to translate,
because the connection is obscure. In the middle of
one story, an episode is suggested to him l)}- a name ;
so he rambles off, and long after returns to the original
thread. But everything seems real ; his personages live
and breathe, and seem like our own acquaintances :
we feel sure that they must be on our visiting list.
There is a simplicit}^ and naivete in the earl}' writings
of a literature which are more charming than all its
later glories. Herodotos is like Homer, childlike, art-
less, and real ; and these qualities are so rare that we
know how to value them when we find them. He does
not philosophize about causes, or argue about principles :
he simply tells what he has seen with the confidence of
a child, who is sure that you will be interested. It is
pleasant to find in him the stories we have alwaj's known ;
such as the visit of Solon to Kroisos ; the ring of Poly-
krates ; the birth, life, and death of Cyrus the Great ;
the battles of Salamis a^d Thermopylae His account
of Xerxes is extremely interesting, delightfully told,
with little naive touches of personal gossip. He was
among the first to use prose ; his is a prose epic.
Macaulay declares that he is and ever will be charm-
ing; and Taine speaks of " les periodes enfantines
d'Herodote."

GREEK PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORY. 228

There is no more enchantment when you come to the
pages of Thouk3'dides, 471 b. c. He is reasonable and
calm and unimpassioned. The opening of his history
is very dignified and simple : " Thoukydides, the Athe-
nian, has written the stor}' of the war between the Pelo-
ponnesians and the Athenians." And with a certain
consciousness of power and self-respect he saj^s : —

" My relation, because quite clear of fable, may prove less de-
lightful to the ear ; but it will afford sufficient scope to those
who love a sincere account of past transactfons, — of such as in
the ordinary vicissitudes of human affairs may occur again, or
at least be resembled ; I give it to the public as an everlasting
possession, and not as a contentious instrument of temporary
applause."

His expectations have been justified : his work has
indeed been ' ' an everlasting possession " ; for it is his-
tory that he gives us, — a recital of actual facts. Even
more, like a modern historian, he sifts his information ;
he does not blindly swallow it, like the delightful Hero-
clotos ; and he endeavors to seek out the causes of the
events. We must not expect to find him as critical and
philosophical as modern historians ; l^ut it was a ver}'
great step that he should have attempted to be either,
for he had no predecessor to invent a method, or even
teach him how to use prose ; he is so utterly unlike
Herodotos that he cannot have been modelled upon him.
There is a tradition that, when he was very young, he
heard Herodotos read aloud his history of the Persian
war, at the Olympic games, and wept because he could
not write history. Some authorities doubt the tradition.
Dr. Arnold speaks of the " simple sweetness of Herodo-
tos, the pithy conciseness of Thoukydides." His sub-

224 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDKED LITERATURES.

ject put liim at a disadvantage with Herodotos. The
fight of Athens and Sparta for power during twenty-
seven years, which he describes, is far less interesting in
itself than that struggle of united Greece against the Per-
sian invaders which Herodotos makes real to us. The
most interesting part of Thoukj'dides is the tale of the
Athenian expedition against Syrakousai in Sicily, told
in the sixth and seventh books. Its defeat caused the
decline and fall of Athens ; 3'et Thoukj'dides is wonder-
fully impartial, and praises or blames friend and foe
alike. His account of the night attack where "Greek
met Greek," when the Spartan allies of the Syrakousans
fought against the Athenians, is vivid ; in his description
of the last naval battle between the Greeks and S3ra-
kousans he shows some excitement ; but when he relates
the parting between the retreating Greeks and their d}'-
ing whom the}^ left behind, or when he tells of the suf-
x'erings of the Greeks sold as slaves, he writes clearly
indeed, but in the most cold-blooded manner. Thouky-
dicles is dull, except in those brilhant orations which he
puts into the mouths of his characters. The most beau-
tiful of these is an extract from Pericles's funeral oration
in commemoration of those who had fallen in battle.

" They gave their lives for their country, and gained for
themselves a glory that can never fade, a tomb that shall stand
as a mark for ages. I do not mean tliat in which their bodies
lie, but that in which their renown lives after them, to be
Temeujbered forever on every occasion of speech or action
which calls it to mind. For the whole earth is the grave and
monument of heroes: it is not the mere graving upon marble
in their native land which sets fortli their deeds ; but even in
Imds where they were strangers, there lives an unwritten
record in every heart, felt though never embodied."

GREEK PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORY. 225

Tlioiikj-dides does not pretend that these speeches are
genuine ; the}' were simply ornaments to the narrative ;
so he argues on both sides of the same question. He
studied rhetoric, the fashionable stud}' of the time ; and
these speeches give evidence of it : for they are the
work of an advocate, not an enthusiastic believer. We
do not read Thoukydides with delight, but we must ac-
knowledge his great intellectual power in an unbroken
field. Dr. Arnold speaks of "those brief touches of a
master hand, b}' which Thouln'dides has furnished matter
of thought for twent}' centuries."

Xenophon, 431 B.C., took up Greek history where
Thoukydides left it, in the Hellenics. He wrote many
books, — among them an account of Sokrates's conver-
sations ; he was a pupil of Sokrates. His K^Topaideia
is a life of Cyrus the Great of Persia : it is entirely
different from the life which Herodotos gives ; this dis-
crepanc}', puzzling to 3'outhful students who attack
Greek literature, is reconciled by discovering that Xen-
ophon's book is simpl}^ a treatise giving his views on
education : it is in fact the first historical novel ; not
true at all. The real Cyrus is found in Herodotos ; yet
OKe cannot help hoping that the beautiful stories of
Panthea and Abradatos, of Tigranes and the Armenian
princess, may be true after all. The book b}' v>^hich
Xenophon takes his own place as the third Greek his-
torian is the Anabasis. This is an account of the march
and return of ten thousand Greek mercenaries, who
joined the 3'ounger C3'rus in his revolt against his
brother and king. It was not, therefore, a patriotic ex-
pedition on either side ; and there is no loft}- feeling to
ennoble the ph^'sical sufferings. The expedition lasted

15

226 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

one year and three months. Xenophon, at first a mere
follower, became at length the general who conducted
the retreat. He shared ever}' peril, and wrote his ac-
count afterwards. He describes the whole expedition
in a very straightforward, matter-of-fact manner, with-
out any comments, whether philosophical or enthusiastic.
Only when the Greeks reach a hill-top from which they
behold the sea, and cry out, " Thalatta ! " does he show
the slightest emotion. The stor}^ tells of physical
sufferings, endured with courage and patience b}^, the
soldiers ; and of wise, persuasive speeches, models of
skilful oratory, made by their leader, Xenophon. B}^
them he was wonderfully successful in governing the
minds of his soldier}^ The soldiers were pious accord-
ing to their hght : they offered sacrifices and sang the
paean before going into ever}^ battle : and when the wind
blew very hard, they offered a sacrifice to the god of
the wind, which soon after abated. The st3'le of Xeno-
phon is good, because so simple and unpretentious ; it
is considered a model for every-day familiar Greek.
His style is his strong point ; for Xenophon is not great,
like Thoukydides, nor charming, like Herodotos. It
is undoubtedl}^ true that the reading of the Anaba-
sis inspired Alexander the Great with his design of
subjugating Greece, and conquering Persia, and thus
changing the destinies of the world. While Cjtus the
Younger failed, Alexander succeeded.

Among the ver}^ first writings of the Greeks were the
laws of Lykourgos in Sparta. Mr. Fergusson saj-s :
' ' These are a characteristic effort of a truty Aryan
race, and conferred on the people who invented them
that power of self-government and that capacity for

GREEK PHILOSOPHY AKD HISTORY. 227

republican institutions -which gave the Spartans such
stabiUt}' at home and such power abroad." At Athens
we find also a code of laws made b}' Solon, somewhere
near GOO b. c. The sti'uggles of the small states which
composed Greece are so frequent, and the states are so
small, that it is difficult for an ordinary mind to keep
a clear recollection of them all. But when we realize
that they were owing to the ver}^ energy and individual-
ism of the Arj'an character, we are at once interested ;
for we feel that the Greeks are our brothers. In the
second stage of every Ar3'an civilization, we find codes
of law, and political eloquence ; and thej^ grew into great
perfection in Greece. Among the many statesmen and
orators who glorified Greece, we shall mention only
the greatest; — Perikles, 495 b. c, as a statesman, be-
cause he gave his name to that astonishing literary
period which extended bej'ond his own actual life, when
Athens became the literary centre of Greece ; and
Demosthenes as an orator, 385 b. c, the last great
name of Greece as a nation. His strong orations are
still read and honored through the civihzed world ;
but Philip and Alexander subjugated Greece in spite of
them. Demosthenes died in 322 b. c, one 3^ear later
than Alexander : the political and literar}' glories of
Greece perished with them. All that Greek literature
which has enslaved the mind of man is the product of
three hundred years, from Solon to Alexander. Hence-
forward Greece was but a province of the Macedonian
empire, its nationality gone. But its literary glor}' re-
vived elsewhere.

In 332 b. c. Alexander the Great founded the city of
Alexandria in Egypt. A splendid court grew up there.

228 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDKED LITERATURES.

Greek was the language spoken. Literature was pa-
tronized and aided b^' every appliance which wealth and
power and peace could furnish. There were libraries
for poetr}^, which contained copies of all books. When
the Athenians were starving, Ptolemy Philadelphus
refused to send them food until they had given him
copies of Aischylos, Sophokles, and Euripides ; then,
in addition to food, he sent them fifteen talents of gold.
There were museums and perfect instruments for sci-
ence : her scientific instruments and discoveries are the
real goods of Alexandria. The mathematicians Euclid
and Archimedes throw a glory around this last strong-
hold of Paganism. Science and metaphysics lived and
grew in the atmosphere of a court ; but grand poetr}^,
earnest histor}^, political eloquence, were dumb : free-
dom and virtue are necessar^^ to them.

Not that there were no poets : there were man}^
The most original of them is Theokritos, 272 b. c. He
charmed the pompous court by inventing the idyl, —
that form of poetrj^ which describes, from a spectator's
point of view, the pleasures of a countr}' life. And,
since great ladies have alwa3's loved to play at shep-
herdesses, Theokritos was immensely admired. He
used the Doric dialect instead of the court language ;
and this gives him a rustic sweetness and romantic
simplicity, which may be the very perfection of art, but
are far removed from the genuine simplicity of nature.
Perhaps no Greek poet has been more copied than
Theokritos ; for the idyl, that very artificial st3'le, was
fashionable in Rome, and all over Europe after the
Renaissance, though no one wrote it with the grace
and tenderness of Theokritos, their master.

THE LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 229

CHAPTER VIII.

COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY OF THE LATIN AND
KELTIC LITERATURES.

WHEN we reach our Latin brethren, the begin-
nings are even more darkly hidden than in
India, Persia, Greece ; for we cannot even find that
Turanian race whose remains exist elsewhere. Most
writers class the Etruscans as Turanians ; but Momm-
sen, in his histor}' of Rome, puts them positive^ into
the Ar3'an famih'. If the Etruscans be not Turanians,
there are none in Italj^ ; but the question cannot be
regarded as settled. In all the other Aryan countries
are memorials of a primitive race, Turanians unques-
tionabh' ; but Ital}^ is singularly deficient in those
implements of stone or bone, those peculiarly formed
skeletons, which mark the primitive period. Mommsen
says there can be no doubt that the migration of the
Aryans into Ital}' took place by land: the}^ came over
the Apennines ; but how or when remains a m3'stery still.
The Romans, however, conquered all their brethren,
Aryans though the}' were, and remain the representa-
tives of the Aryans in Ital3^

The}' possessed some of the noblest characteristics of
their race, but are peculiarly wanting in others. The
spirituality of India, the gayety of Greece, are not nat-
ural traits of the Romans. They are a stern and serious
people ; but they had a deep reverence for moral worth

230 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

in their early da3's, which reminds us of Persia. In tlie
noblest Romans there were a manly energy, a stern
simplicit}', a passionate patriotism, which kindle our
enthusiasm as we read of them. Their aim was to
conquer nations abroad, and build up a powerful state
at home. Their genius expressed itself in a practical
manner : in roads, bridges, aqueducts ; in laws for the
protection of life and property. The farthest forests
of Gaul and Britain were made accessible b}^ Roman
roads, and habitable b}^ Roman laws.

Their gods are a reflection of their own minds, —
useful and practical beings ; narrow and prosaic, each
with some official work to perform. The oldest of them
show that the Romans were originally an agricultural
people: "The gods are of the homeliest simplicity;
sometimes venerable, sometimes ridiculous." The act
of sowing becomes the god Saturnus ; field labor be-
comes the goddess Ops ; the ground, the god Tellus.
The second gods to take shape were also brought into
existence by the habits of Roman thought. Increase of
riches was what the Roman desired ; not only by flocks
and herds, but afterwards by commerce and seafaring.
So he praj^ed to Mercurius, the god of traffic ; to For-
tuna, the goddess of good luck ; to Fides, the goddess
of good faith and honest3^ in dealing. All these arose
before contact with the Greeks. The double-headed
Janus is the most original of their gods ; as the sky of
morning, he is the tutelary spirit of all beginnings. He
first opened the da}' : next he opened all gates and
doors, and was invoked therefore at the beginning of
ever}^ act, — the god of all openings.

There were many gods : the ruler of them was Ju-

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 231

piter, that is, the D3'aus-pitar, whom the}' brought with
them from their early Aryan home. No mythical tales
have clustered around him, as in Greece ; but he takes
up many different occupations. As Jupiter Pluvius,
he is the heaven, giving rain ; one of Indra's char-
acteristics, the reader will remember. As the father
who protected the boundaries of a nation, he is Jupi-
ter Terminus : his statue was set up at the termination
of every Eoman road, and was moved as the road ex-
tended: to carry the statue of the god Jupiter Ter-
minus was one of the duties of every Roman army.
There is a quaint and artless side to their religion when
we know that there was also a Jupiter Pistor, whose
business it was to take care of bakers ! Juno is simply
the feminine form of D^-aus. The name was first Zeus,
then Zenon ; the Latin deities Janus and Diana are the
same word, and mean the sky of morning. Venus,
the Latin goddess of love and the patron deit}' of the
Romans, comes from the same root as our words ven-
erate and winsome. Neptune, the god who dwells in
the waters, is the same as the Greek Nereus. Pluto is
a ver}' respectable person. He is the same as the
Greek Hades, or Ploutos, the dweller in the dark
underworld ; the guardian of that hidden treasure, the
light of da}'. Mars, their god of war and killing, who
hurls the spear, comes from the root of the Maruts, the
storm-winds of the Rig Veda.

The most interesting discovery is about the Latin
Minerva. She comes from the same root as our word
mind. It is therefore thought or wisdom ; the piercing,
penetrating power of. the dawn, which sees and knows
all. She can be easily identified with the Sanskrit

232 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Ahana and the Greek Athene, dawn goddesses ; for she
has another Latin name, Matuta, the same root as the
French matin and our matutinal. The Latins had an-
other dawn goddess, Aurora ; but she is less noble.
She is the same root as Eos in Greek, Ushas in San-
skrit ; also, as oiirum^ gold, and urere^ to burn. This is
the golden color of the dawn burning along the sk3^
The Latin god Vulcan, the fire, comes from the San-
skrit ulka^ a firebrand. He reappears in Anglo-Saxon,
where we shall trace him further.

But the noblest as well as the most important of the
Latin deities was Vesta, the same as the Greek Hestia.
Her shrine was the sanctuary of peace and honorable
dealing. Men were obliged to keep the word which
they had plighted on the altar of Vesta, where burned
the sacred fire : for everything most sacred was associ-
ated with this fire. Each town had a hall where its chief
men met, and the fire on this public hearth was never
allowed to go out. When a colony started, it carried a
portion of the sacred fire of Vesta with it, in order to
keep up the bond of union with the parent state. Vesta
was also the guardian of the famil}^, as well as of the
state, among the Romans. There was a household
altar for each family, which could only be lighted by
the head of the famil3^ Our word famil}^ comes from
altar, — tliymele in Greek, familia in Latin ; for the
sacred centre of fire was also the centre of the family.
In addition to the pubhc gods we have just described,
each family worshipped its own Lares and Penates, —
the spirits of its deceased ancestors. They had the
same form of worship which we found in the Vedas,
— libations poured upon the ground, and sacrifices

LATIN AND KELTIC LITER ATUEES. 233

on the altar. This form, which scholars were once
obliged to imagine and reconstruct from hints scat-
tered through Greek and Latin books, has been so ex-
plained and illustrated by the h^^mns of the Rig Veda
that it is now proved to belong to each Arj'an famil}'.
The family worship paid to Agni in Sanskrit is pre-
ciseh' what we find given to Vesta among the Romans.
It is acknowledged that they preserved most faith-
fully the old Aryan family type. We do not find this
reverence of the sacred fire so all-important among
the Greeks, Kelts, or Teutons. But even the Romans
finally erected temples to other gods than Vesta. In
this they copied the Greeks, who paid more sacrifices
and libations to the bad gods than to the good ones.
The Latin branch of the Aryans had one belief which
we do not find among the Hindus or the Greeks. They
taught that every existing thing had a tutelar}' spirit
called a Genius, from whom its power and success came;
probably we get our guardian angel from this. It is not
precisel}' the same being as tlie .Fravashi of the Persians,
the Fylgia of the Norsemen ; for every plant, every na-
tion, even every building, had its genius, which arose and
perished with it : so new ones were constantly arising.

The Romans have what ma}' pass for a sacred book.
It is a very short chant sung by the Arval brethren,
who were the twelve priests who invoked blessings
upon the growth of the grain. It is a hymn to Mars,
but is far from the exquisite poetry and spirituality of
the hymns of the Vedas. These early Latin chants
are simply incantations to call down rain, or drive
away lightning from the growing seed ; thus giving
another proof that the first thoughts of the Latins

234 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

were agricultural. These chants had a peculiar metre
of their own, called the Saturnian, the same root as
tlie god Saturnus. The pipe was the national instru-
ment of the Romans, as the l3Te was of Greece. The
first poetry which we should call l3Tical was the funeral
chant, which was sung b^' some woman accompanied
by a piper, who followed the body to its burial-place.

Next came lays in praise of dead ancestors ; and
these were sung by bo3's at banquets. They de-
scended by memor}' and tradition from father to son :
but instead of developing into the glorious epics of In-
dia, Persia, Greece, Scandinavia, or Wales, these songs
remained baiTcn and bare ; no cycle of legends grew up
around them ; the prosaic nature of the Romans crushed
down poetry. No national god of song arose ; and the
old Latin language contains no word for poet. The
word vates belongs to a religious ritual ; it meant a
leader of the singing ; when afterwards applied to po-
etry, it retained the idea of divinely inspired singer,
the priest of the Muses. The singing and dancing were
at first religious, both in Greece and Rome ; in Greece,
they remained reputable employments ; but in Rome
they became insignificant first, disgraceful afterwards.

Yet these banquet songs, sung by the boys of the
clan, are all we have of old Rome. The old Roman
families kept them ahve long after the current of thought
had changed, and we are indebted to them for the most
interesting, as well as the most original, Roman charac-
ters. The tales of Romulus and Remus, the Sabine
women, Lucretia, and Coriolanus belong to this early
period. We shall o\\\j stop to inquire into that of
Romulus and Remus : they are the same twin deities

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 235

whom we find in each Uterature, as the As wins in San-
skrit, the dawn and the twilight alwa3's ; Romulus grad-
ualh' becomes the most important, and the stoiy told of
him is so like that of many other heroes that we are
tired of repeating it. His grandfather was warned that
the babe to be born would destro}' him ; so the child
was exposed to die, nursed b}' a wolf, and brought up by
a shepherd. He grew up strong and beautiful, and was
discovered by his princely bearing. All unconsciously
he killed his parents, and himself did not die, but dis-
appeared in a storm. All these circumstances appl}' to
Romulus in Latin, as the}' did to Feridun in Persian,
and Oidipous in Greek. Romulus's wolf has so many
brothers that we see at once that Romulus is one of
those beings invented to account for the name of a cit3%
There is no other original Roman literature. To con-
quer and subdue the outside world left the Romans no
time for the world of the human mind.

But when, after five centuries, they had conquered
Greece^ they were conquered in their turn. The Greek
religion and literature gained an entire ascendency over
their minds. The 3'oung noblemen of Rome were sent
to Greece to be educated, and spoke Greek in preference
to their native Latin. Then arose a rehgion and a
literature that are simph' copies of Greek literature ;
like all copies, elegant and finished, but not fresh and
living. The Greek philosophers and sophists were at
first expelled by the Roman Senate, as corrupting the
morals of the 3'outh ; but as orators, artists, and physi-
cians, the}" soon returned and ruled Rome. Cicero
introduced the Greek philosophy and literature to his
countrymen, and the ambitious young politicians soon

236 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

made use of Greek oratory and sophistr3\ The Em-
peror Augustus endeavored to patronize literature, and
gave his name to a period, the Augustan age, when
Virgil and Horace were personal friends of the Emperor.
The}^ tried to be patriotic and write upon Roman themes,
in Greek metre ; but the Greek metres were not con-
genial to the true Roman spirit. That was, at first, rural
and agricultural. The old Roman loved his plough, and
his great dark-ej'ed oxen, and his fertile field ; and so
Virgil, with his Bucolics and Georgics, and the second
half of the ^neid, is the most national poet.

One of the stories in the JEneid puzzled scholars,
but has lately been explained b}^ M. Breal, a French
savant ; that of Hercules and Cacus, in which Cacus, a
strange monster, stole the cows of Hercules, dragged
them backwards into a cave, and vomited forth smoke
and flame when Hercules tried to attack him : but Her-
cules killed him with his unerring arrows. Herculus
was an original Latin god, — the god of fields and
fences ; but the Romans seem to have confounded him
with the Greek hero, Herakles. So Hercules, the Latin,
is another form of the hero who fights with a monster.
Cacus is the same as the snake Vritra in Sanskrit, Azhi-
dalaka in Zend, the Python in Greek, the worm Fanir
in Norse. The cows are the same bright clouds, the
smoke and flame are the same hghtnings. Is it not
pleasant to meet him again among our Roman brethren?
Light and darkness, good and evil, are all over the
world. It is plain too that Virgil's ^neas is a distinct
form of the solar myth. His mother was a goddess,
the dawn ; he is parted twice from women whom he
loves, Creusa and Dido. He travels from land to land ;

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 237

he labors for the good of others ; fiiiall}', he does not
die, but disappears mysteriously' from the sight of men,
beneath the waters of the Xumician stream, — the sun
setting beneath the water.

It is interesting to notice within how short a period
the great names of Latin literature are confined, — but
little more than one hundred 3'ears, — which proves that
the Romans were not a literar}' people. Their prose
stands higher, relatively, than their poetry. Yet there
is something fine in their literature, — the lofty patriot-
ism which runs through it all. The humblest soldier
could forget himself and die for Rome ; and the writers
show some spark of the same spirit.

The most fatal influence which Greek literature exer-
cised was through the philosophy of Epikouros. The
same results followed which we saw in Athens : the
best Romans became Stoics, and endeavored to avert
the ruin the}' foresaw from the neglect of public duties.
Marcus Aurelius the Emperor, 121 a., d., and Epictetus
the slave, 90 a. d., were Stoics; and taught that true
philosoph}' consisted in the practice of virtue, not in
speculation. Prompted by Alexandria, both neglected
their native tongue to w^rite in Greek. Alexandria had
become a great commercial city. The mysteries of the
Egyptians, the fire worship of the Persians, the theocracy
of the Jews, the phildsoph}' of the Greeks, were prac-
tised in this cosmopolitan city. It even invented a new
school of metaphysics, and for a while paganism re-
vived and flouriehed there, and influenced Rome again.

Byzantium is the third great literary centre after
Alexandria and Rome ; but the greatest pagan work of
Byzantium was the splendid code of laws which still

238 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

forms the basis of the civil law of Europe. Tribonian,
the great lawyer, codified and formed the whole Roman
law. It is a true manifestation of an Aryan spirit,
undoubtedh^ the best and greatest legacy which Rome
has bestowed upon the world. The last gTeat pagan
writer was Boethius. He wrote upon the consolations
of philosophy, a. d. 470, and is interesting to us be-
cause he was translated into Anglo-Saxon b}^ Alfred
the Great. With him and Theodoric the Ostro-Goth
closes antiquity, and open the Middle Ages. But
before we can go on to the INIiddle Ages, we go back
to trace the rise and growth of two other pagan races,
our brothers still-

The next race in the development of the Arj'an
families is the Keltic, a great primitive race which once
occupied all Central Europe. The Keltic tribes are
supposed to have been the first to leave the common
home, and are said to have entered Europe as earl}^ as
1900 B. c. The}^ came by the northern slope of the
Balkan and Carpathian Mountains. Conquering and
moving onwards, they finally made a permanent settle-
ment, and occupied France, where they were called
Gauls ; a small part of Spain ; and England, Scotland,
Ireland, and Wales, then called Britain. AYe meet
them in histor}^ ; for the Gauls attacked Rome itself,
390 B. c, and inhabited Britain when the Romans in-
vaded it. The wild Keltic tribes were overcome and
pushed back everywhere. In France they were driven
to the sea-coast, to what is now the province of Brit-
tan}^, with the language called Bas Breton ; in England
the}^ sought the sea-coast of Cornwall and the moun-
tains of Wales, where their language is called Kymric ;

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 239

the Highlands of Scotland, where it is called Gaelic;
Ireland, where the language is Erse ; the Isle of Man,
where their Manx language is still a spoken tongue.
Philolog}' has taught us much of our knowledge about
them; for Matthew Arnold says: "Philology, that
science which in our time has had so manj' successes,
has not been abandoned by her good fortune in touch-
ing the Kelt." The word Wales means simpl}' a foreign
country ; Welsh means a foreigner. The Romans ap-
plied these words to the Kelts and the country where
they took refuge. The words Gaul, Gael, and Scot
are the same at bottom ; they mean a violent, stormy
people. But the discoveries to which the Erse language
contributed have the mofet general interest. The Keltic
races were discovered to belong to the Indo-European
famih' b}' two Erse words : traith^ the sea, has the same
root as the name of a Sanskrit deit}', Tritona ; of a
Zend hero, Thraetaoma ; of the Greek goddess Amphi-
trite ; of the Latin god Triton ; — all connected with
the sea ; and the kej' to the riddle of the whole was the
Erse word for sea, traith. The Keltic languages are
still spoken, except in Cornwall. You ma}' recognize
them b}' the two vowels coming together, and 3'et not
forming a diphthong, — Ploermel, Coetlogen, and such
words.

It is curious to know that the Kelts as a race are
deficient in two characteristics of their Aryan race, —
a respect for women, and codes of well-organized law.
Perhaps the reason that they were pushed back and
crowded down b}- the Romans first, and the Teutons af-
terwards, was this very absence of organization, law, and
order. They have one growth which is peculiarly their

240 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

own, — the wildly beautiful music of the Gaels in Scot-
land, and the Erse in Ireland. '' The law forbade the
seizure bj' justice of a Gael's sword, harp, and one book ;
the harp and book being as precious as the sword."

But the most important thing about them is that
the}', among the surrounding nations who had long
forgotten their noble origin, preserved unchanged the
primitiA^e religion the}" had brought with them, which
we found explained in the Rig Veda. The first knowl-
edge we have of them is from the testimou}" of educated
Romans, — Caesar, Strabo, and Lucan. These all agree
that the Keltic tribes worshipped one God, called Teu-
tates. This is a form of D^^aus, Zeus, Theos, Deus,
— the bright sky deified and 'personified. The word
was traced b}' a French savant^ M. Leflocq. He saj'S :
*' The poetic naturalism of the Veda and the Edda is
found in the few remains of Gaulish mythology : it is a
remembrance of a primitive worship, anterior to all
paganism." He is my authority for the meaning of the
word. The Romans also agree that the Kelts in Gaul
and in Britain taught the pre-existence and the immor-
tality of the soul. You may imaghie what a marvel
tMs must have seemed to the Romans, who were not at
all certain about these things ; but to us who have
found them in the Rig Veda it is onl}^ natural that the
Kelts should believe them. They taught that a noble
action raised the soul to a higher condition of bod}-, a
bad action made it sink to a lower ; which is simply
transmigration. They had priests and bards, who were
called Druids. Here is a song of Taliesin, their great-
est bard, which describes transmigration better than
any other poem known, and most poetically also.

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES, 241

" When my creation was accomplished, I was formed b}- the
earth, by the flowers of the nettle, by the water of the ninth
wave. By the wisest of the wise I was marked, — I was
marked in the primitive world when I received existence. I
played in the night ; I slept in the dawn ; I was in the bark
with Dylan when the water, like the lances of an enemy, fell
from heaven into the abyss. I have been a spotted serpent
on the mountain ; I have been a viper in the lake ; I have
been a star among the chieftains ; I have been a dispenser of
liquids, clothed in sacred robes, bearing the cup. Much time
has slipped by since I was a shepherd. I wandered long over
the earth before becoming skilful in science. I have wan-
dered ; I have slept in a liundred isles ; I have moved in a
hundred circles."

The Druid priests were allowed to spend twenty
j^ears in learning the sacred hymns ; but, as they never
committed anything to writing, the hymns are lost to
us. AYe need not regret this, since we have the Vedic
h3'mns, which are sufficient to prove all our conclu-
sions ; but we shall at once be reminded of the customs
in India. It was formerly believed that the cromlechs
and dolmens of Brittany and Stonehenge were the
Druid temples ; but the latest researches declare that
they were built before the Kelts left Asia. But it is
certain that the Kelts had altars erected in groves ;
which therefore became sacred, like the altar groves of
the Greeks, and Teutons. Here originate all the en-
chanted forests of the Middle Ages. Oaks were sacred
among the Kelts, as among the Teutons. Our ideas
of Druids were based upon the opera of Norma ; it is
pleasant to find the truth about them so much more val-
uable and interesting. These Druids were also teachers
and judges and physicians. Finally their power was so

16

242 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDEED LITERATURES.

great, like the Brahmans in India, that the warriors
arose and reduced them to submission. But the bard
retained his power for centuries. Each Keltic king,
who was simply the chief of a clan, had liis domestic
bard attached to his petty court. The bard carried a
harp presented b}^ the king, wore a gold ring presented
by the queen. His business was the same as in other
nations ; but these bards seem to have wandered less.
They sang the deeds of national heroes, the genealogies
of families, and the victories of tribes or single chief-
tains. Here are the laws relating to them : —

" The domestic bard shall receive from the family one beas
out of every spoil in which he shall be present ; and, if
there should be fighting, the bard shall sing in front of the
battle, ' His land shall be free ' ; and he shall have a horse
from the king, and a man's share, like every domestic. The
domestic bard, and the physician, shall be in the lodging of the
master of the family. At the table he sat below the salt, with
the domestic chaplain. But the great president of all the
bards, who has Avon the prize in contests, shall sit at the royal
table."

They exercised such power that the Romans punished
them, and they fled to Wales. When the Romans left
Britain, 426 a. d., the Kjniry recovered power for a
short time, and the bard flourished in his greatest glor}^
This was a brilliant period for the K3"mr3^ The}' had in-
telligent princes, fond of fighting, and the songs of their
bards of the sixth century are full of fire, or genuine
pathos ; they were written in triads of three lines, in-
stead of four, peculiar to the Welsh bards. Then came
in the Saxon invasions ; and the Kelt and the Teuton
fought and hated each other for centuries. The cattle-

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 243

stealing, the border warfare, which are perpetuall}^ crop-
ping out in Scott's ballads, began here in the sixth
centur}'. It is proved b}^ the fact, that the title Jarl is
frequentl}' given to the Kj-mric princes ; it is stolen
bodil}' from the Saxon invader.

This year, a chief, lavish of wine, gold pieces, hydromel,
and full of couragS without barbarity, broke over the borders.

And followed by a swarm of lances, and his united chieftains,
and his brilliant nobles, all well disposed, he went to battle ;

And, mounted upon his horse, he endured the battle of
Menao, kindling the bardic Muse.

What abundant booty for the army ! eight times twenty
beasts of one color, cows and calves.

Milch cows and oxen, and riches of every kind !

Oh, I should have ceased to be cheerful, if Urien had perished !

He has been cut to pieces, that chieftain of a different lan-
guage ; trembling, shuddering, the Saxon has had his white hair
bathed in his blood. They carried him away on a litter, his
brow bloody, ill defended by the blood of his own people.

This brave and insolent warrior left his wife a widow.

I have wine from my chieftain ! I often have wine, thanks
to him .' It is he who inspires me, he who supports me, he
who guides me ; no one equals him in greatness !

But the enemies are fighting. Keeper of the door, listen !

What a noise ! is it the earth trembling? Is it the sea rising,
breaking over its habitual circle, as for the feet of men ?

If a groaning arises in the valley, is it not Urien who is
striking ?

If a groaning arises on the mountain, is it not Urien who
is conquering ?

If a groaning arises on the hill-side, is it not Urien who is
crushing ?

244 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

If a groaning arises in the citadel, is it not Urien who
makes it to be uttered ?

Groaning on the road, groaning on the plain, groaning in
all the mountain passes !

There is nobody who can make these groanings cease !
there is no refuge against him !

There is no famine for those who plunder in his land 1

When he fights, clothed in his armor, enamelled with daz-
zling blue, his blue lance is the lieutenant of death, in the
carnage of his enemies.

Ah ! until I lose myself, growing old, until the rude an-
guish of death arrives, I shall not smile unless I celebrate
Urien !

This is certainly very poetical and exciting. I trans-
lated it from the French collection. The ballad proves
that the chiefs lived b}' plnnder, by cattle-stealing.
The bard congratulates himself on serving a chief who
can pa}" him so well. The "chieftain of a different
language" is not the Roman at all, bat the invading
Saxon ; the Romans had been driven off. These ballads
of the sixth century were not written down until the
eleventh and twelfth centuries. But there is no doubt
that they were composed in the sixth century-, their
form, their technical part, is so much better than that
of the other mediaeval ballads. This correctness of
form proves that there had been an early period of great
poetical development ; and there is also a stream of
continuous testimony from historical writers who were
Christian monks, to prove that this older national litera-
ture existed in the sixth century.

I dwell so strongh^ upon this point, because, when
it is granted, unlocked for consequences will appear.
King Arthur, the verj- flower and model of chivalry,

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 245

Arthur, the Christian knight, the blameless king, was
first a Keltic hero, sung by the Druid bards. Shall I
sa}^ more, or is it already guessed that Arthur, like
so man}^ other Aryan heros, is only the sun and its
course personified in a human form? It is be3'ond
doubt that Arthur lived, a date is even fixed for him
at 542 ; but the mind of his race could not invent new
facts about him. Those ver}^ circumstances which hap-
pen to each Aryan hero fasten themselves upon him,
with a monotony which would become wearisome had it
not a great principle lying underneath it. Certainl}^ if
the Kelts had imagined a hero, the}' would have found
some new thing for him to do. That they did not,
proves that they simply formulated the thoughts which
lie dormant in each branch of the race, brought from
its home.

A C3'cle of ballads has grown up around him, but the f
different heroes are but reflections of Arthur. We maj^
digress for a moment to remark that each literature has
these secondarj' heroes, who are but faint reflections of
the glory of the chief hero. In Sanskrit, Arjuna is the
reflection of Krishna ; in Greek, Patroklos of Achilleus,
Telemachos of Odj'sseus ; Remus of Romulus, in Latin.
"We will therefore separate Arthur from the knights ',
who surround him, and look at his story. His birth
was supernatural : as soon as he was born he was
wrapped in gold-colored glittering raiment, and taken
awa}^ from his mother. He was brought up by a kind
old knight, from charity, and knew nothing of his royal
birth. Then the king died, and all were striving for the
crown. The lords came into a church-yard, and there
"stood an anvil of stone, and stuck therein a fair sword,

246 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

naked at the point, and letters of gold were written
abont the stone, that said this : 'Whoso puUeth out this
sword out of this stone and anvil is rightwise born king
of England.' " All the great lords tr}', but of course
none can pull out the sword but Arthur. This is ex-
actly the stor}^ of the sword in the Volsung Saga, and
somewhat like that of the sword of Theseus in Greek.
The beard and hair of Arthur shine like gold, and the
nobles are forced to make the beautiful 3'outli their king.
Then enemies attack the land, but Arthur draws the
' ' sword that flashed in the eyes of his enemies like
thirty torches," and kills them all. Finall}^, in battle,
this sword snaps, like the sword in the Volsung Saga.
Then a maiden out of the water, like Thetis in Greek,
like Hiordis in Norse, brings him another sword : while
she keeps the scabbard, his life is safe ; he can neither
bleed nor die : Arthur thus becomes another of the
invulnerable heroes. He has miraculous powers over
nature ; an owl, a blackbird, and a stag talk to him,
and do his bidding ; these are the same talking animals
which we meet in other Aryan literatures. Then Arthur
marries the queen of the Orkneys, whom he soon leaves.
She is the mother of Sir Mordred, who afterwards seeks
to kill him ; and she is his sister, although he does not
know it. Merlin warns him that he will be destro^^ed
by his sister's son, vfho will be born on May-day ; and
he orders all the children born on Maj'-day to be
drowned. But Mordred escapes, and grows up to kill
his father. This brings Arthur still more closely- within
the mythical framework. It is the old stor}^ of the
sun marrying the dawn, — of one day destroying the
day which preceded it ; and shows very clearly that

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 247

Arthur was a pagan demigod before he became a Chris-
tian king.

The Kelts in AVales, the K^-mrj', embraced Christian-
it}- ver}' earl}' from their Roman invaders, and with a
passionate enthusiasm which was highly edifying to the
Christian monks. And this Christian influence makes
Arthur fight against the invading Saxons, because they
are pagans. It is the old contest between good and evil.
It is most perceptible, however, in the modifications it
gives to the stor}' of Lancelot and Gwennivar. Arthur
weds her, although Merlin tells him she is not a whole-
some wife for him. She brings with her a rich dowr}-,
the round table ; now this is the bardic table of the
Druids, the round emblem which appears so often, and
is alwa3's a s^-mbol of riches ; and Gwennivar and her
riches plaj' the same fatal part that Helen played in-
Greece. She is the destroyer of her countr}' The in-
vading kings ravage the land again, scarce one month
after Arthur is married : and he cries out like the wan-
derer, ' ' Never have I had one month's rest since I be-
came king of the land." So Arthur's life goes on in
fighting ; finally Lancelot plaj-s the part of Paris in
the Ihad. He makes Gwennivar untrue to her husband,
and a last great battle comes between the forces of the
two. Here the myth brings in the snake. There was
to be no fighting until a sword should be raised ; but
a snake bit one of the knights ; he raised his sword to
sla}' it, and the two armies, supposing it to be the sig-
nal, came to battle. His son, the traitor Sir Mordred,
wounded the bright king, because the scabbard of his
sword had been stolen. Yet Arthur cannot die till
the sword has been thrown into the water, for the sun

248 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

must set in the waters. But Arthur is one of those
heroes who does not die. The three m^-stic queens,
Hke the three fates, or three furies, bear him awa}^ in
the ship of the dead, — but he will return. All Wales
and Brittany look for his coming. He has onl}' gone to
the land of Avalon to be healed of his grievous wound.
Now the word Avalon means the island of apple-trees.
The paradise of the Kelts was always an island far over
the blue seas, beneath the setting sun. And if he return,
so will the heroes of other lands, Sebastian of Portugal,
or Endymion, who sleeps in his Latmian valley ; the
sun must return when healed of the wound the dark-
ness had given it, for the sun cannot realty die. Then
Gwennivar's career closes in pra3'er. She leaves Ar-
thur, as Helen left Menelaos ; but she does not follow
Lancelot. Her treasure, the round table, is destroyed,
but she seeks to atone for the wrong she has done to
her countr}^ : unlike Helen, who coolly goes back with-
out the slightest consciousness of wrong-doing, carry-
ing her treasures with her.

And the story is repeated in the tale of Tristram and
Iseulte, with the pagan tone remaining more visible.
Many single incidents are repeated in relation to the
knights. Sir Galahad finds his sword, just as Arthur
found his ; but one hero is the t3'pe of all.

Nothing can be more interesting than to trace the
road which these ballads took, in coming down to us.
Disheartened by the successes of the invading Saxons,
many Kelts fled from Wales into Brittany in the sixth
centur}', and carried their native hero, Arthur, with them.
For several centuries Wales and Brittany were practi-
cally one, (this intercourse of nations makes history

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 249

very living to us,) and Arthur was their own king,
dearer than the other knights : so he became the na-
tional hero of Brittan}- : ruins bear his name, rocks the
impress of his horse's feet, and the haunted forest of
Broceliande, where Merlin slumbers, waves its boughs
in the enchanted air of Brittan}^ too. These tales of
Arthur and his knights of the round table were sung
in Brittau}' b}' the poor homesick exiles, and thence
the}' passed to the court of the Franks. These bold
Teutons had played the same part as the Saxons in
England ; had invaded Gaul, and pushed the Kelts into
Brittany ; and in 513 a. d. the Welsh bards were singing
to Childebert. From his court this ballad cycle spread
over Europe, because bards of different nationalities met
there ; each sang in his native tongue, and the rude
king made them welcome, though he could not under-
stand them. Several centuries went b}' : in 1077 Rh3's
ap Tudor, a Welsh prince, was sent to his kindred in
Brittany to be educated ; when he returned to Wales, he
brought with him the ballad cycle of Arthur and the round
table, which had been forgotten in his native land, and
restored them as they had been ' ' sung at Caerleon upon
Usk, at the time of the sovereignty of the Emperor
Arthur and the race of the Kymrj- over the island of
Britain and the adjacent islands." So the Welsh bards
began to sing again of Arthur. There was in the
twelfth century another great burst of bardic poetry in
AVales ; but these later ballads are extremel}' stupid ;
they are composed according to fixed rules ; even when
read one at a time, they are not inspiring, like the
grand ballads of the sixth century. The bards espoused
the cause of the Plantagenet kings as against the Anglo-

250 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Saxons. The old hatred reawakened, and the}" declared
the Plantagenets to be the rightful possessors of the
crown, on account of a prophec}' of Merlin, which I will
quote, it is so poetical.

" From Neustria [Normandy] will come a people mounted
upon coursers of blood, clothed with iron, who will draw ven-
geance down upon the wickedness of the invaders. They will
give back their dwellings to tlie former inhabitants, and will
ruin the strangers. They [the Anglo-Saxons] will hear the
yoke of an eternal slavery. With the hoe and the plough they
will tear up the bosom of their mother [the earth]. That day
the mountains of Cambria [Wales] will tremble with joy; the
fountains of Brittany will gush out ; the oaks of Cornwall will
grow green again."

So of course the Plantagenet kings honored them,
and Henry II. went to Whales expressly to hear them.
It is now said that Edward did not cause the bards to
be massacred when he conquered Whales in 1284 a. d. ;
so that Gra3^'s splendid ode is founded upon a mis-
take. But the}" were suppressed and silenced, for they
fostered political discontent. About a hundred years
ago their poetical contests, called Eistedclvods, were
renewed. Their ballads about Arthur were translated
into Latin b}^ Geoffre}^ of Monmouth, a AYelsh monk,
and he is one of the sources from whom we get the
ballad cycle. Without him that form of it might have
perished with the Welsh nationalit}-.

But there is quite another source from which we have
derived our story of Arthur, flower of kings. In the
twelfth century, 1155 a. d., a Norman Trouvere named
Robert W^ace found these ballads ready made to his
hand. He took the same names, the same story ; but

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 251

liG threw over it an utterl}' different spirit, — the spirit
of his age, — and as such Arthur has come down to
us. He was no longer a brave warrior fighting against
pagan Saxons ; he is the brightest expression of the
noble chivalric spirit, truly Christian throughout his
whole career ; filled with an exalted tenderness, a re-
fined sentiment, far removed from the Keltic demigod's
sensual life. Of course the Trouveres carried this ver-
sion ever3'where. They brought it to England, to the
court of the Norman kings ; and it was carried back
again by their French waives to Anjou and Aquitaine,
to Poitou and Guyenne, — thus spread still further in
Europe. The French dwell with the greatest pride and
delight upon their Keltic ancestors, and have done far
more to make known the literature of Brittan}^ than the
p]nglish for all their Keltic possessions. I am indebted
to the ver}' learned and careful works of M. le Vicomte
de la Yillemarque for tracing the moA^ements of the
ballad cycle of Arthur. And I have described it so
minutel}^ onl}' because it explains how many other ideas
found their waj' into mediaeval literature.

With this ballad cycle of Arthur has been connected
the stor}' of the IIol}^ Grail ; but it was originally
separate and distinct from that. Perhaps the most
interesting discovery of comparative m3'tholog3^ is that
which connects this sublime myster}^ of Christianity
w4th the early pagan thought of humanit}'. The Druid
bards taught the existence of a great earth mother,
like the Demeter of the Greeks. They called her
Keridwen, and worshipped her with m3'steries, and
taught that she had a might3" caldron or bowl contain-
ing a drink w^hich inspired them to utter their songs.

252 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

From the bardic songs this idea passed into the popular
tales of the Welsh ; their collection is the oldest of all
the Keltic folk stories, and is charming indeed. Mat-
thew Arnold sa3's : "It breathes the very breath of the
primitive world ; it belongs to the sixth-century period,
all pagan and m3'thological. Through it shine plainly
those old m3'ths which wandered westward with this
oldest emigrant of the Ar^'an race." If it paints the
feeling of the times, it proves the brilliant civiliza-
tion of the Kymr}' in the sixth centur}' ; for these tales
were told to amuse and instruct the 3'oung chieftains.
The}^ show a high morality, great generosit}^ to friends,
and a strong love of literature ; but all the marvels are
performed b}' supernatural power, and these fairy tales
of the Mabinogeon are the foundation of nine tenths
of the romances of the Middle Ages. It is amazing to
find here the familiar figures, and delightful to be able
to understand just how thev came into Europe. Here
reappears the knight delivering distressed damsels from
monsters read}^ to devour them. One character is pe-
culiarl}' Keltic : a hero kills a serpent which tormented
a lion, and the grateful lion follows him about like a
pet dog : this troublesome pet often comes into the
mediaeval stories. We must be thankful to the Mabi-
nogeon for something more satisfactory^ still. We
owe to it Shakespeare's Cordelia, who is the lady
Creiddylad. King Lear is King Ludd. But we will
confine ourselves to one particular tale.

Peredur leaves his home to seek for a great basin or
caldron, which is called in* K3'mric a graal ; and the
exiled Welsh carried with them to Brittau}' the story of
the search for the graal. Of course it lived and grew,

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 253

like the ballad cycle. Now it is evidenth^ the same
round vessel which appears, in countless forms, in each
literature : the cup of Djemschid in Persian ; the en-
chanted cup from which Odj-sseus drinks in Kirke's
palace ; the horn of plenty of the Greeks ; the purse of
Fortunatus, always full ; the lamp of Aladdin, which
bestovrs treasures. It is the round table which Gwen-
nivar brought as her .dowry, the caldron of Keridwen.
It is an emblem of the fertilit}^ of the earth, and it
always yields exhaustless riches to its possessor ; so
that the search for the graal is that same vo3'age for
treasures which appears in the Greek voyage for the
golden fleece. In the poetical activity of the twelfth cen-
tury, a Trouvere named Chretien de Tro3'es, 1160 a. d.,
rewrote this pagan tale : he made it into a poem full of
the tone of chivahic Christianit3\ The San Greal could
cure all wounds, raise the dead to life, and suppl3^ its
possessors with food and drink forever, — meats more
delicate than mortals had ever tasted before ; but the
reason it could do all these miracles was because it
contained the blood of Christ, caught as it dropped
from the cross. And then another difference : the
magic graal of the pagans fed good and bad ahke ; but
the Hoh^ Grail yielded its delicious food onl3' to the
pure in heart. More, it even became a talismanic test.
The foul with sin could not even see it. A vision came
to a knight of Arthur's court. He saw a herd of black
bulls, — among them, two snowy white, and one white
spotted with black. And the interpretation was that
the black bulls were the knights black with sin, who
had not repented and confessed to a hoh" priest ; the
snow-white were Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval, all pure

254 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

and good ; the spotted one, Sir Lancelot, with one sin
marring his snow}- purity. And the fair meadow where
they fed was humihty and patience, which were to be the
starting-point of their search for the H0I3' Grail. So
all the knights go forth to seek this heavenl}^ treasure.
It would be too long to tell you of their adventures.
Wagner's new opera, soon to be published, " Parsifal,"
tells the stor3^ The sinful knights seek in vain. Lan-
celot dimly sees it ; but it dashes him senseless to the
ground. Sir Galahad and Sir Perceval taste its deli-
cious food : then it is borne up into heaven. They
linger a little while in the cell of a holy hermit : then
they follow it to heaven. The lovel}^ story is familiar
to us all : for that very reason we more enjo^^ watching
its development. M. de la Villemarque is my authority
for the meaning of the word graal.

The Keltic spirit has affected our hterature indirectly
as well. Matthew Arnold says that it owes to the
Kelts its capacity for style, for poetic form, — for in
this the Teutons are extremely deficient, and the Welsh
bards pre-eminent, — its sensibility to beaut}", and its
power of catching and rendering the charm of nature ;
— in a word, the dash of genius comes from the Kelt.
In the Mabinogeon, Math made a wife for his pupil out
of flowers, " and four white trefoils sprang up wherever
she trod." Is not this poetic ? A twelfth-century bard
wrote : —

" See her the earth elastic tread ;
And where she walks with snow-white feet
Not even a trefoil bends its head."

Our language owes to its Keltic element some popular
words : basket, kick, twaddle, fudge, hitch, and muggy.

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 255

The next Keltic literature arose in Brittanj\ The
earhest written document in Bas Breton is in the ninth
century ; but there were unwritten ballads before then.
The Bretons have a ballad literature which is positively
beautiful, not relatively so : for it will bear comparison
with any other. These ballads have been handed down
from father to son, by recitation among the peasants,
since the tenth century. They have kept alive the
national faiths and glories and manners in this nook
of France. Some of them are distinctly historical ;
more so than the English Chev}' Chace and the Scotch
Border Minstrelsy. One ballad is now repeated which
actually was sung at the time of William the Conqueror,
1066 A. D. Here is one of the historical ballads, which
is quite unlike anything we are accustomed to.

THE EVIL TRIBUTE OF NOM^NOE.

[Nomenoe is the Alfred of the Bretons, their deliverer from
the Franks, — a strictly historical personage. 871 a. d.]

FYTTE L

" Good merchant, farer to and fro,

Hast tidings of my son, Karo ? "

" Mayhap, old chieftain of Are :

What are his kind and calling? — say."

" He is a man of heart and brains,

To Eoazon [Rennes] he drove the wains ;

The wains to Roazon drove he.

Horsed with good horses, three by three.

That drew, fair shared among them all,

The Breton's tribute to the Gaul."

" If thy son's wains the tribute bore,

He will return to thee no more.

256 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

When that the coin was brought to scale

Three pounds were lacking to the tale.

Then out spoke the Intendant straight,

' Vassal, thy head shall make the weight.*

With that his sword forth he abrade,

And straight smote off the young man's head ;

And by the hair the head he swung,

And in the scale for make-weight flung."

The old chief, at that cruel sound,

Him seemed as he would fall in swound.

Stark on the rocks he grovelled there,

His face hid with his hoary hair ;

And, head on hand, made heavy moan,

" Karo, my son, my darling son! "

FYTTE II.
Then forth he fares, that aged man,
Followed by all his kith and clan;
The aged chieftain fareth straight
To Nomenoe's castle gate.
" Now tell me, tell me, thou porter bold,
If that thy master be in hold.
But be he in, or be he out,
God guard from harm that chieftain stout.'*
Or ever he had prayed his prayer.
Behold, Nomenoe was there !
His quarry from the chase he bore,
His great hounds gambolling before ;
In his right hand his bow unbent,
A wild boar on his back uphent ;
On his white hand, all fresh and red
The blood dripped from the wild boar's head.
" Fair fall you, honest mountain clan,
Thee first, as chief, thou white-haired man.
Your news, your news, come tell to me.
What would you of Nomenoe ? "

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 257

" We come for right : to know in brief

Hath heaven a God, Bretayne a chief."

" Heaven hath a God, I trow, okl man,

Bretayne a chief, if aught I can."

" He can that will, thereof no doubt ;

And he that can the Erank drive out

Drives out the Frank, defends the land,

To avenge and still avenge doth stand, —

To avenge the living and the dead,

Me and my fair son foully sped ;

My Karo, whose brave head did fall

By hand of the accursed Gaul.

They flung his head the weights to square :

Like ripe wheat shone the golden hair."

Herewith the old man wept outright,

That tears ran down his beard so white,

Like dew-drops on a lily flower

That glitter at the sunrise hour.

When of those tears the chief was ware,

A stern and bloody oath he sware :

" I swear it by this wild boar's head,

And by the shaft that laid him dead.

Till this plague 's washed from out the land,

This blood I wash not from my hand."

FYTTE JIT.
Nomenoe hath done, I trow.
What never chieftain did till now, —
Hath sought the sea-beach, sack in hand,
To gather pebbles from the strand, —
Pebbles as tribute-toll to bring
The Intendant of the bald-head king.
Nomenoe hath done, I trow.
What never chieftain did till now.
Prince as he is, hath ta'en his way,

The tribute-toll himself to pay

17

258 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

• " Fling wide the gates of Roazon,
That I may enter in anon.
Nomenoe comes within your gate,
His wains all piled with silver freight."
" Light down, my lord, into the hall,
And leave your laden wains in stall.
Leave your white horse to squire and groom,
And come to sup in the dais room :
To sup, but first to wash, for lo !
E'en now the washing horn doth blow."
" Full soon, fair sir, shall my washing be made,
When that the tribute hath been weighed."
The first sack from the wains they pight,
(I trow 'twas corded fair and tight,) —
The first sack that they brought to scale,
'T was found full weight and honest tale :
The second sack that they came to,
The weight therein was just and true :
The third sack from the wains they pight,
" How now, I trow, this sack is light ! "
The Intendent saw, and from his stand
Unto the sack he reached his hand, —
He reached his hand the sack unto.
So that the knot he might undo.
'' From off the sack thy hand refrain :
My sword shall cut the knot in twain ! "
The word had scantly passed his teeth,
When flashed his bright sword from the sheath.
Through the Frank's neck the falchion went.
Sheer by his shoulders as he bent ;
It cleft the flesh and bones in twain.
And eke the links o' one balance chain.
Into the scale the head plumped straight,
And there, I trow, was honest weight !
Loud through the town, the cry did go :
" Hands on the slayer ! Ho, Haro ! "

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 259

He gallops forth out through the night :
" Ha ! torches, torches ! — on his flight ! "
" Light up, light up, as best ye may !
The night is black, and frore the way.
But ere ye catch me, sore I fear
The shoes from off your feet you '11 wear, —
Your shoes of gilded blue cordwain : —
For your scales, — you '11 ne'er need them again !
Your scales of gold, you '11 need no more,
To weigh the stones of the Breton shore.

To war ! "

Y^ou will find evidence in this of that form of govern-
ment b}'- clan which was once supposed to be peculiar
to the Highlands of Scotland ; but since the discovery
of Sanskrit literature this clan government is found to
have existed among the undivided Ar3'ans. So the
Kelts, who were the first to leave the common home,
are also those who have longest kept their original sim-
plicit}' of government. But there are other ballads,
spirited war-songs, tender love-songs, and touching fu-
neral dirges. These dirges are perhaps the most beau-
tiful, but it is difficult to decide w^hen all are so lovely.
One ballad tells of a phantom arm}- sweeping by, like
Odin and his warriors. It is written in triads, the Keltic
metre.

Here is a mythological ballad of the sixth centur}-.
It contains familiar characters. The wife is the dawn
and the twilight ; the Corrigaun is the same wicked
enchantress who beguiles Odysseus, the darkness, sis-
ter of Kirke and Kalypso.

260 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

THE LORD NANN AND THE FAIRY.

[The Corrigaun is identical with the Scandinavian eK.]

The good Lord Nann and his fair bride

Were young when wedlock's knot was tied,

Were young when death did them divide.

But yesterday, that lady fair

Two babes as white as snow did bear ;

A man-child and a girl they were.

" Now say what is thy heart's desire

For making me a man-child's sire ?

'T is thine, whate'er thou mayst require.

What food soe'er thee lists to take,

Meat of the woodcock from the lake.

Meat of the wild deer from the brake."

" O the meat of the deer is dainty food !

To eat thereof would do me good.

But I grudge to send thee to the wood."

The Lord of Nann, when this he heard.

Hath gripped his oak spear with never a word :

His bonny black horse he hath leaped upon,

And forth to the greenwood he hath gone.

By the skirts of the wood as he did go,

He was 'ware of a hind as white as snow.

O, fast she ran, and fast he rode.

That the earth it shook where his horse hoofs trode.

O, fast he rode, and fast she ran.

That the sweat to drop from his brow began,

That the sweat on his horse's flank grew white :

So he rode, and he rode, till the fall of night,

When he came to a stream that fed a lawn

Hard by the grot of a Corrigaun.

The grass grew thick by the streamlet's brink.

And he lighted off his horse to drink.

The Corrigaun sat by the fountain fair,

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 261

A-combing her long and yellow hair,
A-combing her hair with a comb of gold
(Not poor, I trow, are these maidens bold) :
''Now who 's the bold wight that dares come here,
To trouble my fairy fountain clear ?
Either thou shalt wed with me,
Or pine for four long years and three.
Or dead in three days' space shalt be.'*
" I will not wed with thee, I ween,
For wedded man a year I 've been ;
Nor yet for seven years will I pine,
Nor die in three days for spell of thine ;
For spell of thine I will not die.
But Avhen it pleaseth God on high,
But here, and now, I 'd leave my life,
Ere take a Corrigaun to wife."
" 0 mother, mother ! for love of me
Now make my bed, and speedily,
For I am sick as a man may be.
O, never the tale to my lady tell !
Three days, and ye '11 hear the passing-bell :
The Corrigaun hath cast her spell."
Three days they passed, three days were sped.
To her mother-in-law the lady said :
*' Now tell me, madam, now tell me pra}^,
Wherefore the death-bells toll to-day.
Why chant the priests in the street below,
All clad in their vestments white as snow ?"
" A strange poor man, who harbored here.
He died last night, my daughter dear."
*' But tell me, madam, my lord, your son, —
My husband, whither is he gone ? "
" But to the town, my child, he 's gone,
And at your side he '11 be back anon."
*' What gown for my churching were 't best to wear, —
,My gown of red, or of watchet fair? "

262 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

'' The fashion of late, my child, hath grown.

That women for churching black should put on."

As through the church-yard porch she stept,

She saw the grave where her husband slept.

" Who of our blood is lately dead,

That our ground is newly raked and spread ? "

" The truth I may no more forbear.

My son, your own poor lord, lies there ! "

She threw herself on her knees amain,

And from her knees ne'er rose again.

That night they laid her, stiff and cold,

Beside her lord, beneath the mould :

When lo, a marvel to behold !

Next morn from the grave two oak-trees fair

Shot lusty boughs high up in air ;

And in their boughs, 0 wondrous sight !

Two happy doves, all snowy white.

That sang, as ever the morn did rise,

And then flew up — into the skies !

This is certainl}" far the most beautiful of all the
ballads which tell the story of trees and rose-bushes
rising from the graves of dead lovers, and Lord Nann
the very model of men.

There are also Breton folk-stories. One of them is
about a city drowned for its wickedness, — complete^
submerged : this same story comes into the Maha
Bharata ; but there is no idea of punishment in that.
On Christmas night the stones of the cromlech go down
to the river to drink, leaving vast treasures uncovered.
Whoever can, ma}^ seize them, but must take care to
get out before the stones come walking back. This is
like the cave of Aladdin, which opens for a moment
only.

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 263

Dwarfs are the special!}' of Brittany, as giants are
of Ireland. Ever}' faithful reader of folk-stories will
recognize an Irish giant as a familiar friend ; and the
huge cliffs on the west coast of Ireland are called the
Giants' Causewa}'. There is an immense literature in
the Erse language in Ireland. There are ballads and
stories about voyages and battles and elopements and
cow-spoils, and other equally exciting themes. From
the mere title . cow-spoil, can you not see the Irish
chieftain eager for a fight, starting out to steal the cows
of his neighbor, to feed his own hungry dependents ?
A collection of the Erse folk-stories would be the most
amusing of all, if the genuine Keltic wit of the Irish
peasant could be preserved. The ballads in Erse re-
late at length the doings of the Feane, — a body of
men and their chieftain, Fionn : of course, our word
Fenian is the same. They are perpetually fighting
against the Norsemen and Saxons ; here is the same
old struggle between Kelt and Teuton. Then the Erse
went over to Scotland, — Ireland and Scotland were
practically one, — and carried their heroes with them ;
and the Gaelic bards, the latest of all, wandered about
in kilts, and sang of Fionn and his chief knight, Diar-
maid : a witch from Norway was the foe whom they
dreaded most. We have no time to go into the contro-
versy as to whether Ossian's poems published by Mac-
pherson are the genuine remains of the Erse and
Gaelic bards, or not. The latest authority says that
the ballads are the germs of Macpherson's Ossian, but
that he has entirely altered their character. ' ' Mac-
pherson's Ossian is distinguished b}' a peculiar vein of
sentimental grandeur and melancholy ; and the popular

264 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

manners of the time do not at all accord with such a
spirit. Short, wild, martial, stirring songs, political
ballads, or love-songs, would suit the taste of grim sol-
diers ; but a long melancholy epic would put them to
sleep." Here is a real Gaelic ballad. It presents noth-
ing indistinct, but sharply drawn figures of a graceful
hero, and n3^mphs gazing at him (the word nymph
means water), and the cave of darkness ready for him.

ODE TO THE SETTING SUN.

Hast left the blue distance of heaven,
Sorrowless son of the gold yellow hair ?
Night's doorways are ready for thee,
Thy pavilion of peace in the west.
The billows come slowly around
To behold him of brightest hair :
Timidly raising their heads
To gaze on thee, beauteous, asleep,
They, witless, have fled from thy side.
Take thy sleep within thy cave, 0 sun ! •

Mr. Campbell thinks that the Ossianic heroes were the
ancient Keltic gods. Formerl}' the most ancient Scotch
ballad known was Sir Tristrem ; and he, like all the
others, slays a dragon and delivers a damsel. But Mr.
Campbell's researches have recently discovered another
character who joins the army of invulnerable heroes.
Diarmaid can be wounded only in a mole which is on the
sole of his foot. He has bright golden hair. He car-
ries a sword, — the white sword of light, which tells its
own story. His battle-flag was called the sunbeam. He
ran away with the beautiful wife of King Fionn, just as
Lancelot would have gone with Gwennivar, if the mj'th

LATIN AND KELTIC LITERATURES. 265

had not been Christianized, — just as Helen goes with
Paris. He killed a wild boar, and the king, to revenge
himself for the abduction of his wife, forced Diarmaid
to step on the boar. A bristle entered his foot and
killed him. Tliis is again Adonis killed by a boar, —
the onl}' time the boar reappears in this connection.
The darkness kills the sun, x>r winter kills the sum-
mer. Diarmaid, can be set up as the Gaelic hero, and
the Clan Campbell in Scotland claim to be descended
from him. A boar's head is their crest. The Scotch
ballads would be interesting to examine ; but we will
devote our time to a subject less familiar, the Gaelic
folk-stories. Mr. Campbell went about among the
peasants of the Scotch Highlands, just as M. de la Ville-
marque had done in Brittan}', and in 1859 took down
from the lips of living men and women these tales.
He saj's, " After working for a year and weighing all
the evidence that has come in my wa}', I have come to
agree with those who hold that popular tales are pure
ti'aditions preserved in all countries and all languages
alike ; woven together in a net-work which seems to
pervade the world, and to be fastened to everything
in it. Tradition, books, history, and mythology hang
together." In one of the tales, impossible tasks are
given ; one of them, the clearing out of a stable, comes
into Norse folk-stories, and was one of the labors of
Herakles, the Greek hero. In another, a maiden mar-
ries a monster, who becomes a prince by night, and
loses him by her own curiosity ; just Ps3The over again.
There are several resemblances to the adventures of
Od3'sseus. Conall is shut up in a cave b}^ the Glashan,
a giant, and gets out exactly as Odysseus did, by tying

266 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDEED LITERATURES,

himself under the sheep. He induces the poor, stupid
Glashan to scald himself; and when his comrades re-
turn, and ask who did it, he says, "M3'self did it," —
just like Polj'phemos in the Odyssey. Conall kills a
giant by putting a red-hot stick through his heart.

We must not overlook dear Cinderella ; she is the
dawn, dark and gray, when away from her prince, the
bright sun, obscured by envious sisters ,^ the dark clouds ;
for her story is found in Gaelic also, with some witty
additions. When the prince asks her where she comes
from, she says, first, from " Towel land" ; she has been
a laundry maid: the second time she says, "from the
kingdom of Broken Basins " ; she is a cook. We find
among the heroes one with a horse who talks like the
horses of Achilleus in Greek. He fights with a mon-
ster, and sets free a distressed damsel ; but the monster
swims about in a Highland loch, and his Andromeda is
fastened to the lake shore.

The local coloring applies also to the talking birds
and animals. In all the Keltic stories, fish pla}^ the
most important part ; salmon and otter and trout do
the talking in the Gaelic tales. In all the Aryan
stories, no animal is ever mentioned which dwells out-
side of any Aryan country. Apples are the magical
possessions most valued. There is apparently no rea-
son wh}" Paris should have given an apple to the god-
dess, rather than a pear or a peach ; but this magic
apple appears in Gaelic as well as in Greek, and even
gives the name to the Keltic paradise, Avalon, the
island of apples. It is because apple was the generic
name for all fruits.

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 267

CHAPTER IX.

COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY OF TEUTONIC LITERATURE. —
SCANDINAVIAN FAMILIES.

OUR subject in this chapter is the Edda, the sacred
book of the Scandinavian branches of the Teu-
tonic faniil}'. The name Teuton is the Latin form of
Deutsch, and the histor}^ of the Middle Ages of Europe
is little more than a record of the deeds of the Teutonic
family; for it includes the Goths, of different names:
the Ma?so-Goths near the Danube ; the Visigoths in
Spain ; the Ostro-Goths, who culminated under The-
odoric in Ital}' ; the Franks, whose name means "free
men " ; the Lombards, who founded a second king-
dom in Italy after the Ostro-Goths were driven out by
the Eastern Emperor ; the Saxons, whose name means
" swordmen" ; the Angles ; — ail w^hose races and lan-
guages have gone into other forms. It includes also
tiie Norwegians, Swedes, Danes, Icelanders, Germans,
Dutch, and Enghsh, whose languages are spoken to-
day. It is onl}' one hundred years ago, only since the
Sanskrit language was recovered, onl}^ since philology
has touched them with its revealing magic, that we have
learned how near all these nations are to us.

It is not known when the Teutonic family of the
Aiyan race entered Europe. The Greeks and the
Latins sought the extreme South, the Kelts swarmed

268 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

over the centre of Europe • but the Teutons are sup-
posed to have passed through Russia to the extreme
North ; and though it seems unaccountable to us that
they should have sought so cold a climate and so
barren a soil, we must disconnect ourselves from our
standard, and remember what these people wanted.
The explanation is simple. This family did not care
for cultivating the ground, but preferred hunting and
fishing ; and game and fish abounded in Norwa3\
And, most important of all, they found in Sweden an
inexhaustible supply of what were to them the first
necessities, — w^ood to make and iron to point the
arrows and spears with which the}^ killed alike fish, or
beasts, or men. Manj- of these spears and arrows
would be lost in ever}^ hunt and every battle ; so more
w^ood and iron would be needed for new ones. The
native climate of the Aryans was cold ; so this cold was
no objection to them. From there they spread south-
ward ; but for centuries they were unknown, unlike
the Kelts. Of the Teutons we hear nothing until
Tacitus, the Roman historian, found them settled in
German}^, in the first century of our era. In the Goths,
Burgundians, Franks, Lombards, who invaded the
Roman empire at so many different points ; the Angles
and Saxons, who invaded Britain ; the Norsemen,
who invaded France ; the Normans, who invaded Eng-
land and Sicily ; the Varangians, who formed the
body-guard of the Greek Emperors at Byzantium, —
we recognize them, — restless, migrating, conquering
Arj'ans. But to Iceland we must^o to learn what they
believed and felt before they were brought into contact
with Christianity.

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 269

In the 3-ear 874 a. d., a boch' of people left Norwa}^
because the}- would not submit to the t3Tann3' of Harold
Harfager, or Fair Hair, and settled in Iceland. They
carried with them the rehgion, the poetry, and the laws
of their race ; and on this desolate volcanic island they
kept these records unchanged for hundreds of 3'ears,
while other Teutonic nations graduall}' became affected
b}' tlieir intercourse with Roman and B3'zantine Chris-
tianit3'. In 1639, about two hundred 3'ears ago, these
books were discovered. The first publication was in
1777, and thus the nature of the whole Teutonic family
was laid bare to us. Of course the consequences of
this discovery are not so universal nor so revolutionary
as those following the discover3^ of Sanskrit ; but they
are exceedingl3' interesting in two wa3^s : first, this
literature of the Scandinavian peninsula gives a ke3' to
the literature of all the Teutonic families, including our
immediate ancestors ; second, its ideas agree so won-
derfulh" with the Sanskrit ideas, that it is another wit-
ness to the brotherhood of the different families of the
Ar3'an race. The w^ord Scandinavia means the wa-
ter3' land, apia being the root, and the Scandinavian
peninsula has received from these discoveries in Ice-
land a prominence it never had before. Modern poets
have gone to it for their subjects ; modern musicians,
for their libretti ; ever3^bod3' is discussing the sagas ;
in short, Scandinavian, like Sanskrit literature, is the
fashion. The ancient literature of the four nations who
inhabit the Scandinavian peninsula is practicall3" one.
In this chapter we shall speak onl3" of the Swedes,
Norwegians, Danes, and Icelanders.

In Icelandic are complete remains of Teutonic hea-

270 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

thendom. " The characters come out in full pagan
grandeur." As a language, the Maso-Gothic is older,
but it has no pagan literature ; its only book is the
translation of the Bible by Bishop Ulphilas : so here is
our last glimpse of an original pagan view of this
world and the other. The Norsemen were converted
to Christianit}^ so much later than an}^ other European
nation, that their cosmogony and mythology have been
preserved to us in a perfectly unaltered condition. But
even if they were pagans, we may be proud of our
ancestors ; for their literature is both grand and poetic,
and through it all runs a A^ein of grim humor, (quite
different from the Keltic wit,) which is lacking in the
other Ar^'an literatures.

Their sacred books are the two Eddas, one poetic,
the other prose, written in that old Norse tongue which
was once spoken by the four families throughout the
Scandinavian peninsula. The word Edda means great-
grandmother, because the poems were handed down
from the grandmothers by repetition. The poetic Edda,
which is the older of the two, is a collection of thirt}--
seven ballads, called sagas. Some of them are reli-
gious, and give an account of the creation of the world,
of the gods, and of men ; some of them historical, tell-
ing of the heroes of the nation ; one of them gives a
series of moral maxims. But they are quite different
from the Vedas or the Avesta ; the Edda has none of
those prayers and hymns and thanksgivings which make
the Vedas and the Avesta so beautiful. The ballads
were written before the sixth century, but they were
collected together, in 1086 a. d., b^' a Christian priest
named Saemund. Some scholars think Saemimd was a

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 271

name given him, in reference to this, for it means the
mouth which scatters seeds. It is onl}- a A'er}- small
book, but we look at it with reverence, for it contains
the thought of a whole people. The prose Eclda was
collected about 1200 a. d. It explains the m3'thology
and the history of the poetic Edda, which, indeed, could
hardly be understood without it. It would be difficult
to gather a S3'stem of belief, even a connected stor}',
from utterances so vague, incoherent, and disjointed as
those of Saemund's Edda, especially the mythological
part : the heroic portion is more connected and compre-
hensible. But nevertheless there is a wonderful charm
about the Edda, — a vague breadth in the thought, a
delicious simplicity in the expression.

Of course there is first the cosmogon}', or creation of
the world ; and there is an amazing resemblance be-
tween this and the Greek cosmogony told in Hesiod.
The same ideas reappear in the Edda, — those ideas
which have been manifested b}^ ever}^ Aryan race.
There are two worlds. Niflheim, the home of mist and
cold, — the same word as nebula^ a cloud, and our word
nebulous, — and Muspelheim, the home of fire ; between
them a vast empt^^ abyss.

" There was in times of old
Nor sand nor sea,
Nor gelid waves ;
Earth existed not,
Nor heaven above.
'T was a chaotic chasm,
And grass nowhere."

Then the supreme ineffable Spirit willed, and a form-
less chaotic matter was created. This will immediately

272 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

suggest that wonderful hymn of the Rig Yecla, quoted
in the fourth chapter, where the same thought is ex-
pressed more spiritual!}'. From this matter gradually
issue all creations : first the ice giants, called Jotuns ;
the}' are the evil beings of Norse mythology ; the cold,
the frost, the mist, are devils here : the}' are like the
Titans of Greek cosmogony. Then a second race is
created by the Supreme Spirit, called ^sir, or gods ;
the singular is Asa ; it is the same root as Asura in the
Vedas, Ahura in the Avesta. They are the good powers
constantly warring with the Jotuns ; they conquer and
drive away these ice giants. For there was struggle
here in this wild climate, just as in Persia, — a per-
petual warfare between heat and cold, which were
good and evil to them ; a warfare un thought of in the
temperate climate of Greece, and totally reversed in the
burnmg heat of India, where the frost and cold would
have been welcome friends, and the heat and drought
were the dreaded enemies. Then the ^sir, or gods,
create heaven, and the earth, and the deep ocean ; they
make subordinate spirits of several kinds : elves, who
dwell in the air, and plants on the earth's surface ;
dwarfs, who dwell under ground and work in minerals ;
nixies, who dwell in the water. All these, you will un-
derstand, are the forces of nature working. Then when
all the elves, dwarfs, and nixies had worked and made
ready the earth and the sea, the -^sir created mankind.
Each creation has a world of its own. Muspelheim is
the highest heaven, — the home of light and warmth ;
Asgard, the home of the ^sir, or gods ; Midgard, the
middle-world, home of men ; Utgard, or Jotunheim,
uttermost boundary of the world, home of the Jotuns or

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 273

giants ; last, the dark Niflheim, home of mist and cold, —
a frozen under- world, which corresponds to the Greek
Hades, that dark under-world. There was the home of
Queen Hel. In a bitterly cold place she received the
souls of all who died of sickness or old age ; as no
Norseman would wish to die, " Care was her bed, hun-
ger was her dish, starvation was her knife." But there
is no idea of punishment connected with her. She is
not an evil spirit, though stern and severe. She re-
ceived those who were unfortunate, not wicked ; those
who died before the}' were killed, — the cowards. There
are man}' more personifications, full of meaning ; and
we feel that the Teutonic mind was deeply poetical
to have expressed the actions and the manifestations
of nature in such lovely conceptions.

In Teutonic mythology women occupy a more honor-
able place than in any other. There were three Fates,
just as in Greek : these are called Norns ; they govern
the past, present, and future. Their names are Urd,
Verdand, and Skuld. Our word weird is the same as
Urd, and the three witches in Macbeth are unconsciously
expressions of the same idea. The Vala, or prophetess,
was supposed to possess knowledge of the jjast and the
future ; to be inspired by the Norns, and to express
their decisions. The first poem of the Edda is the
"Wisdom of a Vala," called the Voluspa Saga; and
from the words of this Vala comes all we know of the
Teutonic creation of the world.

It is curious to see how this branch has described its
gods and goddesses, — how expressed the mythology of
its race. High on a throne, above all the ^sir and
men, sits Odin, the father and ruler ; like Dyaus in

18

274 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Sanskrit, or Zeus in Greek, or Jupiter in Latin. Two
ravens sit on his shoukler, who fly over the world and
come back to tell him all that has happened. They are
named Hugin and Munin ; that is, thought and raemor}'.
Two wolves sit at his feet. He is a stately figure,
wrapped in a garment of cloudy blue ; this is, of course,
the blue sky. He often wears a broad hat, which
S3"mbolizes the broad expanse of the sky. He is alwa3's
described as having but one eye. The other he left as
a pledge when he went to drink at Mimir's well. Here
he changes his character and represents the sun, which
becomes one round e3-e only, when reflected in an}' well.
It has been difficult to trace the derivation of his name,
but now it is considered to come first from the word
Atman, another Sanskrit name for the Supreme Spn-it,
which we examined in the fourth chapter, which means
the spirit simply existing : next, from the verb wotan^
which means to move. And Odhinn is one of the forms
of this verb. Wuotan, the German deit}', is another,
and means the Supreme Spirit in motion, creating and
working, penetrating, and circulating everywhere. So
Odin is also the air and the wind. We meet exactly
this distinction in Sanskrit between Brahman and
Brahma. It is rather hard to understand, but becomes
easier if we remember that every new action of a deity
gives him a new name. Tliis derivation has been traced
by Grimm, and is considered a great triumph of schol-
arship. Odin performs many different actions and has
many names. He marries Frigg, the earth, and they
are parents of Thor, the thunder ; Baldur, who is some-
times the summer, sometimes the sun ; Hodur, the blind
god, who is the dark winter, or the night. But Odin

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 275

marries many other wives, like the Greek Zeus, and is
the father of Bragi, the god of eloquence and poetr}-,
from whom comes our word brag ; of Saga, goddess of
history, — hence our word say ; of T3'r, the war god,
whose name we have preserved in Tuesday', originally
Tyr's day.

Odin has other warlike deities under his rule. The
sternl}- beautiful Yalkeyrie are white maidens that ride
through the air ; dew and hail fall from the manes of
their horses ; these are distinctly the clouds. They
visit every battle-field and choose from the dead corpses
the heroes, whom the}' carry to Valhall, the hall of Odin's
palace at Asgard. Odin often accompanies them, that
is, the wind blows along the clouds. He is sometimes
called Valfadir. The same root Val occurs in three
words ; it means to choose : Valfadir, the father who
chooses ; Vallveyrie, the choosers ; Yalhall, the chosen
hall. But no man ever went to Valhall unless he died
fighting, so the Norseman dying would be carried from
his bed to the field of battle, or leap from a rock into
the sea, or fall upon his own sword. And in Valhall
the warriors fight and get bloody wounds ever}' day,
and feast and drink mead every evening, and wake up
every morning as good as new, healed of their wounds,
and begin the same sport over again. It is not such an
ignoble Paradise as the Mohammedan, certainly. All
cold was banished' from Valhall: "huge logs blazed
and crackled for the brave and beautiful who had dared
to die on the gory battle-field, or sunk beneath the
waves ; while Queen Hel ruled in her frozen regions
over the cowards." It has lately been discovered what
became of Queen Hel's subjects, — of all the other

276 SANSKEIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Norsemen, and of all the Norse women, after they died
and sought Queen Hel's regions. Finn Magnussen
sa3'S : ''The pagan Norsemen held, in common with
the Druids (Keltic priests) and the Brahmans (Hindu
priests), the doctrine of transmigration. The3^ be-
lieved that, by giving a child the name of a distin-
guished man, especially of his own forefathers, the soul
of the name father was transferred into the child." The
soul would be born again, incarnated into another bod3'.
Perhaps from this came another idea, which suggests
the Persians. Each individual had a Fylgia, a spiritual
bod}', which appeared sometimes to the individual him-
self, sometimes to his friends.

Odin wanders about, and has many adventures : of
course the wind must always wander. He shows sim-
ply great physical strength and a keen wit, — nothing
disreputable, like the Greek and Latin gods. His great-
est benefit, however, was the invention of writing. The
Norse alphabet had sixteen letters, combined into sen-
tences called runes, which had a magical power, and
were carved on sword-blades, called runes of victory ;
on drinking-horns, called love-runes, to make maidens
love the hero. Storm-runes were carved on the mast
and rudder of vessels to make them sail safely ; herb-
runes, on the bark of the tree to cure diseases. Speech-
runes were used to defeat an enemy in the parliament
called the Thing ; they are described in one of the sagas
of the Edda, and they are constantly referred to in all
Norse literature. There were even strange and awful
runes, which could raise the dead to life, when uttered
by a Vala.

Our word Thursday comes from the god Thor, from

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 277

the same root as tender and thin and thunder. Thor
had originally no reference to noise ; it meant to ex-
tend, to stretch, — an extension of anything, sound in-
cluded. Thor is the greatest god after Odin, his eldest
son, the inheritor of his power. He is sometimes called
Ving Thor, the winged. He has a fiery red beard : this
is the lightning ; and he carries a might}' hammer,
Miolnir, the crusher, the pounder. With this hammer
he slew the frost giants, just as Indra slew the drought
in India. His hammer is the thunder : he is the god
of the rain, the thunder, the lightning, like Indra.
Just as Indra assumed some of the characteristics of
D3'aus, so does Thor take those of Odin, his mighty
father, and is sometimes worshipped as the Supreme
God. He is scarcely ever at home at Asgard among
the ^sir, but visits the giants, his enemies, in Jotun-
heim, where he has many amusing adventures. He
is girded with a belt of strength, and is a famous
wrestler. He is not very clever, but, in spite of his
enormous strength, is very good-natured. He is per-
petually losing his hammer by his stupidit}', but it in-
variably comes back to him, no matter how far he may
have hurled it.

THE LAY OF THRYM ; OR THE HAMMER RE-
COVERED.

1. Wroth was Ving Thor his forehead struck,

when he awoke the son of earth

and his hammer felt all around him :

missed : 2. And first of all
his beard he shook, these words he uttered :

278 SANSKEIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

" Hear now, Loki !

what I say,

which no one knoAVS

anywhere on earth

nor in heaven alcove,

the As's hammer is stolen! "

3. They went to the fair
Freyia's dwelling,
and he these words
first of all said :

" Wilt thou me, Freyia,
thy feather garment lend,
that perchance my hammer
I may find 'I "

Freyia.

4. That would I give thee,
although of gold it were,
and trust it to thee
though it were of silver.

5. Flew then Loki —
the plumage rattled —
until he came beyond
the ^sir's dwellings,
and came within
the Jotuns' land.

6. On a mound sat Thrym
the Thursar's lord,

for his greyhounds
plaiting gold bands,
and his horses'
manes smoothing.

Thrym.

7. How goes it with the iEsir ?
How goes it with the Alfar ?

"Why art thou come alone
to Jotunheim ?

Loki.

8. Ill it goes with the ^sir,
111 it goes with the Alfar.
Hast thou Ving Thor's
hammer bidden ?

Thrym.

9. I have Ving Thor's
hammer hidden
eight rasts
beneath the earth :
it shall no man
get again

unless he bring me
Freyia to wife.

13. They went the fair
Freyia to find ;
and he these words
first of all said :

" Bind thee, Freyia,
in bridal raiment,
we two must drive
to Jotunheim."

14. Wroth then was Freyia
and with anger chafed,
all the iEsir's hall
beneath her trembled ;
in shivers flew the famed
Brisinga necklace.
"Know me to be

of women lewdest,
if with thee I drive
to Jotunheim."

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATUEE.

279

15. Straightway went the ^Esir
all to council,

and the Asymirs
all to hold converse :
and deliberated
the mighty gods,
how they Ving Thor's
hanijner might get back.

16. Then said Heimdall
of ^Esir brightest :

" Let us clothe Thor
with bridal raiment,
let him have the famed
Brisinga necklace.

17. Let by his side
keys jingle,

and women's weeds
fall round his knees,
but on his breast
place precious stones,
a neat coif
set on his head."

18. Then said Thor,
the mighty As :

" Me the JEsir will
call womanish,
if I let myself be clad
in bridal raiment."

19. Then spake Loki,
Lanfey's son :

" Do thou, Thor ! refrain
from such like words ;
forthwith the Jotuns will
Asgard inhabit,
unless thy hammer thou
gettest back."

20. Then they clad Thor
in bridal raiment, etc.

21. Then said Loki,
Lanfey's son :

" I will with thee
as a servant go ;
we two will drive
to Jotunheim."

22. Straightwaywere the goats
homeward driven,
hurried to the traces ;
they had fast to run.

The rocks were shivered,
the earth was in a blaze.
Odin's son drove
to Jotunheim.

23. Then said Thrym
the Thursar's lord :
" Else up, Jotuns !
And the benches deck.
Now they bring me
Freyia to wife."

24. " Hither to our court let

bring
gold-horned cows
all-black oxen,
for the Jotuns' joy.
Treasures I have many,
necklaces many,
Freyia alone
seemed to me wanting."

25. In the evening
they early came,
and for the Jotuns
beer was brought forth.

280 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDEED LITERATURES.

Thor alone one ox devoured,

salmons eight,

and all the sweetmeats 28.

women should have.

Sif s consort drank

three salds of mead.

26. Then said Thrym
the Thursar's lord :

" Where hast thou seen brides
eat more voraciously 1
I never saw brides
feed more amply, 31.

' nor a maiden
drink more mead."

27. Sat the all-crafty
serving-maid close by,
who words fitting found
against the Jotun's speech : 32.
" Freyia has nothing eaten

for eight nights,
so eager was she
for Jotunheim."

28. Under her veil he stooped
desirous to salute her,
but sprang back

along the halL
"Why are so piercing
Freyia's looks ?

Methinks that fire
burns from her eyes."
Sat the all-crafty
serving-maid close by,
who words fitting found
against the Jotun's speech ,
" Freyia for eight nights
has not slept,
so eager was she
for Jotunheim."

Then said Thrym,
the Thursar's lord :
" Bring the hammer in
the bride to consecrate :
lay Miollnir
on the maiden's knee."
Laughed Ving Thor's
soul in his breast,
when the fierce-hearted
his hammer recognized.
He first slew Thrym
the Thursar's lord,
and the Jotuns' race
all crushed.

So got Odin's son
his hammer back.

The bad god is Loki ; he comes from the word luhos^
bright, and at first he meant mild warmth, and was
all good. But he is a kind of fallen angel, mischiev-
ous rather than bad, alwa3^s playing tricks upon the
^sir, like Hermes in Greek. And here comes in the
grim humor so characteristic of the Teutonic branch.

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 281

Thor's wife, Sif, had loyely bright hair ; but Loki cut
it all off for mischief. Then Thor threatened to crush
ever}' bone m his bod}' with the hammer, if he did not
force the elves to make Sif a head of hair all of gold :
so the dwarfs made it. Sif is the uncultivated earth, her
hair the grass ; the fire burnt it up : then the powers of
nature working under ground made beautiful, bright,
green grass spring up again. Loki becomes crafty, like
the creeping fires under the earth ; or devastating,
like the fire of the volcano. He lives under ground ;
his daughter is Hel, queen of the dark under- world.
Loki is a great eater, and is perpetually wandering
about in search of adventures.

But the most bright and beautiful of the ^sir is
Baldur. His story is well known, but has been so per-
fectly explained by comparative mythology that I must
allude to it. Every living thing has sworn never to in-
jure the beautiful, beloved Baldur, except the mistletoe,
— all plants, stones, beasts, and birds. Then the ^sir
were playing together and shooting at Baldur in Asgard.
And the blind god Hodur took a mistletoe wand, not
knowing what he did, which killed Baldur. This was
the most deplorable event which had ever happened to
gods or men. Now Odin had a son Yali, whose mother
was an obstinate princess named Rind. And when the
son of Odin and Rind was only one day old, unwashed
and uncombed, he was so mighty that he slew the blind
god Hodur, and avenged Baldur. Nothing could be
prettier than the explanation. Baldur is the summer,
beloved by all ; Hodur, the blind god, is the dark win-
ter. The mistletoe is not like other plants, which die
with the summer : it outlives the summer, and is green

282 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

all through the winter, not killed b}^ the winter's cold.
The obstinate princess, Rind, means the hard-frozen
winter earth, the stifT outside, just what our English
word rind means. Her sou Vali, who grows so fast
that he can kill Hodur, the winter, when onl}' a day
old, is the bright spring day : the sudden transition of
the year from the winter to spring, and his miraculous
growth, is exactl^^ what is told of the Maruts, or Hermes.

Of the summer, Iduna, the same stor}' is told as of
Persephone in Greek. She is stolen away with her ap-
ples, and all the ^sir mourn ; the trees shed frozen
tears, and the sun withdraws his face, until Loki brings
her back in the form of a quail. In Greek mythology
Delos, the brilliant birth-place of Phoibos, is also Orty-
gia, the land of the quail. Freya is the goddess of
love and beaut}' and plent3\ Her chariot is drawn by
cats, and also she travels far and wide. She has a
lovely necklace : this corresponds to the girdle which
Aphrodite wears in Greek. All these round ornaments
have one meaning : the}' are a symbol of the earth.
Her name comes from a root which means joy and
abundance ; and the German word Frau, applied to
high-born women, comes from the same root.

The idea of the rainbow is poetical. It was Bif-rost,
the trembling path ; and it was the bridge from Mid-
gard, the habitation of men, to Asgard, the home of the
gods, over which the gods passed. One of the posses-
sions of the gods is the good ship Skidbladnir, which
can enlarge itself to carry all the ^sir, or shrink till it
is folded into one's hand, like the ship Argo in Greek
literature, which bore the Argonauts.

By degrees, worship became more material. Tem-

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 283

pies were raised to Odin and Thor, and the most accept-
- able sacrifice was a horse. The reader will remember
that in India the same idea existed : the Aswemedha,
or horse sacrifice, was the chief gift of some powerful
king. Each chief of a tribe, even each head of a family,
could perform the sacrifice among the Norsemen. Their
temple was at Upsala in Sweden ; the grove that sur-
rounded it was sacred, like the Greek and Keltic
groves. It was dedicated to Odin, and the bodies of
the slain were buried in it, for our Norse ancestors
went farther than other Ar3'ans : the}' sacrificed human
beings, even kings, in time of great calamity. Yarl
Hakon sacrificed his only son. But in spite of this
darkest stain, Norse mythology has a spiritual idea in
it, — that of the twilight of the gods, called Ragnarok.
Odin and the ^sir are mortal ; the}' will be overthrown,
a new heaven and a new earth will arise. -The Mighty
One will sit in judgment, the good be rewarded, the evil
punished ; strife will be over, peace will prevail. And
in this are implied the most religious of all beliefs, —
the immortality of the soul, the final triumph of good,
and the existence of a mighty spirit, the overruling Deity
of the universe, too sublime to be enclosed in temples
made with hands, or to be represented in human form,
— too lofty almost to be named. The Edda says : —

" Then comes the mighty one
to the great judgment,
the powerful one from above
who rules over all.
He shall dooms pronounce,
and strifes allay,
holy peace establish,
which evermore shall be."

284 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

It would seem impossible that such an idea could
have originated without some Christian influence, were
it not that we have met sometliing like it in the Per-
sian religion. It has been said, that " in the Norse
gods we find a picture of the Norseman himself, —
his bravery and endurance, his dash and spirit of ad-
venture, his fortitude against the certain doom, — ' the
twilight of the gods.' " Christianity, with its teaching
of an ever-living God, filled them with comfort and
joy, and easily supplanted their dead gods. But a
curious transformation took place : these did not lose
their power ; but, instead of being kindly and genial,
they became powerful for ill, — mahgnant demons, just
as they had in Persia ; and this is the second way in
which evil spirits got into Christianit3\ Queen Hel,
for instance, became a place, and her cold, dark world
became a place of torment, where these demons lived.

Not only has the old Norse language its gods, but it
has also its heroes, — might}^ men they are. The
greatest of them is Sigurd the Volsung. His story
is told in several of the baUads of Ssemund's Edda,
but in so disconnected a way that we could not under-
stand it unless many additions had been made and
many gaps filled up. It is a fi'ferce and cruel story ;
but it is the epic poem of the Teutonic branch. Wag-
ner has taken it for the libretto of his great trilog}', and
William Morris has expanded it into a long and lovely
poem. I think that no profane hand will venture to
touch it after him, but the Teutonic epic will go down
to posterity in the perfect form which he has given it.
It is a^ story within a story, — the history of a family,
the Volsungs. Mr. Cox sa3's, "The real difference

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 285

between the Greek and the Teutonic epics is the greater
compass of the Northern poems." The Iliad relates
the incidents of onl}^ a single 3'ear in the Trojan war,
but the Volsung sagas have three distinct stories.
The first part is the histor}' of Sigmund, — an awM
tale of evil passions and revenge and blood, too wild
and horrible to have any reality about it. I shall allude
to onlv a few of its incidents. The first is the miracu-
lous way in which he gains his sword, hke Arthin-'s
sword, which was stuck into the anvil, or Theseus's
sword, hidden under a heav}' stone ; and the weapon is
another of those resistless swords which every hero
uses.

" There was a dwelling of kings ere the world was waxen old.

Dukes were the door-wards there, and the roofs were thatched
with gold ;

For amidst of its midmost hall floor sprang up a mighty tree.

They call that warduke's tree, that crowned stem, the Bran-
stock

Then into the Volsung dwelling a mighty man there strode,

One-eyed and seeing ancient, yet bright his visage glowed.

Cloud blue was the hood upon him, and the kirtle gleaming
gray

As the latter morning sun-dog when the storm is on the way.

So strode he to the Branstock, nor greeted any lord ;

But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword,

And smote it deep in the tree bole

' Earls of the Goths and Volsungs, abiders on the earth,

Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth.

Now let the man among you, whose heart and hand may shift

To pluck it from the oak-wood, e'en take it for my gift.' "

Sigmund and his son become wolves at night, and kill
all that cross their path, and then take on their human

286 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES

form again. The gods do this in all ni3'tliologies ; the
power extended to men in man}^ different legends : the
were-wolf is fonnd among the Anglo-Saxons, the Bre-
tons, and the Slavs. The snpei'stition came from a
confusion between two words, — leukos^ bright, and
lukos, a wolf. This is shown most plainl}^ in the Greek
mytholog3\ One of the names of Phoibos Apollo is
the Lykeian, the god who slew the wolves. The m3'th
is ver3^ near its primitive form : there it is the bright
day overpowering the darkness, but since then has
come down to a very humble shape. For it is the
same wolf which eats up little Red Riding-Hood, — the
darkness eating up the red light of the day. Sigmund
has mau}^ adventures, and a long life. He marries
when he is old a wise and lovel}^ woman ; but he is
forced to leave her and go to battle. In the thickest of
the fight, while he is slaving hundreds of enemies with
his single arm, Odin comes to him : the arm falters that
never faltered before ; the good sword is shattered.
Before he dies he says to his wife : —

" Lo yonder where once I stood
The shards of a glaive of battle that once was the best of the

good. ■
Take them, and keep them surely. I have known full well
That a better one than I am shall live the tale to tell.
And for him shall these shards be smithied, and he shall be

my son
To remember what I have forgotten, and to do what I left

undone."

Pie dies, and his faithful queen is cared for in the house
of a good king, until Sigurd the Volsung is born. His
awful e3'es are the e3^es of Phoibos and of Odysseus.

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 287

"Yet he shrank in his rejoicing before the eyes of the child,

So bright were they and dreadful ;

The eyes of the child gleamed on him, till he was as one who

sees
The very gods arising through their carven images
As he hung o'er the new-born Volsung."

The queen marries the good king, and Sigurd dwells
with his step-father, in a land that is not his. His kith
and kin are dead, his kingdom lost, and he has never
seen his great father. This is the story of Perseus,
whose mother married again, in Greek ; and Kama, in
Sanskrit ; and Romulus, in Latin ; and, having found
the same circumstance so many times, its meaning is
plain. The sun never can see its father, the sun of
3'esterda3'. Now comes the greatest hero, Sigurd, and
the poem which tells us of him is lovely as a dream.
Long days of peace go by, while Sigurd is trained to
every knightly grace. Then he longs for a horse, and
refuses all those his good step-father offers. He goes
forth and gets himself a wondrous horse, called Grey-
fell.
" Then again gat Sigurd outward, and adowTi the steep he ran,

And unto the horse-fed meadow ; but lo a gray-clad man,

One-eyed and seeing ancient, there met him by the way

Thus spake this elder of days : ' Hearken now, Sigurd, and
hear :

Time was when I gave thy father a gift thou shaft yet deem
dear,

And this horse is a gift of my giving.'

And indeed he was come from Sleipnir's blood,
The tireless horse of Odin : cloud-gray was he of hue,
And it seemed as Sigurd backed him that Sigmund's son he
knew."

288 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Then Regin, the dwarf, tries to induce him to do a
"deed of awing." He tells him that the dwarfs had
collected a might}' treasure, — a heap of gold ; but it
had been stolen, and was guarded bj- the worm Fafnir,
who la}' w^allowing upon it. The dwarf's curse is upon
the gold because stolen, and whomever shall obtain it ;
but Sigurd at length promises to win it, and the coat of
mail and the helmet, and the ring Andvari, from which
drops a new ring, — all of which are part of the dwarfs
treasures. The dwarfs who work under ground are
peculiar to Keltic and Teutonic mytholog}' : the}' repre-
sent the wonderful properties of the mineral and vege-
table kingdoms, and the silent growing and develop-
ment of life. The treasure which the dwarfs had piled
up would be therefore the powers of vegetation, the
forces of nature working unseen : the ring of Andvari,
from which other rings dropped, is but another form of
the same thought, — the reproductive power of nature,
— and this ring appears in many other stories. The
worm Fafnir, who steals all this, is the same dragon
who stole the w^aters in India and Greece ; but the
difference of climate gives him a different form. The
winter and the cold are the foes to be dreaded in the
North, instead of the heat and drought : so the worm
Fafnir is simple darkness and cold, — the mere negation
of light and warmth and life ; he steals away the sum-
mer and the growing power of nature, and buries them
in the death-like sleep of winter. Sigurd seeks to get
himself a sword. Regin makes him two swords, but
they shiver at the first stroke. Sigurd exclaims that
they are untrue, hke Regin and the dwarf race. So he
turns elsewhere, and asks from his mother his father's

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 289

sword. So his mother brings him the pieces of his fa-
ther's old sword, like Thetis bringing armor to her son
Achilleus. liegin forges the pieces, and cries : —

" Before the days of men
I smithied the wrath of Sigmuiid, and now it is smithied

again."

This sword is keen and firm ; the difference between it
and the swords of Regin the dwarf is just the difference
between the subterranean fires and workings of the
earth and the life-giving raj's of the sun, which alone
can slay the worm of cold. The sword is called the
Wrath of Sigurd.

"Now Sigurd backeth Greyfell, on the first of the morrow

morn,
And he rideth fair and softly through the edges of the corn.
The Wrath to his side is girded, but hid are its edges blue.
As he wendeth his way to the mountains and rideth the

meadow through.
His wide gray eyes are happy, and his voice is sweet and soft,
And amid the mead lark's singing he casteth song aloft.
Lo ! lo the horse and the rider. So once may be it was
When over the earth unpeopled the youngest god would pass.
But never again, meseemeth, shall such a sight betide
Till over a world unwrongful new-born shall Baldur ride."

He reaches the glittering heath, and finds the loath-
some worm Fafnir wallowing upon the gold. The hero
and the monster are familiar figures ; an}' differences
between Sigurd and the other heroes can readily be
explained by the difierences of climate. So the mighty
Sigurd killed Fafnir, and took the gold, and the ring of
Andvari, and put on the coat of golden mail and the

19

290 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

helm of awing, which dazzled whoever looked at them.
The sun had come out in full splendor, conquered the
cold, and brought back vegetation. He ate the heart
of Fafnir, and got possession of his wisdom ; but before
his death Fafnir had foretold the future to Sigurd : as
the P3'thon, the serpent slain by Apollo, is connected
with the Delphian oracle, which foretold the future, and
gave wisdom. Sigurd rode away on Greyfell till he
came to a mountain-side where there was a -wall of
flickering fire ; but he rode through it, and be3'ond
he saw a stately palace. No one was within it ; but
on a mound was extended a figure clad in armor. At
once, —

" He draweth the helm from the head; and lo the brow snow-
white,

And the smooth, unfurrowed cheeks, and the wise lips
breathing light.

And the face of a woman it is, the fairest that ever was born.

And he looketh, and loveth her sore, and he longeth her
spirit to move,

And awaken her heart to the world, that she may behold him
and love.

So the edge of his sword he setteth to the dwarf- wronght
battle-coat.

Where the hammered, ring-knit collar constrain eth the wo-
man's throat.

Then he driveth the blue steel onward, and through the mail,
and out.

Till naught but the rippling linen is wrapping her about.

Then he turns about the Warllame, and rends down either
sleeve.

Till her arms lay white in her raiment, and a river of sun-
bright hair

Flows free over bosom and shoulder."

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 291

She speaks : —

" ' O, what is the thing so mighty that my weary sleep hath

torn ? '
He said, ' The hand of Sigurd, and the sword of Sigmund's

son,
And the heart that the Volsungs fashioned this deed for

thee have done.'
But she said, ' Where, then, is Odin, that laid me here alow 1 '
' He dwelleth aljove,' said Sigurd, ' but I on the earth abide,
And I came from the glittering heath, the waves of thy fire

to ride.' "

She tells him that she is a Valkeyrie ; but for dis-
obedience to Odin the thorn of sleep had pierced her,
and she was doomed to lie there until some knight
should ride the flickering fire and awaken her: then
she w^ould marry the mortal who could ride the flicker-
ing fire, and cease to be a Valke3Tie. This is the same
stor}^ as the nursery tale of the sleeping beaut}^, Br3'n-
hild, and her riches are but another form of the first
idea, — the earth, sleeping in winter, aw^akened by the
sun. Br3'nhild teaches him many wise things ; she has
more than mortal wisdom : they plight their troth to
each other. Sigurd gives her the ring of Andvari,
which has the curse upon it. He promises to come
back that the}^ ma}' be married ; then he rides away
with his treasures to the country of the Nibelungs :
they, with their dark blue garments, are the dark blue
storm-clouds. The queen of the Nibelungs gives him a
magic drink ; and he marries Gudrun, her daughter,
the princess of the Nibelungs. She is outwardly fair
and beautiful, with soft, dark e3'es, and long, dark hair,
and wears dark blue garments. So the da3's of late

292 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Slimmer are fair, but the}' are near to the storms of
winter, more akin to darkness than to light. Since the
sun must leave the spring, Sigurd leaves Brynhild ;
since it must wed the late summer, he marries the dark-
blue clad Gudrun ; since it must be covered wdth clouds,
he dwells among her kin, the swart Nibelungs. Long
days go by. The golden Sigurd has forgotten Brynhild,
for the spell is upon him ; and he has given himself and
his treasure to the Nibelungs, and he toils for others.
Then Gunnar, the king of the Nibelungs, desires to
marry the mighty wise woman Brynhild, and they all
go forth to seek her. But neither man nor horse
can ride the flickering fire, except the golden Sigurd.
Therefore he assumes the shape of Gunnar, the Nibe-
lung king, — that is, the sun covers itself with clouds,
— rides the flickering fire, and, wearing the form of
Gunnar, he asks her to be the wife of Gunnar. Br^-n-
hild thinks that Sigurd has forgotten her ; and so she
promises to marry Gunnar, and she gives to the man
whom she thinks to be Gunnar the ring of Andvari,
which Sigurd had given to her. And Sigurd keeps the ,
ring himself, instead of giving it back to Gunnar.
Gunnar weds Brynhild ; — he is the winter carrying
away the spring ; like Ravana, who carried awa}' Sita ;
or Pluto, who carried away Proserpine ; — and Brj^n-
hild comes to dwell in the Nibelung palace.

The spell has passed by ; and Sigurd recognizes her,
and remembers the past. But the}^ live on for some
time, till finally the two queens quarrel ; and then the
truth is known that it w^as not Gunnar, but Sigurd,
who rode the flickering fire. Brj-nhild is full of wrath
at the treachery practised upon her, and so she per-

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 293

snades the Nibeliings to murder Sigurd. The Nibe-
lungs are jealous of him and his treasure, — the}' are
angr}' ; that is, the storm and cold wish to sla}' the
bright, beautiful sun : it is but the slaying of Baldur
over again. Then Brynhild, wild with miser}', can live
no longer, now that Sigurd has left the world, and the
day is dark without him. She kills herself, and she
cries out : —

" I pray thee a prayer, the last word I shall speak, —

That ye bear me forth to Sigurd

The bale for the dead is builded ; it is wrought full wide on
the plain ;

It is raised for the Earth's best helper, and thereon is room
for twain ;

Ye have hung the shields about it, and the Southland sayings
speak ;

There lay nie adown by Sigurd, my head beside his head.

Draw his "Wrath from out the sheath,

And lay that light of the Branstock, that blade that frighted
death.

Betwixt my side and Sigurd's

How then, when the flames flare upward, may I be left
behind ?

How then may the road he wendeth be hard for my feet to find ?

How then in the gates of Valhall may the door of the gleam-
ing ring

Clash to, on the heel of Sigurd, as I follow on my king ? "

And she is burned on the funeral pile of her hero. It
is the same familiar tale of a hero torn from the bride
of his 3'outh. He is more beautiful than all the sons of
men. He slaj's the serpent, and then toils for others
meaner than himself. He is slain by dark powers, and
joined on his funeral pile by the bride of his youth. Of

294 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

course the resemblance cannot be accidental, any more
than it can have been consciousl}^ copied. It is but the
same Arj'an thought breaking out in new form.

Gudrun flees away, and hides from the sight of men.
Seven 3'ears go bj^, and she broods and dreams of her
revenge. Tiien the third tale, Gudrun's vengeance,
begins. She marries a great king ; but the Nibelung
brothers refuse to give up the gold which was once
Sigurd's, and should now be hers. Finall}^ she per-
suades her new husband to insist upon having the gold.
She sends for her brethren, and when they have come
to her new home she entices them all into her hus-
band's palace-hall, where the Nibelung brothers refuse
to give up the gold. Then there is an awful battle in
the hall : the doors are closed, and they cannot come
forth ; but they still refuse to give up the gold. They
fight till all the Nibelungs are dead save Gunnar the
king, and Hagen. Gunnar is thrown into a pit full of
snakes until he shall tell where the gold is. He prom-
ises to tell if they will bring him the heart of Hagen,
his brother ; for no one else knows the secret. So
Hagen is killed, his heart is cut out and brought to
Gunnar. And Gunnar laughs aloud, and cries : " Now
the secret shall die with me. The gold is sunk beneath
the water, and none knows the spot." He sings a
proud death-song on his harp, and the serpents pause
to listen. But at last the}' sting him to death, and the
gold is lost forever ; and all the Nibelungs are dead
except Gudrun, and she is revenged for Sigurd's death.
The husband and his nobles feast together till all are
asleep. Then Gudrun sets fire to the hall, and the
king and the nobles are burnt to death, and Gudrun

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 295

is avenged for the slaughter of her kindred ; and she
plunges into the sea to die in the waters, to seek the
gold which is there. It is a gloomy tale of love and
sorrow, and falsehood and revenge. The vast slaugh-
ter-hall swimming in blood, which no one is allowed to
leave, is like the slaughter-hall in the Odyssey when
Od^'sseus shoots down his enemies. But "the fierceness
of the Northern tale is the fierceness of the Northern
climate." In the Grecian stor}', the treasure and the
woman are carried back to Greece, their home, in joyful
triumph. In the tragic North the ending is quite un-
like : the treasure is sunk bej'ond recovery, — lost to
both sides of the quarrel. Yet the tale is nevertheless
the same: Mr. Cox says, "The Teutonic epics, like
the Greek, are the fruit of one and the same tree, which
has spread over all the Ar3'an lands." Here Mr. Mor-
ris's poem ends ; but in the Edda the stor}- is carried
on to follow the fortunes of Swanhild, the daughter of
Sigurd and Gudrun. The waves carry Gudrun to an-
other country. There she marries the king, and her
daughter, Swanhild, grows up in the house of a kind
step-father. She is a solar myth too, and has never seen
her great father, Sigurd, because one day cannot see
the day before. Gudrun in the Edda sings : —

1. Of all my children before I gave her
her I loved the best. to the Gothic people.
Swanhild was That is to me the hardest
in my hall of all my woes,

as was the sunbeam that Swanhild's beauteous

fair to behold. locks

should in the mire be trod-

2. I with gold adorned her, den

and with fine raiment, under horses' feet.

296 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Swanhild was condemned to be trampled under horses'
feet. She opened her bright piercing eyes, — the awful
eyes of Sigurd, — and the horses refused to trample
upon her. But she was finall}' killed. This is just the
stor}' of another da}', and so the saga might go on for-
ever, but here ends the Volsung race ; Swanhild is the
last. Another saga tells about Gudrun's other chil-
dren, who are Nibelungs, dark powers, but this will not
interest us. The glory has died from the world with
the Volsungs, and we care not for the Nibelungs.

Wagner's libretto is not a copy pure and simple of
the Volsung vSaga, but it is much nearer to that than to
the Nibelungen Lied. He has taken the names from
the Nibelungen, but the spirit of his libretto from the
Volsung : it is steeped in the two Eddas. There is
first an introduction, in which the gods and goddesses,
giants and dwarfs, and daughters of Rhine, swan-maid-
ens, appear. The names are German : Odin becomes
Wotan, Thor becomes Donnor, the thunder ; but the
characteristics are Norse, of the Edda. There are
three parts to the libretto. The stage shows the hall,
and the stately Branstock, and the sword fast in it.
Siegmund draws it forth, and, after adventures and
battles in which he is slain, eight Valke^-rie swarm
upon the stage, which must have produced a wonderful
effect. Brtinhilde is one of them : she has disobeyed
Wotan, so the sleep thorn pierces her, and she falls
down in her armor, while the flickering fire rises up
about her. In the second pla^^, Siegfried is the hero.
He is the child of the dead Siegmund ; gets the broken
pieces of his father's sword, forges them, kills the worm
Fafnir, rides the flickering fire, and awakens Briinhilde.

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 297

In the third play the three awful Norns form the
chorus : thoroughly Norse all this, — the m3'thology of
the Edda put into actual, tangible form. The names
are changed to those of the Nibelungen, but the plot is
more like the Volsung Saga. He marries Gudrun, who
gives him the magic drink herself, and he is slain by an
arrow in the back. Then Briinhilde in full armor rides
proudl}^ into the fire of his funeral pile. She is even
grander than in the Volsung Saga. She is ashamed
that she, a Valkej'rie, should love a mortal man, and
struggles against the feeling. Yet this is AVotan's
punishment for her disobedience, and she must 3'ield.
Wotan, in the opera, is the god come down to earth as
a wanderer. He is wrapped in a cloak of cloudy blue,
and wears the wide hat of Odin. The Siegfried of the
opera is rough and rude compared to the golden Sigurd
of the Volsung Saga and the knightty Siegfried of the
Nibelungen Lied. But this drawback is slight, and it
is wonderful that the ver}' spirit of a past age could have
been brought before us so vividly. For actual repre-
sentation, the operas must have been too long, (Wotan
becomes intolerabl}' tiresome,) and there is no humanity
about them ; they are, however, grand poetical works,
where the wild pagan Norselaod is embodied.

298 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDKED LITEEATUKES,

CHAPTER X.

COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY OF THE TEUTONIC LITERA-
TURE. — ANGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN FAMILIES.

IN our last chapter we examined the Edda and its ficti-
tious poems, called sagas. From them we gathered
some knowledge of the gods and heroes of our Teutonic
ancestors. We saw the ideas which had prevailed in
India, Persia, Greece, expressed by the Teuton : the
forces of nature personified by the restless energ}^, the
defiant individualism, the grim humor, the deep melan-
choly, of the Teutonic mind. Their gods and heroes
represented themselves. We come now to those sagas
which are partly historical, or which are domestic, and
paint manners and customs.

My words cannot sufficiently say how fresh, Adgorous,
and peculiar this whole literature is : the noble Viking
spirit is expressed in fitting words. It was poured
forth in abounding fulness at a time when Europe had
no literature, except ballads and theolog}^ in monkish
Latin. For five hundred years, beginning in the sixth
century, these stout fellows wrote innumerable sagas.
On this remote and poverty-stricken island, uninflu-
enced by contact with any other nation, this free and
noble people developed the soul that was in them. A
love of libert}^ a proud contempt of danger, a delight
in labor, a joy in struggle, a consciousness of personal
independence, a respect for woman, a purity- of domes-

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATUKE. 299

tic life, breathe through ever}^ line. In the sagas ever}'-
thing is spoken of in a figurative manner. A maiden is
called '' the linen-folded" ; a sword, " blood-drinker" ;
water, "the swan's bath"; gold, the "worm's bed"
(this evidently comes from the stor}' of Fafnir, the
worm) ; a king, " shelter of earls"; a ship, "foamy-
necked," " wave-traverser." Some sagas have prose
intermingled with their poetry. The poetr}' itself is not
much like our idea of what poetry should be. It has
no rhyme, only alliteration ; but it is much more diffi-
cult to write than our poetry, and had strict rules for
its metre. It has a certain music of its own. Here is
a ver}^ perfect specimen of alliteration. Ragnar Lod-
brok is another of their heroes. He killed his serpent,
and delivered his maiden named Thora, like the other
Aryan heroes, and sang : —

" Hewed we with the TJanger,
i/ard upon the time H was
When in 6rOthlandia ^^oing
To give death to the serpent :
Then obtained we T/iora.
Thence have warriors called me
The Xing-eel, since I laid low
iodbrok : at that carnage
(S^iick I the stealthy monster
With steel of finest temper."

This is another one, which says that no soldier shall
ever marry a maiden.

" He, who 6rand of 6attle
^eareth, over weary,
Never love shall let him
Hold the ^inen-folded."

300 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Here is poetry taken from a saga written in prose,
but with these snatches of song bursting out. Gunn-
laug, the worm-tongue, is the name of the hero, be-
cause he is so eloquent, so persuasive, that his tongue
shps along like a worm. The " king's walls" are cities
built by kings; the "war-lord's son, the wealth-free,"
is the king, who gives him the gold.

" My ways must I be wending
three king's walls yet to see,
and yarls twain, as I promised
erewhile to land sharers.
Neither will I wend me
back, the worm's bed lacking,
by war-lord's son, the wealth-free,
for work done, gift well given."

Gunnlaug and another fall in love with the same
woman. Gunnlaug sings ; then his rival sings, and
addresses Gunnlaug by very complimentary names con-
nected with his great braver}^, calling him god of the
sword, glory of the goddess of war, a staff which causes
death.

" God of wound-flames' glitter,
glorier of fight-goddess,
must we fall a-fighting
for fairest kirtle-bearer ?
Death-stafi" ! Many such-like
fair as she is are there
in south lands, o'er sea-floods ;
so saith he who knoweth."

The following is a lovely song, so simple and heart-
felt. The maiden marries the rival, and dies ; then the

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 801

rival sings. Gold-riug's bearer is the wife, who wears
the gold ring. Being a sea rover, he calls himself the
seeker of the water ; and the water he calls the highway
of the fishes.

" Dead in mine arms she droopeth,
my dear one, gold-ring's bearer ;
for God hath changed the life days
of this lady of the linen.
Weary pain hath pined her ;
but unto me, the seeker
of hoard of fishes' highway,
abiding here is wearier."

There are many of these half-historical, half-domestic
sagas, and the defiant Norse nature crops out dehght-
full}' in spite of the Christianity they had adopted.
They sang of battles, sea-fights, single combats, feast-
ings, and gifts. Everj^ wealthy house had in the middle
an immense hall, with benches all around it, a table in
the centre, an elevated place at one end, called the high
seat. And when the king and his wife and honored
guests sat on the high seat, the 3'arls and bonders
around the tables, the skalds chanted theii' awful
strains. No wonder that the "Berserker rage" fell
upon these stormy Norsemen. They foamed at the
mouth, they clashed their swords, they rushed to their
long, narrow ships, and sailed out to conquer the world.
Each great 3'arl, or earl, had a fleet of these ships built
expresslj' to run up the rivers, long and narrow. Some-
times one ship would be the onl}' property of some bold
Viking. He named it with a favorite name, and talked
to it, and loved it as inland knights loved their horse.
A ship manned with rowers was a common present from

302 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

one great man to another. Here is the ship belonging
to Frithjof the Bold. It is like the Greek ship Argo.
" This wonder went wdth the good ship Ellida, that she
knew the speech of men." So the Norseman was sail-
ing, and he saw two Troll wives (witches) riding on
the waves. So he called out : —

" Ellida, now
or ever her way stop
shall sink the backs
of those asunder.
Ellida, sail,

leap high o'er the billows !
break of the Troll wives
brow and teeth now."

I copy an extract from a saga which will sound very
familiar. The legend lived among the Norsemen ; it
was told about two other heroes in two other sagas,
which were written down somewhere between 1200 and
1300 ; it is told about a fourth hero, and the Turks
and the Mongol Tartars tell the same stor}-, who are
Turanians. Now, the stor}'^ of William Tell was not
written down before 1499 ; so we see that this master
shot, this unerring arrow, belongs to all the Aryan
race, and some of the Turanian families even. The
idea is so true in itself, the arrow of the sun is so resist-
less, that the myth settles upon every hero whom a
grateful country wishes to honor.

" About that time the yoimg Egill came to the king's court.
Egill was the fairest of men, and this one thing he had before
all other men, — he shot better with the bow than any other
man. The king took to him well, and Egill was there a long
time. Finally, the king wished to try whether Egill shot so

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 303

very well or not ; so he let Egill's son, a boy of three years old,
be taken, and made them put an apple on his head, and bade
Egill shoot so that the shaft struck neither above the head, nor
to the left, nor to the right. The apple only was he to split.
But it was not forbidden him to shoot the boy, for the king
thought it certain that he would do that on no account. And
he was to shoot one arrow only, no more. So Egill takes
three, and strokes their feathers smooth, and fits one to his
string, and shoots, and hits the apple in the middle ; so that
the arrow took along with it half the apple and then fell to the
ground. This master shot has been long talked about ; and
the king made much of him, and he was the most famous of
men. Now, King Nidung asked Egill why he took out three
arrows, when it was settled that one only was to be shot with.
Then Egill answered, ' Lord, I will not lie to you : had I
stricken the lad with that one arrow, then I had meant these
two for you.' But the king took that well from him, and all
thought it was boldly spoken."

All the sagas, whether imaginary or historical, are
full of revenge and atonement. Life was held cheap.
Difficulties were settled by a hand-to-hand fight, and all
the relatives of the slain were bound to avenge him.
In the saga of Burnt Njal, a revenge was carried out
b}^ shutting up the enemies in their own house, and
burning them alive. But through this lurid horror
shines one lovely gleam. I cop}' an episode of Burnt
Njal. From the artless way in which it is told, it is
plain that the Norsemen were not conscious of doing
an^'thing wrong : their Christianit}' was not very deep.

" Then Flosi, the burner, came back to the house, and called
for Njal and Bergthora, his wife. And when they came to the
window, he said, ' Njal, thou art an old man, and I would not
burn thee in-doors. Thou shalt pass out free.' Njal answered,

30J: SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

* I am too old to avenge my sons upon thee, but I could not
live in shame : I will stay with them.' Then Flosi said to
Bergthora, ' Do thou come out : for I would not have it on my
soul that I burned a woman alive.' And he entreated her.
But Bergthora said to him, ' I was very young when I was
given to Njal, and then I promised him that nothing should
ever part us twain. We have lived long together, and nothing
has ever parted .us, nor ever shall.' So they went back to-
gether, hand in hand, into the house. And Bergthora laid her
head against Njal's shoulder and said, ' Husband, what shall
we do ? ' He kissed her tenderly, and answered, ' It is bed-time,
dear one, it is time to rest.' So they went into their chamber,
A little boy, Kari's youngest son, was lying in their bed, and
Bergthora went to lift him up to take him to another room ;
for she said to Njal, ' "We cannot see the boy die before our
eyes.' But the child said, ' Grandmother, I have always slept
with you, and I would rather die with you and Njal than live
afterwards.' Then they laid them down in their bed, and took
the boy between them ; and having signed themselves and the
child with the cross, and committed their souls into God's
hands, Njal called to his house steward, and said, ' Mark well
how we lie, so that thou mayest afterwards be able to tell
where to look for our bones ; for we shall not stir hence for
any pain or smart of burning. And now take yonder ox-
hide from the wall, and cover us therewith.' The steward
took the hide, and, having spread it over them, went out.
That was the last that was seen or heard of Njal or Bergthora
alive."

Then the awful fight went on, and Njal's sons were all
burned alive in the house. Some da3's after, men came
to search for Njal and Bergthora's bones. When the}''
had digged a long time, through a great heap of ashes,
they came upon the ox-hide, charred and shrivelled.
The hide was hfted, and, —

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 305

" Lo ! the bodies of Njal and Bergthora were bright and
fair, and scarce the smell of tire had passed upon them. They
lay as though they slept, and smiled in their sleep, and the
child in like manner, save that one of his fingers was burnt
where he had stretched it forth from beneath the ox-hide."

There was another way of atonement which was some-
times adopted, bnt not considered so creditable. This
was by paying "blood-gold," — a sum of mone}^, the
amount of which was fixed by the Thing or parliament.
These were local courts of justice ; once a year all the
3'arls and bonders met to settle the affairs of the whole
country, and to choose a king. This was called the
All Thing. The 3'arls were noblemen ; the bonders
were freemen who owned their land ; the thralls were
slaves, and had no voice in the government. For this
defiant individualism did not prevent the Norsemen
from submitting to laws ; <Jh\y the}' must be of his own
making. The codes of law in Norse are among the
most remarkable writings of their whole literature.
The principal one is called the Gragos, or gray goose,
because it was written upon goose-skin, and has been
translated. It was to resist tyrann}' that the Norse-
men fled to Iceland, and there they developed that
capacity for self-government which is almost the noblest
characteristic of the Aryan race. The}' preserved that
form which we found among the undivided Aryans :
first the family, then the village, then the clan. Each
yarl was the head of his clan, and the kings were
chosen by them just as in India, in the society de-
scribed by the Maha Bharata. The king's power was
slight ; and when one of the kings issued an order which
displeased the yarls and bonders, nine of them threat-

20

306 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ened to throw him into a marsh}' pool unless he should
retract it. So he retracted it.

The literal actual histor}'^ of these kings was written
down by Snorre Sturleson, the same man who collected
the prose Edda, and it is most amusing. It is as
lively, and entertaining, and gossipuig, as any of the
celebrated French memoirs. It is called the Heims-
kringla, or " Chronicle of the Kings of Norway, " and
Carlyle stole it bodily in his " Earl}' Kings of Norway."
This is actual history, not poetry, like the sagas which
we have been examining. The sturdy old kings live
and move before us. There was much intercourse with
Russia. Every discontented Norseman went to By-
zantium to join the Varangian body-guard of the East-
ern Emperor, and passed through Russia on his way.
Gudleif, a great merchant, drove a trade with Russia,
and went eastward in summer to Novogorod, where he
bought fine and " costly clothes, which he intended for
the king as a state dress, and also precious furs and
splendid table utensils," And a Swedish princess often
married some Russian king. King Olaf the Saint is
one of the most interesting kings of Norway.

" In the autumn news was brought to King Olaf that the
bonders had a great feast, at which all the remembrance cups
to the ^sir, or old gods, were blessed according to the old
forms ; and it was added that cattle and horses had been slain,
and the altars sprinkled with their blood, and these sacrifices
accompanied with prayers for good seasons."

Now, King Olaf was the first Christian king, and he
immediately made a royal progress through the country
to convert the nation.

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 307

" He taught them the right customs. If there were any
who Avould not leave heathen ways, he took the matter so
zealously that he drove some out of the country, mutilated
others of hands or feet, or stung their eyes out, hung up some,
cut down some with the sword, but let none go unpunished
who would not serve God."

Is not this naive ? But here is King Olaf s crowning
achievement during his ro^^al progress. When Gucl-
brand heard that he was coming to hold a Thing (par-
liament) , he said : —

" ' A man is come to Loar who is called Olaf, and will force
upon us another faith than that we had before, and will break
in pieces all our gods. He says that he has a much greater and
more powerful god ; and it is wonderful that the earth does
not burst asunder under him, or that our god lets him go about
unpunished, when he dares to talk such things. I know this
for certain, that if we carry Thor, who has always stood by,
oat of our temple, that is standing upon this farm, Olafs god
will melt away, and he and his men will be made nothing,
so soon as Thor looks upon them.' Then the bonders all
shouted as one man : people streamed to them from all parts,
who did not^wish to receive Christianity. The king went out
to meet the bonders, and hold a Thin^ with them. On that
day the rain fell heavily. When the Thing was seated, the
king stood up and said, that the people in Lesso, Loar, and
Vaarge had received Christianity, broken down their houses of
sacrifice, and believed now in the true God, who had made
heaven and earth, and all things. Then the king sat down,
and Gudbrand replied, 'We know nothing of him whom thou
speakest about. Dost thou call him God, whom neither thou
nor any one else can see ? But we have a god who can be
seen out every day, although he is not out to-day because the
weather is wet ; and he will appear to thee terrible and very
grand ; and I expect that fear will mix with your very blood,
when he comes into the Thing.' In the evening the king asked

308 SANSKKIT AND ITS KINDRED LITER ATUEES.

Gudbrand's son what their god was like. He replied, that he
hore the likeness of Thor ; had a hammer in his hand ; was of
great size, and hollow within ; and had a high stand upon
which he stood when he was out. Then they went to bed, but '
the king watched all night in prayer. When day dawned, the
king went to mass, then to table, from thence to the Thing.
Now the bishop stood up in his choir-robes, with the bishop's
coif on his head, and his bishop's staff in his hand. He spoke
to the bonders of the true faith, told the many wonderful acts
of God; and concluded his speech well. Thord replied, and
they separated for the day. Now the king was in prayer all
night, beseeching God of his goodness and mercy to release
him from evil. When the mass was ended and morning was
gray, the king went to the Thing. When he came there he saw
that bonders had arrived already ; and they saw a great crowd
coming along, and bearing among them a huge man's image,
gleaming with gold and silver. When the bonders who were
at the Thing saw it, they started up and bowed themselves
down before the ugly idol. Thereupon it was set down upon
the Thing- field ; and on one side of it stood the bonders, and on
the other, the king and his people. Then Gudbrand stood up
and said : ' Where, 0 king, is now thy god ? I think he will
now carry his head lower; and neither thou, nor the man with
the horn, whom ye call bishop, is so bold as on the former
days ; for now our god, who rules over everything, is come,
and looks on you with an angry eye, and I see well enough
that ye are terrified, and scarcely dare to raise your eyes.
Throw away now, all your opposition, and believe in the god
who has all your fate in his hands.' The king then stood up
and spoke : ' Turn your eyes towards the east, behold our
God advancing in great light.' The sun was rising and
all turned to look. That moment Kolbein gave their god a
stroke, so that the idol burst asunder, and there ran out of it
mice as big almost as cats, and reptiles, and adders. The
bonders were so terrified that they fled. Then the king ordered
them to be called back, and said, ' I do not understand what

SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 309

your noise and running mean. Ye see yourselves what your
god can do, — the idol ye adorned with gold and si]\-er, and
brought meat and provisions to. Ye see now that the pro-
tecting powers who used it were the mice and adders, reptiles
and paddocks : and they do ill who trust to such, and will
not abandon tliis folly. Take now your gold ornaments which
are scattered about on the grass, and give them to your wives
and daughters ; but never lay them again upon stock or stone.
Here are now two conditions between us to choose upon, —
either accept Chistianity, or fight this very day, and the vic-
tory be to them to whom the God we worship gives it.' Then
Gudbrand stood up and said, ' We have sustained great damage
upon our god, but since he will not help us, we will believe
in the God thou believest in.' Then all received Christianity.
The bishop baptized Gudbrand and his son. King Olaf and
Bishop Sigurd left behind them leaders, and they who met as
enemies parted as friends ; and Gudbrand built a church in
the valley."

There is a realism about this, which almost makes us
believe in Thor too. Snorre tells us that after King
Olaf the Saint died, his body worked many miracles.
The blind, the lame, the sick, were cured b}" touching
it. People could hear a sound over his hoi}' remains,
as if bells were ringing. All this happened in 1030.
Paganism had lingered until then.

But there is another kind of literature in Norse
which has preserved the common traditions more faith-
full}' even than the mythology and the saga. Baldur,
the bea.utiful, bright summer, slain b}' the dark winter,
descended into the hero of the epic poem, and became
the golden Sigurd. He went even further, and became
Boots, the hero of the folk tales. And these popular
tales have now become a study fit for grown minds,

310 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDIIED LITERATURES.

instead of being condemned b}^ severe parents. The
Norse folk tales are many and delightful. In the "Mas-
ter Maid " is a horse that darts fire and flame from his
nostrils, like the Greek horse. In "East o' the Sun,
West o' the Moon," there is the same maiden wedded
to a monster she does not see, whom we found in San-
skrit as Urvasi, in Greek as Ps3^che, in English as
Beauty and the Beast. They are separated, and the
maiden travels far to find her lost hero. In the Norse
stor}^ the winds carry her upon their back ; the}' are
rough, but kindly fellows. The evil spirit in these
stories is always stupid ; he is called a Troll. He fights
against mankind, just as the Jotuns fought against the
^sir. Here is the end of a story : —

" As they sat at supper, back came the Troll who owned the
cattle, and gave such a great knock at the door. As soon as
Peter heard that, down he ran to the gate : ' Stop a bit, and
I '11 tell you how the farmer gets in his winter rye.' And so he
told a long story, over and over again, and he went on until
the sun rose. '0, do look behind you, and there you '11 see
such a lovely lady ! ' said Peter to the Troll. So the Troll
turned round ; and of course, as soon as he saw the sun, he
burst."

Now this little myth is very plain. The Troll, the
evil spirit, is the darkness, which must burst before the
light of the sun. Most of the stories are like Cinderella
reversed. There are two haughty brothers, and 4 third
brother who is despised and abused, and called Boots.
He goes oflT in disguise, and does brave and kindly
deeds ; and at night he comes back, and lies by the
kitchen-fire in his rags, and everybod}' mocks at him.
But at last he throws off his beggar rags and comes out
in his full glory. It is the sun rejoicing in his strength,

AKGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN LITERATURE. 311

and throwing off the thick clouds which had enveloped
it. These few instances are enough to illustrate the
solar myth as found in Norse folk tales. The well-
known stories are told over again with infinite humor, —
the grim Teutonic humor : it is not so keen as the
Keltic wit, but it is more kindl}'. In them all, the devil
is spoken of in a manner ver}^ irreverent to our ideas.
Mr. Dasent sa3's, " The devil has taken small hold upon
the mind of the Norsemen ; he constantly reappears in
a pagan aspect, is simple, and easily outwitted." The
Norse demons are really the old Norse gods, as we
saw in our last chapter The}^ did not lose their power
when Christianity was accepted, but became powerful
for ill. This is verj' evident in the story of the Wild
Huntsman.

" When the winds blew, and the clouds hurried along, it was
no longer the stately procession of Odin and the Valkeyrie and
the chosen heroes in triumphant progress, it was the Wild
Huntsman followed by fiends. In Germany it is still Wodin,
a demon ; in France, Le Grand Veneur ; in England, Heme
the hunter, whom Falstaff met."

We must stop for a moment to speak about our an-
cestors brought a little nearer to us, — the Angles and
Saxons, who invaded and conquered Britain, and drove
the Kelts into the remotest corners of the island, —
into Wales and the Highlands of Scotland. Our Anglo-
Saxon fathers had ballads sung by wandering minstrels
called Scops ; but they were mute indeed compared
with their brethren in Noi-way and Iceland, who poured
forth sagas for five hundred years, and wrote immortal
works. There are three ballads and two fragments in

812 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Anglo-Saxon which are known to be authentic, and the
manuscript whicli contains them is tlie oldest original
manuscript of all the Teutonic families. The poems
are not as old as the Edda ; but the Edda was collected
by Ssemund from different sources, — perhaps manu-
scripts, but more probably just from the very lips of
people ; so the manuscript of that is not original. This
manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon pagan ballads exists in
Exeter Cathedral in England, and contains runic let-
ters. The oldest one is the Complaint of Deor, a Scop :
it has the simplest forms of the Anglo-Saxon language,
and it introduces one important character who appears
in all the Teutonic families. This is the first instance
in which one literature has consciouslj^ copied the heroes
of another, except the Latin literature, which frankly
copied everything Greek. First, he describes the mis-
fortunes of a bard : —

" He sitteth bereaved of joy, his breast laboring with care,
and thinketh with himself that his portion of hardships is end-
less. Then may he reflect how the all- wise Lord worketh
abundant changes throughout all the world, exhibiting to many
among men honor and the fruit of prudence, to others the
portion of woe. This I may affirm from my own experience.
Once was I Scop to the high Dane, beloved by my lord. Deor
was my name ; many winters had I an excellent following
and a faithful chieftain, until a crafty foe deprived me of the
freedom, the land right, which that glory of chieftains had
bestowed upon me."

Next, he gives an account of the misfortunes of
others, to console himself, and tells the same story
about Weland the Smith which was in the Edda.
Welend is Yelende in the island of Ce3don, Hephaistos

ANGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN LITERATUEE. 313

in Greek, Vulcan in Latin, Vulund in Norse, and finally
as Wayland the Smith comes into the folk-stories of
England in the Middle Ages'. The root is the verb
veleii^ to burn ; he it is who makes wonderful armor
for the gods and heroes ; and he means the fire, the
flame. He is alwa3's lame and ugl}' : so flame comes
from a little spark, pun}' at its birth, but strong an.d
powerful afterwards. Volund is married to a Yalke3'rie,
who is a bright cloud ; in Greek, Hephaistos married
Aphrodite, the dawn ; in Latin, Vulcan married Venus,
the dawn ; this t^'pifies that the brightness of light is
akin to the brightness of fire. This ballad and the
Traveller's Song are of the seventh centmy, and both
are pagan.

The third pagan ballad in Anglo-Saxon is Beowulf.
It is a little later than the poetic Edda, written about
the middle of the eighth centur}' ; the Edda and the
Anglo-Saxon ballads being earlier than all the other
sagas. It is not certain where Beowulf was composed.
The manuscript is \qv\ old, but genuine, and was dis-
covered in 1705. It ma}" have been brought over from
the Continent, or composed in England ; but it shows
the great intercourse between the branches of the
Teutonic family. And the Anglo-Saxon pagans fill up
the gap between the Norse and German pagans. Those
who wandered to Britain were Christianized four cen-
turies sooner than the Norsemen who wandered to Ice-
land, carrying the two Eddas with them ; so Beowulf is
Christianized, and therefore of much less value. How-
ever, there is only a very thin coating of Christianity,
and the paganism shines through so plainly that the
family likeness is ver}- evident. It is of course very

31-4 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

interesting that such a poem should exist at all ; but it
is still more interesting that it should be simply a coun-
terpart of the other Ar3'an epics. The miraculous birth
and death of a hero come in ; but they are applied in
this poem to the father of the chief hero. He is borne
to the country floating in a boat, like Perseus in Greek.
This child in a boat is always the sun resting on the
water ; but he does not appear in any other of the
Teutonic families : the Anglo-Saxons were the only
ones who preserved this primar}' m3'th. When the
father died, they committed his body to a ship. We
meet this ship of the dead in Arthur's romance, where
the three queens bear him away. It has no oar, no
rudder, no rigging ; but it sails and sails, and reaches
its destined haven : so sail the clouds.

" Then at his fated time Scyld the strenuous departed from
amongst them to go into the protection of the Lord. They
then, his beloved followers, carried him away to the sea-shore,
as he himself bade, — he, the Scyldings' lord, while his words
had power, the dear chief of the land. There at the harbor
stood the ring-stemmed vessel, glittering like ice, and ready
for the voyage, a prince's bark. Then they laid down their
beloved prince, the ring-dispenser, in the bosom of the ship ;
by the mast they laid the famous one. Thereon was stored
great store of treasures, of ornaments from afar. On his bosom
lay a pile of treasures, which were to go far away with him
into the possession of the flood. Yet more, they set up high over
his head a golden ensign, and let the sea bear him away ; they
abandoned him to the ocean. Upon the sea and alone went
Scyld ; they mournfully gave the king and his treasure to the
deep and solemn sea, to journey none knew whither."

Then comes the second part of the solar myth, — the
hero fighting with a monster. The first one is Grendel,

ANGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN LITERATURE. 315

in human form, who comes to the palace hall at night,
and drags out the sleepers, and sucks their blood,
which is just the action of the vampires who come
into Slavonic literature. Nothing can be more ghastly
than this awful struggle in the dark hall. When,
finally, Grendel is killed, his fearful mother, the devil's
dam, came to avenge his death ; the second struggle is
but a repetition of the first. But there is a peculiarit}^
of Beowulf of which we must take notice. After he
has killed the two demons, the queen drinks his health,
and the Scops in the hall sing his praises, and compare
him to Sigmund the Waelsing. Now, this is a con-
fusion between Sigmund and Sigurd the Volsung, his
son, who slew the worm ; but it proves that the Anglo-
Saxon bards were acquainted with the ballads of the
Edda. This is the second instance we have as 3'et
found in which one nation was consciously influenced b}-
another in its literature. If the same ideas reappear
in other epics, it is wholly unconsciously and indepen-
dently. The Scop also sang a ballad of the battle of
Finnesham. It was not contained in Beowulf, but it
has latel}^ been discovered in a fragment of manuscript,
so the episode could be introduced if thought best.
Beowulf succeeds to the kingdom, and when he is full
of 3'ears and honors another awful monster appears.
Beowulf goes out to attack him and deliver his people,
though all others falter. He says, " If I fall in the
fight, send to Higelac that most beautiful coat-armor
which guards my breast ; it is the work of Weland."

Then comes the third, last struggle, in which Beowulf
kills the dragon, but is himself stifled by the breath of
the monster, and dies. Before he dies, however, he

316 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

longs to look upon the gold which had belonged to the
dragon, and he feasts his eyes on the treasure he had
won for his people. So the sun gazes upon the gold
and violet clouds which surround his setting. In the
graceful mind of the Greeks, these violet-colored clouds
become a lovely woman watching over the dying hero,
as lole watches over Herakles. " In the North it is not
alone the barbaric splendor of gold and jewels which
consoles the dying hero, but the thought that these
treasures will benefit the people for whom he died." If
this personification of a sunset is less beautiful, it is
more noble than the Greek. When Beowulf is dead,
his followers build a lofty funeral pile, covered with all
things precious, and his body is burned upon it. It
was in order that the smoke might carry up the soul ;
the ballad says, "The soul of Beowulf curled to the
clouds."

There are those who think that Beowulf was a real
person ; that he reigned over the Saxons in Northum-
bria : a lake is still called Grendelsmere. This may or
may not be true. The Scop sang the traditions which
were in the mind of the people. It is of little conse-
quence whether he w^as true to fact or not ; he certainly
was true to the Ar^-an nature, and is one of the noblest
characters of Aryan literature. Taine says of the
poem : " The people are not selfish and trickj^ like
those of Homer. They are noble hearts, simple and
strong. This Beowulf is a knight before the time of
chivalry. The hero is truly heroic."

These three ballads may very properly be considered
an Anglo-Saxon epic. They are WTitten in aUiterative
poetry, full of comparisons. Beowulf s flesh is called

ANGLO-SAXON AND GEEMAN LITEEATDRE. 317

his " bone-bouse" and his " bone-locker." But for the
Norman conquest we should have used just such com-
pound words; alliteration, instead of rhj-me, in our
poetr}^ ; inflections in our grammar. Now we adopt a
French or Latin word to express our meaning ; but an
Anglo-Saxon priest wrote the " Aj'enbite of Inwyt"
to express the sting of conscience. He made up his
own word. It is a little irrelevant, but so interesting
that I must refer to the fact, that the Anglo-Saxon
grammar has some diflferences from ours. The Anglo-
Saxon adjectives, pronouns, and articles were declined.
It even had a definite and indefinite declension, like
the German ; and not only the qualifjing words, but
the nouns themselves, were declined. Professor Whit-
nc}' says that " English is stripped and shorn."

There is a Christian literature in Anglo-Saxon, and
although this is not its proper place in the mental
histoiy^ of Europe, it seems convenient to include it
in the Anglo-Saxon chapter. Their monks were the
onl}' ones in Europe who condescended to use the
native dialect of the people. They wrote the famous
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, beginning at the invasion of
Britain, and coming down to the accession of Henry
II., 1154 ; also, a grammar of the language ; and these
are veiy valuable, being our only authorities for the
history and grammar. Ctedmon, the Saxon, put parts
of the Bible into alliterative poetr3\ There is one
characteristic touch which shows the manners of the
time. The invading Danes would swoop down upon
defenceless England, and carry off the inhabitants ;
and this was called harrowing a countiy. So one of
Caedmon's poems relates the triumphant entrance of

318 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Christ into hell. It describes the rage of Lucifer, the
dread of fiends, the joy of the ransomed, when Christ
descended into hell, and led forth the redeemed in per-
son. It was known in the Middle Ages as the " Har-
rowing of Hell," which sounds very irreverent to us,
but not meant to be so. Tliis literature is not valu-
able, because it was borrowed from monkish theolog}',
not worked out from the native instincts of the pagan
blood. But the energy and fierce defiance of the race
come out, especiall}^ in Csedmon's conception of Satan.
He wrote an account of the temptation in the garden,
and the fall of man, which are most poetical and strong.
The poem was translated into English, and published
in 1685, a thousand years after ; and it is quite possible
that Milton may have seen it. The pagan fire had not
quite burned out when the following lines were written.
There is a fierce energy in them which is wonderful :
the mind is unsubdued, though fetters load the limbs.

PART OF THE SPEECH OF SATAI^.

Is this the hateful place (unlike indeed

The seats we once in heaven's high kingdom knew)

To which the conqueror chains me, — never more

(Expelled by him, the Almighty One) to gain

That realm ! How hath he wronged us of our right,

Who the dread flames of this infernal gulf

Pours full upon us, and denies us heaven !

That heaven, alas ! he destines to receive

The sons of men : 't is this that grieves me most.

That Adam, he, the earth-born, should possess

My glorious seat, — that he should live in joy

While we in hell's avenging horrors pine.

0 that my hands were free ! that I might hence

ANGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN LITERATURE. 319

But for a time, but for a winter's day !

Then with this host I — but that these knotted chains

Encompass, that these iron bands press on me.

Oh ! I am kingdomless ; hell's fetters cling

Hard on each limb ; above, beneath, the flame

Fierce rages ; sight more horrible mine eyes

Ne'er yet have witnessed. O'er these scorching deeps

The fire no respite knows ; the strong-forged chain.

With ever-biting links, forbids my course.

In order to understand the foundation of the German
language, we must go back to a time long gone by,
though mentioned in the preceding chapter. Of all
the invading Teutons who left their Northern strong-
holds and sw^armed over Europe, the Moeso-Goths
approached nearest to Byzantium. Ulphilas became
converted to Christianity (the Arian form), and was
sent as Bishop to his countrymen. He must have
been a man of thought and courage, for he " dared to
translate the Bible into the language of the despised
barbarians ; as if foreseeing, with prophetic eye, the
destiny of those Teutonic tribes to become the life-
spring of the Gospel, after Greek and Latin had died
away." It is the only book in the Gothic language ;
the language itself is dead. But the book was adopted
by the Germans when they became converted ; and
though the language is not German, it is the principal
element of it, and helped to identif}^ the Germans as
Ar3'ans. The Goths were the first Teutons to be con-
verted, and Ulphilas anticipated the work of Luther by
a thousand years, in giving them the Bible in their own
tongue, in 355 a. d. He really is connected with the By-
zantine civilization, in point of time ; but it seems better
to include him among the Germans, in point of family.

320 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

We have heard the last echo of paganism in Beo-
wulf, which was onl}^ half pagan. Now we must turn
to the Germans. They have no sacred books ; we must
go to an outside source, for we know nothing more
of their religion than Tacitus has told us : that the}'
worshipped in groves, and offered human sacrifices,
and had a go.d named Tuisco, and another named Tiu,
or Zio, which are both forms of the name Dyaus, and
have been traced. Max Miiller says, "The Heaven-
Father was invoked in the dark forests of Germany a
thousand years. Then his old name was heard for
the last time." Another god was called Wuotan, or
Wodin, which is the same as Odin. Slight as this
knowledge is, the philologist is grateful for it: these
names identify the relationship between the Germans
and the other Aryan families. The earliest sacred
poem known in German is the "Weissenbrun Hymn,
probably of the eighth centur}', and therefore Christian-
ized ; for the Germans were converted in 755. It is
not worth while to allude to the Christian literature of
German. I only copy the Weissenbrun Hymn because
the besfinnino- of it is so much like the Edda.

-&*

" This have I heard from men,
the chief of the elder sages,
that originally there existed
no heaven above,
nor tree, nor mountain,
nor was there ....
nor any star.
No sun shone forth,
nor did the moon give her light ;
neither the vast sea.

ANGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN LITERATURE. 321

Then there was naught

from end to end ;

but then existed the one

Almighty God,

most merciful to man,

and with him also were many

godlike spirits.

Holy God,

Almighty ! the heaven

and the earth thou hast wrought,

and for men

thou providest so many blessings.

Do thou bestow on me, in thy grace,

a right faith,

and a good will,

wisdom and good speed,

to -withstand the craft of the devil,

and to eschew evil, -

and thy will to work."

But if the}^ have not gods like the many grand forms
of Norse m3'tholog3^ the}' have heroes, whose names
and high deeds are dulj^ set forth in ballads. The old-
est is the Hildebrand Lied ; and this is only a muti-
lated fragment of what may once have been a German
epic. It is ver}^ simple and strong, like all the genuine
poetry of the people. It is as old as the eighth century,
— as Beowulf, for instance, — and it tells another of
the tales -common to the Ar3'an race, gives another form
to the solar myth. Hildebrand, a brave warrior, left
behind him a wife and an Infant son, and went off to
fight the Huns. After thirty years he returned, and
a brave young German warrior, thinking him to be a
Hun, challenged him to combat. But Hildebrand rec-

21

322 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ogiiized his own son, declared himself, and offered his
golden bracelets as a token. The son refused to be-
lieve him, sajing that his father was dead, and insisted
upon fighting. They fought ; the son was conquered :
both finally returned alive to the wife. This is the sun-
light of one day struggling with the sun-light of the new
day, and is the same mj-th which was so beautifully
elaborated in Sohrab and Rustem, in Persia. Yet there
could have been no influence exercised, for the Persians
did not even know of the existence of the Germans,
in their remote forests. The Hildebrand Lied is written
in alliterative poetry. It is almost as majestic as the
Edda. I quote part of Hildebrand's speech to his son,
it is so simple and pathetic

" Well-a-day now, governing God !
Woe worth shall happen !
Summers full sixty,
and winters, I wander,
ever called with the crowd
of shooters of spears :
nor in. mine own household
delayed, as the dead.
Now shall the child of me
smite me with sword,
bite me with broad steel,
or I be his slayer."

The figurative expressions, too, prove its kinship.
Another of the old ballads tells of the horny Siegfried,
a hero who was born covered with a coat of horn : and
in the Maha Bharata occurs the same thing. The hero
Kama has a coating, like shell, which he, however, puts
on and off at pleasure. These were written in Old

ANGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN LITERATURE. 323

High-German,^ which is veiy much like Anglo-Saxon.
But the most celebrated of the old ballads of the peo-
ple is the Nibelungen Lied, or song of the children of
the mist ; Nibelung being from the same root as Nifl-
heim and nebula. It was origin alh^ a series of ballads,
springing up among the people, no one knows when or
where ; for the German bards did not write down their
songs. Finall}', these were collected and rewritten by
one person, about the middle of the twelfth century,
in the form which they now bear, in Middle High-Ger-
man, which resembles modern High-German more than
Chaucer's English resembles modern English, and can
more easil}' be read without a translation ; but they
were lost for man}^ years, and utterl}" forgotten. About
a hundred 3Tars ago, in 1757, the}' were discovered in
manuscript, in the library of an ancient noble family.
Several other copies were found after diligent search,
and all closed with the words, "Here endeth the Nibe-
lungen Lied." It has been translated into modern
German, and man}' foreign languages, and the Ger-
mans overflowed with pride at the thought that they too
had a national epic. But on a close comparison with
the Volsung Saga, which is included in the Eddas, and
is the Norse epic, such a remarkable resemblance was
found, that it is now acknowledged that the Nibelungen
Lied is simply a reproduction of the Volsung Saga,
but unconsciously so. This is perfectly natural, since
the Norsemen and Germans are brothers, of the same
Teutonic branch of the great Aryan race, and once may
all have lived together on the shores of the Baltic Sea.
The story is just the same ; the names, even, are but
little changed ; but the spirit is utterly different. The

32Jt SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

wild, strong, daring Norsemen — tlie men and the
women of heroic proportions, tall and bright as gods
and goddesses — have been converted into mild, church-
going knights, who gain their ends b\^ craft rather than
by frankness and courage. So I think the Volsung Saga
the finer of the two, as well as the more original. It is
nearer to the primitive form of the solar myth ; thus the
connection of the Teutonic with the other Aryan epics
is more easily traced in it. William Morris has put the
story into such lovely melody that his poem will be
accepted as the standard version of the two Teutonic
epics. There is no good poetical translation of the
Nibelungen. I do not feel that it is needed since Mor-
ris's poem. An appreciative account of it was writ-
ten b}' Mr. Carlyle, in the Westminster Review, 1831.
But all these new discoveries in comparative mythology
have been applied to the Nibelungen since then ; so his
account is not enough, sympathetic as it is. As I re-
lated the story so full}' in the last chapter, in speaking of
the Volsung Saga, I shall only mention the differences.
The hero is Siegfried, or Sifrit. There were three
parts in the Volsung Saga, and this is like Wagner's
opera, where the first one tells the story of the hero's
famil}' and father. The Nibelungen begins at the sec-
ond part. The hero himself, Siegfried, kills a dragon,
and bathes in its blood, and thus becomes invincible ;
but, while bathing, a leaf from a linden-tree fell be-
tween his shoulders, and staj'ed there, so that one little
spot was not touched by the dragon's blood, and he can
be wounded there, — like Achilleus vulnerable in one
spot alone, the heel. Siegfried then gains the treas-
ures of the dwarfs, and a cloud mantle or cloak, which

ANGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN LITERATURE. 325

gives him the strength of twelve men and makes him
invisible. This is the same invisible garment which
so man}' heroes have worn, — like Fortnnatns's cap, for
instance, — and is the mist or fog which hides the
sun in the spring sometimes. All that loveh' story
about the awakening of Brynhild does not come into
the Nibelungen. The Briinhilde of the Nibelnngen has ;
physical force ; but she has not the wisdom and the ]
spiritual power of the Br3'nhild in the Volsung Saga.
Gunther, the king, desires to wed the strong woman,
Briinhilde. She comes forth canying a might}' spear,
and hurls a stone which four men could not lift. But
Siegfried wins the Briinhilde of the Nibelungen by
throwing stones and spears, and b}' wrestling till this
amazon is tripped and thrown to the ground. This is
much less poetical, and also much less dangerous, than
riding through the flickering fire. He does it under
his invisible cloak, while Gunther, the king, stands b}',
and makes all the gestures ; there is something undig-
nified, almost laughable, in this. Siegfried takes off
the ring and the girdle of Brihihilde, and gives them to
his own wife. She is named Kriemhild in the Nibe-
lungen ; but she is the sister of the king, and corre-
sponds to the Gudrun of the original story. The crisis
is brought on, just as in the Volsung Saga, b}' the quar-
rels of the two queens. But the revenge is different.
In the Volsung Saga it is prompted by the love and
jealousy of Brynhild, and then, when the hero is dead,
her heart breaks too. She forgives him, but she dies
with him. The treasure is not thought of. In the
Nibelungen Lied, Briinhilde does not love Siegfried ;
she is simply angry because he is a more distinguished

326 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

man than her own husband, and lives on very com-
fortably after his death. We hear no more of her.
Her anger prompts her to work upon the avarice of
Hagen, whose name means prickly thorn ; and he
promises to kill Siegfried by strategy, because he de-
sires to have the gold, the Nibelungen hoard. While
they are on a hunting excursion, Siegfried stoops to
drink at a spring of water, and Hagen, standing behind
the mighty hero, pierces him with a spear just in that
one spot between the shoulders where he is vulnerable.
This is the manner of the death in Wagner's opera. So
the thorn of winter kills the summer ; the thorn of
darkness kills the bright sun. There are many stories
in which the death of the hero is connected with water.
It means the setting sun sinking below the water. The
second part of the Nibelungen is the revenge of Kriem-
hild, Siegfried's wife. It is the story which we met in
the Volsung Saga. She marries a foreign king, entices
her brethren to come to visit her, and then kills them
all in that vast slaughter-hall. Little is said about the
gold, the Nibelungen hoard, in the Volsung Saga ; but
it plays a very important part in the Nibelungen. In
the Volsung Saga, the revenge of Gudrun was the real
motive; the gold, only a bait held out to Gudi^un's
new husband : in the Nibelungen, Kriemhild cares
quite as much for the gold as for revenging her slaugh-
tered hero. But the ending is the same. The gold is
drowned beneath the water ; neither side can possess it.
In the Nibelungen Lied, the tale of the revenge is
tedious, as well as sickening : thousands of warriors
fall : new heroes are introduced only to be killed, and
the agon}^ is prolonged. One hero, Volker, is a harper.

ANGLO-SAXON AND GERMAN LITERATURE. 327

This is like Phemios, tlie harper in the Od3'ssey. An
effort has been made to give historical names to the
characters, and prove that the}' reallj- lived. Kriem-
hild's second husband, Etzel, is called Attila, king of
the Huns ; but his character is entirely different from
that of the real Attila, and I think there is nothing to
warrant such a supposition. The names and characters
resemble those of the other epic poems far more than
they do any living, actual people. It is only because
there are media3val manners and ideas in the Nibe-
lungen Lied that such an explanation came up.

It is precisel}' this mediaeval spirit which makes the
Nibelungen Lied less beautiful than the Volsung Saga.
It is near and real ; the characters and the motives
which actuate them might reall}^ be ; the only super-
naturahsm, the invisible cloak, is found in a hundred
mediaeval tales. But the Volsung Saga is remote and
shadow}' and vast. The gods themselves come down
and dwell with men, and no men ever lived so mighty
as those heroes ; even the swart, blue-clad Niflungs are
great and grand to see. The women are beautiful and
wise and loving as goddesses. The motives are bold
and clear, the plot is simple and contains but few
subordinate characters, and the ver}' soul of poetry
breathes through it all. It is as free and wild and
daring as the Norsemen who gave it birth.

I will copy a passage I met after I had written this
chapter. Matthew Arnold says: "There is a fire, a
stjde, a distinction, in Icelandic poetry, which German
poetry has not. The fatal humdrum and want of stjde
of the Germans have marred their way of telling this
magnificent tradition of the Mbelungen, and taken half

328 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

its grandeur and power out of it ; while in the Icelandic
poems which deal with this tradition, its grandeur and
power are much more full}^ visible." The dark, tragical
element, " the sorrow after jo}^," which Carl3ie felt, but
could not understand, which runs through both poems,
has been explained to us by the comparative m3'tholo-
gist. It comes from the perpetual warfare, the stern
aspect, of the physical nature of the North. However
beautiful the summer may be, there is alwaj's the
consciousness that the darkness and cold will return.
The Persian and the Teutonic epics end in gloom ;
the Indian and Grecian, in joy and triumph. Rama
brings back Sita, stolen by dark powers ; the Greeks
carry back Helen and her gold ; Odysseus lives in hap-
piness with his beloved bride. Yet this was worked
out unconsciously. Naturally and independently these
different nations ' expressed the thought that was in
them. They brought out different results from these
same original germs. It is onl}' latel}', since all litera-
tures have been traced back to their very origin, — the
phenomena of nature,— that we have understood the
deep undertone of melancholy, "the pathetic minor,"
which runs through every manifestation of the Teutonic
mind, — its art, its music, as well as its literature. It
is part of our inheritance.

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 329

CHAPTEE XT.

MEDIEVAL HYMNS, AND COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY
OF THE MEDIAEVAL BALLADS.

OUR subject is Mediaeval Literature, — a most in-
teresting one, for in its unformed condition lies
modern Christian Europe. Tiie languages, as well as
the society, are in a chaotic condition ; and yet this
apparent confusion can be made clear by reducing the
whole civilization of the period into two elements. All
literature was divided between minstrels and monks, —
two classes of people. It is ver}- seldom that so sharp
a distinction can be made ; but in the Middle Ages we
find the hopeless 3'earning of the monk, the rough joy-
ousness of the minstrel : everything is decidedly sub-
jective or objective.

We followed the classic pagan Latin till it died out
in Boethius, 525 a. d. But, amidst the corruptions of
societ}', the gloomy thoughts and bombastic language
of the last classic Latin, a new spirit arose from an
unexpected source. The histories and commentaries
of the Fathers of the Church, the hymns of the Chris-
tians, are full of noble thoughts in a noble language —
what is called Mediaeval Latin, as distinct from the
classic Latin. It is not the Latin of Cicero and Taci-
tus ; but it became the language of the pulpit and the
school, and from it have proceeded our modern Ian-

330 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

gnages. It was used for all literature, which was
composed by two distinct types of mind. The clear-
headed, ambitious man of intellect saw in the church
and the monastery his surest path to power, and wrote
volumes of theological controversy. The enthusiast,
to whom this world was but an al^ode Ij'ing in wicked-
ness, and the heavenly city his home, sang in exulting
strains of the New Jerusalem, the true home of the
spirit. Or some gentle soul, wounded and wearied
with the turmoil of Europe, where society was break-
ing up, sought the shelter of the cloister. His sor-
row, his hopeless yearning for eartlil}" happiness, found
voice in passionate hymns, which express the love of
the heart for God. They were the outburst of souls
which had resigned all earthly happiness, and loved
God as other men loved their own families. Mat-
thew Arnold says : ' ' They are the masterpieces of
spiritual work of the Ar3'an mind, taking pure religious
sentiment as their basis. They clothed themselves in
Middle- Age Latin, which is not the genuine native
voice of any European nation," — but are characteristic,
nevertheless. Another critic sa3's : "Ten thousand
years separate the monastic poets from the last poet of
heathen Rome. He had no thought of individual, per-
sonal goodness, or reformation ; while the key-note o"f
the monastic hjnnns is the overpowering sense of sin."

Graduall}^ the monasteries absorbed all the learning :
scholars, even if they felt no rehgious vocation, became
monks, that they might enjoy the libraries of manu-
scripts which were collected by the studious among
the monks. Not only the learning, but the architec-
ture, the art, the music, and the agriculture of the

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 331

period centred in the monastery. The monks cop-
ied and iUuminated the manuscripts, sang the chants
of Ambrose and Gregory-, erected beautiful buildings ;
and, more important still, the}^ cultivated the ground,
they cut down the forests, and drained the swamps,
and raised acres of grain and fruit and flowers, while
everybody else was fighting, and the land had become
a desert. It is hard to over-estimate the rough, hard
w^ork they did toward clearing the forests and rendering
productive the land. Villemain says: "The civiliza-
tion of the Church is a kind of intermediate world be-
tween ancient and modern history." Montalembert
says, "The Church formed a kind of neutral ground
where Romans and barbarians could meet." You can
trace the progress of Christianity through Europe by
seeing the monks spring up in succession.

AYe must go back a little to speak of the Fathers of
the Church, though we can only allude to the greatest
of them. We must turn our minds, and see the rise
of another literar3' centre. I have alluded elsewhere
to the greatest names of B3'zantium, — Ulphilas and
Tribonian. The civilization which had been trans-
planted from Rome to Byzantium was modified by the
Greek literature. The Fathers of the Eastern Church
admired and studied Plato and Demosthenes. St. John
(347-407), surnamed Chrysostom, the golden-mouthed,
because he was so eloquent, is as great among Christian
orators as Demosthenes among pagan. The Christian
literature of B3^zantium is wholly theological. Such
questions were to Byzantium what politics are to us.
The partisans of Arius and Athanasius frequently came
to blows about the divinity of Christ and the nature of

832 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the Virgin Maiy. Surrounded b}^ the Greek drama as
they were, the Christians were inspired b}' its beautiful
choruses. The echoing measures which had celebrated
heathen deities were used to sound the praises of the
God of the Christians. The Greek hymns are not so
well known as the Latin, but are beautiful, especially
" Art thou weary, art thou languid?"

HYMN BY ST. ANATOLIUS (a.d. 458),

FOR THOSE AT SEA.

Fierce was the wild billow.

Dark was the night,
Oars labored heavily,

Foam glimmered white ;
Mariners trembled,

Peril was nigh ;
Then said the God of God,

''Peace! It is I."

Eidge of the mountain wave.

Lower thy crest ;
Wail of Euroklydon,

Be thou at rest :
Peril can never be,

Sorrow must fly,
Where saith the Light of Light,

" Peace ! It is I."

Jesu, Deliverer,

Come Thou to me ;
Soothe Thou my voyaging

Over life's sea :
Thou, when the storm of death

Koars, sweeping by,
Whisper, 0 Truth of Truth,

" Peace ! It is I."

MEDIiEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 333

At the cit}^ of Milan, the Christians had become so
powerful, that Ambrose, the bishop, (340-397,) even
dared to rebuke the great Emperor Theodosius for or-
dering a massacre at Thessalonica. He forbade him to
enter the church, telling him that his presence would
pollute the hoi}' building. Theodosius repented, did
penance, and thanked St. Ambrose for his faithful
boldness. Quarrels were constantly' coming up, and
a band of soldiers was finall}' sent to carry Ambrose
to prison and to exile. He and his friends barricaded
themselves in the church, and there remained all night ;
and, to rouse their enthusiasm and sustain their cour-
age, they sang the Latin h^'mns which Ambrose had
composed, in imitation of the Eastern Church. The
soldiers were withdrawn, and he was allowed to remain
and preach in Milan. We remember him, not for his
sermons and commentaries, but for his hymns. The
most famous are the Easter song, "This is the very
day of God " ; the evening song, ' ' O God ! creation's
secret force"; the Christmas song, "Come, Redeemer
of the nations " ; and the hymn to the Trinity which
Luther copied and translated. Indeed, they are the
models which inspired Luther's hymns. Ambrose was
the first in the Western, Latin Church to realize the
immense power which might be exercised b}' music in
subduing the barbarians, and spreading the conquests
of the Church as an organization. He was the first
to put sacred music into definite form. He introduced
chanting ; and his manner of singing the service is still
called the Ambrosian chant. It is a hneal descendant
of the antiphonal Greek chorus. We must remember
that Ambrose's hymns are not written in rh3'me.

534 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

HYMN FOR ADVENT.

Hark ! a thrilling voice is sounding :

"' Christ is nigh," it seems to say ;
" Cast away the dreams of darkness,

O, ye children of the day ! "
Wakened by the solemn warning,

Let the earth-born soul arise ;
Christ, her sun, all ill dispelling,

Shines upon the morning skies.
Lo ! the Lamb, so long expected,

Comes with pardon down from heaven :
Let us haste, with tears of sorrow.

One and all, to be forgiven,
That when next he comes with glory.

And the world is wrapped in fear,
With his mercy he may shield us,

And with words of love draw near.
Honor, glory, might, and blessing

To the Father and the Son,
With the everlasting Spirit,

While eternal ages run. Amen.

To my mind, this is the most interesting, because the
most spiritual, of Ambrose's hymns. Usually they are
doctrinal, putting some great doctrine into poetical
form. They sound like a paraphrase of Scripture.
The theological thought contained seems to be enough
for Ambrose ; the resurrection to another life seems to
him matter enough for celebration ; and lie does not
make a spiritual application of it to the soul of the
individual in this present life.

Prudentius was a layman, but has left most beautiful
hymns, full of an enthusiasm Jnspired bj' that certainty

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 335

of immortality which Christiauit}' taught, and which was
such a contrast to paganism.

FUNEEAL HYMN BY PRUDENTIUS.

(a. D. 348.)

Each sorrowful mourner, "be silent !
Fond mothers, give over your weeping!
None grieve for these pledges as perished ;
This dying is life's reparation.
Now take hun, O earth, to thy keeping.
And give him soft rest in thy bosom.
I lend thee the frame of a Christian,
I intrust thee the generous fragments,
Thou holily guard the deposit ;
He will well, He will surely require it,
Who, forming it, made its creation
The type of His image and likeness.
But until the resolvable body
Thou recallest, 0 God, and reformest.
What regions unknown to the mortal
Dost thou will the pure soul to inhabit ?
It shall rest upon Abraham's bosom.
As the spirit of blessed Eleazar,
Whom, afar in that Paradise, Dives
Beholds from the flames of his torments.
We follow thy saying, Redeemer,
Whereby, as on death thou wast trampling,
The thief, thy companion, thou willedst
To tread in thy footsteps and triumph.
To the faithful the bright way is open,
Henceforward, to Paradise leading ;
And to that blest grove we have access,
Whereof man was bereaved by the serpent.
Thou Leader and Guide of thy people,

336 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Give command that the soul of thy servant
May have holy repose in the country
Whence exile and erring he wandered.
We will honor the place of his resting
With violets and garlands of flowers,
And wiU sprinkle inscription and marble
With odors of costliest fragrance :
For what mean the tombs that we quarry,
What the art that our monuments boast in,
But that this which we trust to their keeping
Is not dead, but reposing in slumber?

It is hard for us to realize that the northern coast of
Africa was once the seat of the highest civilization of
the period. Saint Augustine was born near Carthage,
A. D. 354. His mother, Monica, had been converted
to Christianity ; but he was a pagan, and passed his
early life in dissipation first, in study afterwards. Fi-
nally he became a Christian, through the prayers of
his mother and the teachings of Ambrose, the brave
Bishop of Milan. He was made Bishop of Hippo, in
Africa, near Carthage, and is probably the greatest
theologian the world has ever seen. The doctrines
which we call Calvinism are found in his writings : but
the dry hard statements of Calvin lose their most repul-
sive features in the spiritual and eloquent expositions
of Augustine ; for he united the passionate heart of
Africa to a clear and logical brain. His controversial
writings are not of universal interest ; but two of his
works have been admired and loved for centuries, and
can never be forgotten. The first is his Confessions ;
the story of a soul wandering and confused, but coming
at length into peace and rest by knowing and loving
God. It is one of the few great devotional books of the

MEDIAEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 337

world. By Confessions, lie means rather a different idea
from that which we attach to the word. There is no long
list of actual crimes : instead, it is an analysis of a soul
and an inteUect, which loved this world and its own
opinions better than God. It is the confession of
wrong thoughts and affections, not of wrong actions.
Yet Saint Augustine was a ver}' good man, according to
the pagan standard ; but when he has once caught sight
of God's purit}^ a crushing sense of sin overwhelms
him. His self-abasement seems almost unnatural. But
Augustine loves God so much that he longs to resemble
'Him ; and his own nature looks dark to him, in com-
parison with that awful purit3\ The word acknowledg-
ment would express our idea of the second thought of
the book. It is an acknowledgment of God's incom-
parable beaut}^ and goodness. Saint Augustine not only
believes in God with his head, he loves him with his
heart. He exclaims, " Not with doubting, but with as-
sured consciousness, do I love Thee, O Lord ! " And
he wishes to confess him before men. There is an
absolute reality in the book. His spiritual life was
his chief concern, — an actual, real thing to him. He
knew God as clearly and as nearly as we know our
living friends. And j^et there is an exquisitely^ human
touch in the beautiful description he gives of his last
conversation with his mother, Monica, as the}' stopped
at Ostia, on their return from Africa, and of her death.
This is a smaU part of it : —

" It chanced that she aud I stood almie, leaning in a certain
window which looked into the garden of the house where we
now lay, at Ostia ; where, removed from the din of men, we
were recruiting from the fatigues of a long journey. We we're

22

338 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

discoursing then togetlier alone, very sweetly : and forgetting
those things which are behind, and reaching forth to those
which are before, we were inquiring between, ourselves, in the
presence of the Truth which Thou art, of what sort the eternal
life of the saints was to be. Scarce five days after, she fell sick
of a fever. Looking on me and my brother, standing by her,
* There,' said she, ' shall you bury your mother.' I held my
peace and refrained weeping, but my brother spake something ;
wishing for her, as the happier lot, that she might die, not in a
strange place, but in her own land. Whereat she with anxious
look, checking him with her eyes, for that he still savored such
things; and then looking upon me, 'Behold what he saith';
and soon after to us both, ' Lay,' she saith, ' this body anywhere,
let not the care for that anyway disquiet you ; this only I
request, that you would remember me at the Lord's altar,
wherever you be.' But I, considering Thy gifts. Thou unseen
God, which Thou instillest into the hearts of Thy faithful ones,
whence wondrous fruits do spring, did rejoice and give thanks
to Thee, recalling what I knew before, — how careful and
anxious she had ever been, as to her place of burial, which
she provided and prepared for herself, by the body of her
husband."

Lovers of music in church will be glad to know what
St. Augustine thought about that.

" Sometimes I err in too great strictness, and to that degree
as to wish the whole melody of sweet music which is used to
David's Psalter banished from my ears, and the Church's too.
And yet, again, when I remember thB tears I shed at the
psalmody of Thy Church, in the beginning of my recovered
faith, and how at this time I am moved, not with the singing,
but the things sung, when they are sung with a clear voice and
modulation most suitable, I acknowledge the use of this in-
stitution. Thus I fluctuate between peril of pleasure and
approved wholesomeness ; inclined the rather, though not pro-
nouncing an irrevocable opinion, to approve of the usage of

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 339

singing in church, that so by the delight of the ears the weaker
minds may rise to the feeling of devotion."

St. Augustine's other popular work is called " The
City of God." It is the Christian model of a city, as
compared with Plato's model state of societ}-. It has
twenty-two books : the first ten confute pagan reli-
gion and practices ; the last twelve set forth Chris-
tian doctrine, under the form of two cities, — the city
of the world and the cit}^ of God ; and it prophesies the
future trkunphs of the gospel, in exulting strains. One
critic says, " The world has set the City of God among
the few greatest books of all time." It has abstract
thought in popular language. It deserves to be classed
among the great epics of the world ; yet, grand as it is,
it has not that personal feeling which makes the Con-
fessions so unrivalled.

With the death of Boethius, 525, and the great king
of the Ostro-Goths, Theodoric, open the Middle Ages.
He learned to read, and invited learned men to his
court, and embraced the Arian form of Christianit}^
(The Moeso-Goths had alreadj' been converted, in 355,
under Byzantine influence.) The next Teutons to
embrace Christianit}^ were the Franks. Radegonda,
the Christian wife of a Frankish king, obtained permis-
sion from her husband to found a convent at Poitiers,
in the countr}^ which is now France. The Abbess
Agnes and herself passed their time in literary con-
versation and writing poetry. The}' were visited b}^ a
learned Italian, Venantius Fortunatus, 530-609. This
is the same Fortunatus who met Welsh bards at the
court of the Frankish kings. He first put hymns into
rhyme ; they have been preserved till this day. One

340 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDEED LITERATURES.

of them is the Vexilla Regis, "The ro3^al banners
forward go," which deserves to live, it is so musical.
This is the only cultivated society we read of in the
interval of utter darkness from Theodoric to Alfred.
We must seek another country ; yet not quite another,
for the Latin language and the monasteries gave unity
to Europe in this period.

The busy monks kept a Latin diary of the events of
every da3\ From these chronicles we obtain the facts
of mediaeval histor3^ To these narrow-minded monks
there was no proportion in events. The visit of a
foreign brother to their monaster}- , or the earliest fruit
of the season upon their table, was as important to
them as the death of some powerful king, and are all
jumbled together on one page of a chronicle. The
proverb says, " dull as a monkish chronicle" ; but they
are sometimes interesting from their very naivete.
These monkish chronicles were lent, and copied, from
the monasteries of Britain to those of Rome. The
earliest of them are found among the Kelts inhabiting
Britain, who had been converted to Chris tianit}^ in the
first century by the Romans, as we saw in the Keltic
chapter. Gildas at Dumbarton in Scotland, and Nen-
nius at Bangor in Wales, in the sixth century wrote
Latin histories of the Britons. These Keltic monks
seem the most poetical and interesting. Their ardent
natures embraced Christianity with enthusiasm.

" St. Cadoc made all his scholars learn Virgil hj heart, and
once he began to weep at the thought that Virgil, whom he
loved so much, might even then be in hell. St. Cadoc doubted
if he were ; but his friend Gildas was sure that Virgil was
damned. St. Cadoc fell asleep, and heard a voice saying,

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 341

' Pray for me ! pray for me ! never be weary of praying for me.
I shall yet sing eternally the mercy of the Lord.' So St.
Cacloc was consoled."

Then St. Brandan, a Welsh monk, felt pit}- for
perishing souls, and he set sail for Ireland to found
a monastery there. All the bees from the Welsh
monaster}' followed ; so he turned back, but the bees
turned also. Then he started again for Ireland, and
the bees swarmed in his ship, and would not leave it.
So he took that blessing to Ireland, where they had
been before unknown. When the good St. Brandan
had founded man}' monasteries, then he sailed again
into the ocean to seek new souls to convert. But he
was carried to the earthl}^ paradise, which was an island
distinctl}' visible from the west coast of Ireland, and he
returned no more. Now these delightful creatures are
living figures. But a cold recital of actual facts tells
us that really Ireland was in the seventh centur}' the
most cultivated countr}' in Western Europe : three thou-
sand students attended the school at Armagh. War
and religion were the two passions of the Irish. Ire-
land swarmed with monks, who were at first the clans
reorganized under a religious form, and some monas-
teries had a bard attached to them. The reader will
remember that Ireland and Scotland had incessant in-
tercourse ; so he will not be surprised that St. Columba
went from Ii'eland to lona in Scotland. He and his
followers converted the Angles north of the Tees ; and
finall}', coming from lona to Lindisfarne and Whitb}',
they assisted in bringing Christianity to the Anglo-
Saxons in England. So the Kelts returned good for
evil to the Saxons who had driven them away.

342 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

The Anglo-Saxon monks had their chronicles written
in Latin. The most famous of them is the "History
of the Anglo-Saxon Church, by the Venerable Bede,"
which is reall}' a first-class book. " He was the first
barbarian to win a place among the Fathers of the
Church." (672-735.) In another chapter I spoke of
their writings in their native tongue. They were the
only monks in Europe who condescended to use their
vernacular. The great and good King Alfred endeav-
ored to form a literarj^ society. He learned to read, and
himself translated Bede's history into Anglo-Saxon.

We find another of the human links which bind
society in examining the rise of the German monks.
The restless Angles and Saxons who had invaded Eng-
land had gone unconsciously to meet their destiu}-.
When converted, the}^ thought of their brethren in Ger-
many, and the brave Boniface went over and converted
the Saxons who had remained at home, 755 a. d.
They translated the Gospels and Psalms into German,
and adopted the Bible of Bishop Ulphilas, 355 a. d.,
which was suflticiently near their language to answer
everj^ purpose. Their Latin literature is not worth
alluding to. They have left nothing to compare with
the admirable chronicles of Keltic and Anglo-Saxon
monks, or the theological and m3^stical and poetical
works-of the French monks.

Then comes the great Charlemagne, 742-814. His
friend and tutor, "the learned Alcuin, that large-
browed clerk," was a Saxon monk ; for Charlemagne
brought back Christianity from his wars with the
Saxons. He himself composed the hymn Veni Crea-
tor Spiritus, " Come, Holy Ghost, Creator, come. In-

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 343

spire these souls of thine," which is so veiy familiar
to all. He founded schools called scholce^ — our word
scholasticism comes from it, — and gave the teaching
into the hands of the monks. These French monks are
the lineal descendants of Augustine ; they are remark-
able for their theological writings and their scholastic
philosoph}', which ruled Europe from the eighth to the
fifteenth century'. There was no other serious stud}' in
Europe, — no science, no political econom}' ; the clergy
absorbed everything, parth^ because they alone had
time for study. There was but one learned layman in
Europe for six centuries ; and he was a Kelt, John
Scotus Erigena. He went from Ireland to France to
stud}', and wrote in Latin of course. Mr. Leek}' sa3's :
' ' His thoughts were far in advance of his age : even
modern thinkers have not gone much beyond him."
He was persecuted b}^ the Church, and his works con-
demned as pantheistic. He denied the Romish doc-
trine of transubstantiation, and taught what Protestants
believe, — that the Lord's supper is simply a commem-
orative rite ; so naturall}' he would be persecuted.

The extraordinary empire of scholasticism over the
minds of men was based upon the writings of Aristotle.
These were received into Europe in two ways. I allude
particularly to these as showing how curiously nations
are connected. His works on logic — that is, on the
proper wa}' to reason — had been translated into Latin
by Boethius, in the sixth century, and so had circulated
from one monastery to another. His works upon sci-
ence had been translated from Greek into the S^'riac lan-
guage, in the fifth century, by the Nestorian Christians
who fled from Byzantium into Persia. In the seventh

314 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

centiiiy Persia was conquered b}^ the Mohammedan Ara-
bians. The}' were so much pleased with Aristotle that
the}!^ translated his writings into Arabic, and carried
them to Spain. They furnished the Mohammedans in
Spain with part of their knowledge of science, and from
Spain they easily spread through Europe. From the
Arabic the}' were made into a very poor translation in
Latin ; after so mau}^' different bodies, but little of their
original spirit could have been left. I hope this expla-
nation will not seem unnecessar}^ In the next chapter
the reader will understand why it was made ; and Aris-
totle, mangled and ill understood as he was, became
the absolute authorit}^ in all matters of reasoning and
of science, as the Bible was in all matters of faith. It
was an intellectual despotism. The services to human-
ity of the first monks scarcely counterbalance the follies
of scholasticism. It is hardly worth while to discuss
their opinions, forgotten now: we will only speak of
the most interesting topic they discussed, and the two
most interesting personages, — Abelard, 1079-1142,
and St. Bernard of Clairvaux, 1071-1153, — the two
names which stand out to represent the period.

Abelard has been called the "patriarch of modern
rationalism." He marks a new epoch in thought. He,
first, undertook to appl}^ logic to theology, — to bring
logic as an independent power to aid in proving the
truths of religion. That is, he sought to prove the
dogmas of the Church by reason, instead of blindly
accepting them through faith. He uttered the opinion,
then very audacious, that all theological dogmas should
be presented in such a way as to appeal to the reason.
He did not question their truth, but he wished that

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS, 345

they should be examined and tested by reasoning.
Mr. Lewes says, " Logic played like lambent flame
around the most sacred subjects, under the plausible
aspect of seeking for truth." ^ Abelard represents the
spirit of free inquiiy, and was therefore the forerun-
ner of Luther and Protestantism. His brilliant elo-
quence and his innumerable hearers awoke all the
thunders of the Church, and St. Bernard of Clair-
yaux, a stern controversialist, came to the rescue.
With great ability he asserted the doctrine of the
Church ; which is, that faith is the source of all light, —
of all science, metaph3'sics, and human knowledge, —
and that this faith is taught b}' the Church alone. The
Church is the supreme authority in matters of science,
as well as of religion. Abelard was overwhelmed, and
recanted his ideas.

These theological discussions ma}- seem ver}' dull to
us ; but they did not, evidently, to the people of that
time, for thirt}^ thousand attended the lectures of one
man alone. I onl}' dwell upon these names to show
how barren was the mind of those da3's ; to emphasize
the fact, that all serious literature took a theological
impress. Yet man's spiritual nature can never be
utterly crushed down ; and as a reaction from the end-
less discussions of Abelard and St. Bernard rose up,
from an unknown source, the most devotional of all
books, — the m3^stic writings called by the name of
Thomas a Kempis. Some gentle monk, shut out by his
own choice from the activities of this present world,
lost himself in contemplating the future life, and annihi-
lated his own existence in the Divine existence. This
mysticism we have found in India and Persia, and shall

346 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

find in Germany, in the fourteenth century, in Tauler, a
monk. It is common to the Aryan families. It teaches
the nothingness of all creation, in comparison with the
love of God, and the joy of communion with him.
It expressed itself also in poetr}^ ; hymns appeared
again in great number. In this second period, Latin
hymns reached their perfection. The}^ were alwa3's
long ; so that, in translating, we divide them into several
different hjinns. The four which are the most cele-
brated, because the greatest, express the mental phases
of the epoch. The awful Dies Ir?e, " Day of Wrath,"
(thirteenth century,) paints the final judgment, which
the Church suspended over the guilty sinner, and thus
wielded a tremendous power over men's fears and
terrors. The pathetic Stabat Mater (thirteenth cen-
tury),—

" By the cross her station keeping
Stood the mournful mother, weeping," —

appealed to their tenderest emotions of love and pity,
at the sight of one dying for them. The triumphant
Jerusalem the Golden (twelfth century) offered conso-
lation for the sufferings of this world.

" Brief life is here our portion,
Brief toil, unending care," —

has been made into a separate hymn in our translation ;
and thus the unity of Bernard of Cluny's thought has
been destroyed. The four hymns marked 490, 491,
492, 493, should be read as one. Finally, the personal
experience of the individual soul was expressed in the
passionate Jesu Dulcis Memoria : —

" Jesus, the very thought of thee
With sweetness fills my breast."

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 347

It was the stern controversialist, Bernard of Clair-
vaux, who wrote this most m3'stic and subjective of all
the Latin hj'mns (twelfth century). This one is less
known : —

HEAVEN.

By Hildebert, Archbishop of Tours (1057-1134).

Mine be Zion's habitation,
Zion, David's sure foundation ;
Formed of old by light's Creator,
Beached by Him, the Mediator.
An apostle guards the portal,
Habited by forms immortal:
On a jasper pavement builded,
By its Monarch's radiance gilded,
Peace there dwelleth uninvaded,
Spring perpetual, light unfaded :
Odors rise with airy lightness ;
Harpers strike their harps of brightness ;
None one sigh for pleasure sendeth ;
None can err, and none offendeth ;
All, partakers of one nature.
Grow in Christ to equal stature.
Home celestial 1 Home eternal !
Home upreared by power supernal !
Home no change nor loss that fearest !
From afar my soul thou cheerest ;
But the gladness of thy nation.
But their fulness of salvation,
Vainly mortals strive to show it :
They, and they alone, can know it, —
They, redeemed from sin and peril.
They who walk thy streets of beryl !
Grant me. Saviour, with thy blessed,
Of thy rest to be possessed !

348 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITER ATTJEES.

Mediaeval Latin hj-mns are a genuine production,
and deserve to stand on their own merits. (The medi-
aeval Latin prose is not so good.) In them the form is
as beautiful as the thought. Rhjme was a new element
of poetr3\ The Latin h3-mns invented it, introduced
fixed laws for it, and finally, after six centuries, it
reached the perfection of the following lines, which are
certainty perfect music in themseh'es. They are quite
as worth}^ to be praised and copied as the Greek un-
rhymed metres.

" Stant Sion atria conjubilantia, martjrre plena,
Give micantia, Principe stantia, luce serena :
Est ibi pascLia mitibus afilua, praestita Sanctis,
Eegis ibi thronus, agminis et sonus est epulautis.
Gens diice splendida, concio Candida vestibus altis,
Sunt sine fletibus in Sion eedibus, aedibus almis ;
Sunt sine crimine, sunt sine turbine, sunt sine lite
In Sion eedibus editoribus Israelitse."

"They stand, those walls of Sion," is the equivalent.
Here is another, with a rhyme in the middle of the

line : —

" Felix Anna, ex te manna
Mundo datur, quo poscatur

In deserto populus :
Hoc dulcore, hoc sapore
Sustentatur, procreatur,

Ex manna vermi cuius."

The English monks exercised but little influence
compared with the French monks, whose scholasticism
ruled Europe for several centuries ; but they have left
some good Latin chronicles. Geofii-ey of Monmouth
tells the story of Arthur ; and William of Mahnesbury

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 349

wrote a liistoiy of the English kings, from the Norman
conquest, 1066, to 1142. His book has been trans-
lated ; it is most delightful, — so gossiping and naive
and full of wonders and miracles. It is well to read it
and learn how William Rufus was shot ; how Henr}^
and Stephen quarrelled with their barons ; how the
great bishop, Roger le Poer, built cathedrals and cas-
tles. So here, in these monkish chronicles of all lands,
history begins.

If the monk, in his two forms, either a keen logician
or a devout m3'stic, is the representative of the Middle
Ages, there was another t3'pe which could no longer
be repressed. The men who lived and loved and
fought in this present world, and cared little about the
next, began to assert themselves. To please them, the
monks took an important step. It is to the latter
we owe what, at first glance, seems ver}' remote from
them, — the drama. The whole modern drama can be
distinctl}^ traced to the Miracle plaj's, which the clergy
used to represent in the churches. The fathers of the
Church had extinguished the theatres ever3'where ; but
in B^'zantium the Greek love of the drama persistentl}'
lingered. The Bishop of Constantinople composed
pla3^s on Christ's passion, to supersede the dramas of
Sophokles and Euripides. The^' were first performed
in Constantinople, and the returning Crusaders brought
them back. These plaj^s were first acted in Latin,
probabh' in the twelfth century ; afterwards the}^ were
written in the dialect of the countrj', whether Italy,
France, German}', or England. The}' gave scenes from
the life of the Saviour, or the lives of the saints : the
action took place on a middle stage ; below, devils were

850 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

writhing in flames ; above, God the Father on the judg-
ment seat was sitting. Later came the Morality plays,
where the vices and virtues were represented as human
beings. Onl}^ the clergy were allowed to act in these
dramas, which formed the book of the common people,
in those days. Certainl}', they seem very shocking and
irreverent to us ; but where else were the poor, igno-
rant people to learn about Mary and Joseph and Herod,
— about Abraham, and Isaac's sacrifice, — and all the
other characters of the Bible? There was one other
source ; the statues on the porches, the painted glass
in the windows of cathedrals. This poem was written
later, but it so describes the spirit of this period that it
may come in here. It is very lovely.

PRAYER TO THE VIRGIN,
By FRAN901S Villon, a Trouvere (I4th century).

Queen of the skies, and Regent of the earth,

Empress of all that dwells beneath !
Receive me, poor and low, of little worth,

Among thy chosen after death.
Nothing I bring with me, nothing I have ;

But yet thy mercy, Lady, is as great
As all my sum of sins. Beyond the grave.

Without thy mercy, none can ask of fate
To enter heaven ; and without guile or lie

I in thy faith will faithful hve and die.
Only a woman, humble, poor, and old ;

Letters I read not, nothing know,
But see in church, with painted flames of gold,

That Hell where all the wicked go ;
And, joyous with glad harps, God's Paradise.

One tills my heart with fear, one with delight ;

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 351

For sinners all may turn repentant eyes
To thee, 0 Lady, merciful and bright.

With faith down laden : — without guile or lie
I in thy faith will faithful live and die.

But the minstrels, who represent the objective side
of Europe, had been constantly gaining ground. They
were numerous and powerful, and constanth^ waged
war upon the monks. So these latter took another
step to gain the favor of the laity, and endeavored to
reach a higher class of people. Thej^ wrote tales which
the}' called gesta^ from a Latin w^ord w-hich means ac-
tions. These monkish gesta are a curious mixture of
legends from the lives of the saints, from classic history-,
done into a barbarous, mixed Latin. The}' would be
read aloud in the long winter evenings, when the monk
and his guests would be seated around the refectory
fire. From some returned Crusader, some wandering
minstrel, these stories must have derived their lay
element.

For the power of the minstrels could no longer be
checked. Popular poetry, crushed under scholastic
theology, lived in the hearts of the people. Low-born
minstrels, called Jongleurs, — our word juggler comes
from tltis, — wandered from castle to castle of the igno-
rant nobles (who did nothing but fight) , and sang those
ballads which afterwards expanded into the literature
of modern Europe. The languages which they used
were as chaotic as the thoughts, — a compound of the
native dialect of Kelt and Teuton with the monkish
Latin, different in each different country. These in-
numerable ballads may be grouped into four divisions,
which literary men call cycles. We have already seen

352 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

two of these cycles arise ; for the same cycles were car-
ried into each different country of Europe by the Jon-
gleurs. The first cycle to arise was the Keltic, — that
of Arthur and the round-table knights ; to it was after-
wards added their search for the Hol}^ Grail, which was
originally a separate stor3\ The next C3xle to take
form and spread were the ballads of the Gothic, Frank-
ish, and Burgundian pagans, that is the Nibelungen
Lied. These warriors all belonged to the Teutonic fam-
ily. Charlemagne was German at heart : in his Saxon
wars he collected these old ballads ; the}" were sung
probably at his court, and there received their Christian
modifications, — there the wild Norse sea-rovers were
tamed into Christian knights. They are not mystic
and spiritual, so that we know they were untouched
by the religious spirit which transformed the Keltic
cj'cle. The third c^xle was that of Charlemagne and
his twelve peers, and with this is connected the Spanish
cj^cle of the Cid : all these heroes fight against the
Saracens. It was not composed, of course, until one
or two centuries had elapsed, and allowed Charlemagne
and Roland to assume heroic proportions. This is the
C3"cle which is typical of the Middle Ages.

It is now known from what source the chivalric spirit
came into the mind of Europe. It was in a curious,
roundabout way. Nationalities had become so mixed
and fused together that a perfectly distinct t3'pe — like
Arthur among the Kelts, Siegfried among the Teutons
— could hardl}' be reproduced. The mixed nations
could not have a genuine native voice ; still, their tone
of mind was the same, — it was chivaMc. And this
they adopted from a new people. The reader will

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 353

remember how Aristotle came into Europe. The Mo-
hammedan Arabs conquered the Persians ; adopted
from them the science of Aristotle, the figures Vhich
we use, the game of chess (the Persians took these two
from the Hindus) ; also, the chivalric tone of mind.
Thej carried them to the Mohammedans living in
Spain, called Moors ; and the latter taught them to
the Spaniards. The Spanish C3'cle of the Cid caught
the precise tone of the event it described, which was the
perpetual fight of the Christians with the Pagans in
Spain ; but the lofty courtesy of the Moors gave man-
ners to this warfare which made it quite unlike the
brutal fights of Romans and Barbarians elsewhere.
The earlier wars in Europe had been merel}' for ag-
grandizement of territory and power ; but these barba-
rians, once Christianized, fought for a religious motive,
and therefore the t3'pical hero of the Middle Ages is
a Christian fighting with a Saracen. Long before the
Crusades the holy war began, — first in Spain. Here
it took on the chivalric manners of the gallant and
graceful Moors, which soon spread over Europe. The
Spanish ballads of the Cid are purely chivalric. This
is owing to their passing through Moorish influence,
which took out the wonderful or supernatural in them.
So I shall not dwell upon them, fine and stirring as
they are.

The "Song of Roland," which is the finest of the
Charlemagne cycle, on the contrary, has a very large
share of the supernatural, thus proving its Aryan ori-
gin : it is not purely chivalric. This is why it is so
beautiful : it unites a childlike faith in the marvellous
to the most noble and manly traits of character. Ro-

23

354 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

land is the true knight of the Middle Ages. He has an
exalted respect for woman, an honor towards his foe ;
a spirit of patriotic self-saci'itice towards his country,
but also a devout faith in Christianit}'. He is armed
by faith and love of God. These sentiments must have
found a response in the hearts of old feudal France,
among its original people, for the ballads grew up spon-
taneousl}' ; their author is unknown, but the}^ breathe
the perfume of reality. The French may well be proud
of them; "The Song of Roland" ought to be their
national epic. It was sung at the battle of Hastings,
when the Normans conquered England, in 1066. It
was written in the old Frankish dialect, translated into
Latin by the monks, then back again into the old
French in which we now have it, which is easier to
understand than old English, — Chaucer's, for instance.
It has latel}' been put into modern French. You will
find a new tone in the stor}', very unlike that of the
other epics ; no paganism is here. The Moorish king of
Spain, who was a Mohammedan, sends to Charlemagne
to ask for peace, after Charlemagne had been fighting
against him for seven years. Ganelon, the traitor, tells
Charlemagne that the Moorish king will submit, if
Charlemagne will withdraw his army, and march out of
Spain. So Charlemagne marches away, leaving the
rear-guard of the French army under command of Ro-
land. There are but twenty thousand men, and the
false Moor falls upon them while they are passing
through the mountain pass of Roncevaux, or Ronces-
valles in Spanish. His friends beg Roland to sound
his horn, knowing that Charlemagne will at once return
if he hears this cry of distress. But Roland scornfully

MEDIAEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 355

refuses. The Saracens attack the French, and finally
kill every man of the twenty thousand, except Roland.
He has been performing prodigies of valor, and slaying
hundreds of men with his own arm and his own sword,
Durandal. Finall}' his head splits open at the temple,
and he feels that his death is near. So he sounds the
horn at last, to call Charlemagne, though too late.
Then, at the lust moment, four hundred Saracens at-
tack him at once. His bod}' does not receive the least
scratch, but his head splits more and more ; j^et he
repulses the four hundred till they flee. Then he stag-
gers to a rock rising out of the plain, and strikes his
sword Durandal against it. He wishes to break Duran-
dal, so that no paj'nim Saracen may get possession of
it ; but the good sword will not break. Now I will
give a literal translation. He sa3's : —

" 0 Durandal, my darling, thou art shining and white ;
All the rays of the sun are reflected by thee.
One day the king was in the valley of Mauriveine,
When an. angel came to him from the Lord,
And told him to give tliee to a brave and valiant knight.
Then Charles the Great girded thee on my side.
Go die, good sword, and do not fall into the hands of any

paynim.
May God save France from any such dishonor ! "

" On a dark rock he struck the sword with fury, and he made
an enormous breach in the side of the rock. The blade sprang
back, and sparkled in the air. The Count saw that nothing
could break his sword, and with a dying voice he repeated his
complaint : ' My beloved Durandal, as beautiful as you are
hoi}', your golden hilt contains relics of great value : a lock of
hair of St. Denis, the blood of St. Basil, a tooth of St, Peter,

356 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

a piece of the Virgin Mary's dress. Sucli an arm is not made
for paynims. No, no ! you must have a Christian master.'
Then, feeling death nearer and nearer, he lies down under a
pine-tree, and he hides his horn and his sword under his body.
He turns his face towards the host of the infidels. He wishes,
glorious Count, that Charles and his army, returning, shall
find him here, and declare that he died victorious. He con-
fesses all the sins lie can remember, then he offers his glove to
God. [This was the sign of submission from a vassal to a feudal
lord.] ' True Father,' said he, ' who never liest to anybody,
through whom the dead Lazarus opened his eyes in heaven,
and who didst know how to preserve Daniel from the lions,
save me from danger, and pardon my soul from the punish-
ments which thy justice might claim,' Saying this, he held
out his right-hand glove. The angel Gabriel received it from
his hand. Then God sent Michael, and the two carried the
soul of the Count to paradise."

There are a simplicity and faith in this which are the
best characteristics of the Middle Ages. Roland is not
the type which afterwards was fastened upon Arthur
and Galahad, the Christian monk. He is a man in this
world fighting a brave fight ; but a Christian still, and
hoping for paradise. He reminds one of Rustem in the
Shah Nameh, constantly ; and, hke his, Roland's name
is attached to the valley in Spain where he died. But
the supernatural traits of Roland show him to be more
than a mere picture of the manners and thoughts of his
age. Roland has the characteristics of the solar myth.
True, he may have reall}^ lived ; but no real man, no
real weapon, could ever have performed the prodigies
of valor which Roland and his good sword did. The
sword, too, was brought to him in a miraculous way.
It is not the pagan way in which Perseus and Sigurd

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 357

got their swords. It is the Christian way, whicli per-
formed all the other miracles of the Middle Ages. And
the Song of Roland is so delightful because it has this
new tone, and because it sustains this tone so perfectly
throughout ; all the prodigies are impressed with it.
Still they are prodigies, not natural acts. No hero
could, single-handed, kill four hundred men at a stroke,
after his skull was split open. But if 3'ou look at Ro-
land as a solar hero, the work would be easy indeed for
the irresistible power of the sun. Roland's death, too,
is supernatural. He has not one scratch on his bod}',
though his armor is pierced with a thousand darts. His
skull splits open from excessive toil ; his brains ooze
slowl}' out. With his death his sword must go too.
No other can wield it. With the death of the sun, its
ra^'s no longer shoot across the sk}-. Roland has an-
other characteristic of the solar mjth. He had been
betrothed to a lovelj' princess, named Aude, when he
went forth to fight for others. When the great king
came back, Aude asked news of her hero. When they
told her that he was dead, " she cried not, nor uttered
sound ; the color faded from her face, and straightway
she fell dead at the king's feet. God is kind : he takes
the broken-hearted home."

Another hero of the Charlemagne cycle is Olger the
Dane, the national hero of Denmark ; and he represents
man}' other features of the solar myth. In the first
place, he is one of the fatal children who kill their
mother, the dawn. There is a little touch about his
birth which is too beautiful to be overlooked. " There
appeared about the bed of the new-born babe six fairies,
whose beauty was so wonderful and awful that none

358 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDEED LITERATURES.

but a child might gaze upon them without fear." Olger
grows up beautiful and strong, but is sent as a hostage
to the court of Charlemagne. Here he labors for
others, like the other solar heroes, and fights for beings
meaner than himself, under the following circumstances.
There is a delicious confusion in the geography, which
could only be found in the Middle Ages. These were
the places familiar to its mind. A messenger appears
at court, and sa3's : " The Sultan and the Grand Turk,
and Caraheu, Emperor of India, have taken Rome by
assault. The Pope and the cardinals and the legates
have fled ; the churches are destro3'ed ; the holy relics
lost, — all save the body of St. Peter ; and the Chris-
tians are put to the sword ! Wherefore the Holy Fa-
ther charges you as a Christian king to march to the
succor of the Church." Olger does most of the fight-
ing ; he engages with Caraheu, Emperor of India, in
single combat, and conquers him : Caraheu and his
bride are baptized in Rome, and return as Christians to
rule over India. Then a Saracen giant appears, and
Olger kills him. Then the emperor does him a wrong ;
and his anger, like the wrath of Achilleus and of Rus-
tem, makes itself felt. He goes out into the world as
a wanderer, and travels far and wide, like Odysseus.
Finall}', he longs to see his land again, and sets sail ;
but the ship is WTecked. The waves bear him to a
strange land, where a statel}^ palace stands. This is
like the palace on Kirke's enchanted isle. At morning
he finds himself in a flowery vale ; and Morgan le Fay
comes to him, and welcomes him to Avalon, and takes
him to the palace, where he finds Arthur healed of his
wound. Then Morgan gives him a wreath of forgetful-

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 859

ness for his forehead, and an enchanted ring for his
hand ; while he wears these, he never grows old. B}^
and by the wreath slips from his forehead, and he re-
members Charlemagne, and longs to go back and fight
the Saracen. So he reappears, like the Seven Sleepers
of Ephesus, or Rip Van Winkle. That is, the snn
comes back, after being carried away by the darkness.
Morgan le Fay had given him a torch, w^hich is the
measure of his da3's, like the firebrand of Meleagros in
Greek. While it burns, he can never die. He fights
as bravely as before, though the world has changed ;
for hundreds of 3'ears have gone b}^ w^hile he was gone
in Avalon. When he is about to w^ed the Empress of
France, Morgan le Fay appears, and bears him away.
But the torch is still burning in an abbc}^ crypt, and
therefore he is expected to return ; like Sebastian of
Portugal, and Frederick Barbarossa, and Arthur of
Brittany. When Denmark is in danger, then the Dan-
ish peasants are sure that Holger Danske will return.

This is substantiall}' the story told in Germany,
later, of Tannhiiuser. Venus carries him awa}' into the
middle of a hill, called Horselberg. There he lives in
forgetfulness ; but he longs at length to return to a life
of virtue, and goes out of the hill. He meets a priest
and confesses his sin ; but the horror-stricken priest
tells him that his own oaken staff may as soon bud and
blossom into roses as his sin be absolved. So the poor
Tannhauser goes back to the enchantress. Eight days
after, the staff does bud and blossom into roses ; and
all the people expect Tannhauser to reappear. In Scot-
land, exactly the same stor}^ is told of True Thomas of
Ercildoune, carried into a hill b}' the Fairy Queen, com-

360 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ing back to the world ; then again carried away. Both
are the same enchantress who carried away Odysseus ;
wherever she carries away mortal men to dwell with
unseen beings beneath the earth, she is the darkness
carrjing away the sun.

The Charlemagne cycle arose before the Crusades ;
we have it in its primitive form. It prepared the mind
for the Crusades. To the bold baron who had listened
in his own hall, to the jongleur who sang the strife be-
tween the Pagan and the Christian in Spain and France,
the next step would be to seek the paynim on his own
territory. In the Crusades he sought the Saracen one
step farther away, that was all. The fourth cycle has
been hard to explain, — the classical ballads. Europe
was full of them : the jongleur sang of Alexander, and
the tale of Tro}^, as often as of Arthur, Siegfried, and Ro-
land. It has often been wondered whence Shakespeare
drew his classical knowledge. From these classical
ballads : the Greeks and the Trojans in Troilus and
Cressida seem like knights of the Middle Ages. But
they did not arise until after the Crusades ; the}' were,
therefore, brought back by the returning Crusaders.
And the}^ must have learned them from the Saracens
whom they met in the intervals of fighting. One step
more takes us back to Persia ; for the Arabs learned
them from that storj^ of Iskander which formed part of
the Shah Nameh. The tale of Troy the Crusaders
must have learned in Constantinople, as they passed
through. So all the nations are linked together. The
Crusader brought back, too, much of the supernatural
element in the Middle Ages, when the supernatural was
all in all. Saints were Christian : heroes were Ar^^an :

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 361

good and evil spirits, genii and divs, mai-vellous birds
called griffins, were Persian. It is interesting to sep-
arate the other features of the stories. A tame lion,
following about a hero like a pet dog, is Keltic, —
from the Mabinogeon ; a sea-fight is Teutonic ; and
so on.

There were fictions of a later age, made up consciously
b}' writers, instead of being the genuine growth of pop-
ular tradition. I will take Gu}' of Warwick as the
type of these later fictions, because the spirit of the pe-
riod is so artlessly and touchingly expressed It will
explain all the other stories of pilgrims to the Holy
Land, and show how the solar m\'th takes on a local
coloring. In Guy of Warwick, the sun appears as a
hero slaving monsters ; afterwards as a wanderer. He
is born poor, the son of a servant ; but he dares to love
the princess, Felice. So he goes out into the world to
do great deeds that he ma}^ win her. He kills many
bad gentlemen, who are false knights ; he sets free dis-
tressed damsels ; finally, he goes to the Crusades. An
emperor gives him his daughter in marriage ; at the
very altar Guy ren^embers his earl}" love, and turns
away (like the sun wedding other brides) . He sees a
lion and a dragon in fight ; he kills this dragon, and the
grateful lion follows him about like a pet dog. Then
he comes back to England and slaj's his second dragon,
— the black-winged one which was devastating Nor-
thumberland, and is still spoken of there. The Perc}^
family claim to be descended from Gu}^ ; the fight be-
tween him and the dragon is sculptured on Warwick
Castle. After all this, the proud Felice becomes his.
But the doom of the wanderer is upon him. Forty

862 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

days after they were wed he said to his wife, "How
many men I have slain, how many battles I have fought,
all for a woman's love, and not one single deed done
for my God ! I will go on a pilgrimage for the sake of
the Holy Cross." 80 he wended his way to Jeru-
salem. (Are you not reminded of Odysseus?) There
he shrived him of his sins : then he travelled many
3'ears as a pilgrim, and slew a fierce Ethiopian giant,
who was oppressing pilgrims. There is again delight-
ful confusion in geography. Guy visits Spain and
Constantinople within a few hours' time. The Sara-
cens themselves are said to have stolen away his son.
How the Saracens got into England, and reached War-
wick Castle in Northumberland, is another of those
charming inconsistencies with which the land of ro-
mance abounds. Years went by : like Odysseus, Guy
still wandered. The king of England was besieged by
a Danish army who had a Danish giant for their cham-
pion. Old and worn. Sir Guy came back in the robes
of a palmer from the Holy Land, like Odysseus in his
beggar-robes. He said he would fight for ' ' the need of
a people beset with enemies." He conquered the Dan-
ish giant, but no one knew that he was the great Sir
Guy. He went to his own castle hall, and there his
wife was feeding the beggars, and nursing the sick and
weary travellers, and she bathed his feet and said,
" Holy palmer, in all your travels, have you seen my
lord, Sir Guy?" But he feared to break in upon her
holy life, and went and lived in a cell near there. Here
comes in the spirit of monasticism and asceticism which
prevailed, and would not allow him to live happily with
this Penelope of the Middle Ages. And when his end

MEDIAEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 363

drew near, he sent his ring to FeUce, and she came to
him, and soothed his d3'ing hours. The weary wanderer
had found his rest, — the sun had sunk. But the twi-
hght could not hnger long behind. " Fifteen weary days
Felice lingered sore in grief; then God's angel came
and closed her eyes." Like Roland and Aude ; like
Lord Nann and his wife.

But the myth has appeared in another form, also, in
England. After the Norman conquest, the cowed and
trembling Saxons fled to the marshes and the green-
wood, and there the}' sang of the bold spirits who
showed a remnant of the old Norse courage. There is
a ballad cycle, familiar to ever}- child who loves to pore
over these splendid old songs. It tells of the brave
Robin Hood, — the Cid of England, the hero of the
people. The foes are no longer the distant Saracens ;
the}- are the usurping Normans, with their laws against
killing the red deer ; with their haughty priests, who
wring the last penny from the poor peasants. Robin
Hood's foes are the sheriff of Nottingham, watching
over the deer, or the Archbishop upon his palfrey. To
the poor and helpless he is ever kind and noble, and he
devoutly worships the Virgin Mary. Here the Chris-
tian spirit comes in. For however much substratum
of historical truth lies beneath these marvellous deeds
of Robin Hood, the solar myth must claim a large share
of the credit. A grateful country has placed him among
its heroes, but the unerring bow, and the arrows which
never miss their mark, show plainly enough that the
real man has been covered by the early mythology. The
latest authorities agree in saying that he is the same
unerring archer whom we found in the other mytholo-

364 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

gies ; that he was brought over b}' the invading Angles,
Saxons, and Danes ; for in Yorkshire as many mighty
fabulous actions are attributed to him as to King Arthur
in Cornwall. We may accept this, because outside of the
Eobin Hood cycle is another fine old ballad, called
*'Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of
Cloudeslee," which tells the familiar story of an apple
shot from the head of a blooming youth. We found it
in the Norse story of Egil. If the one was imported,
why not the other ? William says : —

" I have a soime, seven years old,
Hee is to me full deare :
I will tye him to a stake, —
All shall see him that be here, —
And lay an apple upon his head
And goe six paces him froe,
And I myself with a broad arrowe
Shall cleave the apple in towe."

We cannot leave these delightful Middle Ages without
explaining one more of their original thoughts. This
one is an instinct which belongs to several Ar3^an fami-
lies ; especially the Hindus and Teutons. It prompted
the beast epic. Reynard the Fox is the longest beast
story in existence. Grimm says: "Side by side with
those books which tell the relations of man to man
appeared, from the earliest times, those which tell the
relations of animals to animals. The poetry which
treats of them is neither sarcastic nor didactic, origi-
nally, but is simply intensely natural. It is an epic,
springing out of that deep love of nature, and observa-
tion of animals, which belong to an early and simple
state of society." Re^'nard the Fox first appeared

MEDIEVAL HYMNS AND BALLADS. 365

among the Franks in the fourth or fifth centur}', and
was rewritten b}' the Germans, about the tenth century.
But in this first form of the story, the animals appear
in their own proper character, each one is true to the
beast nature, and therefore verj' charming and inter-
esting. That beast 'story, where the animals are turned
into human beings disguised as beasts, with all the
characters of human nature, is a much later form, — a
state of degenerac}' and deca}', such as we find in the
Fables of ^sop the Greek, of La Fontaine the French-
man ; but such as we do not find among the nature-lov-
ing, kindl}^ Arj'ans, of a primitive age.

366 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

CHAPTEE XII.

COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE.

WE must turn aside from the continuous develop-
ment of literature in Europe, where each branch
of the race has brought something to modern thought,
to speak of a family which contributed nothing to the
gathering current until very lately. The Slavs are an
interruption, wherever we may introduce them in the
history of literature ; but since the new sciences of
comparative philology and comparative mytholog}^ have
crystallized, the}^ have gained a value to the world which
they never had before. The information about them
was scanty and inaccessible, till recent events made the
Slav the bugbear of Europe ; but the dream of a Pan-
slavic empire has at least served the useful purpose of
turning the labors of the Slavonic savants upon their
own philolog}', and their own scientific position as mem-
bers of the Ar3^an family ; and the results of their in-
vestigations have been published and translated.

It is not known when the Slavs entered Europe, or
how. They came last of all the Aryan families, and
sat down behind the Teutons. The}^ have never con-
solidated into a powerful and influential family for sev-
eral reasons. Eirst, the}^ preserved the original Aryan
form of government for an unusually long period : the
several tribes were bound together by language, cus-

IMYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 367

toms, and traditions ; but the}- had no political iniit}'.
Courriere says : ' ' The predominance of the patriarchal
and famil3' rule prevented these tribes from ever reach-
ing federation, and forming a powerful state. They
were subdued by more compact peoples." Had they
occupied a remote and inaccessible corner of Europe,
the}' might have found rest and peace, and therefore
time for consolidation. But the}' never pushed be3'ond
the frontier : exposed to ever}' inroad of an invading
foe, they had scarceh^ time to take breath after one
attack, before another was upon them. Christianity,
which united other pagan families, onl}' served to di-
vide them. It was brought in from B3'zantium in the
ninth centur}', b}' Cyril, a second Ulphilas. He trans-
lated the Bible into Slavon, their most important dia-
lect ; invented an afj^habet, called the Cyrillic ; and
taught the faith and ceremonies of the Greek Church.
This alphabet and Slavon language are used to-da}' by
sixt}' millions of people, either Mohammedans, or be-
longing to the Greek Catholic Church. It is an eccle-
siastical language, like Latin among us ; it is learned by
every educated Slav at the present time, and it was the
language used for high literature until the eighteenth
century.

In the ninth century, the Slavs were homogeneous ;
but a portion of them adopted the Roman Catholic
form of Christianit}', and the Latin language and alpha-
bet, which divided them more and more, and b}' the
fourteenth centur}' the separation was complete. Differ-
ent nations had arisen, each with a dialect of its own,
and political unity was no longer possible. Nineteen
milHons of Slavs use the Latin language and alphabet

368 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

at the present time, and belong to the Roman Cath-
oHc or Protestant Church. We need scarcely won-
der, therefore, that they have made themselves so little
felt. The Slavs occupy the space enclosed between
the Elbe, the Alps, and the Adriatic Sea, on the west ;
the ^gean and Black Seas, on the south ; the mouths
of the Dnieper and the sources of the Don, on the east ;
Lake Ihnen and the Baltic Sea, on the north. They
form the small independent nationality of Montenegro ;
the predominating element of the Russian empire ; and
are so intermingled with the Turkish and Austrian em-
pires, that it is hopeless to try to disentangle them, or
define their ever varying political status? They are
certainly a very picturesque people, and we know that
they are our brothers, first, by their language. Fire is
agni in Sanskrit, ignis in Latin, agon in Russ. Family
names are very similar ; as, malka^ mother ; sestra, sis-
ter ; brat, brother; sg7i, son. The parts of the bod^^,
as nos, nose ; the actions of people, as sidiet, to sit ;
the farm implements, as ploug, plough ; parts of dwell-
ings, as dom, house, dvor, court-3'ard, — resemble each
other in the Slavonic languages, and resemble all
Aryan words.

A second proof of the identity of the Slavs is to be
found in their literatures, which have developed without
reciprocal influence. As the comparative mytholog}^ is
what we are seeking, I shall describe only the pagan
and semi-pagan literatures ; and shall not speak of the
modern literatures which have grown up since the Sla-
von was confined to ecclesiastical purposes. For in-
stance, Poland has a brilliant literature, but it is alto-
gether modern, reflecting Latin, French, and German

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 369

thought. Poor Bohemia, on the contraiy, tortured by
Jesuits and Germans, watered b}' the mart3'r blood of
Huss, has a delightful pagan past, but nothing of gen-
eral interest in modern literature. Still, we must not
for a moment imagine that the Slavonic poetr}^ can bear
an}' comparison with the spiritual and beautiful poems
of the Rig Veda, or with the vague, grand hints of the
older Edda ; it is heroic, not religious. But it is fortu-
nate that it should exist at all, and we must be thankful
for its incidental references to Slav beliefs.

Through all the literatures runs the same m3'tholog3' ;
but there is very little information to be gathered from
them all combined. We discover that the Slavs wor-
shipped, first, their dead ancestors ; next, the powers of
nature, hke the other Ar3'an peoples. They offered sac-
rifices under an oak, and at first there were no temples
nor priests ; the head of the famih^ was his own priest.
The forms of their deities are very indistinct and shad-
ow3^ The Slavs kept alwa3's ver3' near to nature ; the3''
remained in that early stage of m3"thology whose traces
are found in the Rig Yeda, but which had alread3' past
by when that was collected. Tlie3' never emerged even
into the clear personifications of the Rig Veda, much
less into the anthropomorphism of the Greeks. This
gives their mytholog3' an interest of its own, since it
has preserved better than any other of the Aryan liter-
atures a certain stage of thought, — that earliest poetic
naturalism, where rivers and mountains, the grass and
the earth, are personified, but without being as yet wor-
shipped as gods. This will be particularl3' evident in
the Russian literature.

Still the Slavs did pass on to the next stage ; they
24

370 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

evolved a chief cleit}^ called Bog : our words hogy and
puck come from the same root. He was also called
Swaros: : the name has been traced to a root meaning
the all-surrounding sk}^, like Varuna. He has chil-
dren : the sun, called Dazh-Bog, the da}- god ; Stri-
Bog, the god of the winds ; Ogon, the fire. But all
these gradually fell into neglect, and Perun, the thunder
god, took their power, and most of their characteristics.
That the Slav^ paid great attention to agriculture is evi-
dent to whoever reads their poetry ; the peasants always
say the "sacred corn"; so Perun, who had the rain
under his control, soon became the god most important
to them, and he was worshipped by each Slavonic na-
tion. He is the only deity who has a distinct form ;
the traditions describe him as tall and well shaped, with
a long golden beard. He rides in a flaming car, and
grasps in his left hand a quiver full of arrows ; in his
right, a fiery bow. In the spring he goes forth in this
fier}^ car, and crushes with his arrows the demons whose
blood streams forth. This is the counterpart of Indra's
work : the hghtning piercing the dark clouds, and caus-
ing them to send forth rain. Sometimes Perun's arrow
becomes a golden ke}^, with which he unlocks a cave,
and brings gems and hidden treasures to light. That is
the lightning, which rends open the frozen winter earth,
and brings back the light and warmth of summer, and
lets loose the frozen brooks ; then he takes the charac-
teristics of the sun in other m3^thologies. The Slavs
thought that the lightning could see ; at that flash of
summer lightning, gone before one can catch its gleam,
they cried out that Perun was winking. The oak-tree
was sacred to him ; even when the Slavs accepted

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITEEATURE. 3T1

Christianity, and gave up their idols, the}^ would not
allow their sacred oaks to be cut down. Lada is the
goddess of spring, and of love ; the counterpart of
Fre3-ia in the Norse mj'thology ; the word means luxu-
riance, union, harmon3\

The Slavs never had that spiritual instinct which told
them of a future state where "wickedness should be
punished, virtue rewarded, wrongs redressed, and griefs
assuaged." The}' had onl}' that idea of another world
which is found among children and childlike peoples.
That the dead are living still, but that their life is sim-
ply a continuance of the one the}' have left behind, is
always the first conception of immortality. The chief-
tain remains a chieftain ; the slave, a slave. Therefore
they gave to the dead everything that he would need in
another life, — horses, armor, even a partner for eternity.
If a man died unmarried, they killed some woman upon
his grave, so dreary would his lot be without a wife. It
is a decided fact, that, as late as one thousand years
ago onh', widows killed themselves among the Slavs to
accompany their dead husbands ; the rite of Sati, burn-
ing on a funeral pile, prevailed there, as in India. It is
undecided whether the Slavs had invariably burned or
buried their dead ; but it is certain that the}' never sent
them afloat on an actual ocean like the Norsemen. They
believed in a road which led to the other world ; it was
both the rainbow and the milky way ; and, since the
journey was long, they put in boots, (for it was made
on foot,) and coins to pay the ferrying across a wide
sea : this suggests Charon in Greek. There is a tradi-
tion which suggests the dogs of Yama in Sanskrit : as
soon as a man died in Ruthenia, a hole was made in the

372 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

roof; a black dog was passed throngh it, that he might
free the soul from the bodj'. The abode of the dead
was the home of the sun, a warm fertile land, the isle
Bu3'an. There were collected all the forms of tempest
also; "there lies the lightning-snake, and broods the
tempest-bird [the raven] ; there swarm the thunder-bees,
who bless the longing earth with the honey of rain." This
expression is one of the primitive Aryan thoughts : in
the period before the Rig Veda was written down, every
good and pleasant thing was called honey ; they prayed,
'' Bless us with the honey of sleep," in India.

It is possible that we may soon be able to make an
important addition to our knowledge of Slavonic my-
thology. It is an accepted fact that the Bulgarians
were originall}^ Turanians. They were called into Eu-
rope by the Huns : having spread terror through the
Eastern lands, they finally settled at the foot of the
Balkan Mountains, conquered the Slavonic tribes whom
they found there, and in the ninth century the}^ em-
braced Greek Christianity and the C3Tillic alphabet.
This completed the fusion of the races ; they adopted
the Slavonic customs, and are practically Slavs at this
time. Obeying the impulse given to Slavonic studies,
savants have collected their popular poetry. Within the
last few years, M. Verkovicz, living at Serres, near
Salonica, published in 1874 the most remarkable of
these collections. He gave it the pretentious title of
the Veda Slovena, " Slavonic Veda." It contains
the songs of Mt. Rhodope : these songs were floating
about among the Mohammedan Bulgarians, but M.
Verkovicz claims to have traced them to an ancient
monastery on Mt. Rhodope in Thrace. A great outcry

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITER ATUEE. 373

has been made : some Slavonic savants consider them
genuine ; others, a forgery.

If the Veda Slovena be a forgerj^, Bohemia possesses
tlie primitive poetry of the Slavonic famil}-. In 1818
was found in the Mbrary of the castle of Zelenehora an
ancient manuscript, which is proved to be authentic.
It contains " The Judgment of Libussa, the Wise."
The events described took place at the beginning of the
eighth centur}^, and the poem is exceedingly valuable as
showing the manners and ideas of the time. Patri-
archal government still prevailed, but the hatred be-
tween Slav and German had even then arisen. The
wise Libussa is a grand figure gleaming through the
mists of centuries, — a heroine who would do honor to
any nation. Prophetess and Vala though she be, she
proves herself to be also a woman. It is impossible to
find the whole legend, but its fragments are enough to
make us long for more. When the king of Bohemia
died, the kingdom was given to his youngest daughter,
Libussa ; for she was skilled in all knowledge, and had
the gift of reading the future. Hearing of her wisdom,
two brothers came to ask her what should be done with
their father's kingdom. So the wise Libussa appointed
a day when she would give judgment, and convoked a
tribunal of the nobles of the land in her great castle
hall. They came by classes ; and a list is given, like
Homer's catalogue of the Greeks.

" When all were seated, the wise Libussa entered the hall,
clothed in white raiment, and sat down on her father's throne.
Beside her stood two young girls skilful in divination : one of
them held the tables of the law ; the other, the sword which
dispensed justice. Before them was the fire which witnesses
the truth ; at their feet, the miraculous water."

874 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

These must have been the s3'mbols of the ordeal by
fire and by water, which belongs to each Aryan family ;
the}' are called in the poem the "judgment of God."
Libussa divided the kingdom between the two sons,
according to the Slav custom.

" Then Crondoch, from the shores of winding Ottava, arises ;
anger has entire possession of him ; all his limbs tremble with
rage ; he brandishes his fist, and roars like a bull : ' Woe to the
brood where the serpent penetrates ! Woe to the man governed
by a woman ! It is for a man to rule over men. It is to the
oldest that the inheritance must be given ! ' Libussa rises from
her throne and says : ' Kmets, Lekhs, and Vladykas, you hear
how I am insulted; judge yourselves what the law may be.
Henceforth I will no longer judge your quarrels. Choose a
man, one of your equals, who shall govern with a sceptre of
iron : the hand of a virgin is too feeble.' "

Then another of the nobles arises, and declares that
Libussa' s decision is right, and according to the Slav
customs.

" Here every one is master of his family : the men work in
the field ; the women make the clothing ; when the head of the
family dies, all the children possess his property in common :
they choose a vladyka from the family ; he goes to the glori-
ous assembly for the good of the people, and walks with the
three ranks into the hall."

So Libussa' s judgment is accepted, and the German-
izing tendency put down. Soon after, a peasant comes
to consult Libussa. She reads in the future that he is
to become her husband ; but when he comes the next
day for her answer, the awkwardness of the situation
impels her to tell him that he must come again, till she
is sure that she has read the future aright. Then she

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 3T5

marries him, for her foresight has taught her that he is
the worthiest man in her kingdom ; and their d3masty
rule Bohemia for five centuries. It is a simple and
stately poem.

The second manuscript is called that of Kralove-
Dvor (the queen's court), and contains six hero ballads
and eight lyric poems. It was found in a monastery
in 1817, is much later than the Judgment of Libussa,
and extends from the ninth to the fourteenth century.
The first poem is the most interesting, as showing how
the Bohemians struggled against Christianitj^ ; how they
regarded what we consider an unmixed blessing ; and
also what was the worship they paid to their heathen
divinities. Zaboi, who commands half the Bohemians,
consults SlavoT, who commands the other half. They
summon their armies to the secret recesses of the for-
ests, and sing them the following inspiring song : —

" Brave men, and brothers with fieiy glances,
I sing to you from the lowest valley :
This song takes rise in my heart,
My heart plunged in dark sadness.
The father has gone to rejoin his father:
He left his children and his companions an inheritance,
And to no one did he say,
* Brother, address brotherly words to them ! '
But the stranger has come by force into the inheritance.
And commands in foreign words
That which is practised in foreign countries :
Our wives and children must do it ; -
And we can have only one wife
Through all our life, from youth till death.
They have driven all the hawks from the forest ;
And those gods which the strangers possess,

376 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDHED LITERATUEES.

We must adore them, and make offerings to them.

We dare no longer prostrate ourselves before our gods,

Nor give them food at twilight.

There, where our fathers brought food to them

And went to sing their praises,

The strangers have cut down all the trees,

0 Zaboi, you sing from the heart to the heart

A song full of sadness.

Like Luimir, whose words fired all the country.

So hast thou touched us, me and my brethren.

The gods love the noble bard.

Sing ! they have given thee power to touch our hearts."

Finally Zaboi and Ludiek, the chief of the German
invaders, settle the question by the original Aryan
mode, — single combat. The fight is described in a
most animated manner, and Ludiek is slain ; then Za-
boi sings a triumphant song of victor3\ The souls of
the dead were disposed of in the following way by the
pagan Bohemians. "The blood came out from the
strong hero, and ran across the grass into the damp
ground ; his soul came out from his warm lips, fluttered
from tree to tree, here and there, until his corpse was
burned."

The other ballads are later, and gradually become
Christianized, till they cease to have any especial in-
terest for us ; although they are fine hero ballads, and
furnish material for a Bohemian epic.

The Russian literature is peculiarly rich in certain
directions, and the Russians themselves are the most
important members of their famUy. The constant inter-
course between Scandinavia and Byzantium, by wa}' of
Russia, brought about a definite result. Rurik, the
chief of a band of Varangians, on his way to B3'zan-

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 377

tiiim paused, conquered the Slavonic tribes whom he
met, and founded a kingdom at Kieff. Some of the
band went on, embraced Greek Christianity, and
brought back the faith and worship of the Greek Catho-
lic Church, which the}' forced upon the Norsemen and
Slavs at Kieff, in the ninth centur3\ Christianity ex-
isted under sufferance ; finall}', it was made the state
religion by Vladimir, the Charlemagne of Russia, who
ascended the throne about 980 a. d. He himself over-
threw the statue of Perun, which had a golden beard ;
founded monasteries, churches, and schools ; used Cy-
ril's translation of the Bible into Slavon, and the C3Tillic
alphabet ; and proved himself to be a great and wise
ruler. He took the name of Wassil}- at his baptism,
and has been turned into St. Basil b}" the Russo-Greek
Church. A whole cj'cle of hero-ballads has collected
about him, just as about Charlemagne ; all the old
pagan beliefs can be traced in these ballads, which must
have wandered long on the Russian soil before they
took shape under the fostering care of the great Vladi-
mir. They tell us part of what we know definitely
about the Russian mythology, for there are no sacred
books. A few ritual songs have been preserved by the
peasantry, which celebrate the agricultural changes of
the seasons ; but they have been so frowned upon by
the priests, that the}' preserve little of their original
meaning. The death of wdnter is still celebrated : the
peasants build a bonfire, dance around it, and sing
songs to Lada, the goddess of spring and fertility, and
for a week the children shoot with bows and arrows.
The priests have transferred this festival to Butter
Week, the Russian carnival, and it takes place if the

878 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

weather be cold or warm. The burial of Kupalo, the
summer, is celebrated in the autumn : a straw figure is
actuall}' buried, a bonfire is made, and a Kolo is danced
by the 3'oung men and women. These can be nothing
less than the survival of the pagan mythology. Perun
was the god who received the chief worship of the Rus-
sians. Bnt in hero ballads Russia has developed un-
expected richness and variety ; for until the beginning of
this centurj' no one imagined that she could boast a na-
tional epic. These ballads have been gathered together
with the greatest difficulty. In 1859 M. Ruibnikoff began
a series of long and dangerous journe3^s, with the object
of collecting them : he went into distant provinces of
the empire, and lived among the peasants, at the actual
risk of his life. His account of his adventures is really
thrilling ; and from the lips of the peasant reciters he
took down the bylinas, which have been recently pub-
lished in Russ. They have been anal^'zed and de-
scribed in French by M. Rambaud, but not translated.
No account of them has been given in English, though
Mr. Ralston has promised a volume upon them.

There are two classes of these bylinas or hero ballads ;
the first, legendary, which descended by oral tradition
from the eleventh century, the time of Vladimir ; the
second historical, which have been preserved in writing.
I shall speak first of those most interesting and valu-
able for our purpose, the legendary ballads, which are
much more ancient, and take us back to an epoch when
the genius of the common people was not only strong,
but still predominant. We see the very beginnings
of pagan Russia, and watch the Russian imagination
struggling to give its own impress to those hero t^'pes

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 379

and those demigods who are universal to the Aiyan
race. These hist are but shghtlj' sketched, though
they have gignntic stature and superhuman powers,
and scarce!}' emerge from the natural forces which they
typify : the}' are Titans who cannot direct themselves.
Tlie first of them is Volga. A mortal maiden was his
mother, a serpent his father ; as soon as born, his voice
resounded like thunder, and he grew to boy's stature
in a few months. Volga is like Proteus in Greek, in
his power of changing himself into different forms, such
as a bird, a mouse, or an ermine : the last animal
gives a local coloring to the myth, which shows the
variableness of nature, and means the sun covered by
clouds of different shape. A soothsayer told him that
he would be killed by his horse. So he ordered the
animal to be slaughtered, and long after he mounted its
fleshless skeleton. But a serpent came out of its
whitened skull, and stung the hero to death : this is
quite a new form of the miraculous death and the ser-
pent of darkness. Sviatogor reminds one immediately
of the Norse m}'thology : he is the strong man whom
mother earth can scarcely bear up, but crumbles beneath
him. He is wearied and burdened with his own weight :
he cannot walk on the plains of Russia ; only on the
mountains and massive rocks. Utterly weaiied out, he
finally pauses on one mountain, and there remains till
this day. He is a delightful and novel addition to the
family of giants.

So now the world is ready for its heroes, and they
first appear grouped around Vladimir as he holds high
revel in the halls of Kieff. There are many of them ;
but we have time only for one, although each presents

380 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDPwED LITERATURES.

some feature of the solar myth. Ilia de Mourom is a
first-class hero, and he takes his place worthily beside
Riistem, Achilleus, Sigurd, or Roland. The early by-
linas which tell of him are semi-pagan ; and much the
more satisfactory, for the personifications are nearer to
nature. The monsters which oppose him are vague
and formless, hardly to be separated from the cloud or
fog which they typif3\ The world is still primeval :
the gods, the heroes, the animals, live on the most
familiar terms ; the rivers become persons ; serpents,
horses, and birds talk. Vladimir is not yet a tzar : he
is only a feudal monarch. There are no guards, no
courtiers : he is simply the father of his people, who
enter without restraint into the hall where he sits to
give audience to admiring strangers, or listen to foreign
minstrels. In the later by Unas, Ilia de Mourom be-
comes a Christian knight, who founds churches ; the
celestial mountains, which were only clouds, the celes-
tial sea, which was onl}" the vast blue sky, become real
mountains, real seas ; the dragon monsters, which were
only storm clouds, become real Tartars. And these
events settle upon an historical personage, wiio attended
the court of an historical king. In all the bylinas,
however, just as Achilleus is subject to Agamemnon,
Olger the Dane to Charlemagne, so the great hero Ilia
de Mourom is subject to King Vladimir, — Fair Sun, as
he is alwa3^s called ; and when the need of the people is
sorest, it is Ilia who toils for them. Unlike any other
epic, the Russian shows that it arose from the people,
by choosing its hero from among them ; Ilia is the son
of a peasant. Until he is thirty years old, he is para-
lyzed and useless ; then two divine beings come to him,

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 381

bring him the water of Ufe, and he is immediatel}' en-
dowed with enormous strength. The}' sa}' to him :
'• Ilia, you will be a great hero ; 3'ou will never die in
battle. Give battle, then, to all heroes or heroines ;
but take care not to attack Volga : it is not his
strength which renders him invincible, it is his cunning.
Do not attack Sviatogor ; damp mother earth herself
can scarcel}' support his weight." The first use which
Ilia makes of his new strength shows the feature which
the Russians have added to the t^pe. He cultivates
the soil of " holy Russia" ; while his parents sleep, the
good son does their agricultural work. The}- had been
striving to cut down a forest ; with one turn of his
hand he tears up all the oaks, and throws them into
the river. Then he departs to kill dragons, robbers,
and heathen ; he is a free peasant, who seizes the
sword to rid his native land of every foe. He gets
himself a magic steed, which is at first dark-colored
and stupid ; but for three nights Ilia bathes him in the
dew : then he becomes powerful and light-colored ; he
clears lakes, rivers, and forests at a bound, as Ilia
prances along to the halls of Vladimir, Fair Sun. On
his way he meets the brigand Solovei, — a new variety
of the inevitable monster, who is a gigantic bird, called
the nightingale. He had built his nest on seven oaks,
and his claws extended for seven versts over the coun-
try, which he had infested for thirty years. He roared
like a wild beast, howled like a dog, whistled hke a
nightingale. At this awful whistling Ilia's horse fell on
his knees with fear ; but Ilia scornfully reproved him,
dragged him up, and let fly an arrow, which hit Solovei
in the right eye. He fell from his lofty nest ; Ilia

382 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

attached him to the saddle, and rode off. Then the
wife and children of Solovei followed after, and talked
to Ilia, offering him three cups full of gold, silver, and
■ pearls. Unlike the greedy heroes who seek the Nibe-
lung hoard, the disinterested Iha refuses the treasure,
and hastens on that he may reach the court of Vladi-
mir, Fair Sun, at Easter. The prince welcomes him:
'' Art thou a tzar, or the son of a tzar?" The peasant
makes no disguise, but declares his name and condi-
tion, and presents his prize. Vladimir requests Solovei
to roar, howl, and whistle; but he declines. "I do
not eat your bread ; I am not 3'our servant ; it is not
you whom I will obey." (A very feudal touch.) Ilia
then orders hfm to roar, howl, and \}iiistle with half his
strength only. The gracious prince pours out with his
own hand a cup of wine holding fifteen pints. The
mischievous Solovei drains it at a draft, then roars,
howls, and whistles with all his ftny. The roof of the
palace falls off; the courtiers drop dead with fear;
Ilia puts the prince under one arm, the princess under
the other, to protect them. This reminds us of the fun
when Ilerakles the Greek brought the dog Kerberos to
King Eurystheus. Ilia, indignant, cuts the bird Solo-
vei into little pieces, which he scatters over the fields.
Then, of course, he enters the service of Vladimir, Fair
Sun, to fight against the foes of his country. One day
arrives a polenitza, a powerful amazon on horseback :
Ilia fights with her, conquers her ; but she refuses to
tell her name. She turns out to be his own daughter,
whose mother was a polenitza also, conquered and
abandoned by Ilia. This is the story of Sohrab and Rus-
tem in Persian, Hildebrand anti Hadubrand in German,

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 383

and well understood bj^ this time. Ilia never blusters
nor boasts : he protects the weak ; he frees his prison-
ers without any ransom ; he spares a defenceless eneni}- ;
he thinks sadly of all the blood he has been obliged to
shed ; he is gentle, and even full of humor. When
brigands attack him, he tries to get rid of them b}' a
little mild sarcasm : " "What ! forty brigands against an
old fellow like me ! M3' caftan is not w^orth sixty rou-
bles ; my arrows, five ; I may have fort}' roubles of ready
money about me." The brigands are dehghted at such
an innocent : the}^ attack him ; with one arrow he splits
an oak into splinters, and the}' he motionless with fright
for fiA'C hours. The peasant hero never forgets his
class : like all peasants in Russia, Ilia is a great drinker ;
after one battle he drank so much that he slept for
twelve da3's. On his awaking, he entered the palace
hall, and found Vladimir surrounded b}' nobles only.
He rebuked the king, who threw him into a dungeon,
where he lay for three years, unfed by Vladimir. Kieff
was assailed b}' Tartars, and Vladimir was in despair.
Trembling, he sent down to the dungeon, expecting
to find only a skeleton ; but the king's daughter had
sent him food ever}' da}' for three years, — like Olger
the Dane, fed by a princess. Vladimir threw himself at
his feet, and begged his assistance. He forgave more
readily than Achilleus and Olger, and immediately went
out to fight for " holy Russia." Rambaud says, " Ilia
can bear a favorable comparison with the noblest pala-
din of the Middle Ages."

M. Rambaud also says: "There must always be a
prodigious catastrophe when all the demigods and he-
roes disappear at one fell swoop. In the Roman

384 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

legends it is the battle of Lake Regillus ; in the Ocl3's-
sev, Volsung Saga, and Nibehingen, the slaughter-hall;
in the Song of Roland, the vallej^ of Roncevaux." So
all the heroes and heroines grouped around Vladimir
follow the same law. They had just annihilated an
arm}' of Tartars ; filled with pride, the}^ cried out,
"Our shoulders are not wearied, our swords are not
hacked ; let a supernatural arm}^ oppose itself to us :
we could conquer an army which was not of this world."
Immediately two unknown warriors appeared. Alexis
charged them, cut them in two : at once four heroes
began to fight ; Alexis cut them all in two, and the
eight began to fight ; then the sixteen whom Alexis
had created. Then Ilia came to the rescue, but the
same process went on : all da}' long the heroes fought
against an army which doubled at every stroke. At
last, terrified, they fled towards a cave in the moun-
tains, where the}^ were all changed into rocks. A pre-
cisely similar tradition exists in Sanskrit, and is a very
agreeable variety of the inevitable event.

Students of mythology can easil}^ decipher the career
of Ilia. He is paralyzed and immovable during the
winter ; two strangers, passing clouds, bring the spring
rain, which awakens the energies of nature, and Ilia arises
just in the spring at Easter time. The monster has in-
fested the countr}' just thirt}' 3'ears, as long as the sun,
Ilia, had slept. And his whisthng, howling, roaring, are
the best descriptions we meet anywhere of the noise of
the tempest. In the nest of Solovei Iha finds treasures,
just as under the worm Fafnir ; light and warmth they
are. And Ilia cuts up the bird that his blood may fat-
ten the fields : the sun scatters the clouds that the rain

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 385

ma}' fertilize tlie earth. The polenitza is the sun of
yesterday ; her mother is the dawn, whom Iha leaves
behind ; the fort}' brigands are clouds ; the}' fall to the
ground, and the oak is splintered, after a gleam of sun-
light. The dungeon into which Ilia is plunged is the
darkness, or night, from which he emerges into another
day. Finally, if he be turned to stone at his death, it is
because winter imprisons the summer in stony slumber.
The women of the Russian bylinas offer excellent
examples of the hero-w'oman. They are not valas,
prophetesses with something sacred about them, like
the wise Libussa ; they are amazons, like Gurd Afrid in
the Shah Nameh, Briinhilde in the Nibelungen Lied,
Atalanta in Greek ; and they all lose their power when
they are married, and become humble and submissive.
One day Dobryna was riding along, when he met a
polenitza, and gave her a blow on the back of her head :
she did not even turn her head. "It must be that I
have lost my usual strength," said the hero to himself.
With his club he struck an enormous oak which flew
into splinters. Reassured, he returned and gave another
terrible blow to the polenitza, with the same result.
The hero doubted his strength, and tried it on a rock,
which flew into splinters also. At the third blow, the
polenitza turned around and said, "I thought some
gnats were stingiug me, and lo, it is a Russian hero who
moves his hands." She seized him by his blond curls,
and put him into her pocket, on horseback as he was.
Her own giant horse trembled, and spoke out to com-
plain of the increased load. So Nastasia said, "If
the nobleman is old, I will cut off" his head ; if he is
young, I will keep him a prisoner : if he suits my fancy,

25

SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

I will many him." She drew him out of her pocket,
married hi in, and became an affectionate and dutiful
wife. Afterwards she became almost a Russian Pe-
nelope, and awaited his return from abroad for twelve
5'ears. Then she consented to marr^' another, but Do-
bryna returned in season, and upbraided her, saying, "I
do not wonder that 3'ou have fallen ; women have long
hair, and short w^it."

We come now into another atmosphere, and reach
the historical epic. Russia has a true national epic,
more correct historical!}' thaii most of the other epics
of the world. The " Song of Igor" was written in the
twelfth centur}', shortly after the events it celebrates,
which took place in 1185 a. d. The manuscript is of
the fourteenth or fifteenth century, and was discovered
in a monastery in 1795. Igor, a prince of Novgorod,
his son, brother, and nephew, make an expedition
against a nomad tribe of mixed Finns and Tartars.
The account is written by one poet whose name is un-
known to us, but who was evidentlj^ an educated man,
trained in the learning of Bj'zantium : poetry has ceased
to be, therefore, of and for the people ; the Song of Igor
was written down for an aristocratic class. The le-
gendary^ world is left behind : no more demigods and
heroes walk the earth, embodying the ancient pagan di-
viuities, in slightl}' varied forms ; the personages of the
Song of Igor are simple mortals, — princes and nobles
and soldiers. The ancient divinities are introduced
from a respectable distance. The Russians are the pos-
terity of Dazh-Bog ; the poets, children of Volos ; the
winds, sons of Stri-Bog ; just as we speak of Apollo
and the Muses as part of the furniture of an epic, but

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 387

not with the simple confidence in their actual presence
of an earlier age. The goddess Discord is introduced ;
but she is evidentl}' borrowed from the Greek epics,
which the poet might have studied at Constantinople.
The poem is Christian ; but, as not more than two cen-
turies had gone b}', Christianit}^ had not struck root
very deeply. M. Rambaud sa3'S, "It is a recognized
law that the chief gods in a destro3'ed religion are
sooner forgotten than the secondar}' ones, — those which
are interwoven with the daih' life and old associations."
This is ver}' evident in the folk-songs ; and it comes
out in the Song of Igor, in that poetic naturalism which
I spoke of as the chief characteristic of Slavonic poetr3^
Tlie Song of Igor shows, not onh* a passionate love of
nature, but an intimate sympathy between it and man-
kind: nature responds to his external conditions, as
well as to his feelings. Igor leads his warriors in per-
son : an eclipse of the sun takes place on the first da}^,
and the earth trembles beneath the tread of his army.
It is his mother earth, who tries to warn him. But
Igor persists ; he crosses the vast steppes, and plunges
into the river. "Land of Russia," he cries, " 3'ou are
far awa^', 3'ou have hidden 3'ourself behind the mounds."
(These are the tumuli which break the monoton3' of the
plains of Russia.) Meantime his wife is left behind.

" The Jaroslavna (daughter of Jaroslaf) laments on the city
wall at morning : you would say it was the lament of the
cuckoo. ' 0 wind, terrible wind ! wh}^, my lord, blow so hard ?
Why, on your light wings, do jou carry the arrows of the Khan
against the Avarriors of my hero ? Is it not enough for you to
blow up there in the clouds ? to rock the vessels on the blue
sea ? Why, my lord, do you throw my joy down on the grass

388 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

of the steppe ? ' The Jaroslaviia laments at morning on the
city wall : ' O haughty Dnieper ! you break a path for yourself
between the rocky mountains of the Polovtzi's country ! You
lulled on your waves the barks of Sviatoslof when he buckled
on his armor against the warriors of Kobak. 0 my lord !
bring back my spouse to me. No longer let me send him my
tears every morning, by my messenger, the sea.' The Jaro-
slavna at morning laments on the city wall : * Brilliant sun !
trebly brilliant, you warm us all, you shine for all ! Why, my
lord, dart your burning rays on the warriors of my spouse?
"Why do you dry up their bows in their hands, in that desert
without water? Why do you add weight to the quivers on
their shoulders by the torments of thirst 1 ' "

In all pagan literature there is no more lovelj^ exam-
ple of that earl}' stage of personification. Far away,
Igor ^fights for three daj's ; then he is defeated and
taken prisoner because he nobly refuses to fl}' and aban-
don his people. At length he makes up his mind to
escape ; not for his own sake, but that he ma}' preserve
his people at home, who are a prey to wandering tribes.
His friends at home had been endeavoring to arouse
the other princes to go to his rescue ; and they promise
to unite in this holy war against the invading Tartar.
Then the poet breaks out in a lament over the lack of
national feeling at the time he is writing, and urges the
princes to form a united Russia, solid against the Tartar
tribes, like the princes of the earlier day, and to forget
their fratricidal wars. The Tartar is now to Russia
what the Moor was to the Cid, the Saracen to Roland ;
the principle of evil fighting against good, of light
fighting against darkness. When Igor tries to escape,
pitfalls open under his feet ; it is the soil of the enemy
trying to hold him back, and the grass whispers it to

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 389

eveiy passer-b}' ; but he at last reaches the friendly
shores of the river Donetz ; he talks with it, and com-
plains of the cruel Stronga which broke his ships, and
drowned the 3'oung prince, Ivan, his friend : the river
answers him with kindly greetings, and wafts him gently
over to his own shore. The poet intended to write the
histor}' of Russia, but gives us onh' one episode : 3'et
this disastrous stor}^ is but a t3'pe of the misfortunes
which overwhelmed all Russia, kept her for two centu-
ries crushed under the rule of the Tartars, and pre-
vented all intellectual development.

The Russian folk-songs have been translated by
Ralston, but are not especially interesting in them-
selves, or as furnishing material for comparative study ;
but the folk-tales are both extremely charming and
valuable. Ralston has given us a critical and reliable
collection, translated from many volumes. They are
told in a ver}^ animated and dramatic manner ; they
are considered to take the next place to the Hindu
folk-lore ; the Slavonic peasant is tenacious, and the
primitive, patriarchal life and thoughts have lingered
in his memor3^ The early stage of naturalism to which
I have alluded is delightfull}^ expressed in the following
tale.

VAZUZA AND VOLGA.

Vaziiza and Volga had a long dispute as to which was the
wiser, the stronger, and the more worthy of high respect.
They wrangled and wrangled, but neither could gain the mas-
tery in the dispute, so they decided upon the followhig course.

" Let us lie do^\^l together to sleep," they said, " and which-
ever of us is the first to rise, and the quickest to reach the
Caspian Sea, she shall he held the wiser of the two, and
the stronger, and the worthier of respect."

390 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

So Volga lay down to sleep ; clown lay Vaziiza also. But
during the night, Vazuza rose silently, fled away from Volga,
chose the nearest and straightest line, and flowed away. When
Volga arose she set o&, neither slowly nor hurriedly, but with
just befitting speed. At Zubtsof she came up with Vazuza.
So threatening was her mien that Vazuza was frightened,
declared herself to be Volga's younger sister, and besought
Volga to take her in her arms, and bear her to the Cas-
pian Sea. And so to this day Vazuza is the first to awake
in the spring, and then she arouses Volga from her wintry
sleep.

The evil beings, the dark powers of Slavonic my-
tholog}', are better depicted in the Russian folk-tales
than in any branch of Slavonic literature. The peasant
still preserves these awful creatures, and gives us the
usual form, and some new varieties. Of course, dark-
ness is still the many-headed snake ; and here comes in
the destined hero. " Once there was an old couple who
had three sons. Two of them had their wits about
them, but the third, Ivan, was a simpleton. Now in the
land in which Ivan lived there was never anj- da}', but
always night. This was a snake's doing. Well, Ivan
undertook to kill that snake." Then came a third
snake with twelve heads. Ivan killed it, and destroyed
the heads ; and immediately there was bright light
throughout the whole land. The myth is pushed on,
and there is also the monster who devours maidens,
called a "Norka" ; and Perun takes the work of Indra
and Saint George, enters the castle (dark clouds), and
rescues her. But the dark power takes a distinctive
Russian appearance, in the awful figure of Koshchei,
the deathless, — a fleshless skeleton who squeezes heroes
to death in his bon}' arms. He carries off a princess ;

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 391

after seven 3'ears (the winter months) the hero reaches
his under-ground palace and is hidden ; but Koshchei
returns and cries out, " No Russian bone can the ear
hear, or the e3'e see ; but there is a smell of Russia here,"
— like the giant "Fee, faw, fo, fum," terror of our child-
hood. He really tj'pifies the winter ; the name means
to make hard as a bone, a figurative expression for
to freeze. There is a frightful witch, called the Baba
Yaga, who flies over land and sea, doing all the mischief
she can, but alwa3's stops at her own cottage, on the
edge of a forest. She is plainl}- the wind, which ceases
blowing when it comes to a thick forest. And there
are the usual secondar}^ evil spirits, who live in the
waters or the woods. The Rousalka is a female water
spirit : she has long green hair ; if it becomes dry, she
will die ; so she never travels from home without her
comb. B}' passing this through her locks, she can pro-
duce a flood ; which explains the comb of all mermaids.
Besides all these dreadful beings to be avoided, each
man's ill-luck is personified.

WOE.

Woe followed a merchant persistently, till his patience was
quite gone. So the merchant said, " Let us go into the yard
and play at hide and seek." Woe liked the idea immensely.
Out they went into the yard, and the merchant hid himself.
Woe found him immediately; then it was his turn to hide.
" Now, then," said Woe, " you won't find me in a hurry.
There is n't a chink I can't get into." " Get along with you,"
answered the merchant ; " you could not creep into that wheel
there, and yet you talk about chinks." " Could n't I creep
into that wheel there? You'll see!" So Woe stepped into
the ipheel. The merchant caught up the wedge, and drove it

392 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

into the axle-box from the other side. Then he seized the
wheel, and flung it, with Woe in it, into the river. Woe was
drowned, and the merchant lived happily again, as he had
been used to.

The Werewolf appears in great force in Russian
tales : but the Vampire is the most repulsiA^e form of
the evil power, and he is original in Slavonic thought.
In him, the evil spirit enters into a corpse, revisits
" the glimpses of the moon," kills the living, and sucks
the blood of the dead. The horrible Glam in the Norse
tale of Grettir the Strong belongs to this famil}- ; the
modern Greek word for vampire is of Slavonic origin.
He can be killed by chopping off his head by a grave-
digger's shovel. Even modern legends teach that the
body of a suicide will be taken possession of by the fiend,
and turned into a vampire. The Slavonian peasants,
therefore, drive an ashen stake once through the heart
of ever}^ suicide : even in England the law insisted up-
on this until 4 George IV. c. 52. Until this is done,
the poor vampire must wander uneasil}" about. His
victims can be recognized by a small wound directly
over the heart. There can be no doubt that the vam-
pire is a nature mjlli ; sucking the blood of the sleepers,
or of the dead, is drawing rain from the storm clouds ;
or it ma}^ be setting free the frozen brooks and rivers,
killed by the cold of winter.

In ancient times, all pagans believed that any person
could offer up a prayer wdiich should affect the weather ;
next, they came to think that only certain persons had
this power ; and these people, like the Norse Valas,
were regarded with the greatest reverence. But Chris-
tianity turned them into evil beings, and they ^hen

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 393

became the witches and wizards whom we find in the
modern folk-lore : the}' inherited terror and horror, in-
stead of the reverence originally paid them, as repre-
sentatives of the deities the}- invoked.

All these witch stories have latel}" been looked at in a
new wa}^ and explained b}' a new theor}-, which we ma}-
accept or not, — it is not fixed, — but which is more
agreeable than to believe, as T^'lor's "Primitive Culture"
tells us, that witchcraft is part of ever}' savage life,
and that we once shared such beliefs ourselves. Com-
parative mythologists try to account for them, by con-
sidering them as survivals of the ancient thoughts of the
Aryans about nature. These witches and wizards now
perform the acts attributed to the forces of nature
themselves at first ; and by slow degrees, which we have
just traced, they arrived at this power. Let us exam-
ine their acts, and see what they do. They look into
the future with clear and piercing eyes, just as Athene
does in Greek, or the Vala in Norse ; which is always
the gift of the dawn-light. Their most important work,
however, is to control the weather. The}' steal and hide
away the moon and the stars, which is of small conse-
quence ; but they also steal the rain and the dew, and
this cannot be overlooked or pardoned. They hoard the
dew and rain, and give it forth at their own caprices.
" Xot long ago, in Russia, one of them hid away so
much rain in her cottage, that not a drop fell all sum-
mer long. One day she went out, and gave strict orders
to the servant girl in charge, not to meddle with the
pitcher which stood in the corner. But no sooner had
she got out of sight, than the maid lifted the cover of
the pitcher and looked in. Nothing was to be seen ; but

894 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

a voice from inside said, ' Now there will be rain.'
The girl, frightened out of her wits, ran to the door,
and the rain was coming down, 'just as if it were rush-
ing out of a tub.' The witch came running home,
covered up the pitcher, and the rain ceased. If the
pitcher had stood uncovered a little longer, all the vil-
lage would have been drowned." The witch also can
direct the whirlwind, which is attributed to the wild
dancing of the devil, who is celebrating his marriage
with a witch : this is onh' another interpretation of the
stately procession of Odin sweeping over the sk}', or of
the phantom armies of Brittany and Scotland, which
appear in their ballads. The witches themselves fly
through the air on shovels or brooms, — articles con-
nected with fire and the domestic hearth, — and they
hold meetings on hill-tops. But they make themselves
especially obnoxious by milking the cows of others,
even from an}' distance ; a witch just sticks a knife into
a plough, or a post, and the milli trickles along the edge
of it, till the cow is dry. The witches are either old
hags, or young maidens, but always clothed in loose
floating garments ; the wizards wear long white beards.
Now could any description better apply to the actions
and appearances of the clouds ? They are blown by the
whirlwind ; they hover near the earth, and glide over its
surface ; the}^ spin and weave varying outlines ; they
cluster on the tops of mountains ; the}' draw up the dew ;
they pour down the rain, that is, (the Rig Veda sa3'S,)
they milk the cows. It seems hardly possible to doubt
that, as these actions were once attributed to unseen
persons, they should at last have been fastened upon
actual, living people.

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 395

To protect themselves, the Russian peasants make
use of spells. The}' belong to the same category as the
runes of Norse mythology ; and were at first uttered in
a loud, clear voice, but now are whispered. These
Russian spells are full of poetr}', and expand into much
greater dimensions than the simple Norse runes. They
are addressed to the powers of nature, either in their
elementary forms, or personified in a thousand different
characters ; and we must believe that they are but the
survival of those pra3'ers with which our far-off an-
cestors sought protection in the cradle of their race, in
their common home in Asia. How are the mighty
fallen !

A SPELL

AGAINST GRIEF AT PARTING FROM A DEARLY BELOVED CHILD.

I have sobbed away the day, — I, his own mother, the ser-
vant of God, — in the lofty parental terem [upper chamber],
from the red morning dawn looking out into the open field to-
ward the setting of my red sun, my never-enough-to-be-gazed-on
child. There I remained sitting till the late evening glow, till
the damp dews, in longing and in woe. But at length I grew
weary of grieving; so I considered by what spells I could
charm away that evil, funereal grief.

I went out into the open field, I carried with me the mar-
riage cup, I took out the betrothal taper, I fetched the wedding
kerchief, I drew water from the well beyond the mountains, I
stood in the midst of a thick forest, I traced an unseen line,
and I began to cry with a piercing voice : —

"I charm my never-enough-to-be-gazed-on child, over the
marriage cup, over the fresh water, over the nuptial kerchief,
over the betrothal taper. I bathe my child's pure face with
the nuptial kerchief. I wipe his sweet lips, his bright eyes,
his thoughtful brow, his rosy cheeks. With the betrothal

896 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

taper I light up his long kaftan, his sable cap, his figured
girdle, his stitched shoes, his ruddy curls, his youthful face, his
rapid gait.

"Be thou, my never-enough-to-be-gazed-on child, brighter
than the brilliant sun, softer than a spring day, clearer than
fountain water, whiter than virgin wax, firmer than the fiery
stone Alatnir.

" I avert from thee the terrible devil, I drive away the fierce
•whirlwind, I keep away from thee the one-eyed Lycshy [wood
demon], the stranger Domovoy, the Vodyany [water demon],
the witch of Kieff, the beckoning Rusalka, the thrice-accursed
Baba Yaga, and the flying fiery snake. I wave away from
thee the prophetic raven and the croaking crow. I screen
thee from Koshchei the deathless, from the spell-weaving
wizard, from the daring magician, from the blind soothsayer,
from the hoary witch.

"And thou, my child, at night and at midnight, through all
hours and half-hours, on the highway and the byway, when
sleeping and waking, be thou concealed by my abiding words
from hostile powers and from unclean spirits, preserved from
untimely death and from misfortune and from woe, saved from
drowning on the water, and kept from burning when amid the
flames.

" And should the hour of death arrive, do thou, my child,
remember our caressing love, our unsparing bread and salt, and
turn towards thy well-beloved birthplace, bend thy brow to the
ground before it, with seven times seven salutations take leave
of thy kith, and kin, and fall into a sweet, unbroken slumber.

" And may my words be stronger than water, higher than
the mountains, heavier than gold, firmer than the fiery stone,
more j)owerful than heroes.

" And may he who tries to beguile or to cast a spell over my
child, — may he be shut up beyond the mountains of Ararat,
in the lowest gulfs of hell, in boiling pitch and burning flame !
And may his spells be for him no spells, his deceit be no de-
ceit, and his guile no beguiling ! "

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 39T

There are great tenderness and pathos in this, and a
native poetry. One's blood quite runs cold at the cata-
logue of evil spirits and possible dangers. There is
still another spell, — that for raising the dead, who
almost alwa3's come back for a friendl3' purpose, — to
assist a relative or child in distress. Ad is the Russian
name for the dark, under-ground world, "where evil
spirits and sinful souls dwell." This is evidently the
Greek Hades, and has been brought in by Christian-
ity ; the pagan conception was different, and the pagans
sometimes taught that the dead were living in their
tombs or coffins. "We find this idea in the Hindu folk-
tale of Puuchkin, and the German Ashenputtel.

SONG TO CALL BACK THE DEAD.

From the side of the East

Have risen the wild winds,

With the roaring thunders

And the fiery lightnings.

All on my father's grave

A star has fallen, — has fallen from heaven.

Split open, 0 dart of the thunder,

The moist Mother Earth !

Do thou fall to pieces, 0 Mother Earth,

On all four sides !

Split open, 0 cotRn planks !

Unfold, O white shroud !

Fall away, 0 white hands,

From over the bold heart !

And do ye become parted, 0 ye sweet lipsl

Turn thyself, 0 my own father.

Into a bright, a swift-winged falcon !

Fly away to the blue sea, —

398 SANSKEIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

To the blue sea, the Caspian.

Wash off, my own father,

From thy white face the mould ;

Come flying, 0 my father,

To thy own home, to the lofty terem !

Listen, 0 my father,

To our songs of sadness !

From this feeling that the dead returned and watched
over their children, there was a belief that the souls of
dead ancestors were always present ; that they were not
only worshipped by the sacred fire which burned on the
hearth, but were actually present in it. This worship,
which belonged to every Ar3^an family and culminated
in the majestic service of the Roman Vesta, has sur-
vived to the present day with the Russian peasant.
Agni is now the Domovo}^, or household spirit. The
customs connected with him are so numerous and strik-
ing, that I shall select him to describe, rather than the
Robin Goodfellow or Brownie of English folk-lore.

The Domovoy of Russia now lives in the stove. He
comes out every night, and eats the food which the
family takes care to provide for him ; for he is very
angry if he fancies himself neglected. The customs
connected with building a new house are especially curi-
ous : it is supposed that whichever member of the
famil}' enters the new house first will be the first to die ;
so some animal is killed, and laid in one corner. In
that corner will be placed the table where the family
eats its dailj' meal, because the dead ancestors, includ-
ing even little children who have died, are supposed to
be present at the meal. Their images once stood in
the corner ; but since Christianity was introduced, an

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 399

ikon, or sacred picture, has taken their place. When
the house is finished, and tlie fanhh' ^Yish to remove
into it, cveryt4iing movable is taken awa}' from the old
house. Then the oldest woman lights a fire in the
stove for the last time, and Avaits until mid-da}-. Fre-
cisel}' at mid-da}' she rakes the burning embers into a
clean jar, covers them with a new, white napkin, throws
open the house door, and says, '' Welcome, grand-
father, to our new home ! " She then carries the jar
containing the fire to the court-yard of the new dwell-
ing ; there she finds the master and mistress, who have
come to offer bread and salt to the Domovoy. The
old woman strikes the door-posts, saying, "Are the
visitors welcome?" The master and mistress reply,
" AVelcome, grandfather, to the new spot!" After
that the old woman enters the house, the master pre-
ceding with bread and salt, places the jar on the stove,
takes of!' the napkin, shakes it to the four corners, and
then empties the burning embers into the new stove.
The jar is broken ; its fragments are buried under the
sacred corner of the house. If the distance is too
great when the peasant ma}' be emigrating to a new
country, a fire shovel and all the fire implements are
taken. Such is the present representative of the sacred
fire which the haughty Roman colonist carried to every
new city. Yet we must not despise the degraded form ;
for without the one, we might not have known how to
understand the other. The Domovoys of different fam-
ilies sometimes quarrel with each other ; and when a
death is near, the poor Domovoy is heard lamenting,
like the Keltic Banshee.

We are apt to forget that the riddles which are child's

400 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

pla}' to us were once supposed to be oracular utter-
ances, made b}^ superhuman beings, and worth}' of the
most serious attention. Oidipous gained a throne by
guessing a riddle, and through these Russian enigmas
gleam nature m^ths, more carefully preserved than in
more pretentious forms. "A fair maiden went roam-
ing through the forest, and dropped her ke3's. The
moon saw them, but said nothing ; the sun saw them,
and lifted them up." The ke^'S are the dew ; the
maiden the dawn. " A golden ship sails across the
heavenly sea ; it breaks into fragments, which neither
princes nor people can put together again." The moon
breaking up into the stars.

Christianity could not destroy these beliefs, inter-
woven into the peasants' innermost fibres. It could
only direct them somewhat. The traits of the Slav
deities were transferred to the saints of the Russo-
Greek Church. Rerun, the thunder god, took the name
of the prophet Elijah, and is turned into Ilya. He is
said to destro}^ the devils with stone hammers, like
Thor ; or with lances, like Indra. On Ilya's day the
peasants offer him a roasted animal, which is cut up,
and scj^ttered over the fields. St. George becomes
Yegory the Brave, and is accompanied by a wolf, the
characteristic animal of Russia.

But the most peculiar personification is that of the
days of the week. Wednesday, Frida}^, and Sunday
are stately women, who were worshipped in pagan
times. Friday takes its name from an ancient Slavonic
goddess corresponding to Freyia and Venus, from whom
the French got Vendredi. Mother Friday wanders
about from house to house, and is offended if certain

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 401

work is going on. She dislikes spinning and weaving
in a woman, twining cord or platting shoes in a man,
because the dust gets into her e3'es. So an}^ work
done on that da}^ is sure to be unlucky. Wednesda}^
shares the same feelings. I cop}' this story because it
is more prettily told than the Friday story.

WEDNESDAY.

A young housewife was spinning late one evening. It was
during the night between a Tuesday and a Wednesday. She
had been left alone for a long time ; and after midnight, when
the first cock crew, she began to think about going to bed, only
she would have liked to finish spinning what she had in hand.
"Well," thinks she, "I'll get up a bit earlier in the morning,
but just now I want to go to sleep." So she laid down her
hatchel, but without crossing herself, and said, " Now then,
Mother Wednesday, lend me thy aid, that I may get up early
in the morning, and finish my spinning." And then she went
to sleep.

Wednesday, very early in the morning, before it was light,
she heard some one moving, bustling about the room. She
opened her eyes, and looked. The room was lighted up. A
splinter of fir was burning in the cresset, and the fire was
lighted in the stove. A woman no longer young, wearing a
white toAvel by way of head-dress, was moving about in the
cottage, going to and fro, supplying the stove with firewood,
getting everything ready. Presently she came up to the young
woman and roused her, saying, " Get up."

The young woman, full of wonder, got up, and said, " But
who art thou? What hast thou come here for?"

" I am she on whom thou didst call. I have come to thy
aid."

" But who art thou ? On whom did I call ? "
■ " I am Wednesday. On Wednesday surely thon didst call.
* 26

402 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

#
See ! I have siDun thy linen, and woven thy web : now let us

bleach it, and set it in the oven. The oven is heated, and the

irons are ready. Do thou go down to the brook, and draw

water,"

The woman was frightened, and thought, " How can that
be?" But Wednesday glared at her angrily : her eyes just
did sparkle !

So the woman took a couple of pails, and went for water.
As soon as she was outside the door, she thought, " May n't
something terrible happen to me ? I 'd better go to my neigh-
bors', instead of fetching the water." So she set off. The
night was dark. In the village all were still asleep. She
reached a neighbor's house, and rapped away at the window
until at last she made herself heard. An aged woman let her in.

" Why, child," said the old crone, " w^hatever hast thou got
tip so early for ? What 's the matter ? "

" 0 granny, this is how it is ! Wednesday has come to me,
and has sent me for water to buck my linen with."

" That does n't look well," said the old woman. " On that
linen she will either strangle thee or scald thee."

The "old woman was evidently well acquainted with Wed-
nesday's ways.

" What am I to do ? " said the young woman. " How can I
escape from this danger 1 "

" Well, this is what thou must do. Go and beat thy pails
together in front of the house, and cry out, ' Wednesday's chil-
dren have been burnt at sea ! ' She will run out of the house,
and do thou be sure to seize the opportunity to get into it be-
fore she comes back, and immediately slam the door to, and
make the sign of the cross over it. Then don't let her in,
however much she may threaten you or implore you ; but sign
a cross with your hands, and draw one with a piece of chalk,
and utter a prayer. The unclean spirit will have to disappear."

Well, the young woman ran home, beat the pails together,
and cried out before the window, " Wednesday's children have
been burnt at sea ! " ^

MYTHOLOGY OF SLAVONIC LITERATURE. 403

Wednesday rushed out of the house, and ran to look ; and
the woman sprang inside, shut the door, and marked a cross on
it. Wednesday came running back, and cried out, " Let me
in, my dear ! I have spun thy linen ; now I will bleach it."
But the woman would not listen to her, so Wednesday went
on knocking at the door until cock-crow. As soon as the cocks
crew, she uttered a shrill cry, and disappeared. But the linen
remained where it was.

Mother Sunday rules the animals, and she collects
her subjects together by playing on a magic flute. A
Hindu storj^ exactly reverses the Russian myth, where
Mother Sunday is to be dreaded. The former warns all
from touching a certain tree, for misfortune abides in it ;
but on Sunday it may be touched, for then Lakshmi,
Good Luck, inhabits the tree.

The Servians are of pure Slavonic blood ; in the
tenth centur}^ they embraced Greek Christianit}', the
Cyrillic alphabet, and the Slavon language, which was
also their literary language. The Turks entered Eu-
rope, 1355, fought with the Ser\'ians in many battles,
and finall}^ through treacherj^, conquered at the battle
of Kossovo, 1389. The unfortunate Serbs who refused
to embrace Mohammedanism w^ere reduced to the level
of mere peasants, their laws and liberties overthrown.
Nothing remained but their popular poetr}', which was
history of the past and inspiration for the future to the
Serbs, and has prevented them from ever sinking so
low as the Bulgarians have done. Their pure blood
kept the poetic instincts of their race alive in them : for
Servia is called the " nightingale of the Slavonic race."
It alone has more popular poetry than all the other
Slavonic nations put together. The songs are heroic

404 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

and domestic, not religious. One date is burned into
their brain, — the defeat of Kossovo, 1389; and the
most beautiful of their poems is the heroic poem of the
battle of Kossovo. It describes the marriage of Tzar
Lazar ; the challenge of Sultan Mourad ; the departure
of the Servian , army for the field ; the exploit of Mi-
losch, who penetrates into the tent of Sultan Mourad,
and puts him to death ; the treachery of Vouk, who
went over to the enemy on the field of battle ; the de-
feat ; and the glorification of Tzar Lazar. It is very
spirited, and pathetic also ; what makes one charm is
the intermingling of Turkish with Christian customs
and titles. As the poem is Christian, it does not come
within our subject. But there is another poem which
we may describe ; since it tells of Marko, the national
hero. He is a compound of Roland and Rustem. He
has a talking horse, who lived a hundred and fifty years.
He himself lived three hundred j^ears ; finally he took
refuge from the Turk in a cavern, where he still sleeps ;
but he will return, like Arthur, or Frederick Barbarossa,
or Holger Danske, when his country needs him most.

Montenegro was peopled by Serbs flying from the
defeat at Kossovo. These glorious people have been
three times invaded by the Turks since then, but never
conquered. Their national hero is named Ivo : he too*
is now sleeping in a grotto, but he will awaken when
the Turk is to be finally conquered. Soon be the day
when the poetic Slavs ma}^ take their place among the
foremost peoples of the earth !

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 405

CHAPTEE XIII.

THE MODEEX POETRY OF EUROPE.

WE have ibllowed the Teutonic and Latin languages
till the}' broke up into their modern forms ; and
in this chapter we shall trace their seven contemporary
literatures, and thus understand the spirit of modern
Europe, the action and reaction which one language
and literature have exercised over the others. Of
course, with such a plan, I can speak onl}' of the great-
est names ; but, by treating them as contemporaries,
we shall obtain a much clearer idea of the development
of the human mind, the real growth of thought, than by
taking one literature at a time.

Modern literature arises with the modern languages,
and the glory of heading it belongs to France, in the
eleventh century. We saw in the preceding chapters its
formless beginnings ; but ballads, fresh, vigorous, and
charming as they are, do not constitute a literature.
Poetr}^ is always the first branch to arise, springing
from the universal heart of humanity and the simple
strength of the people ; and therefore Provencal poetry
is the beginning of the modern literature of Europe.

The earliest popular dialect to cr3'stallize into form
was the French in its two forms. The " Langue d'Oc,"
where "yes" was expressed b}' " oc," was spoken in
Provence, a district of Southern France. It spread to

406 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Southern Spain and Northern Ital^', and gives the pres-
ent name Langucdoc to the countr}' which was formerly
Provence. It was used by minstrels called Trouba-
dours, so called from trohar^ to find. No longer poor
and wandering jongleurs, these Troubadour minstrels
were sometimes kings, — Richard Cosur de Lion was
one of them, — and always rose to be honored and
powerful, even if they had been born among the people :
thus they were the first to assert the dignity of intellect.
The}^ sang of love and ladies, and the beauties of nature,
— nothing more ; and if these songs seem monotonous
to us, we must remember that they express the spirit
of the age. Besides, they are beautiful in themselves.
The}^ sprang into being with a perfection of language,
of rhyme and melod}^, which is amazing to us, but was
derived from the Latin hymns. These Troubadours
introduced curious customs, which prevailed over Eu-
rope, and were even carried to the camp of the Cru-
sader. One of these was a Court of Love, in which
questions were argued and decided such as these :
" Does ever}^ lover grow pale at the sight of the beloved
one?" " Is love never the same? is it alwa^^s increas-
ing or else diminishing ? " " Can one woman be loved
by two men ? " These were all decided in the aflflrma-
tive, and every Troubadour was bound to accept these
decisions as final. There were also floral games, at
which each Troubadour wore the flower of his lad}' love
and sang. The victor was rewarded with a golden
violet. Every Troubadour was obliged to select some
one ladj', whose beauty and virtues he celebrated. She
was never his wife ; but sometimes some powerful
queen, his friend and patron. It was therefore a love

THE MODERN POETHY OF EUROPE. 407

which could not end in marriage. And their songs
express just such a hopeless and imaginar\^ passion, de-
fined b}' the absence of the beloved one : it was the
love of the rose for the nightingale, of the low-born
minstrel for the noble chatelaine^ of the lonely monk
for the stately Queen of Heaven. For this Troubadour
poetry, apparently such a new creation, was in reality
only a degradation, — an application to actual people
of that same sentiment which inspired the Latin hymns.
Thus each age inherits from the past, and nothing
stands disconnected. In spite of its follies and abuses,
the Provencal poetry rendered a service to humanity,
because it lifted woman from the degraded position she
had held among the Latin families, where she was little
better than a slave. The songs were adapted for dif-
ferent occasions : our word serenade comes from the
Troubadour's evening song ; and he had also auhades,
or morning songs. This lovely poetr}^ was a brief blaze
of glory. It was utterly crushed out in the religious
persecutions of the Roman Church. It died, and left
no following.

In the north of France, where the Keltic Gauls had
been conquered by Teutonic Franks and Norsemen, a
stronger dialect arose, called the " Langue d'Oil," be-
cause "yes" was expressed by "oil." Its minstrels
were called Trouveres, from trouver^ to find. They
sang of love and war ; but they used those ballads
which they inherited from the Middle Ages, and did not
originate a literature at first. They sang of Arthur
and the Hol}^ Grail, which the}' impressed with a mystic
tone ; of Roland and the Cid fighting against the Sara-
cens, warlike and chivalrous ballads ; of Alexander,

408 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

and the tale of Troy, classical ballads ; — all of which
we examined in the mediaeval chapter. But the Trou-
veres were far from understanding what we ourselves
have just learned, — that these ballad stories which they
inherited were personifications of the powers of nature ;
and as the}' grew away from the simplicit}^ of the
Middle Ages, the stories seemed to them absurd : so
they put a hidden meaning into them. The living
spring of poetry which existed in the Middle Ages was
turned into dull allegories, like the Romance of the
Rose, where virtues and vices were personified. Or
knowledge of the world brought satire ; and the Trou-
veres took the simple beast epic of German}^, Reynard
the Fox, and turned it into a satire upon the clergy : it
spread all over Europe, and is the origin of modern
satirical poetr3^ Finally they wrote little stories, called
Fabliaux, which satirized the customs of society : these
are the most original work of the Trouveres, and they
give us the daily life of the common people. The
Trouveres went ever3'where, — to the second and third
crusades, to the courts of Constantinople and England ;
and this early influence of France is far more creditable
than that she afterwards exerted. It is only within a
few 3'ears that we have understood this first blossoming,
— have realized that these Trouvere ballads are the
source of the modern poetr}^ of Europe, and also the
true glor}' of French literature. The " Langue d'Oil"
was rough, but strong. It was much less beautiful
than the " Langue d'Oc," spoken b}^ the Troubadours ;
but it lived, and is the foundation of the French of
to-day. The last Trouvei'es were Charles, Duke of
Orleans, a ro3'al prince, and Villon, the son of a shoe-

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE

409

maker, who has been withdrawn from obscurity by the
pre-RaphaeUte artists and poets of England lately.

In the twelfth century, the Mhniesingers arose in
Germany, inspired by Proven9al poetry. They sang not
only of love and ladies, but also of green fields and
singing birds, -of nature. Walther von der Vogel-
weide is their greatest name ; but Tannhauser, the hero
of Wacrner's opera, was also a Minnesinger. In the
following century, the thirteenth, they copied the bal-
lads of the Trouveres : their poem Parseval, to be the
libretto of Wagner's future opera, is simply copied from
the Arthurian cycle. Max MuUer says, - The Minne-
sino-ers had an ideal element, an aspiration, a vague
melkncholy, sorrow after joy," in their poetry. They
were thus quite different from the joyousness and healthy
objectivitv of the Trouveres ; but we know where this
Teutonic ^spirit came from. In the fourteenth century
poetry passed from the nobles to the homes of burghers
and artisans, and the Meistersingers arose in Germany.
Each trade had a guild, or association of its members,
who chose a chief singer ; and the chief singers of the
different guilds used to meet in poetical contests. The
Aictor would be rewarded by wearing a silver cham and
wreath, the property of the guild. The Meistersingers
flourished and wrote for two hundred years contmu-
ously. They are characteristic of the sturdy middle
classes of the Teutonic race. They express that grim
humor which we found breaking out in the Edda, which
comes out also in the architecture ; as inborn an ele-
ment as the vague melancholy and the ideality of the

Minnesingers.

The second great burst of original poetry was in

410 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Italy. Italian literature proper begins with Dante
(1235-1321) and the fourteenth centur3\ The Trouba-
dours and Trouveres are the natural result of the hj'mns
and ballads of the preceding ages. Dante is singu-
larl}' uninfluenced b}' them. He is rather the product
of the drama of the Middle Ages ; for his great poem
in its form resembles the miracle plays. It is divided
into three parts, Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso ;
and he called it a comed}", because it has a cheerful
ending ; also because it was written in the dialect of the
people, — less dignified than the language for tragedj^,
the Latin. Later, the people called it the "Divine,"
and gave to Dante the supreme name of poet. No
Christian had borne the title before.

Dante visits the Inferno and the Purgatorio under the
guidance of Virgil, who was immensely admired and
studied, and S3mibolizes human learning and wisdom.
Dante's knowlege of him is owing to the fact, that the
profane Latin literature had been revived in the twelfth
centur}' ; and Dante also knew Aristotle through the
Latin translation. Dante describes the persons and the
scenes in the Inferno with a terrific realism ; but the
glories and splendors of the Paradiso are just as strong!}'
depicted by his boundless imagination. The very exact-
ness of these descriptions shows more imagination than
a vague suggestion would. Few persons get beyond
the Inferno, in reading Dante ; but the whole Paradiso
is a blaze of light and glory, and uplifts one to its own
heights. I should advise all readers to begin with the
Paradiso, where the m3'stic religion of medisevalism
paints the final beatitude of the good. Dante's deeply re-
ligious nature revealed the spiritual worlds more clearly

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 411

to him than to an}' other human bemg. He seems to
I'ise so far aboA'e all other poets, as to be more than
human. Taine places him among the four immortals,
— Shakespeare, Michael Angelo, and Beethoven being
the others. And I do not hesitate to consider the Divina
Commedia as the greatest poem which has ever been
written by mortal man.

The Inferno is not onl}' horrible, but hopeless : in
the Purgatorio, a ra}' of hope lights up the gloom ; puri-
fication through pain is its ke3'-note ; in the Paradiso,
completed victory brings exultation too great to be
expressed in words. Light, music, and motion make
up the Paradiso. What we call angels, Dante calls
lights ; and describes them as spiritual "bodies, pene-
trated through and through with light. They move in
vast circles to the sound of music, so sweet that it
cannot be described.

"And I beheld the glorious wheel move round,
And render voice to voice, in modulation
And sweetness that cannot be comprehended
Excepting there where joy is made eternal."

As increase of happiness is expressed on earth b}^ a
smile, it Is expressed in Paradise by an increase of
light : —

" Through joy, effulgence is acquired above,
As here a smile ; but down below, the shade
Outwardly darkens, as the mind is sad."

As the angels increase in goodness they approach
nearer to God, and move continually faster, spurred
on through burning love. In the highest point of all,
Dante's dazzled eyes are opened bj' prayer, and he sees

412 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the form of a vast white rose. Its leaves are made up
by row upon row of bright beings, who are men re-
deemed from sin. In the centre is a point of Ught ; as
Dante gazes upon it, he sees it unfold into a triple rain-
bow. Upon the second bow is impressed an image
like a human form, — the union of the human and
divine in Christ. And then he sees no more ; he has
reached the limit of human capacity to see or to de-
scribe. His guide through Paradiso had been the spirit
of Beatrice, — a woman whom he had loved on earth :
no other poem has ever placed woman so high.

Dante's life helps to explain his poem, though it does
not account for its superhuman ability. The love for
Beatrice was his earliest inspiration ; she was only nine
years old when he saw her first. She died 3^oung, and
married to another ; but he wrote a poem to her, though
he married a noble lady of his own cit}^ Then he
plunged into politics and civil war : exiled and poor,
he passed 3^ears in wandering ; a burning patriotism
glowed in his heart, and made another inspiration for
him. The abuses and encroachments of the Roman
Church filled him with indignation ; and his satire is
directed against the foes of a pure Christianit}^, as well
as against the foes of his countr3^ He was singularl}''
progressive in this, — far in advance of his age.

But these motives were secondary. He was a great
preacher ; he wanted to make men better ; and with
this end in view, when he was old, he told them his
theory of life. It is not only the story of a single soul
that he gives, it is the elevation of humanity that he
strives for. He wishes to show that there is a God ;
that he judges all men ; that this world is but a prepa-

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 413

ration for the next ; that the spu-itual world is just as
real as this ; that it completes and explains this. He
puts into the Inferno men who were still alive upon this
earth. It was because he knew the truth of the Apos-
tle's words, "He that liveth in pleasure is dead while
he liveth." If the soul had died, to Dante's pure
vision, the man had died too, even if his bod}' remained
living. Finalh', he saj's that both these worlds are
parts of one whole. It is to make them both real, that
he puts in such a mass of detail : all the art, science,
politics, theology, society, of the period, are expressed ;
but the}" are the illustrations, not the main idea, — that
is, to turn men from their sins b}" holding up God's
judgments. It is a plan, vast in its idea, comprehen-
sive in its detail, and carried out without failure, —
great in design and execution. Dante's words are most
musical and well selected, and he fixed the forms of
the Italian language, which was an unsettled dialect
until he came.

Petrarca (1304-1374) is the second great Itahan poet.
His sonnets to Laura ring ever}" change of a lover's heart.
He prided himself on his Latin poems ; but is remem-
bered only by those sonnets and canzone, written in a
very finished and scholarly Italian, full of Latin words,
not so musical nor expressive as the popular Italian of
Dante. He wrote nearly three hundred love poems ;
and, for four hundred years after, all love poems were
only repetitions of his. The best, because simplest,
of the Canzone is "Clear, fresh, and dulcet streams"
(XIV.) , which has been charmingly translated by Leigh
Plunt. And the best of the sonnets are numbers LXIX.,
CXXVL, XXIV., LIL, to my taste. He may be called

414 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

the last of the Troubadours ; for we must throw our-
selves into the spirit of the age before we can under-
stand how Petrarca expended all this devotion upon
a hopeless love : also how a perfectl}" estimable married
woman could allow herself to encourage it ; which is
just the Troubadour spirit. In reading Petrarca to-day
he seems to have more imagination and flow of language
than real passion. He does not wring the heart, like
poor Tasso. The affection that he paints is almost
Platonic ; a love of the beautiful, rather than of one
individual.

And now arises, in the sam.e great century, — the
fourteenth, — the third great modern poet. In England
Geoffrey Chaucer was born (1328-1400). No visions
of heavenly splendor, like Dante's, no lover's wasting
melancholy, like Petrarca's, are his. Health}', happy
external life, the pomp of courts, the stimulus of travel,
the activity of a successful politician, filled up his out-
ward life, and are reflected in his verse. Yet these are
so clearly and heartily given back, that his pictures of
contemporar}^ life will never be forgotten nor obsolete.
He was a master spirit of his own kind. The Anglo-
Saxon ballads of Robin Hood lived among the people
in England, and the Norman-French ballads of the
Trouveres, at court. Chaucer is, at first, the last of
the Trouveres ; for his earliest writings are merely
translations from these ballads. " Troilus and Cres-
sida " is from a classical ballad ; ' ' The Romance of the
Rose," " The Flower and the Leaf," from the Trouvere
allegories of the same name, — and are all too full of
allegory to be satisfactory. The legend of Griselda he
found in Italy, where it was read to him by Petrarca.

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 415

Think what the meeting of these two poets must have
been !

But at sixt}' years of age, after a long and eventful
life, he wi'ote what he himself had observed, and painted
about thu'ty distinct figures, all pilgrims, who are bound
to Canterbury, and tell tales as they wend on their way.
It is true that this is all objective : he does not portray
character, nor motives of action ; but he makes us feel
the beauty of nature, and see the appearance of the
people of the period, so well that we cannot but be
delighted. His language is interesting, as being the
first English, — the resultant of Kelt, Angle, Saxon, and
Norman, — but very different from our English, while
Dante and Petrarca are like modern Italian. Chaucer
is a nominal son of the Church, though not a very spirit-
ual or devout one. These three great poets are pre-
eminently Christian ; the faith of the Middle Ages still
clung to them. They believed and worshipped God,
and the Virgin Mary, and the saints, with sinceritj- and
earnestness. But their splendid burst of poetry had no
immediate results : for more than one hundred years
there was not one great poet in Europe. When poetry
blossomed again, it was under new conditions.

We must go forward to Italy, to the Renaissance ; that
is, — to the revival of classical languages, literature, art,
and philosophy, — to the admiration for everything
Greek, the contempt for everything mediaeval, — for
Dante's poetry and for Gothic architecture. This spirit
impressed itself upon Europe : for Italy became its
centre, — the school to which every 3'ouug nobleman
from France, England, Spain, eagerly pressed at the
close of the fifteenth centur}-. In 1453, the Turks

416 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

conquered Constantinople and threw open its libraries.
The banished Greeks fled to Italy with the writings of
Greek authors, which were eagerly welcomed, studied,
and adopted. It is not so much one poet we think of
now, but rather a whole society of authors, artists,
architects, and philosophers, and a new tone of thought.
The princely houses of the Estes at Ferrara, the Medici
at Florence, and Pope Leo X. at Rome, vied with each
other in encouraging art and literature. The greatest of
them was Lorenzo de' Medici (1448-1492), who wrote
poetr}^ himself, and quite good poetry too, for a prince.
The second poet of the Renaissance was Ariosto
(1474-1533). He lived at Ferrara, and wrote the Or-
lando Furioso. This is our old friend Roland of the
ballads, who reappears with Charlemagne and Christian
knights fighting against the Moors of Africa and Spain.
The name comes from the story that Roland has been
driven insane by love of the beautiful Angelica, who
marries a private soldier, after refusing Roland and
many other celebrated knights. But the real hero of
the poem is Rogero, the ancestor of the house of Este ;
and Ariosto probably chose this subject to glorify his
patron, the Duke of Ferrara. Everything in Ariosto is
borrowed ; first, from the old ballads of the Trouveres ;
then, from the Greek and Latin epics ; then, from con-
temporary poetry. So he begins in the middle of the
story ; he introduces many characters, and jumps from
one to another so often that it is impossible to keep
the different plots distinct.- Each knight has adventures
with giants and pagans, so that the poem never halts
for want of action ; but the same adventures become
tiresome at last, as they happen to all the knights. For

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 417

instance, two distressed damsels are tied to rocks, and
rescued b}- knights on flying horses. The influence of
the Renaissance is shown in the sorceress Alcina and
her beasts, borrowed from Kirke's enchanted island
in the Odysse}' : the two amazons, Bradamante the
Christian, and Marphisa the pagan, copied from Vir-
gil's Camilla. It is the most elaborate setting forth of
the grand old ballads, but it utterlj- lacks their sim-
plicity and freshness. Pretending to be a chivalric
jjoem, it should contain nothing but love, war, and
religion ; and in Ariosto the most important element is
utterly lacking. It is, technicall}^ speaking, a Christian
poem, because the subject is Christian ; but there is
nothing in it of that genuine love of God, and simple
faith, which entered into the characters, and therefore
the poems, of the Middle Ages. The Orlando Furioso
is too long and too disconnected ; the personages are
not noble, and the poem is coarse. Yet there must be
something to account for its reputation, and that some-
thing may be found in the grace of the stjle, and the
overflowing vitality which pervades it. You feel that
Ariosto was unexhausted ; he might easily have written
forty-six cantos more.

The most original part of the poem is that where
Astolpho visits the moon, and sees there all things
which have been lost on earth ; such as time spent in
pleasure, lover's sighs, wishes. Among these he finds
Orlando's lost reason, and carries it back to him. He
had been deprived of it as a punishment for loving a
pagan maid. He found also the Decretals of Charle-
magne ; these were the titles which gave certain privi-
leges to the Popes, but which he shrewdl}' suspected to

27

418 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

have existed onl3' in the mind of the Popes, and to have
been falsel}' ehiimed as presents from the great Em-
peror. This sly sarcasm is the product of the age. It
was not the loft}^ rehgious earnestness of Dante, but
the mocking spirit of the Renaissance, which prompted
Ariosto.

Yet he is a poet, and a greater one than the next
Itahan singer of the Renaissance, — Torquato Tasso
(1544-1595). We do not find in him the robustness
of Ariosto, but if we knew nothing of his hfe we could
recognize his delicate and beautiful nature from read-
ing his poem. He took for his subject the last da3's of
the first Crusade, — Jerusalem delivered from the pa-
gans ; and this is the same idea which runs through
the mediaeval ballads, — the struggle of Christianity
with Paganism, of light with darkness. In Tasso's day
another Crusade was actuall}^ talked of, for the Turk
was then the bugbear of Europe : so the subject was
well timed, although at first sight it does not appear
so to us. It certainly was an eminently poetical one ;
it admitted of strange adventures, as well as of warlike
contests, in that far-off", romantic land ; and through
them all ran the motive which sanctified every effort, —
the freeing of Christ's sepulchre from the paynims, —
so that every requisite of a chivalric poem was there.
Tflsso has hardly equalled his theme ; but it is a Chris-
tian poem in its spirit, as well as its plot. The charac-
ters are very noble, especiall}' that of the general in
chief, Godfrey of Bouillon. And it is pleasant to know
that histor}' agrees with the poet in his estimate of
Godfre}'. When the other Crusaders fall into sin, they
repent and do better : they pray to God for giiidance.

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 419

and are possessed with an enthusiasm for their cause.
Tasso*shows the taint of the Renaissance in the form of
his poem. It begins like the ^Eneid : it has an amazon,
borrowed from Camilla ; a sorceress, Armida, borrowed
from Kirke, — a fury, Alecto, who rouses hatred and re-
venge, — an enchanted forest, where the trees bleed and
speak when broken, — all three copied from the Greek.
We are rid of Mars, and Mercur}', and the other classic
deities ; it is the devil who aids the Pagans, Saint Mi-
chael the Christians, and God who rules both ; but this
ver}' mixture gives an unrealit}' and a made-up effect
to its Christianit}'. The poem is complete, the action
is confined to a few da3's, the episodes are connected
with the plot, unlike Ariosto's rambling stories. But the
real greatness of Tasso is in the transcendent power with
which he paints his lovers and their conflicts of feeling.
It is not in battles nor in prayers that he reaches the
height of his abilities. It is in the analj'sis of feeling,
in sentiment, tenderness, delicacy. There are three love
stories, which are most delicately and naturally told : so
m the poenx feehng predominates over action. He is
pre-eminently the poet of love, and from his tempera-
ment we can understand his life, and that unfortunate
love for the Princess Lenore d' Este, w^hich made him
pine for 3-ears in a dungeon, while Europe w^as ringing
with the Jerusalem Delivered. Gondoliers in Venice
still sing its strains as they row.

Tasso wrote one very perfect love poem, Aminta, a
pastoral, w^hich was copied from Theokritos and ^^irgil.
It is not read, as the Jerusalem Delivered still con-
tinues to be, and its importance is not understood. It
set that fashion for pastoral poetry which raged in

420 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Europe for three centuries. Although every poet con-
sidered it indispensable that he should write a pasto-
ral in imitation of Theokritos, he got his inspiration at
second-hand, through Ital}' and Tasso's Aminta.

In this brilliant Italian societ}^ many women were
prominent ; but the best as well as greatest of them was
Vittoria Colonna (1490-1547). She was a princess,
married at seventeen to a husband whom she adored.
He died from wounds in battle ; he was the Marquis of
Pescara, commander-in-chief at the battle of Pavia:
and she devoted the rest of her Ufe to writing sonnets
and religious poems, which are reall}^ beautiful. In
addition to her own beaut}^ and rank, and genius and de-
votion, she has another claim to our interest. She was
the friend of Michael Angelo (1475-1564). Nothing
more than friend, 3'et the inspirer of some of his best
sonnets. For that wonderful genius deserves to be
classed among the poets of the Renaissance, though he
wrote but little.

In France the Renaissance opened half a century
later than in Italy, — at the beginning of the sixteenth
century ; and we associate a powerful prince with it
there also. Francis I. (1515), — a picturesque figure
himself, and a real lover of learning, — estabhshed the
College de France, with chairs for Greek, Latin, and
Hebrew, and invited learned foreigners to his court.
But no great poet gilds his reign.

Even poor httle Portugal surpassed her ; for, inspired
by the activity of the age, she produced one poet who
will live, — her onl}' poet, Camoens (1524-1579). He
wrote beautiful sonnets and elegies ; but his great work
is an epic poem, the Lusiads. He wished to be the

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 421

Homer and Virgil of Portugal, to recount the achieve-
ments of its great men ; so there are numerous episodes
which tell about the different heroes. But the thread
which binds them together is the vo3'age of Vasco da
Gama. Other poets had written of the voj'ages of
Ul3'sses and ^neas. In Camoens's eyes Vasco da
Gama was as great as they ; and he was quite right.
A new route to India was the dream of Europe ; it was
that which urged Columbus on his wear}' wa3^ The
Portuguese were the nation most distinguished in Eu-
rope for their maritime discoveries : Diaz in 1487 dis-
covered the Cape of Good Hope, which he called the
*' cape tormented by storms" ; and in 1497 Vasco da
Gama passed around and beyond this cape into un-
known oceans, and sailed on until he reached India.
It was one of those commercial \ictories which are
nobler than the greatest triumphs of war ; its interest
extends far beyond Portugal, and Camoens very justlj^
considered it the most brilliant event in Portuguese
histor}'.

The charm of this truty beautiful poem lies not only
in its noble sentiments, but in its style. That is always
simple and natural ; sometimes most pathetic and true,
as in the farewells between the men who accompany'
Vasco and the friends they leave behind them, and in
the episode of Inez da Castro ; sometimes very poet-
ical, as in the description of the spirit of the stormy
cape, the giant Adamastor ; and every heart must re-
spond to the self-sacrificing patriotism and lofty gener-
osity which Vasco expresses. The poem is not too
long, and the episodes are perfectly connected with the
main story. It was written in India, after Ariosto, but

422 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

before Tasso ; he borrowed the eight-line stanza of the
Itahans, and he settled the Portuguese language into
its present forms.

But Camoens could not escape the influence of the
Renaissance. There is an odd mixture in the poem of
Portuguese Christians and Latin gods and goddesses,
Jupiter, Bacchus, and Venus. To spread the Chris-
tian religion is one motive of the expedition to India ;
and Vasco offers up prayers to Providence, which are
answered by Venus. The Portuguese are protected by
Venus, and opposed b}^ Bacchus ; first, because the}^
are a temperate people ; and, second, because they are
trying to conquer India, his native country. Of the
four poets developed by the Renaissance, I should put
Camoens unquestionabl}" first. He has outgi^own the
age of chivalry ; yet he has its vigor and heroism and
patriotism, added to the luxuriance of Ariosto and
Spenser, and the sentiment of Tasso, — a strong and
many-sided nature.

The poet himself led a very adventurous and unfor-
tunate life. He went to India, and was shipwrecked in
a fearful storm. He swam ashore, holding his precious
poem, which was all that he saved. His name became
known throughout Portugal and Spain ; but a faithful
slave, who had accompanied him from India, begged in
the streets of Lisbon his master's dail}^ bread. Camo-
ens died in a hospital ; his very winding-sheet was
given him b}^ charit3\ Ungrateful Portugal !

And now we pass to England, where the Renaissance
opened half a century later than France, a whole cen-
tury later than Ital}', in the middle of the sixteenth
centur3\ Its splendid day was heralded by Surrey

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 423

(1516-1547) and Sidney (1554-158G), two brilliant
noblemen and soldiers who had studied in Ital}-. Eng-
lish Petrarchs they might both be called, since the}'
wrote sonnets, and were the first in England to do so.
Then come a crowd of poets, grouped around a reigning
sovereign, for Elizabeth belongs to the Renaissance in
England : I have no time to mention even their names.
The exuberant vitality of the time overflowed into a
thousand channels ; and poetry, which had been re-
pressed since Chaucer, one hundred and fift}' years be-
fore, shared the new life.

Edmund Spenser (1533-1599), the second great poet
of England, would have been sufficient of himself to
form an era. Chaucer had copied the Trouveres, and
Spenser copied Chaucer in using the form of allegory,
which was the fashionable form for all poetrv, except
the sonnet. Spenser's first poem was " The Shepherd's
Calendar," in which the gentlemen of the court were
transformed into artless shepherds ; and this poem was
undoubtedl}' inspired by Tasso's Aminta, quite as much
as b}' Virgil, which had onlj' just been translated b}^
Surre3^ In his second poem, " The Faerie Queene," the
men who surrounded Spenser were turned into knights
of the age of chivahy. But, as bare tales of chivalry
had long ago ceased to satisfj' the niind, a hidden moral
was put into every character. The allegory was to
have been explained in the twelfth book ; but, as Spen-
ser only wrote eight books, he was forced to explain it
in a prose preface, which is a great defect in the art of
the poem.

Prince. Arthur falls in love with the Faerie Queene,
and sets out to seek her in Faerie Land. She is hold-

424 SANSKEIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ing an annual feast for twelve tla^^s, during which
twelve adventures are achieved b}^ twelve knights, who
represent different virtues. The Red-cross Knight is
Holiness ; Sir Gu3^on is Temperance ; Britomart, a lady
knight, is Chastitj^ ; and so on. The object of the
allegory is to " fashion a gentleman in virtuous and
gentle discipline " ; in plainer words, to make a perfect
character. The unity of the poem is therefore allegori-
cal ; it is the unity of a character : these virtues and
vices are but parts of it ; the completed character is the
perfect whole. Life, according to Spenser, is a battle-
field, — a perpetual struggle between a man's virtues
and vices, a fight against all that is mean and base in
himself and others. Its .final aim is — a character. I
think we may claim that Spenser has nobl}^ expressed
this noble conception ; for, with all the faults of the
poem, such a spirit breathes through it that we are both
shamed and inspired as w^e read. We long to reach
such a standard ourselves ; it seems impossible to do
anything unw^orthy or low after we have known the
Red-cross Knight and the faire Una.

Mr. Church says, " The power of ordering a long
and complicated plan was not one of Spenser's gifts.'*
If he did not wholly succeed, it was that he was embar-
rassed by his own richness. The allegor}- is plain for a
time ; but it is soon lost in a crowd of new characters.
It was so eas}^ for Spenser to invent them, that he sur-
rendered himself to his own boundless imagination.
The poem is too long : it is finall}' tiresome and con-
fusing, amid the cloying richness of its beautiful de-
scriptions. His verse, which he himself invented, is
most musical. The language was unsettled, and he bent

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 425

spelling and pronunciation to his own metre. There is
a courtly stateliness about the stanza of nine lines, which
is tj'pical of the courtl}' age for which he wrote.

Spenser borrowed immenselj^ : he is steeped in Ari-
osto and Tasso ; from Ariosto he imbibes his coarse-
ness, quite as much as from Chaucer. Through Ariosto
and Tasso he gets two personages of classical m^thol-
ogy : his enchantress, with her bower of bliss, and his
amazon Britomart. The adventures can be traced back
to mediaeval ballads, through Chaucer, for we recognize
the material we are accustomed to ; the distressed dam-
sel, the man3--headed dragon slain by a brave knight,
whom we found first in India. The shield of Prince
Ai'thur, which sla3's all who gaze upon it, we have seen
in the hands of Pallas Athene, the dawn, and of Per-
seus, the sun : it is the hght. The trees which bleed
and speak when broken came from Greece, through
Tasso : we have indicated their first appearing in India.

But Spenser has his own poetic gift, and this was to
paint pictures of the scenery and the bodies which his
mind's eye has perceived. He does not analyze mo-
tives nor feelings ; there are no characters which live
and move, but all the bodies are alive. The virtues
and the vices — Faith, Hope, and Charit}', Despair,
Envy, and Avarice — might be put upon canvas : more
wonderful even are the figures which symbolize the
months and the seasons. And he creates so many
different bodies that one is lost in wonder : he has truly
the imagination of the poet. Nothing can be farther
from ever3'-da3' life than the Faerie Queene : it has
been called " the poem for poets," and people now-a-
da3'S complain that it is long and dull. But it will

426 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ever remain a gallcrj' of pictures and a lofty ideal of
character.

The drama is undoubtedly the most characteristic
expression of the Renaissance. Graduall}^ companies
of la3'men usurped the privilege of acting. As earl3' as
1400, the Brotherhood of the Passion bought land in
Paris, and built a theatre, where they acted the mystery
of the Passion, and also some morality pla3's. Later,
Les Enfants-sans-Souci played farces ; and the same
circumstances existed all over Europe. We do not
find the name of any great author, though there are
single plaj's which are ver}' good. From this confusion
England was the first to emerge. Tlie drama expressed
itself there with such vigor and splendor that it never
has been equalled in an}^ country, or any age of the
world. It forms a literary epoch greater than those of
Greece or Italy.

Everybody wrote a play, either a tragedy or a comedy :
among the writers are many names, which singly were
great enough to have thrown lustre over any countr}^, —
Beaumont and Fletcher, Ford and Massinger, ''rare
Ben Jonson." But they all pale before Shakespeare :
they are so infinitely below him, that they hardly seem to
belong to the same race. And 3^et this brilliant flower
sprang into being all at once. There is no hidden
growth long enough to account for such a perfect devel-
opment. Like Proven(;al poetry in the eleventh, like
Dante's poetry in the fourteenth centur}', it was born
full grown. We have seen that Shakespeare drew his
plots from the classic ballads and from old stories ;
but where did he learn to make so man}' characters,
each one of whom would be sufficient for an ordinary

THE MODEKN POETRY OF EUROPE. 427

writer, — to pierce the motives of everj^ action, — to
create living beings ?

In Germany there is no Renaissance period. Some-
thing else arose there, equall}' a product of the Renais-
sance. The foundation of the Universities in Ger-
many put education within the reach of the poorest;
the rise of the commercial cities created a powerful and
thoughtful middle class ; finally, the vices and habits
brought in by the Renaissance created such an impres-
sion upon the mind of Luther when he visited Ital}', that
"the Reformation was born side by side with the Renais-
sance." The power exercised b}^ the hj-mns of Luther
(1483-1546) and his followers cannot be ignored in a
histor\^ of literature. His hj'mns were inspired by the
Latin hymns of the Middle Ages ; next him, the best
hymnologist is Hans Sachs, the sturdj' shoemaker of
Nuremberg, the last of the Meistersingers. He was
well educated, knew Petrarca and the Latin authors :
he wandered about as a journeyman cobbler, and settled
at Nuremberg when twenty -two years of age, and wrote
over six thousand poems. The sturdy independence,
the keen sarcasm, the grim humor, the moral earnest-
ness of the Teutonic famil}', speak out in them. These
noble and useful qualities atone for the lack of poetry
and ideahty in Hans Sachs, and at that period proba-
bly helped on the world more. That the Meistersinger
poetry- should have flourished so continuousl}" and so
long, shows that it expressed the mind of the people.
And the Renaissance made not the slightest impression
upon German poetr}'. There was but one style of
poetr}' : everj'body wrote hj^mns. The people suffered
so frightfully by the Thirty Years' War, in the next cen-

428 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

tuiy, that religious poetiy was their only consolation.
The German h3'mns are the onl}^ poetry that the nation
produced for five centuries ; in fact, the first origi-
nal poetry that she produced at all. From Walther
von der Vogelweide to Lessing, not one great poet arose
in Germany ; though the lymn literature lingered as
long as the Meistersinger poetry had done. Hans
Sachs fairly represents the sixteenth centur}^ in Ger-
many, while Ariosto, Tasso, Spenser, and Shakespeare
were the product of Ital}' and England.

But the Reformation had its poet, — one who united
the religious earnestness, the perception of moral beaut}^,
the close reasoning of the Reformation, to the exu-
berance and splendor and learning of the Renaissance.
John Milton in the seventeenth century (1608-1674)
had every advantage which the times could afford. His
education comprehended everything : his generous Pu-
ritan father gave him masters who taught him Greek,
Latin, and Italian, and the glorious poetry of his own
land, from which Spenser and Shakespeare had just
passed awa}'. They taught him, too, Hebrew and theol-
ogy and music. He travelled in Italy, where he was
taken for an Italian, because he spoke the language so
well, and wrote Latin and Italian prose and poetry.
His early writings show the influence of Italy and the
Renaissance. " L' Allegro," " II Penseroso," and the
exquisite " Comus," which is his masterpiece, have a
perfection of form which must have been assisted by
the study of the Greek metres. His sonnets were
taught him by Italy.

Later on in fife, religious and political controversies
absorbed him ; he wrote prose, with occasionally some

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 429

noble sonnets. In liis old age, abandoned b}' the world,
be tried to paint the glories of heaven ; but he gives us,
instead, a theological treatise. Milton was undeniably
a great poet, but his imagination is limited as compared
with Dante, or Shakespeare, or Spenser. He does not
create heavenly splendors like Dante, nor souls like
Shakespeare, nor bodies like Spenser ; he describes
theological thoughts. His genius is lyric, not dramatic ;
his verse rolls on with a mighty music and a lof'tj' en-
thusiasm. His language is the very pomp of poetry,
sublime or beautiful as suits the theme, and statel}^
alwa^'s. But all his personages argue and reason, from
the Heavenl}' Father down to the lowest fiend ; and this
is both unpoetical and unspiritual. His Satan alone is
a creation, magnificently drawn, but strikinglj' like the
Satan of Caedmon tlie Saxon. His wars of the angels
are grand and stirring ; but they are not spiritual.
His services to freedom and his powerful prose can
never be too much praised. No writer ever summed up
in himself a more perfect picture of the time. Taine
says, '' The exuberant, poetic England dies in him ;
the libert3'-loving England is predicted and foreshad-
owed b}^ him."

But more than a centur}' had to pass b}- before Mil-
ton's legitimate ideas were expressed again in poetry :
along, dark period had to be passed through, — that
included in the Queen Anne period. To understand
this, we must go to other countries, — first, to Spain.
Spain is one of the four nations which have an original
drama, — India, Greece, England, being the other three.
When we read the Spanish drama, we find all the plots
and situations which we have met in Italian opera, or

430 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

French comedy ever since. It was not influenced by
the Renaissance, but remained mediaeval and Eomantic.
Lope cle Vega (1562-1G31) wrote amusing and thor-
oughly national comedies, which describe the manners
and dress of the period, and therefore are called
plays of "cloak and sword." Thej^ are poetical, but
one is exactly' like another, and there are fifteen hundred
of them. Part of them have been collected, and fill
twenty-three large volumes.

The greatest play-writer, Calderon (1600-1681),
was first a soldier, then a priest. He wrote one hun-
dred and twenty profane plays, both tragedies and
comedies ; one hundred autos, which were preceded by
long prologues ; so that the quantity he wrote was sim-
ply enormous. They are founded upon history, Greek
mythology, and dail}' life, being then "plays of cloak
and sword " ; thus the field he covered was wide. In
Cakleron we do not find thought, profound philosophy,
development of character, as in Shakespeare. The plot
is everything, and the people are but single passions
embodied, not characters slowly evolving ; so that in his
pla3's we see the surface of life, not its moving springs.
His comedies are ver}- elegant and amusing, his trage-
dies terrific ; but the}^ are so from the situations, not
the personages.

But the autos are the most original and peculiar of
his plaj's, — those by which we distinguish him from
all other play-writers. They are strangelj^ beautiful
always, with a mixture of ghastly terror in their poetry
and charm. The}^ were written to be acted upon the
festivals of the Church ; they are, therefore, religious
and moral allegories, like the miracle plays of the Mid-

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 431

die Ages. Unclonbtedh' the}- are the most finished form
of those plaj's ; and we can at once be transported into
the spirit of the Middle Ages bj^ surrendering ourselves
to the enchantment of Calderon's exquisite poetrj'. In
" The Sorceries of Sin," the old stor}' of Od3'sseus and
Kirke is used. The senses are put into human form :
the}' leave the man and follow Sin, till the}' are turned
into beasts, and come upon the stage in that shape.
The man hesitates long, but finally yields, and follows
Sin. He is brought back by the Understanding and
Penance, actually embodied. All the dramatis personce
are carried away from the island, in a ship which is
the Church, the symbolism being preserved throughout.
The most popular auto is ' ' The Wonder-working Magi-
cian." Cyprian sells his soul to the devil, in order that
he may marry Justina. The devil tries to bring her to
him in person, but has no power over her, because she
is a Christian, and calls on God to help her. Cyprian
then becomes a Christian, and both are martyred at
Antioch, a. d. 290. This is a form of the mediaeval
legend of Faust. In these plays Calderon rises to be a
Christian in its broad sense, as portraying man over-
coming sin by divine help : usually he is merely a
Roman Catholic, and merits the title he has received,
"the poet of the Inquisition." The play, "The De-
votion of the Cross," shows him in his worst light ;
a murderer and villain is immediately pardoned, by
kneeling before the cross. "The Purgatory of Saint
Patrick " contains very fine poetry, and was much ad-
mired by Shelley. "The Steadfast Prince" is most
touching. The Infante of Portugal is taken prisoner by
the Moors of Africa : he dies a slave rather than sur-

432 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

render to the Mohammedans the cit}^ of Ceuta, which is
his ransom. We slirink from criticising the patient,
suffering hero.

The principal importance of the Spanish drama in
the growth of literature is that it influenced Corneille,
the father of French tragedy (1G06-1G84). At one
bound Corneille outstepped all his predecessors. His
first great work was the romantic drama of the Cid.
The subject was "taken from Spanish history, and the
play is not only a fine one, it is really interesting. The
Cid kills the father of his lad^^-love so that the situa-
tion of Chimene is trying as well as dramatic, and the
struggles of her mind are expressed with the greatest
naturalness. The plot is so ingenious that she can at
length justif}' herself, in our e^'es and her own, in doing
what she wishes, — marrjing the Cid. But the critics
reproached hhn, although the play was a masterpiece ;
so he studied Greek and Latin authors, and originated
the French classic drama. The plan's were written in
rh^'ming couplets of twelve feet each ; no action was
seen upon the stage, but long speeches were addressed
to a confidant. It was not an actual reproduction of
the Greek drama ; for there was no chorus to come be-
tween author and audience and illustrate the situation ;
' ' it was composed according to a set of arbitrarj^ rules
founded upon a misconception of a passage in Aris-
totle." Generally speaking, it had not the religious
meaning of tlie Greek drama, although in two pla3"s
there is an attempt to put a Christian spirit into the
Greek form, — the "Polyeucte" of Corneille and the
" Athalie" of Racine. In the latter is a chorus, which
enforces the religious lesson of the pla}^, in perfect ver-

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 433

sifieation. I admire Corneille. It is true that his char-
actors are somewhat unreal, that his verse is somewhat
rough ; but he is ver}' noble and strong. It is not life
that he gives us ; it is some virtue or some passion in-
corporated in a human form. But he lifts one into a
loft}' ideal world, which was j^et a real world to him.
His native vigor frets against the rules of classical tyr-
ann}' ; but Racine (1639-1699) wilUngly accepted them.

He showed no traces of Spain ; he wrote one comedy
like the earl}' French farces. His characters are meant
to be perfectly copied from antique models. They are
really French courtiers of the pompous and artificial
court of Louis XIV. The subject was called Greek :
it was reall}^ but the court intrigues of an idle nobil-
it}'. The verse is exquisitel}' smooth, but nothing can
be duller than Racino's tragedies. Heine says that
the great French noblesse are punished in hell b}' being
obliged to listen to them. Rachel's genius revived them
for a time ; but they will alwa3's remain the most arti-
ficial product of the most artificial age of the world, —
the period of Louis XIV. Towards the close of his life
Racine became verj- religious, and wrote onl}- on sacred
themes. He composed " Esther" and " Athalie," which
latter the French consider the masterpiece of their
drama. He reallj' was religious ; yet he died of a
broken heart because the king, while passing through
the throng of courtiers, did not speak to him.

But the age produced one great and original drama-
tist, Moliere (1622-1673). At first he was much influ-
enced b}^ Spain, and also showed the Renaissance spirit
b}' occasionally imitating Terence and Plautus, although
he never satirized government as the}' did. Very soon

28

434 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

he stood on his own feet, and copied no man. It is
contemporary^ societ}' that he gives us, its vices and
folUes that he paints. Yet " L'Avare" will alwa3's re-
main a t3^pe of the miser ; " Le TartiifFe," of the h3'po-
crite ; " Le Misantrope," of the cynic : these are as old
and as new as human nature itself. His language is
wonderfully^ true, — elegant or boorish, as the character
demands ; his wit and naturalness are inimitable. He
has left us several distinct tj'pes, }'et none that are very
lovable or noble. There is no description of nature in
his pla3's, and no poetic spirit.

The Renaissance culminated in this stately' literature
of the age of Louis XIV. Its spirit was called Chris-
tian : for it was an attempt to imbue Greek form with
such a spirit. Its poets were Boileau, who was not in
the least a poet, and La Fontaine, who was truty such,
although he wrote only fables. His Renaissance studies
gave him onl3^ the framework. He is realty pervaded
by the spirit of the French mediagval writers : ^sop's
fables seem very simple compared with the dramatic
action, the character-painting, the delicate satire, and
the delicious st3'le of La Fontaine. Within the limits
of one short fable, he will give distinct and life-like char-
acters, — the great lord and lady, the rich parvenu, the
poor peasant (a mere beast of burden), — with a good-
natured hit at their faults and follies, and such a feeling
for nature that it is brought before us in all its freshness.
No other French author brings nature so near to us.
His style is absolutely untranslatable, for ever3' word is
full of subtle meanings, which could onty be translated
by using several words, and its grace hides its power.
Althousrh La Fontaine describes the habits of his ani-

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 435

mals with such loving fidelit}', the}' are not real beasts
at all ; they are human beings, — le grand monde veiled
under the beast form, and pla3'fully satirized. It must
be acknowledged that his moralit}^ is not elevated :
good-sense, wit, and success are his gods : and he is
never earnest. But he exemplifies the best traits of
French literature : nobody but a Frenchman could have
written these inimitable fables.

Boileau (1636-1711) has no charm; but he wrote
very correct poetry, according to the rules of Horace,
whose Ars Poetica he translated. He was the great
critic of his era, and established rules for poetr}', and
exercised an influence which we find it hard to under-
stand. He was, however, a high-minded man when
ever^'body else was a fawning courtier. He introduced
into poetry the heroic measure, which was universall}''
adopted in Europe for a hundred years after, where
two lines rhyme, like Virgil ; and his arbitrar^^ rules
took away all freshness and spontaneit}" from French
poetry.

JS^ot French poetrj^ alone was injured by him ; for,
France being the model of the seventeenth century, his
rules were strictl}" followed in England, where this pe-
riod extended, and is called the Queen Anne period.
Strictly speaking, it began before her, and followed
after her ; but, broadl}', it should be embraced under
her name. If we now go back to England, we shall
understand the situation there. With the restoration of
the Stuarts, 1660, came back French morals and man-
ners and poetr}'. Graceful, witty, wicked courtiers
mocked at old, blind Milton, and wrote light love- songs.
John Dryden (1630-1700) is confessedly the strongest

436 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

writer of the period ; 3'et everything is imitated, except
his " Ode for St. Cecilia's Da}'," which is really splen-
did, full of poetry and inspiration. He translated the
iEneid into the heroic measure taught b}' Boileau, and
put Chaucer into stilted English ; but these are forgot-
ten, as well as his political and satirical poetry.

We find a crowd of poets : everybody wrote poetr}^
even the great prose- writers, Swift, Addison, John-
son, and Goldsmith. They called it poetry : it does
not seem so to us, for all sounds as if ground from a
machine, the rhymes are so true, the number of feet so
correct, the antitheses so well balanced ; but there is no
imaoination, no soul.

All these poets so called culminated in Alexander
Pope (1688-1744). He lacked the poetic fire of "glo-
rious John " Dryden ; but he carried the heroic verse to
its greatest perfection, and usually wrote the second
line of a couplet before the first. He translated the
Iliad into pompous lines, utterl}^ unlike the simplicity
of the Homeric poems. His " Messiah" would sound
grand to us, if we could for a moment feel that he felt
it himself, or forget that it was copied from Virgil's
Pollio.

Gray's Odes (1716-1771) .have a stately swing to
their measures, which comes nearer to Pindar than any
other poetry. He is the most successful cop3^ist of the
Greek metres, and he never fails to stir us by the mere
power of st34e.

In the Queen Anne drama, immoral and vulgar dram-
atists are a disgrace to the nation. They were in-
numerable, but thej^ are deservedly forgotten. The
tragedies are slavish copies of French models. Dryden,

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 437

Addison, and Johnson wrote dull tragedies. But there
are three exceptions. Otwa}- wrote a pathetic romantic
drama, " Venice Preserved," which was severeh^ blamed
b3'the critics. Dear old Goldsmith (1728-1774) painted
English contemporar}' society in a charming comed3',
" She Stoops to Conquer." Sheridan (1751-1816), who
lived somewhat later, but belongs to the period, tried
to copy Moliere in " The School for Scandal." It 'seems
vulgar beside " Le Misantrope." ^

The true successor of Moliere was found in Italy
in the eighteenth century, — Goldoni (1707-1793). He
is almost as fertile a writer as Lope de Vega. It is
character corned}' that he gives, — few incidents, no
nature, no poetical spirit, but livel}' conversations and
amusing situations. And the opera, which had been
born in Italy (1579), was continued bj' Metastasio (1782),
who wrote innumerable libretti.

But great ideas were fermenting in France. In the
earl}' part of the eighteenth century, Voltaire (1694-
1778) visited England. He studied the metaphysics of
Hobbes and Locke, the ph3'sics of Newton, and intro-
duced them into France. Then England became, in the
eighteenth centur}', the literary centre of Europe. Vol-
taire is the very sceptic of all sceptics in this most
irreligious century ; 3'et he is the greatest French poet
of the age. He wrote dramas, poems, and an epic, but
we remember him by his metaph3'sics. Voltaire's epic,
"La Henriade," is simply ridiculous. The time of
Hemy IV. is so near our own that the supernatural
machiner}^ seems utterl}' absurd. But Voltaire's dramas
have a merit of their own ; the}' touch the feelings.
They belong to an age of decadence : they are neither

438 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

classic, like Racine, nor romantic, like Victor Hugo ;
they have a mixed style. Like P^uripides in Greek,
they attempt to unite the merits of two opposite
schools. The princes preach the most extreme doc-
trines of liberty, equalit}'', and fraternity ; and the hero-
ines have a liberty of conduct which was never allowed
in the Greek or French classic drama. The effect pro-
duced on the mind is confusing : they lack the unity of a
perfect work of art. Yet they are interesting, especially
Zaire ; and are written in beautiful French. His "Poe-
sies Legeres " are models of grace and lightness.

Beaumarchais (1732-1799) wrote two very amusing
comedies, " The Barber of Seville," and "The Marriage
of Figaro," suggested by Moliere, which exposed the
wickedness and frivolity of the great nobles. There was
never a time when literary men exercised such power.
It is not too much to say that Beaumarchais' s comedies,
Rousseau's novels, and English thought as interpreted
by the French philosophers, brought about the French
Revolution, 1789.

The French Revolution has a touching and noble
figure connected with it, — the 3'oung poet, Andre Che-
nier (1762-1794). He was the first to turn away from
the arbitrary rules established by Boileau ; and he broke
out into a lyric measure of his own, full of music, and
behind it fresh and pathetic thoughts. His "Young
Captive " is truly beautiful and poetic ; it expresses the
feelings of a young girl, his fellow-prisoner, dragged
away to die. He had been thrown into prison through
his generous endeavors to save his brother ; and might
have lived had he disclosed the mistake. He died on
the scaffold, two days before the close of Robespierre's

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 439

reign of terror. One of his fellow-sufferers cried out,
"You, virtuous 3'outh ! are they taking 3'ou to death,
bright with genius and hope?" " I have done nothing
for posterit}'," sighed Chenier : then, touching his fore-
head, he said, " Yet I had something there ! "

Germany also felt the influence of England : first,
they studied Shakespeare with enthusiasm and intelli-
gence ; next, the ballads of the Edda, lately discovered
at Copenhagen, and of the Nibelungen Lied, discovered
in Germany. A literary movement arose, called the
Romantic school. It had two branches : one historical,
which wrote ballads about the Middle Ages, or dramas
from German history ; the other philosophical, which
described feelings, analyzed motives, depicted daily
life, or wrote about the effect produced on the soul by
external nature. But there was something more than
mere choice of subjects in this new school of thought.
A critic says, "The writings of the Romantic school
mark a transition, not so much from the pagan to the
mediaeval ideal, as from a lower to a higher degree of
passion in literature."

The drama was the first to awake. Lessing (1729-
1778) was the first to write national drama. He dis-
covered that the men about him were as interesting as
those of Greece and Rome ; and he wrote tragedies and
comedies based upon English models. " Emilia Galotti "
is a powerful tragedy ; "Nathan the Wise," a lesson of
religious toleration ; "Minna von Barnhelm," an amusing
picture of daily life. Ba3'ard Ta3lor sa3's, "Criticism
was Lessing's true work ; his poems and plays are
wanting in that warm imaginative element which welds
thought and passion into one inseparable body."

440 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

Then came Schiller (1759-1805) in the Romantic
drama : he and Lessing wrote it from conviction ;
Goethe (1749-1831), from the fanc}' of the moment.
Scliiller was triil}' patriotic, and his " Wallenstcin " is a
noble monument of German poetr3\ His ballads, too,
are very fall of the modern spirit. They honor woman,
and domestic life, and labor ; and if they copy Greek
subjects, the}' put a Christian tone into them. In the
"Cranes of Ib3'cus," he shows that the Greek Nemesis
is our own conscience ; "that a man's moral destiny is
the result and evolution of his own character."

The first great poets in German}^, — the onl}^ poets
for five centuries, — were these three, at the very close
of the eighteenth century, and who were not understood
till the nineteenth. Germany's blossoming was late,
but glorious : in the nineteenth centurj^ she rules Eu-
rope. For I suppose nobody will den}^ that Goethe is
the greatest poet since Dante, — one of the few great
poets of the world. As a man, we cannot admire
Goethe ; he resolutely shut himself out from the tremen-
dous political and patriotic questions of the day, and
retired to his stud}" to imitate Persian poetry. He wrote
everj'thing, — lyric poems, ballads, dramas, romances.
I wish to speak of him in this chapter especially in
connection with the Classic and Romantic schools. For
no other poet ever succeeded as he did in both these
forms ; and he was equally successful in the difficult
and peculiar metre of modern Persian poetr3\ It is
perhaps a moral deficiency that he was so ; it may
show a lack of convictions, — of a genuine outgrowth
from an inner development.

His mastery of two opposite forms is most strikingly

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 441

shown in the three episodes of the second part of Faust,
which are so disconnected from the main story that they
ma}^ be treated separatel}'^ Thej^ are s^'mbolic of the
growtli of Goetlie's mind, which began, as we saw, by
adhering to^the Romantic school. The first episode is
purelj' Romantic in its character, therefore. A carnival
masquerade gives, in an allegory, a picture of the classes
which compose societ}^, — a picture of human life. Then
Goethe visited Italy, and was intoxicated b}^ Greek art.
Matthew Arnold says : " His admiration of style caused
the immense importance to him of the productions of
Greek and Latin genius, where st3de so eminently mani-
fests its power. With his fine critical perception, he
saw^ the power of style, and the lack of it in the litera-
ture of his own conntr}-." The second episode is called
the classical "Walpurgis Night." Mr. Bayard Taylor
says : ' ' Through it blows a breeze of poetry fresh from
the mountains and seas and isles of, Greece ; it is full
of Tritons and Sirens, Fates and Furies, Greek philoso-
phers and gods. It symbolizes ideal beautv." The third
episode, the "Helena," is a perfect poem in itself; it was
published as such in 1827, though written in 1800. Its
meaning is very plain : it seeks to reconcile, and fuse
into one, the Classic and Romantic schools of thought.
It is s3'mbolic ; Faust being the type of the romantic,
Helena of the classic spirit. They many, and their
child, Enphorbion, symbolizes poetry ; Goethe thus pro-
claiming his belief, that the highest and newest poetry
is the product of all the past, — is be3'ond the narrow
bounds of race or period, — unites human life to ideal
beaut}', fuses them into one.

Even without its symbolism, the " Helena" is a fine

442 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

poem. The first part of it is in classic form, with
a chorus ; then the scene changes to a castle of the
Middle Ages, with knights and banners ; and the metre
of the poem changes also, from the Greek unrh3^med
measure to the mediaeval rhyming measure. In the
dialogue, Helena uses the Greek, Faust the mediaeval
metre. The episodes of the second part of Faust are
not really necessary to the poem, and they seem to be
written from the very fulness of Goethe's powers. He
takes delight in his command over words. Their inter-
est is purel}^ literary, and to us the contest between the
Classic and Romantic schools of writing seems hardly
a sufficient subject to expend so much exuberant poetry
upon : it appears far away from the realities of life ;
thus the episodes possess perfect language, but not
much feehng.

Ever3'bod3' is sufficiently familiar with Goethe's works
to separate them into their own schools. There is no
question about Faust. It is written in the form of a
drama, but really should be classed among epic poems.
It is essentially the epic of this subjective nineteenth
centur}'', because it shows the struggle of a soul against
inward temptations, where older epics paint the struggle
of a bod^'' against external circumstances. It ma}" be
called a Christian epic, not onl}" from its spirit, but
from its form, which is that of the miracle play. It is
thoroughly Romantic, — a perfect picture of the life
and behef of the Middle Ages. The heavenl}" charac-
ters are treated as in the miracle plays ; that is, they
are real persons, walking about and talking ; and this
means nothing irreverent, although it strikes us so un-
pleasantty when we read it. Faust is uninteresting as

THE MODEEN POETRY OF EUROPE. 443

an individual, and onh' becomes so when we regard
him as the t3'pe of humanity. In the first part, we
have simpl}' the life of an obscure person who longs for
the good things of this life ; and since he has not ob-
tained them, he has an intelligible motive of discontent.
In the second part of Faust, we find a far higher
style of character. The poem is not so universally
known, but is a A^er}' grand one ; most noble in its
plan, crowded with beautiful detail, and overflowing
with wonderful poetr}'. In reading it for the first time,
we feel overwhelmed with the mass of material. The
overflowing creative power of the author lavishes itself
in a poetic richness of thought and language which
amazes us, and the unity of the work is hard to trace
among the bewildering details. Innumerable charac-
ters are introduced, who express themselves in most
appropriate language, whether it is keen sarcasm or
beautiful poetr\'. They are not only perfect in form,
but the}' have a hidden meaning lying under them :
the}' s3'mbolize some individual, or some idea of Goe-
the's own about society, science, and art, and there
are S3'mbols within sj^mbols, also. There is a mis-
taken idea that it was written in Goethe's old age. On
the contrary, Mr. Bayard Taj'lor saj'S, " It was the
conception of Goethe's prime, entirely planned and
parti}' written before the appearance of the first part.'*
It was sketched in 1800, the fifth act written then ; the
gaps were filled up, and the whole concluded in 1831^
his eight3'-second year. This will account for the differ-
ences of st3'le and of thought which constantl3' annoy
us in the poem. Some parts are prosaic, others won-
derful^ poetical. Mr. Ta3'lor sa3's, "The acquisitions

444 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

of thirt}^ years formed a crust over the lambent poetical
element in his nature ; but it broke through clearly and
joyousl3^" The second part of Faust is composed of
two distinct allegories ; one of which is contained in the
three episodes, which are very slightly connected with
the stor}" itself.

The main story exhibits the struggle of man towards
immortality, — the development of character to a higher
plane through temptations. The first part- was a life of
the senses ; the second begins with the life of the intel-
lect. Faust awakens to a new sense of existence : he
forgets the past and Margaret, and goes on to new
adventures. He still keeps his compact with Mephis-
topheles, who gets him a place at court. But, wearied
with politics, he turns to the pursuit of the beautiful,
who is symbolized by Helena the Greek. Faust's love
for her sj'mbolizes the love of the artist or poet for his
ideal, — the 3'earning for the beautiful. But even this
at length becomes unsatisfactory. Then he is attracted
by the war of the elements against man ; and he deter-
mines to enter into conflict with nature, and bend it to
the human will. He devotes himself to a great indus-
trial undertaking, but solelj^ from intelligent human
ambition. The king whom he had served gives him a
wide waste of land on the sea-shore ; he resolves to
redeem it from the destruction of the ocean. Mephis-
topheles derides all such hard, honest work, and pro-
poses to Faust to build a splendid palace, with every
appliance for pleasure and luxur}', instead of dams and
sluices. But Faust scorns him, and labors on despite
sneers and scoffs. He succeeds ; and, as he gazes on
his completed work, a higher thought comes to him.

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 445

His clearer spiritual vision sees that it is to become a
blessing to his race. On this rescued soil his prophetic
e3'e beholds a free people blessed with good govern-
ment. He experiences one moment of supreme bliss ;
he calls upon time to sta3\ But his compact with
Mephistopheles is thus fulfilled, and he must die. He
reached his moment of happiness in spite of the fiend ;
3'et not through the senses, nor the pure love of the
beautiful ; not through political power nor congenial
labor, but through unselfish working for the good of
others.

If the episodes of the story are perfect Greek, the
close is pureh' romantic : it is more, it is filled with a
lofty spirit of the purest Christianity. Again, Goethe
adopts the machinery of a miracle play. On the stage
the jaws of hell are open, and demons are seen to
arise from them. But also angels descend from above
to claim the soul of Faust. The Eternal Love sends
them : they bear it aloft, and sing : —

" Kescued is the noble member
Of the spirit world from evil :
Who ever aspiring exerts himself,
Him can we redeem."

Mephistopheles cannot comprehend that he has actu-
ally lost Faust ; that a soul can be redeemed through
love of God and beneficent labor for others. He stands
stupidh" staring, while the angels gradually disappear,
carrying the rescued soul away with them. Then comes
a beatific vision of Paradise, where loving souls are ever
aspiring towards the Highest. Margaret appears as
the spiritual guide of Faust; she leads him ever up-

446 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

ward through ranks of adoring intelUgences, till he,
pervaded with penitence and love, is permitted to reach
the upper sphere. But the Highest is not visible to his
eyes : the Virgin Mary is the onl}^ manifestation he
sees.

The saint of the Middle Ages was a monk. Monta-
lembert franklj^ says, "The monastic life is the perfec-
tion of Christian Mfe " : the saint of to-da}^ goes out into
the world and seeks to make it better, instead of flying
from it. The hero of the Middle Ages was a soldier ;
the hero of the nineteenth century is a peaceful artisan,
like Watt and Stephenson, who endeavors to help his
fellow-men, instead of killing them ; who labors to con-
quer nature and make it useful to the human race,
rather than to conquer and degrade man. Great indus-
trial works are the t^'pical works of this century. Mr.
Leckey sa3^s, " You cannot lay down a railway without
creating an intellectual influence ; it is probable that
Watt and Stephenson will eventually modify the opin-
ions of mankind quite as much as Luther or Voltaire."
That Faust. should have toiled in an industrial work,
should have tried to give honest labor and good govern-
ment to his fellow-beings, is pre-eminently the spirit of
to-day ; and that Goethe's prophetic mind felt this noble
thought shows him to be a true prophet and guide.
Goethe is usually a pagan ; here he is not only Chris-
tian, but essentially modern.

The Romantic school was first followed in England.
We must go back a little : in the stagnation at the close
of the Queen Anne period a real poet appeared ; his
first volume was published in 1780. Even before the
French Revolution had proclaimed aloud that idea which

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 447

was stirring in the heart of the world, Robert Burns
(1 759-1 79G) had expressed it. Its essence was found
in his first volume, however often hteral critics may
remind us that it was not until 1795 that he used the
actual words, —

" The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man 's the gowd for a' that ! "

And his songs appeal to the universal heart of hu-
manity. Mankind is greater than a class ; queens and
nobles are but men and women ; love and jo3^, sorrow
and death, can never cease to be, — the}^ are as real in
the cottage as in the palace ; and Burns sang of these,
till every creature that was capable of feeling wept or
smiled over his words. His life was sad, partly from
himself, mostl}^ from his surroundings. France was
ripe for him, England was not ; but his genius is more
valued as time goes on.

Then comes another real poet, — poor Cowper (1731-
1800). If Burns expresses the human passion, the
courageous manliness, of the time, Cowper gives voice
to its religious aspirations, its delicate sensibility, its
nervous introspection. Human love made Burns a
poet ; a love of God as passionate as that of the Latin
h3'mns made Cowper such. The anguish of his tor-
tured soul, the jo}' of his reconciled heart, found vent
in genuine poetr}^, which burst all arbitrar}' rules for
versification. Cowper's simple and realistic poetr}^ cre-
ates an epoch ; his importance has not been properly
acknowledged. It was he and Burns who founded the
Romantic school. Both of them show a heart-felt love
of nature, and a feeling for the charm of domestic life,

448 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDRED LITERATURES.

which were unknown qualities in the poetiy of England
then. The}' brought back passion to poetiy, and thus
restored the period of Elizabeth.

But before the tone of thought was definitel}' adopted,
foreign influences came in, — the French Revolution,
then Germany. The historical branch of the school
was eagerly welcomed and spontaneously adopted by
Scott. When a boy he had loved and studied the wild
and beautiful Border minstrels}^ of his own country,
and the German ballads and dramas were thoroughh^
congenial to him. It was a labor of love for him to
translate them. But Southe}^ followed the school con-
sciousl3\ Burns and Cowper had spontaneously ex-
pressed the philosophical branch of the school. It was
adopted consciousl}^ by Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shel-
ley, spontaneousl}' by B3'ron.

In France the Romantic school was brought in by
Madame de Stael's critical history- of the literature of
Germany. She introduced the two nations : they had
never known each other, for France had alwa3's despised
German}^ The Bourbons brought back English litera-
ture and ideas (1814). Philosophical poetry came with
Goethe ; historical, with Schiller and Scott. France
eagerly seized these new ideas, and a tremendous liter-
ary revolution was accomplished. It was aided by a
writer who is not, technicallj^ speaking, of the Romantic
school, yet in a broad sense should be included in it,
because he introduced into French poetrj^ a new form,
and a true love of liberty.

For one hundred years versification had been exactly
what Boileau had made it, — rh3'ming couplets of twelve
feet each : even Andre Chenier could not break it up.

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 449

Poetry was supposed to be confined to one form. Be-
ranger (1780-1857) began to write wittj', pointed,
graceful songs, first about his own life, then about poli-
tics. He adored Napoleon, and detested the Bourbons ;
he was imprisoned l\y them. Finall}', ^'le petit bour-
geois " woke up to find himself a political power, the
best song-writer of his country ; one of her original,
typical poets. His range is narrow, and his morality
ver}^ low ; but his st^de is charming, and his love of the
people is genuine.

The earliest Romantic writer was Lamartine (1790-
1869), who represents the philosophical branch. The
melody of his poetry is exquisite, and the thoughts are
always noble and pure. He is at times sentimental
beyond the point of healthiness ; but his best poems
have an irresistible pathos. Nothing can be more
touching than the lines on the death of his onl^^ child, a
daughter. "LTsolement" and " Le Lac" are exqui-
sitely lovel}'. He has a wonderful feeling for nature,
not only its beaut}', but its soothing power over a suff'er-
ing soul. But life means something more than to feel,
to sufier, to weep. His own life has had action, but
his poetry has none. It is so much like our own poetry
that we forget how ver}^ difierent it is from the French
poetr}', — what an immense advance it is upon the di-
dactic, descriptive couplets, which are all we can find
unless we go back to the witty or wicked Trouveres.
His longest poem, '' Jocel3'n," was considered to be a
protest against the celibacy of the clergy. Lamartine
disavowed any such intention, in the second edition.
He was not only a religious man, but he begun life as a
royalist and an aristocrat, being born in that class.

29

450 SANSKRIT AND ITS KINDKED LITERATURES.

A much greater writer, Victor Hugo (1802), showed
precisely this spirit in his early writings ; but both of
these poets became true lovers of liberty and sincere
friends of the people. Victor Hugo has faith in the
future, as well as reverence for what is worth}' in the
past. Both branches of the school, therefore, meet in
him ; his historical novel, " Notre Dame de Paris," and
his ballads, paint the Middle Ages with tremendous
realism, the mind as well as the external life are given.
He strips off the veil of enchantment, and shows their
faults as well as their virtues : he looks at the past
with the mind of to-da3\ In his novels of modern life
he alwa3^s takes the side of the oppressed, and strives
to elevate and reform society. They are painful from
their vivid descriptions of sinning and sorrowful human
beings ; but they are written with a purpose. There-
fore he gives us t3'pes which are too absolutely noble
to be natural, but which hold up before us the loftiest
ideal of character. We find in his writings the strong-
est shadows, the highest lights, and too many antith-
eses : in the hand of an ordinary writer these would
become tiresome ; the}^ only render Victor Hugo more
powerful and poetical.

He is equally great as critic and dramatist : his prose
preface to the drama of "Cromwell" (1829) gave the
reasons and fixed the epoch of the Romantic school ;
and his grand dramas broke forever the chains of
French classic drama. Everybody believes in him now ;
but he has worked an absolute revolution in French lit-
erature, and met with unstinted abuse at first.

His earliest writings are in verse, — odes and ballads,
some of them written at sixteen ^^ears of age. Rela-

THE MODERN POETRY OF EUROPE. 451

tiveh' the}' do not stand so high as his dramas, (which
were his second productions,) or his novels. Yet his
love-poems and .pictures of domestic life are verj^ pure
and sweet, and nobody has ever painted children more
charmingly' than he. Whether in prose or verse, Victor
Hugo's children must live forever. His life has been
as noble as his writings ; and the French ma}' well be
proud of Victor Hugo, the head of that romantic school
under which we are living.

PARTIAL LIST OF BOOKS CONSULTED,

GIVIXG THE TRANSLATION ONLY WHERE
THERE ARE SEVERAL.

Chips from a German Workshop. Max Muller

Life and Growth of Language. Whitney.

Science of Language. Max Miiller.

Oriental and Linguistic Studies. Whitney.

The Dawn of History. The Brothers Keary of the British

Museum.
The Ancient City. Fustel de Coulanges.
-The Mythology of the Aryan Nations. G. W. Cox.
Origin of Fairy Tales. J. Thackeray Bunce.
Myths and Mythmakers. John Fiske.
History of Architecture. Fergusson.
History of Sanskrit Literature. Max Muller.
Influence of India on Modern Thought. Sir Henry Maine.
Translation of the Rig Veda. H. H. Wilson.
- " " " Max Muller.

" " " M. Langlois.

History of India. Vols. I., II., III. Talboys Wheeler.
Nala and Damayanti. Milman's Poetical Works. Vol. III.
The Ihad of the East. Miss Richardson.
Religious and Moral Texts from Sanskrit Writers. Muir.
Sacred Anthology. Conway.
Indian Wisdom. Monier Williams.
Bhagavad Gita. Thompson.
The Hindu Drama. Vols. I., II. H. H. Wilson.
The Origin and Growth of Religion as Illustrated by the Religion

of India. 1878. Max Muller.
Sakoontala. Monier Williams.
Westminster Review. October, 1848.

454 PARTIAL LIST OF BOOKS CONSULTED.

Oriental Poetry. W. R. Alger.

The Light of Asia. Edwin Arnold.

Old Deccan Days. Miss Frere.

The Avesta. Bleeck, from Spiegel's German Translation.

The Shah Nameh. Atkinson.

La Poesie en Perse. M. Barbier.

Le Theatre Moderne en Perse. M. Barbier.

Tales of Ancient Greece. G. W. Cox.

Studies in Greek Poetry. Syraonds.

Pindare et la Poe'sie Lyrique. Villemain.

Aischylos. Preface to Translation. Plumptre.

Sophokles. Preface to Translation. Plumptre.

Study on Euripides. Mahaffy.

History of Philosophy. Lewes.

History of the Drama. Schlegel.

Origin of the Homeric Poems. Packard's Translation.

Translation of Plato's Phaedo. Church.

History of Rome. Vol. I. Mommsen.

Preface to Lays of Ancient Rome. Macaulay.

Latin Literature. Thomas Arnold.

La Mythologie Gauloise. M. Lefloq.

Keltic Literature. Matthew Arnold.

Les Bardes Bretons au 6eme Siecle. De la Villemarque.

" 12eme "
Translation of Breton Ballads. Tom Taylor.
The Mabinogeon. Lady Charlotte Guest.
Le Foyer Breton. M. Souvestre.
Tales of the West Highlands. Campbell.
Teutonic Mythology. Grimm.
Translation of the Edda. Thorpe.
Northern Mythology. Thorpe.
Yarl Hakon. Oehlenschlager.
Popular Tales from the Norse. Dasent.
Translation of the Heimskringla. Laing.
Sigurd the Volsung. William Morris.
Grettir the Strong. Morris and Magnussen.
Gunnlaug the Worm-tongue. Morris and Magnussen.
Burnt Njal. Dasent.
Tales from Teutonic Lands. Cox and Jones.

PARTIAL LIST OF BOOKS CONSULTED. 455

Frithiof the Bold. Anderson.

Anglo-Saxon Literature. Conybeare.

Beowulf. Late Frose Translation.

Studies in German Literature. Bayard Taylor.

Early English Writers. Morley.

Intellectual Development of Europe. Draper.

History of Rationalism. Lecky.

Les Peres de I'Eghse. Villemain.

Les Moines de rOccident. Montalembert.

Translation of Latin Hymns. Neale.

Life of St. Bernard.

Popular Romances of the Middle Ages. G. "W. Cox.

Middle Ages. Wright.

La Chanson de Roland. Republication of Old French form.

The Lytell Geste of Robyn Hood. Ballad Book.

Early French Poetry. Besant.

The Troubadours. John Rutherford.

Study on Dante. Church.

Study on Spenser. Church.

Translation of Calderon. McCarthy.

" Trench.

Study on Calderon. Lewes.
Loves of the Poets. Mrs. Jameson.
La Fontaine et ses Fables. Taine.
La Litterature Anglaise. Taine.
Curious Myths of the Middle Ages. Baring-Gould.
La Litterature chez les Slavs. Courriere.
La Litterature en Russie. Courriere.
Songs of Servia. Owen Meredith.
La Russie Epique. Alfred Rambaud.
La Litterature du Nord au Moyenage. Eichoff.
Russian Folk Tales. Ralston.
Songs of the Russian People. Ralston.
The Ottoman Turks in Europe. Freeman.
Theology in the English Poets. Stopford Brooke.
German Thought. Karl Hillebrant.

INDEX.

Abelard, the patriarch of modern
rationalism, 344.

Achilleus, story of, 186.

Aditi, one of the earliest names used
by Hindus for the Infinite, 29.

^neid, explanation of one of the
stories in, 236.

iEsir, the good gods of Norse my-
thology, 272.

JSsop, animals of, 105 ; fables of,
originated in India, 123.

Ascni, the fire, Hindu worship of,
^25.

Ahana, the dawn, in Sanskrit, equiv-
alents of, 28.

Ahriman, Persian spirit of dark-
ness, 144.

Ahura Mazda, the Supreme Being
of the Persians, 144.

Aisehylos, Greek dramatist, 207;
examination of a trilogy by,
202-204.

Alexandria, in Egypt, city of, 227.

Algebra, early existence of, among
Hindus, 119.

Alger, Mr., 53.

Ambrose, a Christian bishop of
Mediaeval Historv, 333 ; hymn
for Advent by, 334.

Ampere, M., 155.

Anatolius, Saint, hymn by, 332.

Auaxagoras, the first to recognize
a Supreme Intelligence, 211.

Anglo-Saxon monks, chronicles of
the, 342.

Anglo-Saxons, pagan ballads of the.

311; how influenced by Norse
literature, 315; interesting fact
concerning their grammar, 317 ;
Christian literature of, ib.

Arabian Nights, source of some of
its stories found in Sanskrit,
120.

Ariosto, a poet of the Renaissance,
description of his greatest poem,
416.

Aristotle, his system of metaphys-
ics and discoveries in science,
218 ; writings of, how received
into Europe, 343.

Arithmetic, question in, translated
from Sanskrit, 119.

Arjuna, hero of " Bhagavat Gita,"
116.

Aimold, Matthew, 161, 199, 223,
225, 239, 252, 254, 327, 330,
441.

Arthur, King, 244 ; the cycle of
ballads surrounding, 245 ; a look
at his story, 245 et seq. ; ballads
of, traced down to present time,
248-251.

Aryan race, what it includes, 5 ;
interesting facts concerning its
languages, its customs, and its
homes, 6-8 ; comparison of its
mythologies, 8 et seq. ; the gods
of its earliest mythology, \Q et
seq.

Asha, meaning of, in Zend, 145 ;
another meaning, 150.

Asoura Medhas, 84.

458

INDEX.

Ass, favorite animal of the Veda, 26.

AsAvemedha, what it is, 36, 47.

Aswins, twin horses of the dawn,
equivalents of, 26.

Atraan, subjective name for Deity
used by Hindus, 38 ; meaning of
the word, 114-.

Atomic theory, found in Greek
philosophy, 211.

Augustine, Saint, 173 ; doctrines
and writings of, 336 ; extract
from one of his books, 337 ; what
he thought of music in church,
338.

Aurelius, Marcus, a Roman empe-
ror and philosopher, 237.

Avatars, incarnations of Vishnu,
38, 39.

Avesta, sacred book of the Per-
sians, facts concerning, 142 ; diffi-
culty of understanding, 143 ;
words of, expressing the thought
of immortality, 147 ; a hymn
from, 148; a prayer, 150; a
confession of sins, 151 ; literary,
moral, and historical value of,
152, 154.

Baldue, story of, in Norse my-
thology, 28i.

Barbier^ M., 41.

Beaumarchais, French dramatist,
writings of, 438.

Beowulf, an Anglo-Saxon pagan
ballad, 313; description of, 314.

Beranger, French poet, poetry of,
449.

Bernard of Clairvaux, Saint, his
discussions with Abelard, 345 ;
hymn written by, 347.

Bernard of Cluuy, 346.

Bhagavat Gita, best known meta-
physical work of the Hindus,
facts concerning, 116 ; a passage
from, 117; main object of, 118 ;
when first translated and pub-
lished in English, ib.

Bharata, a great Indian hero, 48.
Boethius, last great pagan writer,

238.
Bogy, root of the word, 370.
Boileau, French poet, his influence

upon French poetry, 435.
Boots, a hero of Norse folk-tales,

309, 310.
Bossuet, 173.

Brag, origin of the word, 275.
Brahman, objective name for Deity
used by Hindus, 38; different
characters and attributes of, ib.
Brahmanical revival, date of, 95 ;

literature of, 118.
Brahmanism, rise of, 37 ; points of
difference between Buddhism and,
91, 93.
Brahmans, what they were and

what they taught, 42-44.
Brandan, Saint, a Welsh monk,

story of, 341.
Breal, M., 152, 236.
Bi-etons, ballad literature of the,

255 ; folk -stories of, 262.
Buddha, See Sakya Muni. The

five commandments of, 92.
Buddhism, rise of, 89 ; account of
its origin taken from an Indian
book, 90 ; points of difference
between Brahmanism and, 91,
93 ; asceticism of, 92 ; atheism
of, ib. ; spread of, ib. ; decline of,
95 ; by what it is especially dis-
tinguished, 115.
Bulgarians, fusion of, with the

Slavs, 372.
Burns, Robert, poetry of, 447.
Burnt Njal, an episode of, illustrat-
ing some characteristic elements
of Norse poetry, 303.
Byzantium, splendid code of laws
of, 237.

C^DMON, a Saxon poet, 317 ; part
of a speech of Satan's translated
from his poems, 318.

INDEX.

459

Calderon, great Spanish dramatist,
writings of, 430.

Calvin, doctrines of, where found,
336.

Camoens, only Portuguese poet of
the Renaissance, his epic poem,
420; its charm, 421; his fate,
422.

Campbell, Mr., 264, 265.

Carlyle, 306, 324, 328.

Ceremonies among the Hindus,
'86.

Charlemagne, influence of, on Me-
diaeval literature, 342.

Chaucer, Geoffrey, earliest writings
of, 414 ; the Canterbury Tales,
415.

Cheuier, Andre, poet of the French
Revolution, writings of, 438.

Chess, game of, comes from Hindus,
119.

Chinese race, its language and civ-
ilization, 4.

Chivalry, source of the spirit of,
352.'

Christianity, how the idea of the
conflict between good and evil
came into, 152.

Cinderella, story of, its mythologi-
cal interpretation, 266.

Civilization, Chinese, 4 ; Egyptian,
5 ; Chaldean, ib. ; different stages
of, in Vedic literature, 15.

Church, Mr., 424.

Clan, government by, evidence of it
among the Bretons, 259.

Clarke, James Freeman, 153.

Colonna, Vittoria, a poetess of the
Renaissance, 420.

Copernican system, anticipated by
a Hindu astronomer, 119.

Corneille, the Father of French
tragedy, his great work and
character of his writings, 432.

Couriere, 367.

Cousin, Victor, 110.

Cowley, 196.

Cowper, poetry of, 447.

Cox, Mr., 31, 188, 189, 191, 284,

295.
Crusades, the, 360.
Cyril, the Luther olthe Slavs, 367.
Cyrus, the Great, account of, 162.

Dahana, the dawn, 27.

Dante, description of his great po-
em, 410 ; motives which prompted
it, 412.

Dasent, Mr., 108, 311.

Dawn, the, different names in Ary-
an mythology for, 27 ; one of the
most fertile of Aryan myths, 28.

Demosthenes, 227.

" Deor, the Complaint of," an An-
glo-Saxon pagan baUad, descrip-
tion of, 312.

De Stael, Madame, her critical his-
tory of the literature of Germany,
448.

Devas, origin and meaning of the
term, 17 : number and attributes
of, 18 ; as used by the Persians,
144.

Diaz, discovery of Cape of Good
Hope by, 421.

Divine Being, the Hindu's concep-
tion of, 33; various names for,
34.

DjeUaleddin Roumi, great mystical
poet of Persia, 168.

DoiAovoy, the household spirit of
Russia, description of, 398.

Doric literature, sole representative
of, 198.

Drama, the, during the Renaissance,
426 ; the four nations in which
it is original, 429 ; the modern,
to what it can be traced, 349.

Druids, the, interesting facts con-
cerning, 241.

Dryden, John, poetry of, 435.

Dwarfs, the, of Breton folk stories,
263 ; in Teutonic mythology,
288.

460

INDEX.

Dyaus, most ancient name for the
Supreme God, equivalents of,
19.

Eddas, the, sacred books of the

Norsemen, 270.
Egyptians, the, 5.
Eisteddvods, poetical contests among

the Welsh, 250.
Eleatics, the, what they are, 210.
Emerson, Mr., 168.
England, opening of Renaissance

in, its poets, 422, 423.
English monks, influence of, on

Mediaeval literature, 348.
Epictetus, philosophy of, 237.
Epikouros, philosophy of, 219.
Erigena, John Scotus, the only

learned layman in Europe for six

centuries, 343.
Erse language, discoveries in phi-
lology contributed by, 239 ; an

immense literature in, 263.
Euripides, Greek dramatist, his

plays, 207 ; description of one,

the Alkestis, 20S.

Eairy tales, their important place
in literature, 13 ; those belonging
to Sanskrit language, 121.

Fable, translated from Sanskrit,
124; invention of teaching by,
claimed by Hindus, 125.

Fate, the idea of, in Greek drama,
illustration of, 204.

Fathers of the Church, the, 331.

Fauche, M., 47.

"Faust," story of the drama, with a
critical examination of, 442, et
seq.

Fenian, source of the word, 263.

Fergnsson, Mr., 126, 226.

Figures, decimal, come from Hin-
dus, 118.

Firdousi, author of the Persian na-
tional epic, 154 ; story of the
poem, 155 ; quotation from, 159.

Fortnnatus, Venantius, a learned

Italian, 339.
France, influence of, upon modern

literature, 405 ; opening of the

Renaissance in, 420.
Francis I., influence of, on the Re-
naissance, 420.
Fran, root of the word, 282.
Fravashi, an attendant spirit, in

Persian mythology, 147.
French language, the first popular

dialect to crystallize into form,

405.
French literature, entrance of the

Romantic school into, 448
French monks. Mediaeval writings

of, 343.
French Revolution, by what brought

about, 438.
Funeral hymns of the Hindus,

translation of two, 29, 30.

Gaelic, translation of a ballad from
the, 264 ; character of ballads
in general, 264 et seq.

Gama, Vasco da, voyage of, found-
ation of the Portuguese epic, 421.

Gathas, Persian hymns, 145.

Gender, what the result of, 17.

Geoff'rey of Monmouth, a Welsh
monk, 250.

Germans, interesting facts concern-
ing the ancient, 320; their he-
roes and ballads, 321 et seq.

Germany, no Renaissance period in,
foundation of the Universities,
427.

German language, foundation of,
319; earliest sacred poem known
in, 320.

German literature, rise of the Ro-
mantic school in, 439.

German monks, rise of the, 842.

German poetry, 427.

Gesta, monkish tales, 351.

Ghosts, origin of a superstition
concerning, 184.

INDEX.

461

Giants, the specialty of Irish folk-
stories, 2G3.

Goethe, 129, 164, 210, 215 ; writ-
ings of, 440 ; his mastery of the
two opposite schools of writing,
440 et seq.

Goldoni, an Italian dramatist, writ-
ings of, 437.

Graif, Holy, story of the, 251 ;
mythologically examined, 253.

Grammar, science of, among the
Hindus, 120.

Gray, 199, 250 ; his " Odes," 436.

Greece, original inhabitants of, 173 ;
the mythical history of, 190 ;
her lyric poetry and the various
poets, 195, 196 ; her statesmen
and orators, 227.

Greeks, the, 172; character of, as
exemplified by their literature,
175.

Greek and Latin, 2.

Greek drama, growth of, 199 ;
character of, 200 et seq. ; the chief
writers of, 207.

Greek gods, the character of, their
significance and equivalents, 179
et seq.

Greek heroes, the, character of,
185.

Greek history, and the various
writers of, 221 et seq.

Greek literature, considered in the
new light of comparative philol-
ogy and mythology, 172 ; as an
independent manifestation of hu-
man thought, 173 ; no sacred
books in, 174.

Greek mythology, true and final
interpretation of, 174 ; the pleas -
antest side of, 185.

Greek philosophy, 210 ; first prob-
lem of, 211 ; the various philos-
ophers, what they taught, 211
et seq.; summing up of the vari-
ous schools, 214.

Griffith, 97.

Grimm, 12, 364.

Guru, a family priest among the

Hindus, 86.
Guy of Warwick, story of, 361.

Hafiz, greatest of modern Per-
sians, his poems, 164 ; transla-
tion of one, 165.

Haoma juice, Persian di'ink of the
Gods, 149.

" Heaven," a Mediaeval Latin
hymn, by Hildebert, archbishop
of Tours, 347.

Heine, 168, 433.

Herakleitos, first Greek prose
writer, 211.

Hermes, the hymn to, description
of, and extracts from, 182 ei
seq.

Herodotos, a Greek historian, ac-
count of, 221.

Hesiod, poems of, 177 ; passage
from one, ib. ; chi3f importance
of, in history of ideas, 178 ; his
" Theogony," ib.

Hildebrand, a German hero, story
of, 321.

Hindus, freedom of thought among
the, 108 ; character of their his-
tory, ib.

Hitopadesa, a collection of Sans-
krit fables, 123.

Homeric hymns, the, 181.

Homeric poems, character of the,
176 ; evidences as to the theory
of the Nature-myth furnished
by, 187; evidence as to the
source from which they come,
191.

" How the Sun, the Moon, and the
Wind Went Out to Dinner," a
fairy tale translated from the
Sanskrit, 121.

Hugo, Victor, writings of, 450.

Iceland, settlement of the Teu-
tons in, 270.

462

INDEX.

Iduna, story of, in Norse mythol-
ogy, 282.

Iliad," the, 176.

Immortality, one of the first inti-
mations of, 29.

India, its relation to literature, 14 ;
the epics of, one point in which
they diifer from those of other
nations, 58 ; theology and meta-
physics of, 108.

Indra, the rain hringer, ancient
Aryan god, 19 ; hymns to, 20,
27.

Infinite, doctrine of the, not a
modern one, 53.

Iran, once the name for Persia,
144.

Ireland, in the seventh century, 341.

Italian literature, 410.

Jones, Sir William, 2, 129, 142,
146.

Jotuns, evil beings of Norse my-
thology, 272.

" Judgment of Libussa, the Wise,"
an ancient manuscript of Slavonic
literature, description of, 873.

Juggler, source of the word, 351.

Jurisprudence, comparative, 2.

Kalidasa, a Sanskrit dramatist,
127 ; what the author of, 128.

Kama, a Sanskrit word, significance
and equivalents of, 109,

Kapila, a Sanskrit philosopher. 111.

Kelts, early history of the, 238 ;
the various languages spoken by,
238, 239 ; important character-
istics of, 239 ; religion of, 240 ;
translation of one of their songs
describing transmigration, 241 ;
literature of, 244 ei seq. ; poeti-
cal metre of, 259.

Khiva desert, how formed, 8.

Kralove-Dvor, an ancient manu-
script of Slavonic literature, de-
scription of, 376.

Kshatriya, the second caste among

the Hindus, 44.
Kymi'y, name of the Kelts in

Wales, facts concerning, 242 ;

brilliant civilization of, in sixth

century, 252.

La Fontaine, fables of, 434.
Lamartine, French poet, poetry of

449.
Langlois, 33, 36.

Language, 3 ; the three stages of, 4.
Language, English, words which it

owes to its Keltic element,

254.
Latin hymns of Mediseval litera-
ture, the four most celebrated,

346 ; are a genuine production,

348.
" Lay of Thrym ; or the Hammer

Recovered," translation of an old

Norse ballad, 277.
Lecky, Mr., 343, 446.
Leflocq, M., 240.
Lessing, German poet, writings of,

439.
Lewes, Mr., 210, 212, 214, 216,

217, 220, 345.
Life, daily, among the Hindus, 84 ;

theory of, the five sacraments,

85 ; relief from consequences of,

88.
Literature, unity and continuity of,

1 ; origin of, ib. ; what it owes

to India, 14 ; modern, the rise

of, 405.
Literature, English, what it owes to

the Keltic spirit, 254 ; the Ro-
mantic school in, 446.
Loki, bad gods of Norse mythology,

story of the, 280.
" Lord Nann and the Fairy," a

mythological ballad of the sixth

century, 260.
Louis XIV., the literature of the

age of, 434.
Luther, hymns of, 427.

INDEX.

463

LykoursfQS, the laws of, in Sparta,
226.^

Macaulay, 222.

Mafruussen, Finn, 276.

Maba Bharata, earliest epic poem
of the Brahmanical period, 45 ;
when written and other facts con-
cerning it, 46, 47 ; heroes of,
48 ; interesting description of its
action, 48, et seq. ; passage from,
showing how natural is belief in
immortality, 51; an episode of,
what it resembles, 55.

Mahmoud, Sultan, a great Moham-
medan conqueror, what litera-
ture owes to, 154.

Maine, Sir Henry Sumner, 2.

Mann, laws of, 80 ; extracts from,
81, 82.

Maruts, the storm Avinds, equiva-
lents of, 21 ; hymn to the, ib.

Maurice, Mr., 219.

Maya, doctrine of, what it teaches,
115 ; what it resembles, 116.

Max Muller, 2, 3, 15, 16, 18, 19, 28,
31, 89, 109,111, 113, 114,120,
125, 145, 173, 179, 190, 320,409.

Mediaeval Latin, as distinct from
Classic Latin, 329.

Mediaeval literature, divided into
two classes, 329.

Medici, Lorenzo de, first poet of
Renaissance, 416.

Meistersingers, German minstrels,
account of, 409.

" Menao, The Battle of," tianslation
of a Keltic ballad, 243.

Metaphysics. See Philosophy.

Metempsychosis, doctrine of, how
taught by Brahmans, 39.

Middle Ages, foundation of many
of the romances of the, 252 ;
opening of, 339.

Milton, John, 195 ; the poet of the
Reformation, 428 ; his great
poem, 429.

Mind, human, the earliest utterance
of, 14.

Minerva, interesting discovery con-
cerning, 231.

Minnesingers, German minstrels,
description of, 409.

Minstrels, rise of the, 351 ; the
four divisions into which their
ballads are grouped, id.

Miracle plays of the Middle Ages,
349

Mistletoe, story of the, in Norse
mythology, 281.

Mithras, the Persian's name for the
sun, 148.

Mohammedans, fatalism of, an ex-
tract in illustration of, 167.

Mohl, M., 156.

^loliere, a great French dramatist,
character and quality of his wri-
tings, 433.

ilommseu, 229.

Monks, during the Middle Ages,
330 ; the chronicles of, 340 et seq.

Monkeys, how considered by the
Hindus, 104, 105.

Montalembert, 331, 446.

Morality plavs of the Middle Ages,
350.

Morris, William, 284, 324.

Mourom, Ilia de, a Russian hero,
story of, 380.

Mythology, comparative, 2; conclu-
sions of, 3 ; what it teaches, 9 ;
theory of, confirmed, 12 ; most
interesting discovery of, 251.

" Nala and -Damayanti, the
Story of," translated from the
Sanskrit, 58.

Nibelungen Lied, most celebrated of
old German ballads, its resem-
blance to the Volsung Saga, 323;
the differences between, 324 et
seq.

Nirvana, meaning of, 93.

" Nomeuoe, the Evil Tribute of," a

464

INDEX.

Breton ballad, translation of,
255.

Norse alphabet, 276.

Norsemen, the sacred books of,
270 ; their codes of law and gov-
ernment, 305.

Norse folk-tales, 309.

Norse Kings, the, 306.

Norse mythology, cosmogony of,
271 ; place occupied by women
in, 273 ; gods and goddesses of,
273 etseq. ; most acceptable sac-
rifice of; 283 ; human sacrifice
in, ih. ; spiritual idea in, ib.

Nymph, meaning of the word, 264.

" Ode to the Setting Sun," a Gaelic
ballad, translation of, 264.

Odin, Father and Ruler of Norse
mythology, story of, 273 et seq.

Odysseus, a Greek hero, story of,
187.

Odyssey, the, 176.

Olaf, the Saint, a Norse King, his
methods of religious conversion,
306-309.

Olger, the national hero of Den-
mark, story of, 357.

Omar Khayyam, the modern as-
tronomer-poet of Persia, char-
acter of his writings, 168.

One God, origin of the conception
of, 33 ; hynm to the, 34.

Ormazd, a Persian name for the
Divine Being, 144.

Ossian's poems, published by Mac-
pherson, latest authority con-
cerning, 263.

Panchatantra, a collection of

Sanskrit fables, 123.
Paradise, earthly, Persian belief in,

153.
Parsees, the sect of, 147.
Perikles, a Greek statesman, 227.
Perseus, story of, 193.
Persia, litei-ature of, 154; modern

literature of, 164; modern poets
of, 167 ; popular stories of mod-
ern, 169 ; the historical novel
said to be derived from modern,
170 ; valuable histories of mod-
ern, ib.
Persians, the, 142 ; the various
gods of, 144 ; their idea of im-
mortality as beautifully expressed
by words of the Avesta, 147 ;
their religion, its effect upon
them, 147, 148 ; division of time
into weeks probably derived from,
154.
Petrarca, an Italian poet, poems
of, 413.

Philoktetes, a Greek poem, descrip-
tion of, 206.

Philology, comparative, 2.

Philosophy, Sanskrit, the six sys-
tems of, 110 ; rise of. 111 ; first
system of, when written, and by
whom, ib. ; four periods of, 112 ;
distinguishing features of, 113.

Pindar, the Odes of, 197; brief
account of his life, 198.

Plantagenets, ancient Welsh proph-
ecy concerning the, 250.

Plato, a Greek philosopher, ac-
count of him and his philosophy,
214.

Poetry, scientific and metaphysical
books of Hindus written in, 120.

Pope, Alexander, poetry of, 436.

Pragapati, a Sanskrit name for the
Divine Being, 34.

" Prayer to the Virgin," a poem by
Francois Villon, a Trouvere, 350.

Property, Hindu customs concern-
ing, 83.

Prudentius, a layman of the Mid-
dle Ages, funeral hymn by,
335.

Puck, root of the word, 370.

Puranas, what they are, 118.

Pythagoras, a Greek philosopher,
what he taught, 212.

INDEX.

465

Queen Anne, the period of, its
literature, 435 ; poets, 436 ; the
drama and di-amatists, ib.

Racine, French dramatist, char-
acter and quality of his writings,
433.

Rainbow, idea of the, in Norse
mythology, 282.

Ralston, Mr., 378, 389.

Rama, hero of the " Ramayana,"
95; story of, 101 et seq.

Ramayana, an epic poem of India,
by whom re-written, 95 ; plot
and character of, 96; opening
description of city of Ayodhya,
98 ; is but another expression of
the universal contest between
good and evil, 107.

Rambaud, M., 378, 383, 887.

Ragnarok, twilight of the gods in
Norse mythology, 283.

Red Riding Hood, source of the
fable of, ^286.

Renaissance, the, 415 ; most char-
acteristic expression of, 426 ;
dramatists of, ib.

Reynard the Fox, story of, 364.

Rhyme, as an element of poetry,
how invented, 348.

Riddles, their place in ancient my-
thology, 399, 400.

Rig Veda, the, hymns of, 14, 85 ;
incalculable value of, 15, 18;
ti'anslatiou and publication of,
36 ; what sometimes called, 37 ;
translation of original hymn
from, 110.

Right and wrong, distinction be-
tween, how it arose, 30.

Rishis, religious bards of Hindus,
35.

Rita, name among the Hindus for
the Divine Being, origin and
meaning of the name, 80.

Robin Hood, significance of story
of, 363.

" Roland, the Song of," described
and examined, 353 et seq.

Romans, the, characteristics of,
229 ; proof that they were not
a literary people, 237 ; most fa-
tal influence of Greek literature
upon, ib.

Roman gods, the, 230 ; form of
worship of, 232 ; the Genius, or
tutelary spirit, 233.

Roman literature, character of
early, 233 et seq. ; influence of
conquest of Greece upon, 235.

Ruibnikoff, M., 378.

Russian epic, peculiarity of the, 380.

Russian folk -tales, 389 ; the evil
beings of, 390.

Russian hero ballads, two classes
of, 378 ; the women of, 385.

Russian literature, particular char-
acteristic of, 869 ; richness of,
376 ; mythology of, 377.

Saadi, a great modern Persian
writer, works of, 166; extracts
from, 167.

Sachs, Hans, hymns of, 427.

Ssemund, sacred ballads of the
Norsemen collected by, 270, 312.

" Sakoontala ; or The Lost Ring," a
play translated from Sanskrit,
129-141.

Sakya Muni, 89, 94 ; the name of
Buddha, dates of his birth and
death, 89 ; how he became Buddha,
90.

Sanhita, a name for the Rig "Veda,
37.

Sanskrit language, what is due to,
1 ; importance of, 2 ; discovery
of, and important facts concern-
ing, 2, 3 ; astonishing facts re-
vealed by, 6.

Sanskrit literature, four distinct pe-
riods in, 37 ; important fact con-
cerning, 45 ; spiritual element in,
54 ; date of latest books in, 118 ;

30

466

INDEX.

its relation to science, ib. ; the
drama in, 126 ; number of plays
discovered, 127 ; no historical
element in, 170.

Saranay, Aryan name for the dawn,
20.

Satan, fall of, conception of Per-
sians bearing striking resemblance
to, 153.

Sati, the, a custom among the Hin-
dus of burning widows, 53 ;
prevalent among the Slavs, 371.

Say, source of the word, 275.

Scandinavian literature, when dis-
covered, and its importance, 269 ;
noble qualities of, 298 ; poetry
of, 299 et seq.

Schiller, writings of, 440.

Schlegel, Frederic, his study of
Sanskrit, 3.

Scholasticism, origin of the word,
343 ; extraordinary empire of,
during Middle Ages, ih.

Sciences, those which first arise in
every nation, 119.

Scops, Anglo-Saxon minstrels, 311.

Scott, poetry of, 448.

Semitic races, what thej'^ include, 5.

Serenade, origin of the word, 407.

Servians, the, 403 ; poetry of, ib.

Shah Nameh, name of the Persian
national epic, 155 ; character of
the poem, 156 ; its ballads, 157;
its heroes and heroines, and their
significance, Va% et seq. ; Persian
love and reverence for, 161 ; cu-
rious fact concerning its heroes,
162 ; its influence on our nursery
tales, 169.

Shakespeare, 126, 426 ; fragment
from Sanskrit resembling his
"Seven Ages," 125, 126 ; founda-
tion of his character of Cordelia,
252 ; whence he drew his classical
knowledge, 360.

Siegfried, hero of the Nibelungen
Lied, story of, 324 et seq.

Sigmnnd, a Norse hero, story of,
285.

Sigurd the Volsung, the greatest

,,. Norse hero, 284 ; story of, 286
et seq.

Sita, wife of Rama. 100 ; passages
from the Ramayana, and other
interesting matter concei'ning,
101 et seq. ' ■

Siva, the destroyer, a character
taken by Brahman, 38.

Skidbladnir, ship of the gods, in
Norse mythology, 282.

Slavonic literature, 368; mythology
of, 369 et seq.

Slavs, origin of their name, 6; their
relation to European literature,
366 ; reasons why they have no
political unity, ib. ; most impor-
tant dialect of, 36.7 ; other facts
concerning, 368 ; absence of the
spiritual instinct among, 371.

Sleeping beauty, soui-ce of the nur-
sery tale of the, 291.

Smitri, meaning of, 80.

Snorre Sturleson, a collector of
Norse literature and histoiy,
306.

Sokrates, Greek philosopher, ac-
count of him and his philosophy,
212.

Solar myth, the, in Sanskrit, 23 ;
as seen in the Hindu mythology,
107 ; in Persian mythology,
160; in Greek mythology, 186
et seq. : in Roman mythology,
236 ; in Keltic mythology, 245 ;
in Norse mythology, 287, 302;
in Norse folk -tales, 310 ; among
the Anglo-Saxons, 314 ; among
the Germans, 321, 324, 359;
among the French, 356 ; among
the Danes, 357 ; among the
Scotch, 359 ; among the Eng-
lish, 361, 363 ; among the Slavs,
370 ; among the Russians, 379.

Somar, the Hindu's drink for the

IJ C> \rv^fU''<^ I

.>3i-'--

INDEX.

467

gods ; its personification, 24 ;

hymn to, ib.
*' Song of Igor," the Russian national

epic, description of, 386,
" Song to Call Back the Dead," from

the Russian mythology, 397.
Sophists, the, 212.
Sophoklcs, a Greek dramatist, 207.
Soul, the, compared to a rider in a

chariot, 116, 215.
Spanish drama, 429.
" Spell Against Grief at Parting

From a Dearly Beloved Child,"

from Russian mythology, 395.
Spenser, Edmund, his poems, 423 ;

his characteristics as a poet, 425.
Sruti, meaning of, 80.
Stoics, the, 237.
Sudras, fourth caste among the

Hindus, 45.
Suu, the, personification of. See

Solar Myth.
Swanhild, a solar myth of Norse

mythology, story of, 295.

Tacitus, 268.

Taine, 222, 316, 411, 429.

Tannhauser, story of, 359.

Tasso, Torquato, poet of the Re-
naissance, analysis of his great
poem, " Jerusalem Delivered,"
418 ; his poem " Aminta," 419.

Taylor, Bayard, 439, 441, 443.

Tell, William, story of, as found
among the Norsemen, 302 ; as
found in an old English haUad,
364.

Tennyson, 114.

Teutonic epic, real difference be-
tween it and the Greek, 284.

Teutonic family, what it inclndes,
267 ; its first entrance into Eu-
rope, 268 ; its settlement in Ice-
land, 269 ; evidence of the grim
humor characteristic of, 280.

Teutonic heathendom, complete re-
mains of, 269.

Teutonic mythology, the idea of

paradise in, 184.
Thales of Miletos, father of Greek

philosophy, 211.
Theokntos, a Greek poet, account

of, 228.
Theseus, a Greek hero, story of, 193.
Thomas a Kempis, the mystic writ-
ings called by nnme of, 345.
Thompson, Mr., 39, 42, 111, 112,

117, 123.
Thor, a God in Norse mythology,

story of, 277.
Thonkydidcs, a Greek historian,

account of, 223 ; extract from

his funeral oration on Perikles,

224.
Thursday, origin of the name, 276.
Transmigration, doctrine of, taught

by Buddha, 93 ; as held by the

Norsemen, 276.
Tribonian, the great Roman lawyer

238.
Troubadours, French minstrels,

account of, 406 ; their poetry,

407.
Trouveres, French minstrels, ac-
count of, 407.
Troyes, Chretien de, his story of

the Holy Grail, 253.
True, Thomas, Scottish story of,

359.
Tuesday, origin of the name, 275.
Turanian races, what they include,

and other facts concerning, 4 ;

origin of their name, 156.
Tylor's " Primitive Culture," 398.

Ulphilas, Bishop, his translation

of the Bible into Moeso-Gothic,

270, 319, 342.
Upanishads, mystical doctrines of

the Brahmans, what they are,

113.
Urvasi, a name for the dawn, 28.
Ushas, the dawn, loveliest of Vedic

deities, 26 ; hymns to, 26, 27.

468

INDEX.

Vaisyas, the, third caste among the

Hindus, 44.
Valmiki, re-wrote the Ramayana,

95.
Vampire, the, in Russian folk -tales,

392.
Varuna, the AU-Surrounder, 31;

hymns to, 32.
" Vazuza and Volga," a Russian

folk -tale, 389.
Veda Slavona, a collection of popu-
lar poetry of the Slavs, 372.
Vedas, meaning of the word, 14 ;

distinction between " Rig Veda "

and the thi'ee later ones, 43.
Vega, Lope de, a Spanish dramatist,

430.
Verkovicz, M., 372.
Vesta, noblest and most important

of Latin deities, 232.
Villemain, 198, 331.
ViUemarque, M. Le Vicomte de la,

251, 254, 265.
Vishnu, most human of Hindu

gods, 38.
Viswakarman, a Sanskrit name for

the Divine Being, 34.
Vladimir, the Charlemagne of Rus-
sia, 377.
Vogelweide, Walther von der,

greatest German poet of the

twelfth century, 409.
Volga, a Russian hero, story of,

379.
Voltaire, writings of, 437.

Wace, Robert, his story of King

Arthur, 250.
Wagner, 254, 284 ; his trilogy of

the Volsungs examined histori-

caUy, 296.

Wednesday, story of, in Russian
mythology, 401.

Week, days of the, their personifi-
cation in Russian mythology,
400.

Weird, source of the word, 273.

Weissenbrun Hymn, earliest sacred
poem in Geraian, translation of,
320.

Wheeler, Mr., 46, 47, 48, 51, 57,
93, 96, 97.

Whitney, Professor, 317.

Williams, Monier, 38, 96, 107.

Wilson, Mr., 36.

Wind, personification of the, 23.

Witch stories, theory in explana-
tion of, 393.

" Woe," a Russian folk -tale, 391.

Women, Hindu laws about, 83 ;
seclusion of, amongst the Hindus,
when it commenced, 106.

Wordsworth, 215.

Xenophanes, a Greek philoso-
pher, 212.

Xenophon, Greek historian and
general, account of, 225.

Yama, judge of the dead, a Hindu

god, 30.
Yugas, Hindu name for vast period

of time, 39.

Zarathustra, religious reformer
among Persians, laws of, 146.

Zend, language of Persians, 142,
its literature, 154.

Zeno, the stoic, philosophy of,
220.

Zoroaster, Greek form of Zarathus-
tra, 146.

FR

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