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The Golden Bough, A Study in Magic and Religion
CONTENTS
Chapter VIII.—Departmental Kings of Nature Pp. 1-6
Chapter VIII.—Departmental Kings of Nature Pp. 1-6
The King of the Wood at Nemi probably a departmental king of nature; Kings of Rain in Africa; Kings of Fire and Water in Cambodia.
The King of the Wood at Nemi was likely a regional king of nature; Kings of Rain in Africa; Kings of Fire and Water in Cambodia.
§ 1. Tree-spirits—Great forests of ancient Europe; tree-worship practised by all Aryan races in Europe; trees regarded as animate; tree-spirits, sacrifices to trees; trees sensitive to wounds; apologies for cutting down trees; bleeding trees; trees threatened to make them bear fruit; attempts to deceive spirits of trees and plants; trees married to each other; trees in blossom and rice in bloom treated like pregnant women; trees tenanted by the souls of the dead; trees as the abode, not the body, of spirits; ceremonies at felling trees; propitiating tree-spirits in house-timber; sacred trees the abode of spirits; sacred groves.
§ 1. Tree-spirits—Large forests of ancient Europe; tree-worship practiced by all Aryan cultures in Europe; trees seen as living beings; tree-spirits, offerings made to trees; trees reacting to injuries; apologies given for cutting down trees; bleeding trees; trees threatened to produce fruit; attempts to trick tree and plant spirits; trees paired in marriage; blooming trees and ripening rice treated like pregnant women; trees inhabited by the souls of the deceased; trees as homes, not the physical forms, of spirits; rituals for cutting down trees; honoring tree-spirits in house timber; sacred trees as homes for spirits; sacred groves.
§ 2. Beneficent Powers of Tree-spirits—Tree-spirit develops into anthropomorphic deity of the woods; tree-spirits give rain and sunshine; tree-spirits make crops to grow; the Harvest May and kindred customs; tree-spirits make herds and women fruitful; green boughs protect against witchcraft; influence of tree-spirits on cattle among the Wends, Esthonians, and Circassians; tree-spirits grant offspring or easy delivery to women.
§ 2. Beneficent Powers of Tree-spirits—Tree-spirits evolve into human-like gods of the forest; they provide rain and sunshine; they help crops to grow; the Harvest May and similar traditions; tree-spirits ensure that livestock and women are fertile; green branches offer protection against witchcraft; the impact of tree-spirits on cattle among the Wends, Estonians, and Circassians; tree-spirits bless women with children or smooth childbirth.
Chapter X.—Relics of Tree-worship in Modern Europe Pp. 59-96
Chapter X.—Relics of Tree-worship in Modern Europe Pp. 59-96
May-trees in Europe, especially England; May-garlands in England; May customs in France, Germany, and Greece; Whitsuntide customs in Russia; May-trees in Germany and Sweden; Midsummer trees and poles in Sweden; village May-poles in England and Germany; tree-spirit detached from tree and represented in human form, Esthonian tale; tree-spirit represented simultaneously in vegetable and human form; the Little May Rose; the Walber; Green George; double representation of tree-spirit by tree and man among the Oraons; double representation of harvest-goddess Gauri; W. Mannhardt’s conclusions; tree-spirit or vegetation-spirit represented by a person alone; leaf-clad mummers (Green George, Little Leaf Man, Jack-in-the-Green, etc.); leaf-clad mummers called Kings or Queens (King and Queen of May, Whitsuntide King, etc.); Whitsuntide Bridegroom and Bride; Midsummer Bridegroom and Bride; the Forsaken Bridegroom or Bride; St. Bride in Scotland and the Isle of Man; May Bride or Whitsuntide Bride.
May-trees in Europe, particularly in England; May-garlands in England; May customs in France, Germany, and Greece; Whit Monday customs in Russia; May-trees in Germany and Sweden; Midsummer trees and poles in Sweden; village May-poles in England and Germany; tree spirit detached from the tree and shown in human form, Estonian tale; tree spirit represented in both plant and human form; the Little May Rose; the Walber; Green George; dual representation of the tree spirit by tree and man among the Oraons; dual representation of the harvest goddess Gauri; W. Mannhardt’s conclusions; tree spirit or vegetation spirit represented by one person; leaf-clad performers (Green George, Little Leaf Man, Jack-in-the-Green, etc.); leaf-clad performers referred to as Kings or Queens (King and Queen of May, Whitsuntide King, etc.); Whitsuntide Bridegroom and Bride; Midsummer Bridegroom and Bride; the Forsaken Bridegroom or Bride; St. Bride in Scotland and the Isle of Man; May Bride or Whitsuntide Bride.
Chapter XI.—The Influence of the Sexes on Vegetation Pp. 97-119
Chapter XI.—The Influence of the Sexes on Vegetation Pp. 97-119
The marriage of the King and Queen of May intended to promote the growth of vegetation by homoeopathic magic; intercourse of the sexes practised to make the crops grow and fruit-trees to bear fruit; parents of twins supposed to fertilise the bananas in Uganda; relics of similar customs in Europe; continence practised in order to make the crops grow; incest and illicit love supposed to blight the fruits of the earth by causing drought or excessive rain; traces of similar beliefs as to the blighting effect of adultery and incest among the ancient Jews, Greeks, Romans, and Irish; possible influence of such beliefs on the institution of the forbidden degrees of kinship; explanation of the seeming contradiction of the foregoing customs; indirect benefit to humanity of some of these superstitions.
The marriage of the King and Queen of May aimed to encourage plant growth through homoeopathic magic; sexual activity was practiced to help crops thrive and fruit trees produce fruit; parents of twins were thought to fertilize the bananas in Uganda; remnants of similar customs exist in Europe; abstinence was practiced to promote crop growth; incest and forbidden relationships were believed to negatively affect the earth’s harvests by causing drought or excessive rain; there are hints of similar beliefs about the damaging effects of adultery and incest among ancient Jews, Greeks, Romans, and Irish; these beliefs may have influenced the rules about forbidden degrees of kinship; this explains the apparent contradiction of the customs mentioned; some of these superstitions inadvertently benefited humanity.
Chapter XII.—The Sacred Marriage Pp. 120-170
Chapter 12.—The Sacred Marriage Pp. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
§ 1. Diana as a Goddess of Fertility—Dramatic marriages of gods and goddesses as a charm to promote vegetation; Diana as a goddess of the woodlands; sanctity of holy groves in antiquity; the breaking of the Golden Bough a solemn rite, not a mere piece of bravado; Diana a goddess of the teeming life of nature, both animal and vegetable; deities of woodlands naturally the patrons of the beasts of the woods; the crowning of hunting dogs on Diana’s day a purification for their slaughter of the beasts of the wood; as goddess of the moon, especially the yellow harvest moon, Diana a goddess of crops and of childbirth; as a goddess of fertility Diana needed a male partner.
§ 1. Diana as a Goddess of Fertility—Dramatic marriages of gods and goddesses serve as a charm to encourage plant growth; Diana is seen as a goddess of the woodlands; the sacredness of holy groves in ancient times; the breaking of the Golden Bough was a serious ritual, not just a show of bravado; Diana embodies the vibrant life of nature, both animal and plant; woodland deities are naturally the protectors of the creatures in the woods; crowning hunting dogs on Diana’s day is a way to purify them for their hunting of woodland animals; as the goddess of the moon, particularly the yellow harvest moon, Diana represents crops and childbirth; as a goddess of fertility, Diana required a male counterpart.
§ 2. The Marriage of the Gods—Marriages of the gods in Babylonia and Assyria; marriage of the god Ammon to the Queen of Egypt; Apollo and his prophetess at Patara; Artemis and the Essenes at Ephesus; marriage of Dionysus and the Queen at Athens; marriage of Zeus and Demeter at Eleusis; marriage of Zeus and Hera at Plataea; marriage of Zeus and Hera in other parts of Greece; the god Frey and his human wife in Sweden; similar rites in ancient Gaul; marriages of gods to images or living women among uncivilised peoples; custom of the Wotyaks; custom of the Peruvian Indians; marriage of a woman to the Sun among the Blackfoot Indians; marriage of girls to fishing-nets among the Hurons and Algonquins; marriage of the Sun-god and Earth-goddess among the Oraons; marriage of women to gods in India and Africa; marriage of women to water-gods and crocodiles; virgin sacrificed as a bride to the jinnee of the sea in the Maldive Islands.
§ 2. The Marriage of the Gods—Marriages of the gods in Babylonia and Assyria; the marriage of the god Ammon to the Queen of Egypt; Apollo and his prophetess at Patara; Artemis and the Essenes at Ephesus; the marriage of Dionysus and the Queen in Athens; the marriage of Zeus and Demeter at Eleusis; the marriage of Zeus and Hera at Plataea; the marriage of Zeus and Hera in other parts of Greece; the god Frey and his human wife in Sweden; similar rites in ancient Gaul; marriages of gods to images or living women among uncivilized peoples; the custom of the Wotyaks; the custom of the Peruvian Indians; the marriage of a woman to the Sun among the Blackfoot Indians; the marriage of girls to fishing nets among the Hurons and Algonquins; the marriage of the Sun-god and Earth-goddess among the Oraons; the marriage of women to gods in India and Africa; marriage of women to water-gods and crocodiles; a virgin sacrificed as a bride to the djinn of the sea in the Maldives.
§ 3. Sacrifices to Water-spirits—Stories of the Perseus and Andromeda type; water-spirits conceived as serpents or dragons; sacrifices of human beings to water-spirits; water-spirits as dispensers of fertility; water-spirits bestow offspring on women; love of river-spirits for women in Greek mythology; the Slaying of the Dragon at Furth in Bavaria; St. Romain and the Dragon at Rouen.
§ 3. Sacrifices to Water Spirits—Stories of the Perseus and Andromeda type; water spirits imagined as serpents or dragons; sacrifices of humans to water spirits; water spirits as givers of fertility; water spirits granting children to women; the affection of river spirits for women in Greek mythology; the defeat of the dragon at Furth in Bavaria; St. Romain and the dragon at Rouen.
Chapter XIII.—The Kings of Rome and Alba Pp. 171-194
Chapter XIII.—The Kings of Rome and Alba Pp. 171-194
§ 1. Numa and Egeria—Egeria a nymph of water and the oak, perhaps a form of Diana; marriage of Numa and Egeria a reminiscence of the marriage of the King of Rome to a goddess of water and vegetation.
§ 1. Numa and Egeria—Egeria is a water nymph associated with oaks, possibly a version of Diana; the union of Numa and Egeria reflects the marriage between the King of Rome and a goddess of water and nature.
§ 2. The King as Jupiter—The Roman king personated Jupiter and wore his costume; the oak crown as a symbol of divinity; personation of the dead by masked men among the Romans; the kings of Alba as personifications of Jupiter; legends of the deaths of Roman kings point to their connexion with the thunder-god; local Jupiters in Latium; the oak-groves of ancient Rome; Latian Jupiter on the Alban Mount; woods of Latium in antiquity; Latin worship of Jupiter like the Druidical worship of the oak; sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno; Janus and Carnathe Flamen Dialis and Flaminica as representatives of Jupiter and Juno; marriage of the Roman king to the oak-goddess.
§ 2. The King as Jupiter—The Roman king took on the role of Jupiter and wore his outfit; the oak crown represented divinity; the dead were represented by masked men among the Romans; the kings of Alba were seen as embodiments of Jupiter; stories about the deaths of Roman kings indicate their connection to the thunder-god; local Jupiters in Latium; the oak groves of ancient Rome; the Latian Jupiter on Alban Mount; the woods of Latium in ancient times; Latin worship of Jupiter was similar to the Druidic worship of the oak; the sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno; Janus and Carnathe Flamen Dialis and Flaminica acted as representatives of Jupiter and Juno; the marriage of the Roman king to the oak-goddess.
Chapter XIV.—The King’s Fire Pp. 195-206
Chapter 14.—The King’s Fire Pp. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Sacred marriage of the Fire-god with a woman; legends of the birth of Latin kings from Vestal Virgins impregnated by the fire; Vestal Virgins as wives of the Fire-god; the Vestal fire originally the fire on the king’s hearth; the round temple of Vesta a copy of the old round hut of the early Latins; rude pottery used in Roman ritual; superstitions as to the making of pottery; sanctity of the storeroom at Rome; the temple of Vesta with its sacred fire a copy of the king’s house.
Sacred marriage of the Fire-god with a woman; stories of the birth of Latin kings from Vestal Virgins who became pregnant from the fire; Vestal Virgins as wives of the Fire-god; the Vestal fire originally the fire on the king’s hearth; the round temple of Vesta a replica of the old round hut of the early Latins; simple pottery used in Roman rituals; beliefs about making pottery; the sanctity of the storeroom in Rome; the temple of Vesta with its sacred fire a copy of the king’s house.
Chapter XV.—The Fire-drill Pp. 207-226
Chapter 15 — The Fire Drill Pp. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Vestal fire at Rome rekindled by the fire-drill; use of the fire-drill by savages; the fire-sticks regarded by savages as male and female; fire-customs of the Herero; sacred fire among the Herero maintained in the chief’s hut by his unmarried daughter; the Herero chief as priest of the hearth; sacred Herero fire rekindled by fire-sticks, which are regarded as male and female, and are made from the sacred ancestral tree; the sacred Herero hearth a special seat of the ancestral spirits; sacred fire-sticks of the Herero represent deceased ancestors; sacred fire-boards as family deities among the Koryaks and Chuckchees.
Vestal fire in Rome was rekindled using a fire-drill; savages also used fire-drills. The fire-sticks are seen as male and female by these cultures. The Herero have unique fire customs; their sacred fire is kept in the chief’s hut by his unmarried daughter. The Herero chief acts as the priest of the hearth. The sacred Herero fire is rekindled with fire-sticks, viewed as male and female, made from the sacred ancestral tree. The sacred Herero hearth serves as a special place for the ancestral spirits. The sacred fire-sticks of the Herero symbolize deceased ancestors. The sacred fire-boards are treated as family deities among the Koryaks and Chukchi.
Chapter XVI.—Father Jove and Mother Vesta Pp. 227-252
Chapter XVI.—Father Jove and Mother Vesta Pp. 227-252
Similarity between the fire-customs of the Herero and the ancient Latins; rites performed by the Vestals for the fertility of the earth and the fecundity of cattle; the Vestals as embodiments of Vesta, a mother-goddess of fertility; the domestic fire as a fecundating agent in marriage ritual; newborn children and the domestic fire; reasons for ascribing a procreative virtue to fire; fire kindled by friction by human representatives of the Fire-father and Fire-mother; fire kindled by friction by boy and girl or by man and woman; human fire-makers sometimes married, sometimes unmarried; holy fire and virgins of St. Brigit in Ireland; the oaks of Erin; virgin priestesses of fire in ancient Peru and Mexico; the Agnihotris or fire-priests of the Brahmans; kinds of wood employed for fire-sticks in India and ancient Greece.
Similarity between the fire customs of the Herero and the ancient Latins; rituals performed by the Vestals for the earth's fertility and the fertility of livestock; the Vestals as representations of Vesta, a mother goddess of fertility; the domestic fire as a life-giving force in marriage rituals; newborn children and the domestic fire; reasons for associating a procreative power with fire; fire created by friction by human representatives of the Fire-father and Fire-mother; fire created by friction by a boy and girl or by a man and woman; human fire-makers sometimes married, sometimes single; holy fire and the virgins of St. Brigit in Ireland; the oaks of Erin; virgin priestesses of fire in ancient Peru and Mexico; the Agnihotris or fire priests of the Brahmans; types of wood used for fire sticks in India and ancient Greece.
Chapter XVII.—The Origin of Perpetual Fires Pp. 253-265
Chapter XVII.—The Origin of Perpetual Fires Pp. 253-265
Custom of perpetual fires probably originated in motives of convenience; races reported to be ignorant of the means of making fire; fire probably used by men before they knew how to kindle it; savages carry fire with them as a matter of convenience; Prometheus the fire-bringer; perpetual fires maintained by chiefs and kings; fire extinguished at king’s death.
The custom of keeping perpetual fires likely started for convenience; groups were said to be unaware of how to create fire; people probably used fire before they figured out how to start it themselves; primitive people carried fire with them for convenience; Prometheus, the bringer of fire; perpetual fires kept by leaders and kings; fire put out at the king's death.
Chapter XVIII.—The Succession to the Kingdom in Ancient Latium Pp. 266-323
Chapter XVIII.—The Succession to the Kingdom in Ancient Latium Pp. 266-323
The sacred functions of Latin kings in general probably the same as those of the Roman kings; question of the rule of succession to the Latin kingship; list of Alban kings; list of Roman kings; Latin kingship apparently transmitted in female line to foreign husbands of princesses; miraculous births of kings explained on this hypothesis; marriage of princesses to men of inferior rank in Africa; traces of female descent of kingship in Greece; and in Scandinavia; reminiscence of such descent in popular tales; female descent of kingship among the Picts, the Lydians, the Danes, and the Saxons; traces of female kinship or mother-kin among the Aryans, the Picts, and the Etruscans; mother-kin may survive in royal families after it has been superseded by father-kin among commoners; the Roman kings plebeians, not patricians; the first consuls at Rome heirs to the throne according to mother-kin; attempt of Tarquin to change the line of succession from the female to the male line; the hereditary principle compatible with the elective principle in succession to the throne; combination of the hereditary with the elective principle in succession to the kingship in Africa and Assam; similar combination perhaps in force at Rome; personal qualities required in kings and chiefs; succession to the throne determined by a race; custom of racing for a bride; contests for a bride other than a race; the Flight of the King (Regifugium) at Rome perhaps a relic of a contest for the kingdom and the hand of a princess; confirmation of this theory from the practice of killing a human representative of Saturn at the Saturnalia; violent ends of Roman kings; death of Romulus on the Nonae Caprotinae (7th July), an old licentious festival like the Saturnalia for the fertilisation of the fig; violent deaths of other Roman kings; succession to Latin kingship perhaps decided by single combat; African parallels; Greek and Italian kings may have personated Cronus and Saturn before they personated Zeus and Jupiter.
The sacred roles of Latin kings were probably similar to those of Roman kings. There’s a question about how succession worked in the Latin kingship, a list of Alban kings, and a list of Roman kings. It seems Latin kingship was passed down through the female line to foreign husbands of princesses. The miraculous births of kings can be explained by this idea. There were marriages of princesses to men of lower status in Africa, and signs of female descent in kingship can be found in Greece and Scandinavia. There are echoes of this in popular tales and in the female descent of kingship among the Picts, Lydians, Danes, and Saxons. Traces of female kinship or mother-kin are seen among the Aryans, Picts, and Etruscans. Mother-kin might still exist in royal families even after being replaced by father-kin among commoners. The Roman kings were plebeians, not patricians, and the first consuls in Rome inherited the throne through mother-kin. Tarquin tried to change the line of succession from female to male. The hereditary principle can coexist with the elective principle in succession to the throne, as seen in Africa and Assam; a similar combination might have existed in Rome. Personal qualities were important for kings and chiefs. Succession to the throne was determined by lineage. There was a custom of racing for a bride and other contests for a bride. The Flight of the King (Regifugium) at Rome may be a leftover from a contest for the kingdom and the hand of a princess. This theory gets support from the practice of sacrificing a human representative of Saturn during the Saturnalia. Many Roman kings met violent ends, like Romulus on the Nonae Caprotinae (July 7), which was an old wild festival similar to the Saturnalia meant for fertilizing the fig. Other Roman kings also died violent deaths. The succession to Latin kingship may have been decided through single combat, with parallels in Africa. Greek and Italian kings might have represented Cronus and Saturn before taking on the roles of Zeus and Jupiter.
Chapter XIX.—St. George and the Parilia Pp. 324-348
Chapter XIX.—St. George and the Parilia Pp. 324-348
The early Italians a pastoral as well as agricultural people; the shepherds’ festival of the Parilia on 21st April; intention of the festival to ensure the welfare of the flocks and herds and to guard them against witches and wolves; festival of the same kind still held in Eastern Europe on 23rd April, St. George’s Day; precautions taken by the Esthonians against witches and wolves on St. George’s Day, when they drive out the cattle to pasture for the first time; St. George’s Day a pastoral festival in Russia; among the Ruthenians, among the Huzuls of the Carpathians; St. George as the patron of horses in Silesia and Bavaria; St. George’s Day among the Saxons and Roumanians of Transylvania; St. George’s Day a herdsman’s festival among the Walachians, Bulgarians, and South Slavs; precautions taken against witches and wolves whenever the cattle are driven out to pasture for the first time, as in Prussia and Sweden; these parallels illustrate some features of the Parilia; St. George as a personification of trees or vegetation in general; St. George as patron of childbirth and love; St. George seems to have displaced an old Aryan god of the spring, such as the Lithuanian Pergrubiusk.
The early Italians were both pastoral and agricultural people. The shepherds’ festival of Parilia on April 21 was meant to ensure the well-being of flocks and herds and protect them from witches and wolves. A similar festival is still held in Eastern Europe on April 23, St. George’s Day. On St. George’s Day, Esthonians take precautions against witches and wolves when they drive their cattle out to pasture for the first time. St. George’s Day is also a pastoral festival in Russia, among the Ruthenians and the Huzuls of the Carpathians. St. George is the patron of horses in Silesia and Bavaria. The Saxons and Roumanians of Transylvania also celebrate St. George’s Day, which is a herdsman’s festival among the Walachians, Bulgarians, and South Slavs. Precautions are taken against witches and wolves whenever cattle are driven out to pasture for the first time, as seen in Prussia and Sweden. These parallels highlight certain aspects of the Parilia. St. George represents trees or vegetation in general and is seen as a patron of childbirth and love. St. George appears to have replaced an ancient Aryan god of spring, like the Lithuanian Pergrubiusk.
§ 1. The Diffusion of the Oak in Europe—Jupiter the god of the oak, the sky, and thunder; of these attributes the oak is probably primary and the sky and thunder secondary; Europe covered with oak forests in prehistoric times; remains of oaks found in peat-bogs; ancient lake dwellings built on oaken piles; evidence of classical writers as to oak forests in antiquity; oak-woods in modern Europe.
§ 1. The Diffusion of the Oak in Europe—Jupiter, the god of the oak, the sky, and thunder; among these attributes, the oak is likely the most important, while the sky and thunder come second. Europe was covered in oak forests during prehistoric times; remnants of oaks have been found in peat bogs; ancient lake dwellings were built on oak piles; classical writers provided evidence of oak forests in ancient times; and oak woods still exist in modern Europe.
§ 2. The Aryan God of the Oak and the Thunder—Aryan worship of the oak and of the god of the oak; Zeus as the god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain in ancient Greece; Jupiter as the god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain in ancient Italy; Celtic worship of the oak; Donar and Thor the Teutonic gods of the oak and thunder; Perun the god of the oak and thunder among the Slavs; Perkunas the god of the oak and thunder among the Lithuanians; Taara the god of the oak and thunder among the Esthonians; Parjanya, the old Indian god of thunder, rain, and fertility; gods of thunder and rain in America, Africa, and the Caucasus; traces of the worship of the oak in modern Europe; in the great European god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain, the original element seems to have been the oak.
§ 2. The Aryan God of the Oak and the Thunder—The Aryan reverence for the oak and the deity associated with it; Zeus as the god of the oak, thunder, and rain in ancient Greece; Jupiter as the god of the oak, thunder, and rain in ancient Italy; Celtic veneration of the oak; Donar and Thor, the Germanic gods of oak and thunder; Perun, the oak and thunder god among the Slavs; Perkunas, the oak and thunder god among the Lithuanians; Taara, the oak and thunder god among the Estonians; Parjanya, the ancient Indian god of thunder, rain, and fertility; deities of thunder and rain in America, Africa, and the Caucasus; remnants of oak worship in modern Europe; in the prominent European deity of the oak, thunder, and rain, the original focus seems to have been the oak.
Chapter XXI.—Dianus and Diana Pp. 376-387
Chapter 21.—Dianus and Diana Pp. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
Recapitulation: rise of sacred kings endowed with magical or divine powers; the King of the Wood at Nemi seems to have personified Jupiter the god of the oak and to have mated with Diana the goddess of the oak; Dianus (Janus) and Diana originally dialectically different forms of Jupiter and Juno; Janus (Dianus) not originally a god of doors; double-headed figure of Janus (Dianus) derived from a custom of placing him as sentinel at doorways; parallel custom among the negroes of Surinam; originally the King of the Wood at Nemi represented Dianus (Janus), a duplicate form of Jupiter, the god of the oak, the thunder, and the sky.
Recap: the emergence of sacred kings with magical or divine powers; the King of the Wood at Nemi seems to have embodied Jupiter, the god of the oak, and to have partnered with Diana, the goddess of the oak; Dianus (Janus) and Diana were once different aspects of Jupiter and Juno; Janus (Dianus) was not originally a god of doorways; the two-faced image of Janus (Dianus) came from a practice of placing him as a guard at doorways; a similar practice exists among the Black people of Surinam; initially, the King of the Wood at Nemi represented Dianus (Janus), a counterpart of Jupiter, the god of the oak, thunder, and the sky.
INDEX Pp. 389-417
INDEX Pp. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
CHAPTER VIII
DEPARTMENTAL KINGS OF NATURE
The preceding investigation has proved that the same |Departmental kings of nature.| union of sacred functions with a royal title which meets us in the King of the Wood at Nemi, the Sacrificial King at Rome, and the magistrate called the King at Athens, occurs frequently outside the limits of classical antiquity and is a common feature of societies at all stages from barbarism to civilisation. Further, it appears that the royal priest is often a king, not only in name but in fact, swaying the sceptre as well as the crosier. All this confirms the traditional view of the origin of the titular and priestly kings in the republics of ancient Greece and Italy. At least by shewing that the combination of spiritual and temporal power, of which Graeco-Italian tradition preserved the memory, has actually existed in many places, we have obviated any suspicion of improbability that might have attached to the tradition. Therefore we may now fairly ask, May not the King of the Wood have had an origin like that which a probable tradition assigns to the Sacrificial King of Rome and the titular King of Athens? In other words, may not his predecessors in office have been a line of kings whom a republican revolution stripped of their political power, leaving them only their religious functions and the shadow of a crown? There are at least two reasons for answering this question in the negative. One reason is drawn from the abode of the priest of Nemi; the other from his title, the King of the Wood. If his predecessors had been kings in the ordinary sense, he would surely have been found residing, like the fallen kings of Rome and Athens, in 2the city of which the sceptre had passed from him. This city must have been Aricia, for there was none nearer. But Aricia was three miles off from his forest sanctuary by the lake shore. If he reigned, it was not in the city, but in the greenwood. Again his title, King of the Wood, hardly allows us to suppose that he had ever been a king in the common sense of the word. More likely he was a king of nature, and of a special side of nature, namely, the woods from which he took his title. If we could find instances of what we may call departmental kings of nature, that is of persons supposed to rule over particular elements or aspects of nature, they would probably present a closer analogy to the King of the Wood than the divine kings we have been hitherto considering, whose control of nature is general rather than special. Instances of such departmental kings are not wanting.
The previous investigation has shown that the same Departmental nature experts. union of sacred roles with a royal title we see in the King of the Wood at Nemi, the Sacrificial King in Rome, and the magistrate known as the King in Athens, occurs frequently beyond the limits of classical antiquity and is a common feature in societies at all stages from barbarism to civilization. Moreover, it seems that the royal priest is often a king, not just in name but in reality, wielding both the scepter and the crosier. All this supports the traditional view of the origins of titular and priestly kings in the republics of ancient Greece and Italy. At the very least, by showing that the combination of spiritual and temporal power, remembered in Greco-Italian tradition, actually existed in many places, we have eliminated any doubts about the credibility of that tradition. So, we can now reasonably ask: Could the King of the Wood have originated in a way similar to what the probable tradition suggests for the Sacrificial King of Rome and the titular King of Athens? In other words, could his predecessors have been a line of kings whose political power was stripped away by a republican revolution, leaving them only their religious roles and the remnants of a crown? There are at least two reasons to answer this question negatively. One reason comes from the residence of the priest of Nemi; the other is related to his title, the King of the Wood. If his predecessors had been kings in the usual sense, he would likely have been found living, like the deposed kings of Rome and Athens, in 2the city that had taken his power. This city would have been Aricia, as there was none closer. However, Aricia was three miles away from his forest sanctuary by the lakeshore. If he ruled, it wasn’t in the city, but in the woods. Furthermore, his title, King of the Wood, hardly suggests that he was ever a king in the common sense of the term. More likely, he was a king of nature, specifically of the woods that gave him his title. If we could find examples of what we might call departmental kings of nature—people believed to govern specific elements or aspects of nature—they would probably be a closer analogy to the King of the Wood than the divine kings we’ve been discussing, whose control over nature is more general than specific. Examples of such departmental kings certainly exist.
|Kings of rain in Africa.| On a hill at Bomma near the mouth of the Congo dwells Namvulu Vumu, King of the Rain and Storm.[1] Of some of the tribes on the Upper Nile we are told that they have no kings in the common sense; the only persons whom they acknowledge as such are the Kings of the Rain, Mata Kodou, who are credited with the power of giving rain at the proper time, that is in the rainy season. Before the rains begin to fall at the end of March the country is a parched and arid desert; and the cattle, which form the people’s chief wealth, perish for lack of grass. So, when the end of March draws on, each householder betakes himself to the King of the Rain and offers him a cow that he may make the blessed waters of heaven to drip on the brown and withered pastures. If no shower falls, the people assemble and demand that the king shall give them rain; and if the sky still continues cloudless, they rip up his belly, in which he is believed to keep the storms. Amongst the Bari tribe one of these Rain Kings made rain by sprinkling water on the ground out of a handbell.[2]
Rain Kings of Africa. On a hill at Bomma close to the mouth of the Congo lives Namvulu Vumu, the King of the Rain and Storm.[1] Some of the tribes along the Upper Nile don’t have kings in the usual sense; the only ones they recognize as such are the Kings of the Rain, Mata Kodou, who are believed to have the power to bring rain at the right time, specifically during the rainy season. Before the rains start falling at the end of March, the land is a dry and barren wasteland; and the cattle, which represent the community's main wealth, die from lack of grass. So, as March comes to a close, each household goes to the King of the Rain and offers him a cow so he can make the blessed waters from the heavens pour down on the brown and withered pastures. If no rain falls, the people gather and demand that the king provide them with rain; and if the sky remains clear, they cut open his belly, believing he keeps the storms inside. Among the Bari tribe, one of these Rain Kings created rain by sprinkling water on the ground from a handbell.[2]
|Priesthood of the Alfai.| Among tribes on the outskirts of Abyssinia a similar office exists and has been thus described by an observer. 3“The priesthood of the Alfai, as he is called by the Barea and Kunama, is a remarkable one; he is believed to be able to make rain. This office formerly existed among the Algeds and appears to be still common to the Nuba negroes. The Alfai of the Barea, who is also consulted by the northern Kunama, lives near Tembadere on a mountain alone with his family. The people bring him tribute in the form of clothes and fruits, and cultivate for him a large field of his own. He is a kind of king, and his office passes by inheritance to his brother or sister’s son. He is supposed to conjure down rain and to drive away the locusts. But if he disappoints the people’s expectation and a great drought arises in the land, the Alfai is stoned to death, and his nearest relations are obliged to cast the first stone at him. When we passed through the country, the office of Alfai was still held by an old man; but I heard that rain-making had proved too dangerous for him and that he had renounced his office.”[3]
Priesthood of the Alfai. In tribes on the outskirts of Abyssinia, a similar role exists and has been described by an observer. 3“The priesthood of the Alfai, as the Barea and Kunama call him, is quite remarkable; he is thought to have the ability to make it rain. This role used to be found among the Algeds and seems to still be common among the Nuba people. The Alfai of the Barea, who is also consulted by the northern Kunama, lives alone with his family near Tembadere on a mountain. People bring him offerings of clothing and fruits and cultivate a large field for him. He is like a king, and the position is passed down to his brother or sister’s son. He is believed to summon rain and fend off locusts. However, if he fails to meet the people's expectations and a significant drought hits the land, the Alfai is stoned to death, and his closest relatives are required to throw the first stone at him. When we traveled through the region, an elderly man still held the position of Alfai; however, I heard that rain-making had become too risky for him and that he had stepped down from his role.”[3]
|Kings of Fire and Water in Cambodia.| In the backwoods of Cambodia live two mysterious sovereigns known as the King of the Fire and the King of the Water. Their fame is spread all over the south of the great Indo-Chinese peninsula; but only a faint echo of it has reached the West. Down to a few years ago no European, so far as is known, had ever seen either of them; and their very existence might have passed for a fable, were it not that till lately communications were regularly maintained between them and the King of Cambodia, who year by year exchanged presents with them. The Cambodian gifts were passed from tribe to tribe till they reached their destination; for no Cambodian would essay the long and perilous journey. The tribe amongst whom the Kings of Fire and Water reside is the Chréais or Jaray, a race with European features but a sallow complexion, inhabiting the forest-clad mountains and high tablelands which separate Cambodia from Annam. Their royal functions are of a purely mystic or spiritual order; they have no political authority; they are simple peasants, living by the sweat of 4their brow and the offerings of the faithful. According to one account they live in absolute solitude, never meeting each other and never seeing a human face. They inhabit successively seven towers perched upon seven mountains, and every year they pass from one tower to another. People come furtively and cast within their reach what is needful for their subsistence. The kingship lasts seven years, the time necessary to inhabit all the towers successively; but many die before their time is out. The offices are hereditary in one or (according to others) two royal families, who enjoy high consideration, have revenues assigned to them, and are exempt from the necessity of tilling the ground. But naturally the dignity is not coveted, and when a vacancy occurs, all eligible men (they must be strong and have children) flee and hide themselves. Another account, admitting the reluctance of the hereditary candidates to accept the crown, does not countenance the report of their hermit-like seclusion in the seven towers. For it represents the people as prostrating themselves before the mystic kings whenever they appear in public, it being thought that a terrible hurricane would burst over the country if this mark of homage were omitted. Probably, however, these are mere fables such as commonly shed a glamour of romance over the distant and unknown. A French officer, who had an interview with the redoubtable Fire King in February 1891, found him stretched on a bamboo couch, diligently smoking a long copper pipe, and surrounded by people who paid him no great deference. In spite of his mystic vocation the sorcerer had no charm or talisman about him, and was in no way distinguishable from his fellows except by his tall stature. Another writer reports that the two kings are much feared, because they are supposed to possess the evil eye; hence every one avoids them, and the potentates considerately cough to announce their approach and to allow people to get out of their way. They enjoy extraordinary privileges and immunities, but their authority does not extend beyond the few villages of their neighbourhood. Like many other sacred kings, of whom we shall read in the sequel, the Kings of Fire and Water are not allowed to die a natural death, for that would lower their 5reputation. Accordingly when one of them is seriously ill, the elders hold a consultation and if they think he cannot recover they stab him to death. His body is burned and the ashes are piously collected and publicly honoured for five years. Part of them is given to the widow, and she keeps them in an urn, which she must carry on her back when she goes to weep on her husband’s grave.
Kings of Fire and Water in Cambodia. In the remote areas of Cambodia, there are two enigmatic rulers known as the King of Fire and the King of Water. Their legends spread throughout the southern part of the great Indo-Chinese peninsula, but only a faint whisper of it has reached the West. Until a few years ago, no European, as far as is known, had ever seen either of them; and their existence might have been dismissed as a myth, were it not for the fact that up until recently, communication was regularly maintained between them and the King of Cambodia, who annually exchanged gifts with them. The Cambodian gifts were passed from tribe to tribe until they reached their destination; no Cambodian would undertake the long and dangerous journey. The tribe where the Kings of Fire and Water reside is the Chréais or Jaray, a group with European features but a sallow complexion, living in the forest-covered mountains and high plateaus that separate Cambodia from Annam. Their royal duties are purely mystical or spiritual; they hold no political power; they are simple farmers, working hard and surviving on the offerings of their followers. According to one account, they live in complete solitude, never meeting one another and never seeing another human face. They successively inhabit seven towers perched on seven mountains, and each year they move from one tower to another. People come quietly and leave what is necessary for their sustenance within reach. The kingship lasts seven years, the time required to inhabit all the towers in order; however, many die before their time is complete. The positions are hereditary in one or (according to some) two royal families, who are highly respected, receive assigned revenues, and are exempt from farming. Naturally, this dignity is not sought after, and when there is an opening, all qualified men (who must be strong and have children) flee and hide. Another account, acknowledging the reluctance of the hereditary candidates to take on the crown, does not support the claim of their hermit-like isolation in the seven towers. It describes the people as bowing down before the mystical kings whenever they appear in public, believing that a catastrophic storm would strike the land if this act of respect were omitted. However, these are likely just tales that add a romantic allure to the distant and unknown. A French officer, who met the formidable Fire King in February 1891, found him lying on a bamboo couch, earnestly smoking a long copper pipe, and surrounded by people who showed him little respect. Despite his mystical role, the sorcerer had no charms or talismans with him and was indistinguishable from his peers except for his tall stature. Another writer notes that the two kings are greatly feared because they are believed to possess the evil eye; thus, everyone avoids them, and the rulers habitually cough to announce their arrival and allow people to move aside. They enjoy remarkable privileges and immunities, but their authority is limited to the few villages nearby. Like many other sacred kings, whom we will read about later, the Kings of Fire and Water are not allowed to die a natural death, as that would tarnish their reputation. Therefore, when one of them falls seriously ill, the elders hold a meeting, and if they believe he cannot recover, they stab him to death. His body is burned, and the ashes are reverently collected and publicly honored for five years. Part of the ashes is given to the widow, who keeps them in an urn that she must carry on her back when she goes to mourn at her husband's grave.
|Supernatural powers of the Kings of Fire and Water.| We are told that the Fire King, the more important of the two, whose supernatural powers have never been questioned, officiates at marriages, festivals, and sacrifices in honour of the Yan or spirit. On these occasions a special place is set apart for him; and the path by which he approaches is spread with white cotton cloths. A reason for confining the royal dignity to the same family is that this family is in possession of certain famous talismans which would lose their virtue or disappear if they passed out of the family. These talismans are three: the fruit of a creeper called Cui, gathered ages ago at the time of the last deluge, but still fresh and green; a rattan, also very old but bearing flowers that never fade; and lastly, a sword containing a Yan or spirit, who guards it constantly and works miracles with it. The spirit is said to be that of a slave, whose blood chanced to fall upon the blade while it was being forged, and who died a voluntary death to expiate his involuntary offence. By means of the two former talismans the Water King can raise a flood that would drown the whole earth. If the Fire King draws the magic sword a few inches from its sheath, the sun is hidden and men and beasts fall into a profound sleep; were he to draw it quite out of the scabbard, the world would come to an end. To this wondrous brand sacrifices of buffaloes, pigs, fowls, and ducks are offered for rain. It is kept swathed in cotton and silk; and amongst the annual presents sent by the King of Cambodia were rich stuffs to wrap the sacred sword.
|Magical abilities of the Kings of Fire and Water.| We are told that the Fire King, the more significant of the two, whose supernatural powers have never been doubted, presides over weddings, festivals, and sacrifices in honor of the Yan or spirit. During these events, a special area is designated for him; and the path he takes is covered with white cotton cloths. One reason for keeping the royal position within the same family is that this family possesses certain legendary talismans that would lose their power or vanish if they left the family. There are three talismans: the fruit of a vine called Cui, collected long ago at the time of the last flood, but still fresh and green; a very old rattan that produces flowers that never fade; and finally, a sword containing a Yan or spirit, who constantly guards it and performs miracles with it. The spirit is said to be that of a slave, whose blood accidentally fell on the blade while it was being forged, and who died a voluntary death to atone for his unintentional wrongdoing. Using the first two talismans, the Water King can create a flood that would submerge the entire earth. If the Fire King pulls the magic sword just a few inches from its sheath, the sun is obscured, and people and animals fall into a deep sleep; if he were to fully draw it from the scabbard, the world would come to an end. Sacrifices of buffaloes, pigs, chickens, and ducks are offered to this incredible sword for rain. It is kept wrapped in cotton and silk; among the annual gifts sent by the King of Cambodia were luxurious fabrics to cover the sacred sword.
|Gifts sent by the Kings of Fire and Water to the King of Cambodia.| In return the Kings of Fire and Water sent him a huge wax candle and two calabashes, one full of rice and the other of sesame. The candle bore the impress of the Fire King’s middle finger, and was probably thought to contain the seed of fire, which the Cambodian monarch thus received once a year fresh from the Fire King himself 6This holy candle was kept for sacred uses. On reaching the capital of Cambodia it was entrusted to the Brahmans, who laid it up beside the regalia, and with the wax made tapers which were burned on the altars on solemn days. As the candle was the special gift of the Fire King, we may conjecture that the rice and sesame were the special gift of the Water King. The latter was doubtless king of rain as well as of water, and the fruits of the earth were boons conferred by him on men. In times of calamity, as during plague, floods, and war, a little of this sacred rice and sesame was scattered on the ground “to appease the wrath of the maleficent spirits.” Contrary to the common usage of the country, which is to bury the dead, the bodies of both these mystic monarchs are burnt, but their nails and some of their teeth and bones are religiously preserved as amulets. It is while the corpse is being consumed on the pyre that the kinsmen of the deceased magician flee to the forest and hide themselves for fear of being elevated to the invidious dignity which he has just vacated. The people go and search for them, and the first whose lurking place they discover is made King of Fire or Water.[4]
Gifts delivered by the Kings of Fire and Water to the King of Cambodia. In exchange, the Kings of Fire and Water sent him a massive wax candle and two gourds, one filled with rice and the other with sesame. The candle had the imprint of the Fire King’s middle finger, and it was likely believed to hold the essence of fire, which the Cambodian king received once a year directly from the Fire King himself. 6This sacred candle was kept for spiritual purposes. Upon reaching the capital of Cambodia, it was given to the Brahmans, who stored it with the royal treasures, and used the wax to create tapers that were lit on altars during significant occasions. Since the candle was a special gift from the Fire King, we can assume the rice and sesame were special gifts from the Water King. The Water King was likely also regarded as the king of rain, and the harvest was a blessing granted to humanity by him. During times of disaster, such as plagues, floods, and wars, a small portion of this sacred rice and sesame was scattered on the ground “to calm the anger of the evil spirits.” Unlike the common practice in the country of burying the dead, the bodies of these mystical kings are burned, but their nails, some teeth, and bones are kept as holy relics. When the body is being cremated on the pyre, the relatives of the deceased magician flee to the forest and hide for fear of being elevated to the unwanted position that he just vacated. The community goes looking for them, and the first person they find hiding is crowned as the new King of Fire or Water.[4]
These, then, are examples of what I have called departmental kings of nature. But it is a far cry to Italy from the forests of Cambodia and the sources of the Nile. And though Kings of Rain, Water, and Fire have been found, we have still to discover a King of the Wood to match the Arician priest who bore that title. Perhaps we shall find him nearer home.
These are examples of what I've referred to as the departmental kings of nature. However, it’s a long way from Italy to the forests of Cambodia and the sources of the Nile. And even though we have identified Kings of Rain, Water, and Fire, we have yet to find a King of the Wood to match the Arician priest who held that title. Maybe we’ll find him closer to home.
CHAPTER IX
THE WORSHIP OF TREES
§ 1. Tree-spirits
|Great forests of ancient Europe.| In the religious history of the Aryan race in Europe the worship of trees has played an important part. Nothing could be more natural. For at the dawn of history Europe was covered with immense primaeval forests, in which the scattered clearings must have appeared like islets in an ocean of green. Down to the first century before our era the Hercynian forest stretched eastward from the Rhine for a distance at once vast and unknown; Germans whom Caesar questioned had travelled for two months through it without reaching the end.[5] Four centuries later it was visited by the Emperor Julian, and the solitude, the gloom, the silence of the forest appear to have made a deep impression on his sensitive nature. He declared that he knew nothing like it in the Roman empire.[6] In our own country the wealds of Kent, Surrey, and Sussex are remnants of the great forest of Anderida, which once clothed the whole of the south-eastern portion of the island. Westward it seems to have stretched till it joined another forest that extended from Hampshire to Devon. In the reign of Henry II. the citizens of London still hunted the wild bull and the boar in the woods of Hampstead. Even under the later Plantagenets the royal forests were sixty-eight in number. In the forest of Arden it was said that down to modern times a squirrel might leap from tree to tree for nearly the whole length of 8Warwickshire.[7] The excavation of ancient pile-villages in the valley of the Po has shewn that long before the rise and probably the foundation of Rome the north of Italy was covered with dense woods of elms, chestnuts, and especially of oaks.[8] Archaeology is here confirmed by history; for classical writers contain many references to Italian forests which have now disappeared.[9] As late as the fourth century before our era Rome was divided from central Etruria by the dreaded Ciminian forest, which Livy compares to the woods of Germany. No merchant, if we may trust the Roman historian, had ever penetrated its pathless solitudes: and it was deemed a most daring feat when a Roman general, after sending two scouts to explore its intricacies, led his army into the forest and, making his way to a ridge of the wooded mountains, looked down on the rich Etrurian fields spread out below.[10] In Greece beautiful woods of pine, oak, and other trees still linger on the slopes of the high Arcadian mountains, still adorn with their verdure the deep gorge through which the Ladon hurries to join the sacred Alpheus; and were still, down to a few years ago, mirrored in the dark blue waters of the lonely lake of Pheneus; but they are mere fragments of the forests which clothed great tracts in antiquity, and which at a more remote epoch may have spanned the Greek peninsula from sea to sea.[11]
Ancient European forests. In the spiritual history of the Aryan people in Europe, the worship of trees has been significant. That makes complete sense. At the beginning of history, Europe was covered with massive primeval forests, where the scattered clearings must have looked like islands in a sea of green. Up until the first century BCE, the Hercynian forest stretched eastward from the Rhine for a vast and uncharted distance; Germans whom Caesar questioned had traveled for two months through it without finding the edge.[5] Four centuries later, it was explored by Emperor Julian, and the solitude, gloom, and silence of the forest left a deep impression on his sensitive nature. He claimed he had seen nothing like it in the Roman Empire.[6] In our own country, the wealds of Kent, Surrey, and Sussex are remnants of the great forest of Anderida, which once covered the entire southeastern part of the island. Westward, it seems to have stretched until it connected with another forest that reached from Hampshire to Devon. During the reign of Henry II, the citizens of London still hunted wild bulls and boars in the woods of Hampstead. Even under the later Plantagenets, there were sixty-eight royal forests. In the forest of Arden, it was said that even into modern times a squirrel could leap from tree to tree for nearly the entire length of 8Warwickshire.[7] The excavation of ancient pile-villages in the valley of the Po has shown that long before the rise and likely the founding of Rome, northern Italy was covered with dense woods of elms, chestnuts, and especially oaks.[8] Archaeology supports historical accounts; classical writers reference many Italian forests that have now vanished.[9] As recently as the fourth century BCE, Rome was separated from central Etruria by the feared Ciminian forest, which Livy compared to the woods of Germany. According to the Roman historian, no merchant had ever ventured into its pathless wilderness: it was considered a bold achievement when a Roman general, after sending two scouts to navigate its complexities, led his army into the forest and, reaching a ridge of the wooded mountains, looked down on the lush Etrurian fields below.[10] In Greece, beautiful woods of pine, oak, and other trees still exist on the slopes of the high Arcadian mountains, still embellishing with their greenery the deep gorge through which the Ladon rushes to meet the sacred Alpheus; and until a few years ago, they were still reflected in the dark blue waters of the secluded lake of Pheneus; but they are just remnants of the forests that once covered large areas in ancient times, which may have even stretched across the Greek peninsula from sea to sea in a more distant era.[11]
|Tree-worship practised by all the Aryan races in Europe.| From an examination of the Teutonic words for “temple” Grimm has made it probable that amongst the Germans the 9oldest sanctuaries were natural woods.[12] However this may be, tree-worship is well attested for all the great European families of the Aryan stock. Amongst the Celts the oak-worship of the Druids is familiar to every one,[13] and their old word for a sanctuary seems to be identical in origin and meaning with the Latin némus, a grove or woodland glade, which still survives in the name of Nemi.[14] Sacred groves were common among the ancient Germans, and tree-worship is hardly extinct amongst their descendants at the present day.[15] How serious that worship was in former times may be gathered from the ferocious penalty appointed by the old German laws for such as dared to peel the bark of a standing tree. The culprit’s navel was to be cut out and nailed to the part of the tree which he had peeled, and he was to be driven round and round the tree till all his guts were wound about its trunk.[16] The intention of the punishment clearly was to replace the dead bark by a living substitute taken from the culprit; it was a life for a life, the life of a man for the life of a tree. At Upsala, the old religious capital of Sweden, there was a sacred grove in which every tree was regarded as divine.[17] The heathen Slavs worshipped trees and groves.[18] The Lithuanians were not converted to Christianity till towards the close of the fourteenth century, and amongst them at the date of their conversion the worship of trees was prominent. Some of them revered remarkable oaks and other great shady trees, from which they received oracular responses. Some maintained holy groves about their villages or houses, where even to break a twig would have been a sin. They thought that he who cut a bough in such a grove either died suddenly or was crippled in one of his limbs.[19] Proofs of the prevalence 10of tree-worship in ancient Greece and Italy are abundant.[20] In the sanctuary of Aesculapius at Cos, for example, it was forbidden to cut down the cypress-trees under a penalty of a thousand drachms.[21] But nowhere, perhaps, in the ancient world was this antique form of religion better preserved than in the heart of the great metropolis itself. In the Forum, the busy centre of Roman life, the sacred fig-tree of Romulus was worshipped down to the days of the empire, and the withering of its trunk was enough to spread consternation through the city.[22] Again, on the slope of the Palatine Hill grew a cornel-tree which was esteemed one of the most sacred objects in Rome. Whenever the tree appeared to a passer-by to be drooping, he set up a hue and cry which was echoed by the people in the street, and soon a crowd might be seen running helter-skelter from all sides with buckets of water, as if (says Plutarch) they were hastening to put out a fire.[23]
Tree worship practiced by all Aryan races in Europe. From an analysis of the Teutonic words for “temple,” Grimm has likely shown that among the Germans, the oldest places of worship were natural forests.[12] Regardless, tree-worship is well documented across all the major European families of Aryan descent. Among the Celts, the worship of oaks by the Druids is well known,[13] and their ancient term for a sanctuary seems to be linked in origin and meaning to the Latin némus, which refers to a grove or woodland glade, still seen in the name of Nemi.[14] Sacred groves were common among the ancient Germans, and tree-worship is hardly extinct among their descendants today.[15] The seriousness of that worship in earlier times can be inferred from the brutal punishment imposed by old German laws for anyone who dared to strip bark from a standing tree. The punishment dictated that the offender's navel be cut out and attached to the part of the tree they had damaged, and they would be dragged around the tree until their intestines were wrapped around its trunk.[16] The intention of this punishment was clearly to replace the lost bark with a living substitute taken from the offender; it was a life for a life, a man's life for a tree's life. At Upsala, the ancient religious capital of Sweden, there was a sacred grove where every tree was seen as divine.[17] The pagan Slavs worshipped trees and groves.[18] The Lithuanians didn't convert to Christianity until the late fourteenth century, and at the time of their conversion, tree-worship was significant among them. Some revered remarkable oaks and other large trees, which were believed to provide prophetic messages. Others maintained holy groves near their villages or homes, where even breaking a twig would be considered a sin. They believed that anyone who cut a branch in such a grove would either die suddenly or suffer a physical injury.[19] Evidence of tree-worship being widespread in ancient Greece and Italy is plentiful.[20] For example, at the sanctuary of Aesculapius in Cos, it was forbidden to cut down the cypress trees under a penalty of a thousand drachms.[21] However, perhaps nowhere in the ancient world was this ancient form of religion better preserved than in the heart of the great metropolis itself. In the Forum, the bustling center of Roman life, the sacred fig tree of Romulus was worshipped well into the days of the empire, and its dying trunk was enough to cause panic throughout the city.[22] Additionally, on the slope of the Palatine Hill grew a cornel tree, which was regarded as one of the most sacred things in Rome. Whenever the tree seemed to droop to a passerby, a loud outcry was raised, echoing through the streets, and soon a crowd could be seen rushing from all directions with buckets of water, as if (says Plutarch) they were racing to put out a fire.[23]
|Tree-worship among the Finnish-Ugrian peoples.| Among the tribes of the Finnish-Ugrian stock in Europe the heathen worship was performed for the most part in sacred groves, which were always enclosed with a fence. Such a grove often consisted merely of a glade or clearing with a few trees dotted about, upon which in former times the skins of the sacrificial victims were hung. The central point of the grove, at least among the tribes of the Volga, was the sacred tree, beside which everything else sank into insignificance. Before it the worshippers assembled and the priest offered his prayers, at its roots the victim was sacrificed, and its boughs sometimes served as a pulpit. No wood might be hewn and no branch broken in the grove, and women were generally forbidden to enter it. The 11Ostyaks and Woguls, two peoples of the Finnish-Ugrian stock in Siberia, had also sacred groves in which nothing might be touched, and where the skins of the sacrificed animals were suspended; but these groves were not enclosed with fences.[24] Near Kuopio, in Finland, there was a famous grove of ancient moss-grown firs, where the people offered sacrifices and practised superstitious customs down to about 1650, when a sturdy veteran of the Thirty Years’ War dared to cut it down at the bidding of the pastor. Sacred groves now hardly exist in Finland, but sacred trees to which offerings are brought are still not very uncommon. On some firs the skulls of bears are nailed, apparently that the hunter may have good luck in the chase.[25] The Ostyaks are said never to have passed a sacred tree without shooting an arrow at it as a mark of respect. In many places they hung furs and skins on the holy trees in the forest; but having observed that these furs were often appropriated and carried off by unscrupulous travellers, they adopted the practice of hewing the trunks into great blocks, which they decked with their offerings and preserved in safe places. The custom marks a transition from the worship of trees to the worship of idols carved out of the sacred wood. Within their sacred groves no grass or wood might be cut, no game hunted, no fish caught, not even a draught of water drunk. When they passed them in their canoes, they were careful not to touch the land with the oar, and if the journey through the hallowed ground was long, they laid in a store of water before entering on it, for they would rather suffer extreme thirst than slake it by drinking of the sacred stream. The Ostyaks also regarded as holy any tree on which an eagle had built its nest for several years, and they spared the bird as well as the tree. No greater injury could be done them than to shoot such an eagle or destroy its nest.[26]
Tree worship in Finnish-Ugrian cultures. Among the tribes of Finnish-Ugrian descent in Europe, pagan worship mostly took place in sacred groves, which were always fenced in. These groves often consisted of a clearing with a few scattered trees, where the skins of sacrificed animals were once hung. The central focus of the grove, particularly among the Volga tribes, was the sacred tree, overshadowing everything else. Worshippers gathered before it, and the priest offered prayers, while sacrifices took place at its roots, and its branches sometimes served as a pulpit. No wood could be cut, and no branches could be broken in the grove, and women were generally prohibited from entering. The 11Ostyaks and Woguls, two peoples of the Finnish-Ugrian group in Siberia, also had sacred groves where nothing could be touched, and where the skins of sacrificed animals were hung; however, these were not enclosed by fences.[24] Near Kuopio in Finland, there was a famous grove of ancient moss-covered firs where people made sacrifices and practiced superstitious customs until around 1650, when a determined veteran of the Thirty Years’ War cut it down at the pastor's request. Sacred groves have mostly disappeared in Finland, but sacred trees that receive offerings are still fairly common. Some firs have bear skulls nailed to them, presumably to ensure good luck for hunters.[25] The Ostyaks reportedly never passed a sacred tree without shooting an arrow at it as a sign of respect. In many places, they hung furs and skins on the holy trees in the forest, but after noticing that these furs were often taken by dishonest travelers, they began chopping the trunks into large blocks, which they decorated with offerings and stored in safe places. This practice marks a shift from tree worship to the worship of idols carved from the sacred wood. Within their sacred groves, no grass or wood could be cut, no game could be hunted, no fish caught, and not even a drop of water could be drunk. When they passed through in their canoes, they made sure not to touch the land with their oars, and if the journey through the sacred area was long, they would bring enough water with them, preferring to endure extreme thirst rather than drink from the sacred stream. The Ostyaks also considered any tree with an eagle's nest on it for several years to be holy, protecting both the bird and the tree. The worst thing one could do to them was to shoot that eagle or destroy its nest.[26]
|Trees are regarded by the savage as animate.| But it is necessary to examine in some detail the notions 12on which the worship of trees and plants is based. To the savage the world in general is animate, and trees and plants are no exception to the rule. He thinks that they have souls like his own, and he treats them accordingly. “They say,” writes the ancient vegetarian Porphyry, “that primitive men led an unhappy life, for their superstition did not stop at animals but extended even to plants. For why should the slaughter of an ox or a sheep be a greater wrong than the felling of a fir or an oak, seeing that a soul is implanted in these trees also?”[27] Similarly, the Hidatsa Indians of North America believe that every natural object has its spirit, or to speak more properly, its shade. To these shades some consideration or respect is due, but not equally to all. For example, the shade of the cottonwood, the greatest tree in the valley of the Upper Missouri, is supposed to possess an intelligence which, if properly approached, may help the Indians in certain undertakings; but the shades of shrubs and grasses are of little account. When the Missouri, swollen by a freshet in spring, carries away part of its banks and sweeps some tall tree into its current, it is said that the spirit of the tree cries while the roots still cling to the land and until the trunk falls with a splash into the stream. Formerly the Indians considered it wrong to fell one of these giants, and when large logs were needed they made use only of trees which had fallen of themselves. Till lately some of the more credulous old men declared that many of the misfortunes of their people were caused by this modern disregard for the rights of the living cottonwood.[28] The Iroquois believed that each species of tree, shrub, plant, and herb had its own spirit, and to these spirits it was their custom to return thanks.[29] The Wanika of Eastern Africa fancy that every tree, and especially every coco-nut tree, has its spirit; “the destruction of a cocoa-nut tree is regarded as equivalent to matricide, because that tree gives them life and nourishment, as a mother does her child.”[30] In the Yasawu islands 13of Fiji a man will never eat a coco-nut without first asking its leave—“May I eat you, my chief?”[31] Among the Thompson Indians of British Columbia young people addressed the following prayer to the sunflower root before they ate the first roots of the season: “I inform thee that I intend to eat thee. Mayest thou always help me to ascend, so that I may always be able to reach the tops of mountains, and may I never be clumsy! I ask this from thee, Sunflower-Root. Thou art the greatest of all in mystery.” To omit this prayer would have made the eater of the root lazy, and caused him to sleep long in the morning. We are not told, but may conjecture, that these Indians ascribed to the sunflower the sun’s power of climbing above the mountain-tops and of rising betimes in the morning; hence whoever ate of the plant, with all the due formalities, would naturally acquire the same useful properties. It is not so easy to say why women had to observe continence in cooking and digging the root, and why, when they were cooking it, no man might come near the oven.[32] The Dyaks ascribe souls to trees, and do not dare to cut down an old tree. In some places, when an old tree has been blown down, they set it up, smear it with blood, and deck it with flags “to appease the soul of the tree.”[33] Siamese monks, believing that there are souls everywhere, and that to destroy anything whatever is forcibly to dispossess a soul, will not break a branch of a tree, “as they will not break the arm of an innocent person.”[34] These monks, of course, are Buddhists. But Buddhist animism is not a philosophical theory. It is simply a common savage dogma incorporated in the system of an historical religion. To suppose with Benfey and others that the theories of animism and transmigration current among rude peoples of Asia are derived from Buddhism, is to reverse the facts. 14Buddhism in this respect borrowed from savagery, not savagery from Buddhism.[35] According to Chinese belief, the spirits of plants are never shaped like plants but have commonly the form either of human beings or of animals, for example bulls and serpents. Occasionally at the felling of a tree the tree-spirit has been seen to rush out in the shape of a blue bull.[36] In China “to this day the belief in tree-spirits dangerous to man is obviously strong. In southern Fuhkien it deters people from felling any large trees or chopping off heavy branches, for fear the indwelling spirit may become irritated and visit the aggressor or his neighbours with disease and calamity. Especially respected are the green banyan or ch’îng, the biggest trees to be found in that part of China. In Amoy some people even show a strong aversion from planting trees, the planters, as soon as the stems have become as thick as their necks, being sure to be throttled by the indwelling spirits. No explanation of this curious superstition was ever given us. It may account to some extent for the almost total neglect of forestry in that part of China, so that hardly any except spontaneous trees grow there.”[37]
Trees are viewed by primitive people as being alive. However, it’s important to delve deeper into the beliefs 12 that underpin the worship of trees and plants. For the primitive person, the world is alive, and trees and plants are included. They believe these entities possess souls like their own, and they treat them as such. “They say,” writes the ancient vegetarian Porphyry, “that early humans lived unhappy lives because their superstitions extended beyond animals to even plants. Why should killing an ox or a sheep be seen as a greater wrong than cutting down a fir or an oak, given that these trees also have souls?”[27] Similarly, the Hidatsa Indians of North America believe that every natural object has a spirit, or more accurately, its shade. These shades deserve some consideration or respect, but not all equally. For example, the shade of the cottonwood, the largest tree in the Upper Missouri valley, is thought to have intelligence that can aid the Indians in specific endeavors if approached properly; however, the shades of shrubs and grasses are seen as insignificant. When the Missouri River, swollen by spring floods, erodes its banks and sweeps a tall tree into the water, it's said that the tree’s spirit cries out while the roots still cling to the ground until the trunk splashes into the stream. In the past, the Indians viewed cutting down one of these giants as wrong, and when they needed large logs, they only used trees that had fallen naturally. Until recently, some of the more gullible elders claimed that many of their people’s misfortunes were due to this modern disregard for the rights of the living cottonwood.[28] The Iroquois believed that each type of tree, shrub, plant, and herb had its own spirit, and it was customary for them to express gratitude to these spirits.[29] The Wanika of Eastern Africa believe that every tree, especially every coconut tree, has its spirit; “the destruction of a coconut tree is considered equivalent to matricide, as that tree provides them with life and nourishment, just like a mother does for her child.”[30] In the Yasawu islands 13of Fiji, a person will never eat a coconut without first asking for permission—“May I eat you, my chief?”[31] Among the Thompson Indians of British Columbia, young people would offer a prayer to the sunflower root before they consumed the first roots of the season: “I inform you that I intend to eat you. May you always help me to rise, so that I may always be able to reach the peaks of mountains, and may I never be clumsy! I ask this from you, Sunflower Root. You are the greatest of all in mystery.” Skipping this prayer would make the person who ate the root lazy, leading to them sleeping in longer in the morning. We aren't told, but we can guess that these Indians attributed the sunflower with the sun’s ability to rise above mountain tops and to wake up early; hence anyone who consumed the plant, along with the proper rituals, would naturally acquire those same beneficial traits. It’s harder to understand why women had to maintain purity while cooking and digging up the root, and why no man could come near the oven while it was being cooked.[32] The Dyaks believe trees have souls, and they don’t dare cut down an old tree. In some areas, when an old tree is blown down, they will set it upright, smear it with blood, and decorate it with flags “to appease the soul of the tree.”[33] Siamese monks, who believe that souls exist everywhere and that destroying anything forcibly displaces a soul, will not break a branch off a tree, “just as they would not break the arm of an innocent person.”[34] These monks are Buddhists, but Buddhist animism isn’t a philosophical theory; it’s simply a common primitive belief incorporated into the system of a historical religion. To suggest, as Benfey and others do, that animism and beliefs in rebirth among primitive peoples of Asia are derived from Buddhism is to get it backward. 14Buddhism, in this context, borrowed from primitive beliefs, not the other way around.[35] According to Chinese beliefs, the spirits of plants are never shaped like the plants themselves but usually take the form of either humans or animals, like bulls and serpents. Occasionally, when cutting down a tree, the spirit of the tree has been seen emerging in the form of a blue bull.[36] In China “even today, the belief in tree spirits that are dangerous to humans is evidently strong. In southern Fuhkien, people are deterred from cutting down any large trees or chopping off thick branches for fear that the spirit residing in them may become angered and bring disease or disaster to the offender or their neighbors. The green banyan or ch’îng, the largest trees in that part of China, are especially revered. In Amoy, some individuals even have a strong aversion to planting trees, as they believe that once the stems are as thick as their necks, they will be throttled by the spirits dwelling within. No explanation of this peculiar superstition has ever been provided. It may partly explain the nearly total neglect of forestry in that region of China, resulting in very few trees growing there aside from those that sprout naturally.”[37]
|Particular sorts of trees tenanted by spirits; sacrifices to tree-spirits.| Sometimes it is only particular sorts of trees that are supposed to be tenanted by spirits. At Grbalj in Dalmatia it is said that among great beeches, oaks, and other trees there are some that are endowed with shades or souls, and whoever fells one of them must die on the spot, or at least live an invalid for the rest of his days. If a woodman fears that a tree which he has felled is one of this sort, he must cut off the head of a live hen on the stump of the tree with the very same axe with which he cut down the tree. This will protect him from all harm, even if the tree be one of the animated kind.[38] The silk-cotton trees, which rear their |Silk-cotton trees in West Africa.| enormous trunks to a stupendous height, far out-topping all the other trees of the forest, are regarded with reverence 15throughout West Africa, from the Senegal to the Niger, and are believed to be the abode of a god or spirit. Among the Ewe-speaking peoples of the Slave Coast the indwelling god of this giant of the forest goes by the name of Huntin. Trees in which he specially dwells—for it is not every silk-cotton tree that he thus honours—are surrounded by a girdle of palm-leaves; and sacrifices of fowls, and occasionally of human beings, are fastened to the trunk or laid against the foot of the tree. A tree distinguished by a girdle of palm-leaves may not be cut down or injured in any way; and even silk-cotton trees which are not supposed to be animated by Huntin may not be felled unless the woodman first offers a sacrifice of fowls and palm-oil to purge himself of the proposed sacrilege. To omit the sacrifice is an offence which may be punished with death.[39] |Sycamores in ancient Egypt.| Everywhere in Egypt on the borders of the cultivated land, and even at some distance from the valley of the Nile, you meet with fine sycamores standing solitary and thriving as by a miracle in the sandy soil; their living green contrasts strongly with the tawny hue of the surrounding landscape, and their thick impenetrable foliage bids defiance even in summer to the noonday sun. The secret of their verdure is that their roots strike down into rills of water that trickle by unseen sluices from the great river. Of old the Egyptians of every rank esteemed these trees divine, and paid them regular homage. They gave them figs, raisins, cucumbers, vegetables, and water in earthenware pitchers, which charitable folk filled afresh every day. Passers-by slaked their thirst at these pitchers in the sultry hours, and paid for the welcome draught by a short prayer. The spirit that animated these beautiful trees generally lurked unseen, but sometimes he would shew his head or even his whole body outside the trunk, but only to retire into it again.[40] People in Congo set calabashes of palm-wine at the foot of certain trees for the trees to drink when they are thirsty.[41] The 16|Sacred trees in Africa, Syria, and Patagonia.| Wanika of Eastern Africa pay special honour to the spirits of coco-nut palms in return for the many benefits conferred on them by the trees. To cut down a coco-nut palm is an inexpiable offence, equivalent to matricide. They sacrifice to the tree on many occasions. When a man in gathering the coco-nuts has fallen from the palm, they attribute it to the wrath of the tree-spirit, and resort to the oddest means of appeasing him.[42] The Masai particularly reverence the subugo tree, the bark of which has medical properties, and a species of parasitic fig which they call retete. The green figs are eaten by boys and girls, and older people propitiate the tree by pouring the blood of a goat at the foot of the trunk and strewing grass on the branches.[43] The natives of the Bissagos Islands, off the west coast of Africa, sacrifice dogs, cocks, and oxen to their sacred trees, but they eat the flesh of the victims and leave only the horns, fastened to the trees, for the spirits.[44] In a Turkish village of Northern Syria there is a very old oak-tree which the people worship, burning incense to it and bringing offerings as they would to a shrine.[45] In Patagonia, between the Rio Negro and the Rio Colorado, there stands solitary an ancient acacia-tree with a gnarled and hollow trunk. The Indians revere it as the abode of a spirit, and hang offerings of blankets, ponchos, ribbons, and coloured threads on it, so that the tree presents the aspect of an old clothes’ shop, the tattered, weather-worn garments drooping sadly from the boughs. No Indian passes it without leaving something, if it be only a little horse-hair which he ties to a branch. The hollow trunk contains offerings of tobacco, beads, and sometimes coins. But the best evidence of the sanctity of the tree are the bleached skeletons of many horses which have been killed in honour of the spirit; for the horse is the most precious sacrifice that these Indians can offer. They slaughter the animal also to propitiate the spirits of the deep and rapid 17|Sacrifices to trees.| rivers which they have often to ford or swim.[46] The Kayans of Central Borneo ascribe souls to the trees which yield the poison they use to envenom their arrows. They think that the spirit of the tasem tree (Antiaris toxicaria) is particularly hard to please; but if the wood has a strong and agreeable scent, they know that the man who felled the tree must have contrived by his offerings to mollify the peevish spirit.[47] In some of the Louisiade Islands there are certain large trees under which the natives hold their feasts. These trees seem to be regarded as endowed with souls; for a portion of the feast is set aside for them, and the bones of pigs and of human beings are everywhere deeply imbedded in their branches.[48] Among the Kangra mountains of the Punjaub a girl used to be annually sacrificed to an old cedar-tree, the families of the village taking it in turn to supply the victim. The tree was cut down not very many years ago.[49] On Christmas Eve it is still customary in some parts of Germany to gird fruit-trees with ropes of straw on which the sausages prepared for the festival have lain. This is supposed to make the trees bear fruit. In the Mark of Brandenburg the person who ties the straw round the trees says, “Little tree, I make you a present, and you will make me one.” The people say that if the trees receive gifts, they will bestow gifts in return. The custom, which is clearly a relic of tree-worship, is often observed on New Year’s night or at any time between Christmas and Twelfth Night.[50]
Specific types of trees that are home to spirits; gifts to tree spirits. Sometimes only specific types of trees are believed to be inhabited by spirits. In Grbalj, Dalmatia, it's said that among big beeches, oaks, and other trees, some are believed to have souls or shades. Anyone who cuts one of these trees down is said to either die right there or live the rest of their life as an invalid. If a woodcutter thinks that a tree they cut down was one of these, they need to chop off the head of a live hen on the stump using the same axe they used to fell the tree. This will shield them from harm, even if the tree was indeed one of the enchanted ones.[38] The silk-cotton trees, which tower with their enormous trunks, far exceeding all other trees in the forest, are revered throughout West Africa, from Senegal to Niger, and are thought to house a god or spirit. Among the Ewe-speaking communities on the Slave Coast, the god residing in this forest giant is called Huntin. Not every silk-cotton tree receives this honor; those that do are encircled by a palm-leaf garland, and sacrifices of chickens and sometimes even human beings are tied to the trunk or laid against the tree's base. A tree marked by a palm-leaf garland cannot be cut down or harmed in any way; even those silk-cotton trees not believed to be inhabited by Huntin cannot be felled unless the woodcutter first offers chickens and palm oil to cleanse themselves of the impending sacrilege. Not offering a sacrifice is a crime that could lead to death.[39] Sycamores in ancient Egypt. Across Egypt, near cultivated lands, and even some distance from the Nile Valley, you can find beautiful sycamores standing alone, thriving miraculously in sandy soil; their vibrant green starkly contrasts with the surrounding golden landscape, and their dense foliage withstands the harsh midday sun. Their lushness comes from roots that delve into hidden streams of water flowing from the great river. Long ago, Egyptians of all ranks regarded these trees as divine and paid them regular homage. They offered figs, raisins, cucumbers, vegetables, and water in clay pitchers, which kind people refilled daily. Travelers quenched their thirst with these pitchers during the heat, giving a brief prayer in thanks. The spirit residing in these majestic trees often remained unseen, but sometimes it would reveal its head or even its full form outside the trunk, only to retreat back within.[40] People in Congo leave calabashes of palm-wine at the base of certain trees for the trees to drink when they're thirsty.[41] 16Sacred trees in Africa, Syria, and Patagonia. The Wanika people in Eastern Africa show special respect to the spirits of coconut palms for the many benefits these trees provide. Cutting down a coconut palm is considered a grave offense, akin to matricide. They make offerings to the tree on various occasions. If a man falls while gathering coconuts, they believe it's due to the anger of the tree spirit, and they resort to the strangest rituals to make amends.[42] The Masai hold the subugo tree, whose bark has healing properties, and a kind of parasitic fig known as retete, in high esteem. Boys and girls eat the green figs, and adults appease the tree by pouring goat blood at its base and spreading grass on its branches.[43] The natives of the Bissagos Islands, off the west coast of Africa, sacrifice dogs, roosters, and oxen to their sacred trees, but they consume the flesh of the victims, leaving only the horns attached to the trees as offerings for the spirits.[44] In a Turkish village in Northern Syria, an ancient oak tree is worshipped, with people burning incense and bringing offerings as they would to a shrine.[45] In Patagonia, between the Rio Negro and the Rio Colorado, stands a solitary ancient acacia tree with a twisted, hollow trunk. The indigenous people honor it as a spirit's home and hang offerings like blankets, ponchos, ribbons, and colorful threads on it, making the tree look like a second-hand clothing shop, with worn-out garments sagging from the branches. No Indian passes by without leaving something, even if it's just a bit of horsehair tied to a branch. The hollow trunk contains offerings of tobacco, beads, and sometimes coins. However, the clearest sign of the tree's sacredness is the bleached skeletons of many horses that have been sacrificed to honor the spirit; the horse is the most valued sacrifice these people can offer. They also kill the animal to appease the spirits of the swift, deep rivers they need to cross or swim.[46] The Kayans of Central Borneo believe that the trees producing the poison for their arrows have souls. They think the spirit of the tasem tree (Antiaris toxicaria) is especially hard to satisfy; however, if the wood has a strong, pleasant aroma, they know that the person who cut down the tree must have managed to appease the cranky spirit with their offerings.[47] In some of the Louisiade Islands, there are large trees under which the natives hold their feasts. These trees are perceived as having souls; for a part of the feast is dedicated to them, and pig and human bones are often found deeply embedded in their branches.[48] In the Kangra mountains of Punjab, a girl used to be sacrificed annually to an old cedar tree, with families in the village taking turns to provide the victim. The tree was cut down not too long ago.[49] On Christmas Eve, in some regions of Germany, it's still customary to wrap fruit trees with straw ropes that have held the sausages prepared for the celebration. This is believed to encourage the trees to bear fruit. In Brandenburg, the person wrapping the straw around the trees says, “Little tree, I'm giving you a gift, and you'll give me one in return.” People believe that if the trees receive gifts, they will also give gifts back. This custom, clearly a remnant of tree worship, is often observed on New Year's Eve or anytime between Christmas and Twelfth Night.[50]
18|Trees supposed to be sensitive and to feel wounds.| If trees are animate, they are necessarily sensitive and the cutting of them down becomes a delicate surgical operation, which must be performed with as tender a regard as possible for the feelings of the sufferers, who otherwise may turn and rend the careless or bungling operator. When an oak is being felled “it gives a kind of shriekes or groanes, that may be heard a mile off, as if it were the genius of the oake lamenting. E. Wyld, Esq., hath heard it severall times.”[51] The Ojebways “very seldom cut down green or living trees, from the idea that it puts them to pain, and some of their medicine-men profess to have heard the wailing of the trees under the axe.”[52] Trees that bleed and utter cries of pain or indignation when they are hacked or burned occur very often in Chinese books, even in Standard Histories.[53] Old peasants in some parts of Austria still believe that forest-trees are animate, and will not allow an incision to be made in the bark without special cause; they have heard from their fathers that the tree feels the cut not |Apologies offered to trees for cutting them down.| less than a wounded man his hurt. In felling a tree they beg its pardon.[54] It is said that in the Upper Palatinate also old woodmen still secretly ask a fine, sound tree to forgive them before they cut it down.[55] So in Jarkino the woodman craves pardon of the tree he fells.[56] Before the Ilocanes of Luzon cut down trees in the virgin forest or on the mountains, they recite some verses to the following effect: “Be not uneasy, my friend, though we fell what we have been ordered to fell.” This they do in order not to draw down on themselves the hatred of the spirits who live in the trees, and who are apt to avenge themselves by visiting with grievous sickness such as injure them wantonly.[57] When the Tagalogs of the 19Philippines wish to pluck a flower, they ask leave of the genius (nono) of the flower to do so; when they are obliged to cut down a tree they beg pardon of the genius of the tree and excuse themselves by saying that it was the priest who bade them fell it.[58] Among the Tigre-speaking tribes in the north of Abyssinia people are afraid to fell a green and fruit-bearing tree lest they incur the curse of God, which is heard in the groaning of the tree as it sinks to the ground. But if a man is bold enough to cut down such a tree, he will say to it, “Thy curse abide in thee,” or he will allege that it was not he but an elephant or a rhinoceros that knocked it down.[59] Amongst the Hos of Togoland, in West Africa, when a man wishes to make palm-wine he hires woodmen to fell the trees. They go into the palm-wood, set some meal on the ground and say to the wood, “That is your food. The old man at home sent us to cut you down. We are still children who know nothing at all. The old man at home has sent us.” They say this because they think that the wood is a spirit and that it is angry with them.[60] Before a Karo Batak cuts down a tree, he will offer it betel and apologies; and if in passing the place afterwards he should see the tree weeping or, as we should say, exuding sap, he hastens to console it by sprinkling the blood of a fowl on the stump.[61] The Basoga of Central Africa think that when a tree is cut down the angry spirit which inhabits it may cause the death of the chief and his family. To prevent this disaster they consult a medicine-man before they fell a tree. If the man of skill gives leave to proceed, the woodman first offers a fowl and a goat to the tree; then as soon as he has given the first blow with the axe, he applies his mouth to the cut and sucks some of the sap. In this way he forms a brotherhood with the tree, just as two men become blood-brothers by sucking each 20other’s blood. After that he can cut down his tree-brother with impunity.[62] An ancient Indian ritual directs that in preparing to fell a tree the woodman should lay a stalk of grass on the spot where the blow is to fall, with the words, “O plant, shield it!” and that he should say to the axe, “O axe, hurt it not!” When the tree had fallen, he poured melted butter on the stump, saying, “Grow thou out of this, O lord of the forest, grow with a hundred shoots! May we grow with a thousand shoots!” Then he anointed the severed stem and wound a rope of grass round it.[63]
18Trees are believed to be sensitive and capable of feeling pain. If trees are living beings, they must be sensitive, and cutting them down is a delicate procedure that should be done with as much care as possible for the feelings of the victims, who might otherwise retaliate against a careless or clumsy cutter. When an oak is felled, "it lets out cries or groans that can be heard a mile away, almost as if the spirit of the oak is mourning. E. Wyld, Esq., has heard this several times.”[51] The Ojebways “rarely cut down green or living trees because they believe it causes them pain; some of their medicine-men claim to have heard the trees wailing under the axe.”[52] Stories about trees that bleed and cry out in pain or outrage when damaged or burned are common in Chinese literature, even in official histories.[53] Old villagers in some parts of Austria still believe that forest trees are alive and won't allow any cuts in the bark without a good reason; they learned from their elders that trees feel cuts just like a wounded person feels their injuries. When they chop down a tree, they ask for its forgiveness.[54] It’s said that in Upper Palatinate, old woodcutters also quietly ask a healthy tree for forgiveness before they chop it down.[55] Similarly, in Jarkino, the woodcutter seeks forgiveness from the tree he is about to fell.[56] Before the Ilocanos of Luzon cut down trees in the untouched forest or mountains, they recite lines similar to: “Don’t be upset, my friend, even though we must fell what we’re told to fell.” They do this to avoid angering the spirits living in the trees, who could retaliate by bringing serious illness to those who harm them carelessly.[57] When the Tagalogs of the 19Philippines want to pick a flower, they ask permission from the spirit (nono) of the flower; if they need to cut a tree, they apologize to the spirit of the tree, explaining that it was the priest who ordered them to do so.[58] Among the Tigre-speaking tribes in northern Abyssinia, people fear cutting down a green, fruit-bearing tree because they believe it could bring down God’s curse, which sounds like the tree groaning as it collapses. But if someone is brave enough to fell such a tree, they might say to it, “Your curse stays with you,” or claim that it wasn’t them but an elephant or rhinoceros that knocked it down.[59] Among the Hos of Togoland in West Africa, when someone wants to make palm-wine, they hire woodcutters to chop down the trees. They enter the palm grove, put some meal on the ground, and say to the trees, “This is your food. The old man at home sent us to cut you down. We’re still inexperienced children. The old man at home has sent us.” They say this because they believe the trees are spirits and might be angry with them.[60] Before a Karo Batak man cuts down a tree, he offers it betel and apologies; if he later sees the tree "crying" or, as we would say, oozing sap, he quickly comforts it by sprinkling the stump with the blood of a chicken.[61] The Basoga of Central Africa believe that when a tree is cut, the angry spirit inside it may cause the death of the chief and his family. To avoid this calamity, they consult a medicine-man before cutting a tree. If the medicine-man gives permission, the woodcutter first offers a chicken and a goat to the tree; then, as soon as he makes the first chop with the axe, he applies his mouth to the cut and sucks some of the sap. This act creates a bond with the tree, similar to how two men become blood brothers by sharing blood.[62] An ancient Indian ritual instructs that when preparing to fell a tree, the woodcutter should lay a blade of grass on the spot where the cut will be made, saying, “O plant, protect it!” and he should instruct the axe, “O axe, do not hurt it!” Once the tree has fallen, he pours melted butter on the stump, saying, “Grow out of this, O lord of the forest, grow with a hundred shoots! May we grow with a thousand shoots!” Then he anoints the severed trunk and winds a grass rope around it.[63]
|Bleeding trees.| Again, when a tree or plant is cut it is sometimes thought to bleed. Some Indians dare not cut a certain plant, because there comes out a red juice which they take for the blood of the plant.[64] In Samoa there was a grove of trees which no one dared hew down. Once some strangers tried to do so, but blood flowed from the tree, and the sacrilegious strangers fell ill and died.[65] Down to 1859 there stood a sacred larch-tree at Nauders in the Tyrol which was thought to bleed whenever it was cut; moreover people fancied that the steel pierced the woodman’s body to the same depth that it pierced the tree, and that the wound on his body would not heal until the bark closed over the scar on the trunk. So sacred was the tree that no one would gather fuel or cut timber near it; and to curse, scold, or quarrel in its neighbourhood was regarded as a crying sin which would be supernaturally punished on the spot. Angry disputants were often hushed with the warning whisper, “Don’t, the sacred tree is here.”[66]
Bleeding trees. Once again, when a tree or plant is cut, it’s sometimes believed to bleed. Some Indigenous people refuse to cut a particular plant because a red juice comes out that they think is the plant's blood.[64] In Samoa, there was a grove of trees that no one would dare cut down. One time, some outsiders tried to chop them down, but blood flowed from the trees, and the disrespectful strangers became ill and died.[65] Up until 1859, there was a sacred larch tree in Nauders, Tyrol, that people believed bled when it was cut; they also thought that the steel would pierce the woodcutter's body to the same depth as it pierced the tree, and that the cut on his body wouldn’t heal until the bark closed over the scar on the trunk. The tree was so sacred that no one would gather firewood or cut timber nearby; and cursing, yelling, or arguing in its vicinity was regarded as a serious sin that would be punished in a supernatural way right away. Angry debaters were often silenced with the warning, “Don’t— the sacred tree is here.”[66]
|Trees threatened in order to make them bear fruit.| But the spirits of vegetation are not always treated with deference and respect. If fair words and kind treatment do not move them, stronger measures are sometimes resorted to. The durian-tree of the East Indies, whose smooth stem 21often shoots up to a height of eighty or ninety feet without sending out a branch, bears a fruit of the most delicious flavour and the most disgusting stench. The Malays cultivate the tree for the sake of its fruit, and have been known to resort to a peculiar ceremony for the purpose of stimulating its fertility. Near Jugra in Selangor there is a small grove of durian-trees, and on a specially chosen day the villagers used to assemble in it. Thereupon one of the local sorcerers would take a hatchet and deliver several shrewd blows on the trunk of the most barren of the trees, saying, “Will you now bear fruit or not? If you do not, I shall fell you.” To this the tree replied through the mouth of another man who had climbed a mangostin-tree hard by (the durian-tree being unclimbable), “Yes, I will now bear fruit; I beg you not to fell me.”[67] So in Japan to make trees bear fruit two men go into an orchard. One of them climbs up a tree and the other stands at the foot with an axe. The man with the axe asks the tree whether it will yield a good crop next year and threatens to cut it down if it does not. To this the man among the branches replies on behalf of the tree that it will bear abundantly.[68] Odd as this mode of horticulture may seem to us, it has its exact parallels in Europe. On Christmas Eve many a South Slavonian and Bulgarian peasant swings an axe threateningly against a barren fruit-tree, while another man standing by intercedes for the menaced tree, saying, “Do not cut it down; it will soon bear fruit.” Thrice the axe is swung, and thrice the impending blow is arrested at the entreaty of the intercessor. After that the frightened tree will certainly bear fruit next year.[69] So at the village of Ucria in Sicily, if a tree obstinately refuses to bear fruit, the owner pretends to hew it down. Just as the axe is about to fall, a friend intercedes for the tree, begging him to have patience for one year more, and promising not to interfere again if the culprit has not mended 22his ways by then. The owner grants his request, and the Sicilians say that a tree seldom remains deaf to such a menace. The ceremony is performed on Easter Saturday.[70] In Armenia the same pantomime is sometimes performed by two men for the same purpose on Good Friday.[71] In the Abruzzi the ceremony takes place before sunrise on the morning of St. John’s Day (Midsummer Day). The owner threatens the trees which are slow to bear fruit. Thrice he walks round each sluggard repeating his threat and striking the trunk with the head of an axe.[72] In Lesbos, when an orange-tree or a lemon-tree does not bear fruit, the owner will sometimes set a looking-glass before the tree; then standing with an axe in his hand over against the tree and gazing at its reflection in the glass he will feign to fall into a passion and will say aloud, “Bear fruit, or I’ll cut you down.”[73] When cabbages merely curl their leaves instead of forming heads as they ought to do, an Esthonian peasant will go out into the garden before sunrise, clad only in his shirt, and armed with a scythe, which he sweeps over the refractory vegetables as if he meant to cut them down. This intimidates the cabbages and brings them to a sense of their duty.[74]
Trees are at risk of being forced to bear fruit. But the spirits of plants aren't always treated with care and respect. If gentle words and kind actions don't persuade them, sometimes more extreme measures are taken. The durian tree from the East Indies, which often grows straight up to eighty or ninety feet without branching out, produces a fruit that is incredibly tasty but also has a horrendous smell. The Malays grow this tree for its fruit and have been known to perform a unique ceremony to boost its fertility. Near Jugra in Selangor, there's a small grove of durian trees, and on a selected day, the villagers would gather there. One of the local sorcerers would take a hatchet and strike the trunk of the most unproductive tree, saying, “Will you bear fruit now or not? If you won’t, I’ll chop you down.” The tree would respond through the voice of a man who had climbed a nearby mangosteen tree (since the durian tree is impossible to climb), saying, “Yes, I will bear fruit now; please don’t cut me down.”[67] In Japan, to make trees produce fruit, two men enter an orchard. One climbs a tree while the other stands at the base with an axe. The man with the axe asks the tree if it will provide a good harvest next year and threatens to cut it down if it doesn’t. The man in the branches responds on the tree's behalf that it will produce abundantly.[68] As strange as this farming method may seem to us, it has exact parallels in Europe. On Christmas Eve, many South Slavonian and Bulgarian peasants swing an axe threateningly at a barren fruit tree, while another person standing by pleads for the tree, saying, “Don’t cut it down; it will bear fruit soon.” The axe is swung three times, and each time the plea prevents the axe from falling. After this, the frightened tree usually produces fruit the following year.[69] In the village of Ucria in Sicily, if a tree stubbornly refuses to bear fruit, the owner pretends to chop it down. Just as the axe is about to hit, a friend intercedes for the tree, asking the owner to wait one more year, promising not to bother again if the tree doesn’t change its ways by then. The owner agrees, and Sicilians say that a tree rarely ignores such a threat. This ceremony is done on Easter Saturday.[70] In Armenia, the same performance is sometimes done by two men for the same reason on Good Friday.[71] In the Abruzzi, the ceremony takes place before sunrise on St. John’s Day (Midsummer). The owner threatens trees that are slow to produce. He walks around each sluggish tree three times, repeating his threat and striking the trunk with the axe's head.[72] In Lesbos, if an orange or lemon tree isn’t bearing fruit, the owner might place a mirror in front of it, standing with an axe and looking at the tree’s reflection in the glass. Then, pretending to get angry, he will say loudly, “Bear fruit, or I’ll chop you down.”[73] When cabbages only curl their leaves instead of forming heads like they should, an Estonian peasant goes into the garden before sunrise, dressed only in a shirt, armed with a scythe. He sweeps the scythe over the stubborn vegetables as if he plans to cut them down. This intimidates the cabbages and encourages them to fulfill their role.[74]
|Attempts to deceive the spirits of trees and plants.| If European peasants thus know how to work on the fears of cabbages and fruit-trees, the subtle Malay has learned how to overreach the simple souls of the plants and trees that grow in his native land. Thus, when a bunch of fruit hangs from an aren palm-tree, and in reaching after it you tread on some of the fallen fruit, the Galelareese say that you ought to grunt like a wild boar in order that your feet may not itch. The chain of reasoning seems weak to a European mind, but the natives find no flaw in it. They 23have observed that wild boars are fond of the fruit, and run freely about among it as it lies on the ground. From this they infer that the animal’s feet are proof against the itch which men suffer through treading on the fruit; and hence they conclude that if, by grunting in a natural and life-like manner, you can impress the fruit with the belief that you are a pig, it will treat your feet as tenderly as the feet of his friends the real pigs.[75] Again, pregnant women in Java sometimes take a fancy to eat the wild species of a particular plant (Colocasia antiquorum), which, on account of its exceedingly pungent taste, is not commonly used as food by human beings, though it is relished by pigs. In such a case it becomes the husband’s duty to go and look for the plant, but before he gathers it he takes care to grunt loudly, in order that the plant may take him for a pig, and so mitigate the pungency of its flavour.[76] Again, in the Madiun district of Java there grows a plant of which the fruit is believed to be injurious for men, but not for apes. The urchins who herd buffaloes, and to whom nothing edible comes amiss, eat this fruit also; but before plucking it they take the precaution of mimicking the voices of apes, in order to persuade the plant that its fruit is destined for the maw of these creatures.[77] Once more, the Javanese scrape the rind of a certain plant (Sarcolobus narcoticus) into a powder, with which they poison such dangerous beasts as tigers and wild boars. But the rind is believed not to be a poison for men. Hence the person who gathers the plant has to observe certain precautions in order that its baneful quality may not be lost in passing through his hands. He approaches it naked and creeping on all fours to make the plant think that he is a ravenous beast and not a man, and to strengthen the illusion he bites the stalk. After that the deadly property of the rind is assured. But even when the plant has been gathered and the powder made from it in strict accordance with certain superstitious rules, care is still 24needed in handling the powder, which is regarded as alive and intelligent. It may not be brought near a corpse, nor may a corpse be carried past the house in which the powder is kept. For if either of these things were to happen, the powder, seeing the corpse, would hastily conclude that it had already done its work, and so all its noxious quality would be gone.[78] The Indians of the Upper Orinoco extract a favourite beverage from certain palm-trees which grow in their forests. In order to make the trees bear abundance of fruit the medicine-men blow sacred trumpets under them; but how this is supposed to produce the desired effect does not appear. The trumpets (botutos) are objects of religious veneration; no woman may look on them under pain of death. Candidates for initiation into the mystery of the trumpets must be men of good character and celibate. The initiated members scourge each other, fast, and practise other austerities.[79]
|Efforts to trick the spirits of trees and plants.| If European peasants know how to play on the fears of cabbages and fruit trees, the clever Malays have figured out how to outsmart the simple souls of the plants and trees in their homeland. So, when a cluster of fruit hangs from an aren palm tree, and as you reach for it you step on some fallen fruit, the Galelareese say you should grunt like a wild boar to prevent your feet from itching. This reasoning might seem weak to a European mind, but the locals find it perfectly logical. They have noticed that wild boars enjoy the fruit and roam freely among it as it lies on the ground. From this, they conclude that the boar's feet are immune to the itching that humans experience from stepping on the fruit. Therefore, they believe that if you grunt in a natural, boar-like way, the fruit will treat your feet as gently as it treats the feet of real pigs.[75] Also, pregnant women in Java sometimes crave to eat the wild variety of a specific plant (Colocasia antiquorum), which, because of its extremely strong taste, is not typically consumed by people, though pigs love it. In such situations, the husband is expected to go and search for the plant, but before he picks it, he makes sure to grunt loudly so that the plant thinks he is a pig, reducing the intensity of its flavor.[76] Furthermore, in the Madiun district of Java, there is a plant whose fruit is thought to be harmful to humans but safe for apes. The kids who tend to the buffaloes and will eat anything edible also eat this fruit; however, before picking it, they imitate the sounds of apes to convince the plant that its fruit is meant for those animals.[77] Again, the Javanese grind the rind of a certain plant (Sarcolobus narcoticus) into a powder, which they use to poison dangerous animals like tigers and wild boars. But the rind is believed to be non-poisonous to humans. Therefore, the person gathering the plant must follow specific precautions to ensure its harmful properties are not lost in handling. They approach the plant naked and crawling on all fours to make it think they are a hungry beast and not a human, and to strengthen this illusion, they bite the stalk. After that, the deadly quality of the rind is guaranteed. Even after the plant is harvested and the powder is made according to certain superstitious rules, care is still necessary in handling the powder, which is considered alive and conscious. It cannot be brought near a corpse, nor can a corpse be passed by the house where the powder is kept. For if either of those things happens, the powder, seeing the corpse, would quickly assume it has already fulfilled its purpose, and all its poisonous properties would be lost.[78] The indigenous people of the Upper Orinoco extract a popular drink from certain palm trees that grow in their forests. To make the trees produce more fruit, the shamans blow sacred trumpets beneath them; however, it’s unclear how this is expected to work. The trumpets (botutos) are objects of religious reverence; no woman is allowed to look at them under penalty of death. Those who wish to be initiated into the mysteries of the trumpets must be men of good character and remain celibate. The initiated members whip each other, fast, and practice other forms of austerity.[79]
|Trees married to each other.| The conception of trees and plants as animated beings naturally results in treating them as male and female, who can be married to each other in a real, and not merely a figurative or poetical sense of the word. The notion is not purely fanciful, for plants like animals have their sexes and reproduce their kind by the union of the male and female elements. But whereas in all the higher animals the organs of the two sexes are regularly separated between different individuals, in most plants they exist together in every individual of the species. This rule, however, is by no means universal, and in many species the male plant is distinct from the female. The distinction appears to have been observed by some savages, for we are told that the Maoris “are acquainted with the sex of trees, etc., and have distinct names for the male and female of some trees.”[80] The |Artificial fertilisation of the date-palm.| ancients knew the difference between the male and the female date-palm, and fertilised them artificially by shaking the pollen of the male tree over the flowers of the female.[81] 25The fertilisation took place in spring. Among the heathen of Harran the month during which the palms were fertilised bore the name of the Date Month, and at this time they celebrated the marriage festival of all the gods and goddesses.[82] Different from this true and fruitful marriage of the palm are the false and barren marriages of plants which play a part |Marriages of trees in India.| in Hindoo superstition. For example, if a Hindoo has planted a grove of mangos, neither he nor his wife may taste of the fruit until he has formally married one of the trees, as a bridegroom, to a tree of a different sort, commonly a tamarind-tree, which grows near it in the grove. If there is no tamarind to act as bride, a jasmine will serve the turn. The expenses of such a marriage are often considerable, for the more Brahmans are feasted at it, the greater the glory of the owner of the grove. A family has been known to sell its golden and silver trinkets, and to borrow all the money they could in order to marry a mango-tree to a jasmine with due pomp and ceremony.[83] According to another account of the ceremony, a branch of a bar tree is brought and fixed near one of the mango trees in the grove to represent the bar or bridegroom, and both are wrapt round with the same piece of cloth by the owner of the grove and his wife. To complete the ceremony a bamboo basket containing the bride’s belongings and dowry on a miniature scale is provided; and after the Brahman priest has done his part, vermilion, the emblem of a completed marriage, is applied to the mango as to a bride.[84] Another plant which figures as 26|Marriage of the holy basil.| a bride in Hindoo rites is the tulasi or Holy Basil (Ocymum sanctum). It is a small shrub, not too big to be grown in a large flower-pot, and is often placed in rooms; indeed there is hardly a respectable Hindoo family that does not possess one. In spite of its humble appearance, the shrub is pervaded by the essence of Vishnu and his wife Lakshmi, and is itself worshipped daily as a deity. The following prayer is often addressed to it: “I adore that tulasi in whose roots are all the sacred places of pilgrimage, in whose centre are all the deities, and in whose upper branches are all the Vedas.” The plant is especially a woman’s divinity, being regarded as an embodiment of Vishnu’s wife Lakshmi, or of Rama’s wife Sita, or of Krishna’s wife Rukmini. Women worship it by walking round it and praying or offering flowers and rice to it. Now this sacred plant, as the embodiment of a goddess, is annually married to the god Krishna in every Hindoo family. The ceremony takes place in the month Karttika or November. In Western India they often bring an idol of the youthful Krishna in a gorgeous palanquin, followed by a long train of attendants, to the house of a rich man to be wedded to the basil; and the festivities are celebrated with great pomp.[85] Again, as the wife of Vishnu, the holy basil is married to the Salagrama, a black fossil ammonite which is regarded as an embodiment of Vishnu. In North-Western India this marriage of the plant to the fossil has to be performed before it is lawful to taste of the fruit of a new orchard. A man holding the fossil personates the bridegroom, and another holding the basil represents the bride. After burning a sacrificial fire, the officiating Brahman puts the usual questions to the couple about to be united. Bride and bridegroom walk six times round a small spot marked out in the centre of the orchard.[86] Further, no well is considered lucky until the 27Salagrama has been solemnly wedded to the holy basil, which stands for the garden that the well is intended to water. The relations assemble; the owner of the garden represents the bridegroom, while a kinsman of his wife personates the bride. Gifts are given to the Brahmans, a feast is held in the garden, and after that both garden and well may be used without danger.[87] The same marriage of the sacred fossil to the sacred plant is celebrated annually by the Rajah of Orchha at Ludhaura. A former Rajah used to spend a sum equal to about thirty thousand pounds, being one-fourth of his revenue, upon the ceremony. On one occasion over a hundred thousand people are said to have been present at the rite, and to have been feasted at the expense of the Rajah. The procession consisted of eight elephants, twelve hundred camels, and four thousand horses, all mounted and elegantly caparisoned. The most sumptuously decorated of the elephants carried the fossil god to pay his bridal visit to the little shrub goddess. On such an occasion all the rites of a regular marriage are performed, and afterwards the newly-wedded couple are left to repose together in the temple till the next year.[88] On Christmas 28Eve German peasants used to tie fruit-trees together with straw ropes to make them bear fruit, saying that the trees were thus married.[89]
Trees paired with each other. Thinking of trees and plants as living beings leads us to view them as male and female, who can genuinely marry each other, not just figuratively or poetically. This idea isn't just fantasy; like animals, plants have sexes and reproduce through the combination of male and female elements. However, unlike the higher animals, where the organs of both sexes are usually found in different individuals, most plants have them together within each individual. This isn't always the case, though, as in many plant species, the male and female plants are separate. Some primitive cultures have noticed this distinction. For instance, the Maoris know the sex of trees and have different names for the male and female of certain trees.[80] The Artificial pollination of date palms. ancients recognized the difference between the male and female date palms and would fertilize them artificially by shaking the male tree's pollen over the female flowers.[81] 25Fertilization happened in spring. Among the pagans of Harran, the month when palm trees were fertilized was called the Date Month, and during this time, they held the marriage festival for all the gods and goddesses.[82] Unlike the true and fruitful marriage of palms, there are false and unproductive marriages of plants that feature in Hindu superstition. For example, when a Hindu plants a mango grove, neither he nor his wife can eat the fruit until he officially marries one of the trees, acting as the groom, to a tree of another kind, usually a nearby tamarind tree. If there’s no tamarind, a jasmine will do. The costs of this marriage can be significant, as the more Brahmans that are invited, the greater the honor for the grove's owner. Some families have sold their gold and silver jewelry and borrowed money just to perform a grand marriage between a mango tree and a jasmine.[83] According to another version of the ceremony, a branch of a bar tree is brought and placed next to one of the mango trees to symbolize the bar or groom. Both are then wrapped together in the same piece of cloth by the grove owner and his wife. To complete the ceremony, a bamboo basket holding a miniature bride's belongings and dowry is prepared, and after the Brahman priest conducts his part, vermilion, representing a complete marriage, is applied to the mango like a bride.[84] Another plant that acts as 26| Holy basil marriage. | a bride in Hindu rituals is the tulasi or Holy Basil (Ocymum sanctum). This small shrub can easily fit in a large flower pot and is often found in homes; in fact, almost every respectable Hindu family has one. Despite its modest appearance, the shrub embodies the essence of Vishnu and his wife Lakshmi, and it is worshipped daily as a deity. A common prayer to it is: “I adore that tulasi in whose roots are all the sacred pilgrimage spots, in whose center dwell all the deities, and in whose upper branches lie all the Vedas.” The plant is specifically regarded as a female deity, embodying either Lakshmi, Rama's wife Sita, or Krishna's wife Rukmini. Women worship it by circling it and offering flowers and rice. Each year, this sacred plant, emblematic of a goddess, is married to the god Krishna in every Hindu household. The ceremony occurs in the month of Karttika, or November. In Western India, they often bring an idol of the youthful Krishna in a lavish palanquin, accompanied by a long line of attendants, to a wealthy person's home to be wedded to the basil, and the festivities are celebrated with great splendor.[85] Moreover, as Vishnu's wife, the holy basil is married to the Salagrama, a black fossil ammonite that represents Vishnu. In North-Western India, this marriage must occur before it’s permitted to taste the fruit from a new orchard. One man holds the fossil, acting as the groom, while another man holds the basil as the bride. After lighting a sacrificial fire, the officiating Brahman asks the usual questions of the couple about to be united. They walk around a designated spot in the center of the orchard six times.[86] Additionally, no well is considered auspicious until the Salagrama has been formally married to the holy basil, which symbolizes the garden the well is meant to irrigate. Family members gather; the garden owner plays the role of the groom, while a relative of his wife takes on the role of the bride. Gifts are given to the Brahmans, a feast is organized in the garden, and afterwards, both the garden and the well can be used safely.[87] This same marriage between the sacred fossil and the sacred plant is performed annually by the Rajah of Orchha at Ludhaura. One former Rajah allegedly spent about thirty thousand pounds, roughly one-quarter of his income, on the ceremony. At one point, more than a hundred thousand people are said to have attended the ceremony, being feasted at the Rajah's expense. The procession included eight elephants, twelve hundred camels, and four thousand horses, all lavishly adorned. The most beautifully decorated elephant carried the fossil god to visit the little shrub goddess. During this event, all the rituals of a proper marriage are performed, and afterwards, the newlyweds are left to rest together in the temple until the next year.[88] On Christmas 28Eve, German peasants used to tie fruit trees together with straw ropes to help them bear fruit, believing that this made the trees married.[89]
|Trees in blossom and rice in bloom treated like pregnant women.| In the Moluccas, when the clove-trees are in blossom, they are treated like pregnant women. No noise may be made near them; no light or fire may be carried past them at night; no one may approach them with his hat on, all must uncover in their presence. These precautions are observed lest the tree should be alarmed and bear no fruit, or should drop its fruit too soon, like the untimely delivery of a woman who has been frightened in her pregnancy.[90] So in the East the growing rice-crop is often treated with the same considerate regard as a breeding woman. Thus in Amboyna, when the rice is in bloom, the people say that it is pregnant and fire no guns and make no other noises near the field, for fear lest, if the rice were thus disturbed, it would miscarry, and the crop would be all straw and no grain.[91] The Javanese also regard the bloom on the rice as a sign that the plant is pregnant; and they treat it accordingly, by mingling in the water that irrigates the fields a certain astringent food prepared from sour fruit, which is believed to be wholesome for women with child.[92] In some districts of Western Borneo there must be no talk of corpses or demons in the fields, else the spirit of the growing rice would be frightened and flee away to Java.[93] The Toboongkoos of Central Celebes will not fire a gun in a ricefield, lest the rice should be frightened away.[94] The Chams of Binh-Thuan, in Cochin-China, do not dare to touch the rice in the granary at 29mid-day, because the rice is then asleep, and it would be both rude and dangerous to disturb its noonday slumber.[95] In Orissa growing rice is “considered as a pregnant woman, and the same ceremonies are observed with regard to it as in the case of human females.”[96] In Poso, a district of Central Celebes, when the rice-ears are beginning to form, women go through the field feeding the young ears with soft-boiled rice to make them grow fast. They carry the food in calabashes, and grasping the ears in their hands bend them over into the vessels that they may partake of the strengthening pap. The reason for boiling the rice soft is that the ears are regarded as young children who could not digest rice cooked in the usual way.[97] The Tomori of Central Celebes feed the ripening rice by touching it with the contents of a broken egg.[98] When the grain begins to form, the people of Gayo, a district of northern Sumatra, regard the rice as pregnant and feed it with a pap composed of rice-meal, coco-nut, and treacle, which they deposit on leaves in the middle and at the corners of the field. And when the crop is plentiful and the rice has been threshed, they give it water to drink in a pitcher, which they bury to the neck in the heap of grain.[99]
Trees in bloom and rice fields ready for harvest are cared for like expectant mothers. In the Moluccas, when the clove trees are in bloom, they are treated like pregnant women. No noise is allowed near them, no light or fire may pass by them at night, and no one is allowed to approach while wearing a hat; everyone must remove their hats in their presence. These precautions are in place to prevent the tree from getting scared and not bearing fruit, or from dropping its fruit too early, much like a woman who has lost her baby due to being startled while pregnant.[90] Similarly, in the East, growing rice is often treated with the same care as a pregnant woman. For example, in Amboyna, when the rice is in bloom, the locals say it is pregnant, so they don’t fire guns or create any other loud noises near the fields, fearing that if the rice is disturbed, it might miscarry, resulting in a crop that yields only straw with no grain.[91] The Javanese also view the bloom of rice as a sign that the plant is pregnant, and they treat it with a special astringent food made from sour fruit, which is believed to be beneficial for pregnant women.[92] In certain areas of Western Borneo, talking about corpses or demons in the fields is avoided, as it could frighten the spirit of the growing rice away to Java.[93] The Toboongkoos of Central Celebes won’t fire guns in rice fields for fear of scaring the rice away.[94] The Chams of Binh-Thuan, in Cochin-China, refrain from handling the rice in the granary at noon because it is considered to be sleeping at that time, and disturbing it would be seen as both impolite and dangerous.[95] In Orissa, growing rice is viewed as akin to a pregnant woman, and the same ceremonies are practiced for it as for human females.[96] In Poso, a region in Central Celebes, when the rice grains are starting to form, women go through the fields feeding the small ears with soft-boiled rice to help them grow faster. They carry the food in calabashes, and as they grasp the ears in their hands, they bend them into the vessels so they can enjoy the nourishing pap. The reason for boiling the rice soft is that the ears are seen as young children who cannot digest rice cooked in the regular way.[97] The Tomori of Central Celebes nourish the ripening rice by touching it with the contents of a broken egg.[98] When the grains start to form, the people of Gayo, a district in northern Sumatra, consider the rice to be pregnant and feed it a mixture of rice flour, coconut, and syrup, placing it on leaves in the middle and corners of the field. When the harvest is plentiful and the rice has been threshed, they give it water to drink from a pitcher, which they bury neck-deep in the pile of grain.[99]
|Trees supposed to be tenanted by the souls of the dead.| Sometimes it is the souls of the dead which are believed to animate trees. The Dieri tribe of South Australia regard as very sacred certain trees which are supposed to be their fathers transformed; hence they speak with reverence of these trees, and are careful that they shall not be cut down or burned. If the settlers require them to hew down the trees, they earnestly protest against it, asserting that were they to do so they would have no luck, and might be punished for not protecting their ancestors.[100] Some of the Philippine Islanders believe that the souls of their ancestors are in 30certain trees, which they therefore spare. If they are obliged to fell one of these trees, they excuse themselves to it by saying that it was the priest who made them do it. The spirits take up their abode, by preference, in tall and stately trees with great spreading branches. When the wind rustles the leaves, the natives fancy it is the voice of the spirit; and they never pass near one of these trees without bowing respectfully, and asking pardon of the spirit for disturbing his repose. Among the Ignorrotes, in the district of Lepanto, every village has its sacred tree, in which the souls of the dead forefathers of the hamlet reside. Offerings are made to the tree, and any injury done to it is believed to entail some misfortune on the village. Were the tree cut down, the village and all its inhabitants would inevitably perish.[101] The natives of Bontoc, a province in the north of Luzon, cut down the woods near their villages, but leave a few fine trees standing as the abode of the spirits of their ancestors (anitos); and they honour the spirits by depositing food under the trees.[102] The Dyaks believe that when a man dies by accident, as by drowning, it is a sign that the gods mean to exclude him from the realms of bliss. Accordingly his body is not buried, but carried into the forest and there laid down. The souls of such unfortunates pass into trees or animals or fish, and are much dreaded by the Dyaks, who abstain from using certain kinds of wood, or eating certain sorts of fish, because they are supposed to contain the souls of the dead.[103] Once, while walking with a Dyak through the jungle, Sir Hugh Low observed that his companion, after raising his sword to strike a great snake, suddenly arrested his arm and suffered the reptile to escape. On asking the reason, he was told by the Dyak that the bush in front of which they were standing had been a man, a kinsman of his 31own, who, dying some ten years before, had appeared in a dream to his widow and told her that he had become that particular bamboo-tree. Hence the ground and everything on it was sacred, and the serpent might not be interfered with. The Dyak further related that in spite of the warning given to the woman in the vision, a man had been hardy enough to cut a branch of the tree, but that the fool had paid for his temerity with his life, for he died soon afterwards. A little bamboo altar stood in front of the bush, on which the remnants of offerings presented to the spirit of the tree were still visible when Sir Hugh Low passed that way.[104]
Trees thought to be home to the souls of the deceased. Sometimes, it's said that the souls of the dead animate trees. The Dieri tribe in South Australia consider certain trees sacred, believing they are transformed ancestors; therefore, they speak of these trees with respect and ensure they aren’t cut down or burned. If settlers demand the trees be cut, they adamantly protest, claiming that doing so would bring them bad luck and punishment for failing to protect their ancestors.[100] Some people in the Philippines believe the souls of their ancestors reside in certain trees, which they therefore spare. If they must cut one down, they tell it that the priest made them do it. The spirits prefer to dwell in tall, majestic trees with wide branches. When the wind rustles the leaves, the locals think it’s the spirit’s voice; they never walk near these trees without bowing respectfully and asking the spirit for forgiveness for disturbing its rest. Among the Ignorrotes in Lepanto, each village has its sacred tree, where the souls of the village’s dead ancestors reside. Offerings are made to the tree, and any harm done to it is believed to bring misfortune upon the village. If the tree were cut down, the village and all its people would surely perish.[101] The natives of Bontoc, a province in northern Luzon, clear the woods around their villages but leave some beautiful trees standing as the homes of their ancestors' spirits (anitos); they honor these spirits by leaving food under the trees.[102] The Dyaks believe that if a person dies accidentally, like from drowning, it means the gods are excluding him from paradise. So, instead of burying the body, it is taken into the forest and laid down. The souls of such unfortunate individuals can become trees, animals, or fish, and are feared by the Dyaks, who avoid using certain types of wood or eating specific fish, believing they contain the souls of the dead.[103] Once, while walking through the jungle with a Dyak, Sir Hugh Low noticed that his companion raised his sword to strike a large snake, then suddenly stopped and let the snake go. When he asked why, the Dyak explained that the bush where they were standing had been a man, a relative of his, who had died about ten years earlier and appeared in a dream to his widow, telling her he had become that particular bamboo tree. Thus, the ground and everything on it was sacred, and the serpent couldn’t be harmed. The Dyak further mentioned that despite the warning given in the vision, a man had been bold enough to cut a branch from the tree, but he paid for his recklessness with his life, as he died shortly after. A small bamboo altar stood before the bush, with remnants of offerings made to the spirit of the tree still visible when Sir Hugh Low passed by.[104]
In Corea the souls of people who die of the plague or by the roadside, and of women who expire in childbed, invariably take up their abode in trees. To such spirits offerings of cake, wine, and pork are made on heaps of stones piled under the trees.[105] In China it has been customary from time immemorial to plant trees on graves in order thereby to strengthen the soul of the deceased and thus to save his body from corruption; and as the evergreen cypress and pine are deemed to be fuller of vitality than other trees, they have been chosen by preference for this purpose. Hence the trees that grow on graves are sometimes identified with the souls of the departed.[106] Among the Miao-Kia, an aboriginal race of Southern and Western China, a sacred tree stands at the entrance of every village, and the inhabitants believe that it is tenanted by the soul of their first ancestor and that it rules their destiny. Sometimes there is a sacred grove near a village, where the trees are suffered to rot and die on the spot. Their fallen branches cumber the ground, and no one may remove them unless he has first asked leave of the spirit of the tree and offered him a sacrifice.[107] Among the Maraves of Southern Africa the burial-ground is always regarded as a holy place where neither a tree may be felled nor a beast killed, because everything there is supposed to be tenanted by the souls of 32the dead.[108] Trees supposed to be inhabited by spirits of the dead are reported to be common in Southern Nigeria.[109] Thus in the Indem tribe on the Cross River every village has a big tree into which the souls of the villagers are believed to pass at death. Hence they will not allow these trees to be cut, and they sacrifice to them when people are ill.[110] Other natives of the Cross River say that the big tree of the village is “their Life,” and that anybody who breaks a bough of it will fall sick or die unless he pays a fine to the chief.[111] Some of the mountaineers on the north-west coast of New Guinea think that the spirits of their ancestors live on the branches of trees, on which accordingly they hang rags of red or white cotton, always in the number of seven or a multiple of seven; also, they place food on the trees or hang it in baskets from the boughs.[112] Among the Buryats of Siberia the bones of a deceased shaman are deposited in a hole hewn in the trunk of a great fir, which is then carefully closed up. Thenceforth the tree goes by the name of the shaman’s fir, and is looked upon as his abode. Whoever cuts down such a tree will perish with all his household. Every tribe has its sacred grove of firs in which the bones of the dead shamans are buried. In treeless regions these firs often form isolated clumps on the hills, and are visible from afar.[113] The Lkungen Indians of British Columbia fancy that trees are transformed men, and that the creaking of the branches in the wind is their voice.[114] In Croatia, they say that witches used to be buried under old trees in the forest, and that their souls passed into the trees and left the villagers in peace.[115] A tree that grows on a grave is regarded by the South Slavonian peasant as a sort of fetish. 33Whoever breaks a twig from it hurts the soul of the dead, but gains thereby a magic wand, since the soul embodied in the twig will be at his service.[116] This reminds us of the story of Polydorus in Virgil,[117] and of the bleeding pomegranate that grew on the grave of the fratricides Eteocles and Polynices at Thebes[118]. Similar stories are told far away from the classic lands of Italy and Greece. In an Annamite tale an old fisherman makes an incision in the trunk of a tree which has drifted ashore; but blood flows from the cut, and it appears that an empress with her three daughters, who had been cast into the sea, are embodied in the tree.[119] On the Slave Coast of West Africa the negroes tell how from the mouldering bones of a little boy, who had been murdered by his brother in the forest, there sprang up an edible fungus, which spoke and revealed the crime to the child’s mother when she attempted to pluck it.[120]
In Korea, the souls of people who die from the plague or by the roadside, as well as women who die during childbirth, always take residence in trees. To these spirits, offerings of cake, wine, and pork are made on piles of stones beneath the trees.[105] In China, it has been customary for ages to plant trees on graves to strengthen the soul of the deceased and prevent their body from decaying. Since evergreen cypress and pine are considered more vibrant than other trees, they are preferred for this purpose. Thus, the trees growing on graves are sometimes linked with the souls of the departed.[106] Among the Miao-Kia, an indigenous group in Southern and Western China, a sacred tree stands at the entrance of every village. The villagers believe that the tree is inhabited by the spirit of their first ancestor and that it governs their fate. Sometimes there is a sacred grove nearby where the trees are allowed to decay naturally. Their fallen branches cover the ground, and no one can remove them unless they first seek permission from the spirit of the tree and make an offering.[107] Among the Maraves of Southern Africa, the burial ground is always seen as a holy place where no trees may be cut down and no animals killed, because everything there is believed to house the souls of the dead.32 [108] Trees thought to be inhabited by the spirits of the dead are frequently found in Southern Nigeria.[109] In the Indem tribe along the Cross River, every village has a large tree where it is believed the souls of the villagers pass upon death. For this reason, they do not allow these trees to be cut, and they make sacrifices to them when someone is ill.[110] Other residents of the Cross River say that the village's big tree is “their Life,” and anyone who breaks a branch will fall sick or die unless they pay a fine to the chief.[111] Some mountaineers on the northwest coast of New Guinea believe that the spirits of their ancestors live in the branches of trees, so they hang pieces of red or white cotton on them, always in quantities of seven or multiples of seven. They also place food on the trees or suspend it in baskets from the branches.[112] Among the Buryats of Siberia, the bones of a deceased shaman are placed in a hole carved into the trunk of a large fir, which is then carefully sealed. From that point on, the tree is known as the shaman’s fir and is regarded as his home. Anyone who cuts down such a tree will die along with their entire family. Every tribe has its sacred grove of firs where the bones of dead shamans are buried. In treeless areas, these firs often grow in isolated clusters on hills, visible from a distance.[113] The Lkungen Indians of British Columbia believe that trees are transformed humans, and that the creaking of their branches in the wind is their voice.[114] In Croatia, it is said that witches were buried beneath old trees in the forest, and their souls passed into the trees, leaving the villagers in peace.[115] A tree that grows on a grave is seen by South Slavonian peasants as a kind of talisman. 33 Whoever breaks a twig from it harms the soul of the deceased but gains a magic wand, as the soul contained in the twig will serve them.[116] This brings to mind the story of Polydorus in Virgil,[117] and the bleeding pomegranate that grew on the grave of the brothers Eteocles and Polynices at Thebes.[118] Similar tales are found far from the classic regions of Italy and Greece. In an Annamite story, an old fisherman cuts into the trunk of a tree that has washed ashore, but blood flows from the cut, revealing that an empress and her three daughters, who had been thrown into the sea, embody the tree.[119] On the Slave Coast of West Africa, there are stories of how an edible fungus sprang from the decaying bones of a little boy, who had been killed by his brother in the forest, and that it spoke and revealed the crime to the child's mother when she tried to pick it.[120]
|Trees sometimes conceived not as the body but merely as the abode of spirits.| In most, if not all, of these cases the spirit is viewed as incorporate in the tree; it animates the tree and must suffer and die with it. But, according to another and probably later opinion, the tree is not the body, but merely the abode of the tree-spirit, which can quit it and return to it at pleasure. The inhabitants of Siaoo, an island of the Sangi group in the East Indies, believe in certain sylvan spirits who dwell in forests or in great solitary trees. At full moon the spirit comes forth from his lurking-place and roams about. He has a big head, very long arms and legs, and a ponderous body. In order to propitiate the wood-spirits people bring offerings of food, fowls, goats, and so forth to the places which they are supposed to haunt.[121] The people of Nias think that, when a tree dies, its liberated spirit becomes a demon, which can kill a coco-nut palm by merely lighting on its branches, and can cause the death of all the children in a house by perching on one of the posts that support it. Further, they are of opinion that certain 34trees are at all times inhabited by roving demons who, if the trees were damaged, would be set free to go about on errands of mischief. Hence the people respect these trees, and are careful not to cut them down.[122] On the Tanga coast of East Africa mischievous sprites reside in great trees, especially in the fantastically shaped baobabs. Sometimes they appear in the shape of ugly black beings, but as a rule they enter unseen into people’s bodies, from which, after causing much sickness and misery, they have to be cast out by the sorcerer.[123] The Warramunga tribe of Central Australia believe that certain trees are the abode of disembodied human spirits waiting to be born again. No woman will strike one of these trees with an axe, lest the blow might disturb one of the spirits, who might come forth from the tree and enter her body.[124] In the Galla region of East Africa, where the vegetation is magnificent, there are many sacred trees, the haunts of jinn. Most of them belong to the sycamore and maple family, but they do not all exhale an equal odour of sanctity. The watêsa, with its edible fruit, is least revered; people climb it to get the fruit, and this disturbs the jinn, who naturally do not care to linger among its boughs. The gute tubi, which has no edible fruit, is more sacred. Every Galla tribe has its sacred tree, which is always one individual of a particular species called lafto. When a tree has been consecrated by a priest it becomes holy, and no branch of it may be broken. Such trees are loaded with long threads, woollen bands, and bracelets; the blood of animals is poured on their roots and sometimes smeared on their trunks, and pots full of butter, milk, and flesh are placed among the branches or on the ground under them. In many Galla tribes women may not tread on the shadow of sacred trees or even approach the trees.[125]
Trees are sometimes seen not as physical beings but merely as habitats for spirits. In most, if not all, cases, the spirit is seen as being part of the tree; it energizes the tree and must endure the tree's suffering and death. However, according to another likely later belief, the tree is not the essence, but just the dwelling of the tree-spirit, which can leave and return as it wishes. The people of Siaoo, an island in the Sangi group in the East Indies, believe in certain forest spirits who live in woods or in large solitary trees. During a full moon, the spirit emerges from its hiding place and wanders around. It has a large head, very long arms and legs, and a hefty body. To please the wood-spirits, people offer food, chickens, goats, and similar items at the places they are thought to inhabit.[121] The inhabitants of Nias believe that when a tree dies, its freed spirit turns into a demon, which can kill a coconut palm just by landing on its branches, and can cause the deaths of all the children in a house simply by perching on one of the posts supporting it. Additionally, they believe certain 34trees are always inhabited by wandering demons who, if the trees are harmed, would be released to cause mischief. Thus, the residents show respect for these trees and are careful not to cut them down.[122] On the Tanga coast of East Africa, troublesome spirits dwell in large trees, especially in oddly-shaped baobabs. Sometimes they appear as ugly black figures, but generally, they enter unseen into people's bodies, from which, after causing much sickness and suffering, they need to be expelled by a sorcerer.[123] The Warramunga tribe of Central Australia believes certain trees are homes for disembodied human spirits waiting to be born again. No woman will hit one of these trees with an axe, fearing that the strike might disturb one of the spirits, who might then emerge from the tree and enter her body.[124] In the Galla region of East Africa, known for its stunning vegetation, there are many sacred trees, the places where jinn reside. Most are sycamore and maple types, but they don’t all have the same level of sanctity. The watêsa, with its edible fruit, is the least revered; people climb it to gather fruit, which disturbs the jinn, who understandably do not want to stay among its branches. The gute tubi, which has no edible fruit, is considered more sacred. Every Galla tribe has its own sacred tree, always a specific type known as lafto. Once a tree has been blessed by a priest, it becomes holy, and no branch may be broken. These trees are adorned with long threads, wool bands, and bracelets; animal blood is poured on their roots and sometimes spread on their trunks, and pots filled with butter, milk, and meat are placed in their branches or on the ground beneath them. In many Galla tribes, women are not allowed to step on the shadow of sacred trees or even get close to them.[125]
|Ceremonies at felling trees.| Not a few ceremonies observed at cutting down haunted trees are based on the belief that the spirits have it in their 35power to quit the trees at pleasure or in case of need. Thus when the Pelew Islanders are felling a tree, they conjure the spirit of the tree to leave it and settle on another.[126] The wily negro of the Slave Coast, who wishes to fell an ashorin tree, but knows that he cannot do it so long as the spirit remains in the tree, places a little palm-oil on the ground as a bait, and then, when the unsuspecting spirit has quitted the tree to partake of this dainty, hastens to cut down its late abode.[127] The Alfoors of Poso, in Central Celebes, believe that great trees are inhabited by demons in human form, and the taller the tree the more powerful the demon. Accordingly they are careful not to fell such trees, and they leave offerings at the foot of them for the spirits. But sometimes, when they are clearing land for cultivation, it becomes necessary to cut down the trees which cumber it. In that case the Alfoor will call to the demon of the tree and beseech him to leave his abode and go elsewhere, and he deposits food under the tree as provision for the spirit on his journey. Then, and not till then, he may fell the tree. Woe to the luckless wight who should turn a tree-spirit out of his house without giving him due notice![128] When the Toboongkoos of Central Celebes are about to clear a piece of forest in order to plant rice, they build a tiny house and furnish it with tiny clothes and some food and gold. Then they call together all the spirits of the wood, offer them the little house with its contents, and beseech them to quit the spot. After that they may safely cut down the wood without fearing to wound themselves in so doing.[129] Before the Tomori of Central Celebes fell a tall tree they lay a quid of betel at its foot, and invite the spirit who dwells in the tree to change his lodging; moreover, they set a little ladder against the trunk to enable him to descend with safety and comfort.[130] 36The Sundanese of the Eastern Archipelago drive golden or silver nails into the trunk of a sacred tree for the sake of expelling the tree-spirit before they hew down his abode.[131] They seem to think that, though the nails will hurt him, his vanity will be soothed by the reflection that they are of gold or silver. In Rotti, an island to the south of Timor, when they fell a tree to make a coffin, they sacrifice a dog as compensation to the tree-spirit whose property they are thus making free with.[132] Before the Gayos of Northern Sumatra clear a piece of forest for the purpose of planting tobacco or sugar-cane, they offer a quid of betel to the spirit whom they call the Lord of the Wood, and beg his leave to quarter themselves on his domain.[133] The Mandelings of Sumatra endeavour to lay the blame of all such misdeeds at the door of the Dutch authorities. Thus when a man is cutting a road through a forest and has to fell a tall tree which blocks the way, he will not begin to ply his axe until he has said: “Spirit who lodgest in this tree, take it not ill that I cut down thy dwelling, for it is done at no wish of mine but by order of the Controller.” And when he wishes to clear a piece of forest-land for cultivation, it is necessary that he should come to a satisfactory understanding with the woodland spirits who live there before he lays low their leafy dwellings. For this purpose he goes to the middle of the plot of ground, stoops down, and pretends to pick up a letter. Then unfolding a bit of paper he reads aloud an imaginary letter from the Dutch Government, in which he is strictly enjoined to set about clearing the land without delay. Having done so, he says: “You hear that, spirits. I must begin clearing at once, or I shall be hanged.”[134] When the Tagales of the Philippines are about to fell a tree which they believe to be inhabited by a spirit, they excuse themselves to the spirit, saying: “The priest has 37ordered us to do it; the fault is not ours, nor the will either.”[135] There is a certain tree called rara which the Dyaks believe to be inhabited by a spirit. Before they cut down one of these trees they strike an axe into the trunk, leave it there, and call upon the spirit either to quit his dwelling or to give them a sign that he does not wish it to be meddled with. Then they go home. Next day they visit the tree, and if they find the axe still sticking in the trunk, they can fell the tree without danger; there is no spirit in it, or he would certainly have ejected the axe from his abode. But if they find the axe lying on the ground, they know that the tree is inhabited and they will not fell it; for it must surely have been the spirit of the tree in person who expelled the intrusive axe. Some sceptical Europeans, however, argue that what casts out the axe is strychnine in the sap rather than the tree-spirit. They say that if the sap is running, the axe must necessarily be forced out by the action of heat and the expansion of the exuding gutta; whereas if the axe remains in the trunk, this only shews that the tree is not vigorous but ready to die.[136]
Tree-felling ceremonies. Many ceremonies practiced when cutting down haunted trees stem from the belief that spirits can leave the trees whenever they choose or when needed. For instance, when the Pelew Islanders are about to fell a tree, they summon the spirit of the tree to depart and settle elsewhere.[126] The crafty person from the Slave Coast, wanting to fell an ashorin tree but knowing he can't do so while the spirit is still there, places a bit of palm oil on the ground as bait and, when the unsuspecting spirit goes to enjoy the treat, quickly cuts down the tree.[127] The Alfoors of Poso, in Central Celebes, believe that large trees are inhabited by demons in human form, with the strength of the demon increasing with the tree's height. Therefore, they avoid cutting down such trees and leave offerings at their bases for the spirits. However, when clearing land for farming, they sometimes must cut these trees down. In that case, the Alfoor will call out to the demon of the tree, asking it to leave and go somewhere else, and they will place food at the base of the tree as provisions for the spirit's journey. Only after that can they cut down the tree. Misfortune awaits anyone who tries to evict a tree spirit without proper notice![128] When the Toboongkoos of Central Celebes prepare to clear a section of forest to plant rice, they build a small house, furnish it with miniature clothes, food, and gold. Then they gather all the spirits of the woods, offer them the little house and its contents, and ask them to leave the area. After this, they can safely cut down the trees without fear of injury.[129] Before the Tomori of Central Celebes chop down a tall tree, they place a quid of betel at its base and invite the spirit residing in the tree to relocate. They also set up a small ladder against the trunk to help the spirit descend safely and comfortably.[130] 36The Sundanese of the Eastern Archipelago drive golden or silver nails into the trunk of a sacred tree to drive away the tree spirit before felling it.[131] They seem to think that even though the nails might hurt him, his vanity will be pleased by their golden or silver appearance. In Rotti, an island south of Timor, when they cut down a tree to make a coffin, they sacrifice a dog as compensation to the tree spirit whose property they are encroaching upon.[132] Before the Gayos of Northern Sumatra clear a piece of forest for planting tobacco or sugar cane, they present a quid of betel to the spirit they call the Lord of the Wood, asking for permission to settle in his territory.[133] The Mandelings of Sumatra try to shift the blame for these actions onto the Dutch authorities. Thus, when someone is clearing a road through a forest and needs to fell a tall tree blocking the path, they won’t start chopping until they've said: “Spirit residing in this tree, don’t be angry that I am cutting down your home; I am doing this not by my own wish but by order of the Controller.” And when they want to clear forest land for farming, they must reach an understanding with the woodland spirits there before cutting down their leafy homes. They go to the center of the plot, bend down, and pretend to pick up a letter. Then, after unfolding a piece of paper, they read aloud an imaginary letter from the Dutch Government instructing them to clear the land without delay. After that, they say: “You hear that, spirits? I must start clearing immediately, or I’ll face dire consequences.”[134] When the Tagales of the Philippines are about to cut down a tree they believe is inhabited by a spirit, they apologize to the spirit, saying: “The priest has commanded us to do this; it’s not our fault, nor our intention.”[135] There is a particular tree called rara that the Dyaks believe to be home to a spirit. Before they cut down one of these trees, they strike an axe into the trunk, leave it there, and call upon the spirit to either leave or give them a sign that it doesn’t want to be disturbed. Then they go home. The next day, they check the tree, and if they find the axe still embedded in the trunk, they may cut down the tree safely; this means there’s no spirit inside, or it would have surely removed the axe from its dwelling. But if the axe is lying on the ground, they know the tree is inhabited and will refrain from cutting it down; it must have been the spirit that expelled the intrusive axe. Some skeptical Europeans argue, however, that it’s not the spirit but rather strychnine in the sap that causes the axe to be ejected. They claim that if the sap is flowing, the axe must be pushed out by heat and the expansion of the exuding gutta; whereas if the axe remains stuck in the trunk, it simply indicates that the tree isn’t healthy and is on the verge of dying.[136]
Before they cut down a great tree, the Indians in the neighbourhood of Santiago Tepehuacan hold a festival in order to appease the tree and so prevent it from hurting anybody in its fall.[137] In the Greek island of Siphnos, if woodmen have to fell a tree which they regard as possessed by a spirit, they are most careful, when it falls, to prostrate themselves humbly and in silence lest the spirit should chastise them as it escapes. Sometimes they put a stone on the stump of the tree to prevent the egress of the spirit.[138] In some parts of Sumatra, so soon as a tree is felled, a young tree is planted on the stump, and some betel and a few small coins are also placed on it.[139] The purpose of the 38ceremony seems plain. The spirit of the tree is offered a new home in the young tree planted on the stump of the old one, and the offering of betel and money is meant to compensate him for the disturbance he has suffered. Similarly, when the Maghs of Bengal were obliged by Europeans to cut down trees which the natives believed to be tenanted by spirits, one of them was always ready with a green sprig, which he ran and placed in the middle of the stump when the tree fell, “as a propitiation to the spirit which had been displaced so roughly, pleading at the same time the orders of the strangers for the work.”[140] In Halmahera, however, the motive for placing a sprig on the stump is said to be to deceive the spirit into thinking that the fallen stem is still growing in its old place.[141] The Gilyaks insert a stick with curled shavings on the stump of the tree which they have felled, believing that in this way they give back to the dispossessed tree-spirit his life and soul.[142] German woodmen make a cross upon the stump while the tree is falling, in the belief that this enables the spirit of the tree to live upon the stump.[143] Before the Katodis fell a forest tree, they choose a tree of the same kind and worship it by presenting a coco-nut, burning incense, applying a red pigment, and begging it to bless the undertaking.[144] The intention, perhaps, is to induce the spirit of the former tree to shift its quarters to the latter. In clearing a wood, a Galelareese must not cut down the last tree till the spirit in it has been induced to go away.[145] When the Dyaks fell the jungle on the hills, they often leave a few trees standing on the hill-tops as a refuge for the dispossessed tree-spirits.[146] Sailing up the Baram river in Sarawak you pass from time to time a clearing in the forest where manioc is cultivated. In the middle of every one of these clearings a solitary tree is always left standing as a home for the 39ejected spirits of the wood. Its boughs are stripped off, all but the topmost, and just under its leafy crown two cross-pieces are fastened from which rags dangle.[147] Similarly in India, the Gonds allow a grove of typical trees to remain as a home or reserve for the woodland spirits when they are clearing away a jungle.[148] The Mundaris have sacred groves which were left standing when the land was cleared, lest the sylvan gods, disquieted at the felling of the trees, should abandon the place.[149] The Miris in Assam are unwilling to break up new land for cultivation so long as there is fallow land available; for they fear to offend the spirits of the woods by hewing down trees needlessly.[150] On the other hand, when a child has been lost, the Padams of Assam think that it has been stolen by the spirits of the wood; so they retaliate on the spirits by felling trees till they find the child. The spirits, fearing to be left without a tree in which to lodge, give up the child, and it is found in the fork of a tree.[151]
Before they cut down a large tree, the locals near Santiago Tepehuacan hold a festival to appease the tree and prevent it from causing harm when it falls.[137] On the Greek island of Siphnos, if lumberjacks have to take down a tree they believe is inhabited by a spirit, they make sure to bow down humbly and silently as it falls, so the spirit won't punish them as it escapes. Sometimes they place a stone on the stump to stop the spirit from leaving.[138] In some regions of Sumatra, as soon as a tree is cut down, a young tree is planted on the stump, accompanied by some betel and a few small coins.[139] The intent of this ceremony is clear. The spirit of the tree is given a new home in the young tree on the stump of the old one, and the offering of betel and money is meant to compensate it for the disruption it has experienced. Similarly, when the Maghs of Bengal were forced by Europeans to chop down trees that the locals believed housed spirits, one of them was always ready with a green branch, which he would place on the middle of the stump when the tree fell, “as an offering to the spirit that had been so roughly displaced, while also complying with the orders of the strangers.”[140] In Halmahera, however, the reason for placing a sprig on the stump is said to be to trick the spirit into believing that the fallen tree is still growing in its original spot.[141] The Gilyaks stick a piece of wood with curled shavings on the stump of the felled tree, believing that this way they restore the life and soul of the dispossessed tree spirit.[142] German lumberjacks make a cross on the stump while the tree is falling, believing that this allows the spirit of the tree to continue living on the stump.[143] Before the Katodis chop down a forest tree, they choose another tree of the same type and worship it by offering a coconut, burning incense, applying red dye, and asking it to bless the act.[144] The intention might be to persuade the spirit of the original tree to move to the new one. When clearing a forest, a Galelareese cannot cut down the last tree until the spirit within it has been induced to depart.[145] When the Dyaks clear the jungle on the hills, they often leave a few trees standing at the hilltops as a refuge for the displaced tree spirits.[146] Sailing up the Baram River in Sarawak, you occasionally pass a clearing in the forest where manioc is grown. In the center of each of these clearings, a single tree is always left standing as a home for the expelled spirits of the woods. Its branches are stripped off, except for the topmost ones, and just beneath its leafy crown, two cross-pieces are attached from which rags dangle.[147] Similarly, in India, the Gonds leave a grove of native trees as a home or sanctuary for the woodland spirits when they clear a jungle.[148] The Mundaris have sacred groves that were left standing when the land was cleared, to prevent the woodland gods from leaving out of displeasure at the cutting of the trees.[149] The Miris in Assam are hesitant to break new ground for farming as long as there is available fallow land; they fear offending the spirits of the woods by unnecessarily chopping down trees.[150] Conversely, when a child goes missing, the Padams of Assam believe that it has been taken by the spirits of the woods; so they get back at the spirits by cutting down trees until the child is found. The spirits, fearing to be left without a tree for shelter, return the child, who is then discovered in the fork of a tree.[151]
|Propitiating tree-spirits in house-timber.| Even when a tree has been felled, sawn into planks, and used to build a house, it is possible that the woodland spirit may still be lurking in the timber, and accordingly some people seek to propitiate him before or after they occupy the new house. Hence, when a new dwelling is ready the Toradjas of Central Celebes kill a goat, a pig, or a buffalo, and smear all the woodwork with its blood. If the building is a lobo or spirit-house, a fowl or a dog is killed on the ridge of the roof, and its blood allowed to flow down on both sides. The ruder Tonapoo in such a case sacrifice a human being on the roof. This sacrifice on the roof of a lobo or temple serves the same purpose as the smearing of blood on the woodwork of an ordinary house. The intention is to propitiate the forest-spirits who may still be in the timber; they are thus put in good humour and will do the 40inmates of the house no harm. For a like reason people in Celebes and the Moluccas are much afraid of planting a post upside down at the building of a house; for the forest-spirit, who might still be in the timber, would very naturally resent the indignity and visit the inmates with sickness.[152] The Bahaus or Kayans of central Borneo are of opinion that tree-spirits stand very stiffly on the point of honour and visit men with their displeasure for any injury done to them. Hence after building a house, whereby they have been forced to illtreat many trees, these people observe a period of penance for a year, during which they must abstain from many things, such as the killing of bears, tiger-cats, and serpents. The period of taboo is brought to an end by a ceremony at which head-hunting, or the pretence of it, plays a part. The Ooloo-Ayar Dyaks on the Mandai river are still more punctilious in their observance of taboos after building a house. The length of the penance depends chiefly on the kind of timber used in the construction of the dwelling. If the timber was the valuable ironwood, the inmates of the house must deny themselves various dainties for three years. But the spirits of humbler trees are less exacting.[153] When the Kayans have felled an ironwood tree in order to cut it up into planks for a roof, they will offer a pig to the spirits of the tree, hoping thus to prevent the spirits from molesting the souls of persons assembled under the roof.[154]
|Respecting tree spirits in home wood.| Even after a tree has been cut down, turned into planks, and used to build a house, the woodland spirit may still be present in the wood. Because of this, some people try to appease him before or after they move into the new house. For example, when the Toradjas of Central Celebes finish a new home, they kill a goat, pig, or buffalo and smear its blood on all the woodwork. If it’s a lobo or spirit house, they will kill a bird or a dog on the roof ridge and let its blood flow down on both sides. In some cases, the ruder Tonapoo even sacrifice a human on the roof. This sacrifice on the roof of a lobo or temple serves the same purpose as smearing blood on the woodwork of an ordinary house. The goal is to pacify the forest spirits that may still be in the wood, so they will be in a good mood and not harm the people living in the house. For the same reason, people in Celebes and the Moluccas fear planting a post upside down when building a house; they believe the forest spirit residing in the timber would take offense and bring illness to the residents.[152] The Bahaus or Kayans of central Borneo believe that tree spirits are very sensitive about their honor and will show their displeasure for any harm done to them. So, after building a house, which involves damaging many trees, these people undergo a year of penance, during which they must avoid many activities, such as killing bears, tiger cats, and snakes. The period of taboo ends with a ceremony involving head-hunting or the illusion of it. The Ooloo-Ayar Dyaks along the Mandai River are even more strict about observing taboos after constructing a house. The length of the penance largely depends on the type of wood used. If the timber used is valuable ironwood, the inhabitants of the house must refrain from certain treats for three years. However, the spirits of simpler trees are less demanding.[153] When the Kayans cut down an ironwood tree for roof planks, they will offer a pig to the tree spirits, hoping to prevent them from disturbing the souls of those gathered under the roof.[154]
|Sacred trees the abode of spirits.| Thus the tree is regarded, sometimes as the body, sometimes as merely the house of the tree-spirit; and when we read of sacred trees which may not be cut down because they are the seat of spirits, it is not always possible to say with certainty in which way the presence of the spirit in the tree is conceived. In the following cases, perhaps, the trees are regarded as the dwelling-place of the spirits rather than as their bodies. The Sea Dyaks point to many a tree as sacred because it is the abode of a spirit or spirits, and to 41cut one of these down would provoke the spirit’s anger, who might avenge himself by visiting the sacrilegious woodman with sickness.[155] The Battas of Sumatra have been known to refuse to cut down certain trees because they were the abode of mighty spirits who would resent the injury.[156] One of the largest and stateliest of the forest trees in Perak is known as toallong; it has a very poisonous sap which produces great irritation when it comes into contact with the skin. Many trees of this species have large hollow knobs on their trunks where branches have been broken off. These knobs are looked upon by the Malays as houses of spirits, and they object strongly to cut down trees that are thus disfigured, believing that the man who fells one of them will die within the year. When clearings are made in the forest these trees are generally left standing to the annoyance and expense of planters.[157] The Siamese fear to cut down any very fine trees lest they should incur the anger of the powerful spirits who inhabit them.[158] The En, a tribe of Upper Burma, worship the spirits of hills and forests, and over great tracts of country they will not lay out fields for fear of offending the spirits. They say that if a tree is felled a man dies.[159] In every Khond village a large grove, generally of sâl trees (Shorea robusta), is dedicated to the forest god, whose favour is sought by the sacrifice of birds, hogs, and sheep, together with an offering of rice and an addled egg. This sacred grove is religiously preserved. The young trees are occasionally pruned, but not a twig may be cut for use without the formal consent of the village and the ceremonial propitiation of the god.[160] In some parts of Berar the holy groves are so carefully preserved, that during the annual festivals held in them it is customary to gather and burn solemnly all dead and fallen branches and 42trees.[161] The Larka Kols of India believe that the tops of trees are the abode of spirits who are disturbed by the felling of the trees and will take vengeance.[162] The Parahiya, a Dravidian tribe of Mirzapur, think that evil spirits live in the sâl, pîpal, and mahua trees; they make offerings to such trees and will not climb into their branches.[163] In Travancore demons are supposed to reside in certain large old trees, which it would be sacrilegious and dangerous to hew down. A rough stone is generally placed at the foot of one of these trees as an image or emblem, and turmeric powder is rubbed on it.[164] Some of the Western tribes of British New Guinea dread certain female devils who inhabit large trees and are very dangerous. Trees supposed to be the abode of these demons are treated with much respect and never cut down.[165] Near Old Calabar there is a ravine full of the densest and richest vegetation, whence a stream of limpid water flows purling to the river. The spot was considered by a late king to be hallowed ground, the residence of Anansa, the tutelary god of Old Calabar. The people had strict orders to revere the grove, and no branch of it might be cut.[166] Among the Bambaras of the Upper Niger every village has its sacred tree, generally a tamarind, which is supposed to be the abode of the fetish and is carefully preserved. The fetish is consulted on every important occasion, and sacrifices of sheep, dogs, and fowls, accompanied with offerings of millet and fruits, are made under the sacred tree.[167] In the deserts of Arabia a modern traveller found a great solitary acacia-tree which the Bedouins believed to be possessed by a jinnee. Shreds of cotton and horns of goats hung among the boughs and nails were knocked into the trunk. An Arab strongly dissuaded the traveller from cutting a branch of the tree, 43assuring him that it was death to do so.[168] The Yourouks, who inhabit the southern coasts of Asia Minor and the heights of Mount Taurus, have sacred trees which they never cut down from fear of driving away the spirits that own them.[169] The old Prussians believed that gods inhabited tall trees, such as oaks, from which they gave audible answers to enquirers; hence these trees were not felled, but worshipped as the homes of divinities. Amongst the trees thus venerated by them was the elder-tree.[170] The Samagitians thought that if any one ventured to injure certain groves, or the birds or beasts in them, the spirits would make his hands or feet crooked.[171] Down to the nineteenth century the Esthonians stood in such awe of many trees, which they considered as the seat of mighty spirits, that they would not even pluck a flower or a berry on the ground where the shadow of the trees fell, much less would they dare to break a branch from the tree itself.[172]
Sacred trees are the homes of spirits. So, a tree is sometimes seen as the body of a spirit and sometimes just as the home of a tree-spirit. When we hear about sacred trees that can't be cut down because they are where spirits reside, it's not always clear how the spirit's presence in the tree is understood. In many cases, it seems that the trees are viewed more as the living spaces of spirits than as their bodies. The Sea Dyaks identify many trees as sacred because they are homes to spirits, and cutting one down would anger the spirit, who might retaliate by making the person who did it sick.[155] The Battas of Sumatra have been known to refuse to cut certain trees because they are the homes of powerful spirits who would take offense at such harm.[156] One of the largest and most majestic trees in Perak is called toallong; it has very toxic sap that can cause severe irritation upon contact with the skin. Many trees of this type have large hollow bumps on their trunks where branches have broken off. The Malays view these bumps as homes for spirits and are strongly opposed to cutting down trees that are thus marked, believing that anyone who fells one will die within a year. When clearings are made in the forest, these trees are usually left standing, much to the annoyance and expense of planters.[157] The Siamese are afraid to cut down particularly beautiful trees for fear of provoking powerful spirits inhabiting them.[158] The En, a tribe from Upper Burma, worship the spirits of hills and forests, and over large areas of land, they won't plant fields for fear of offending the spirits. They believe that if a tree is cut down, someone will die.[159] In every Khond village, a large grove, usually of sâl trees (Shorea robusta), is dedicated to the forest god, whose favor is sought through sacrifices of birds, pigs, and sheep, along with offerings of rice and a rotten egg. This sacred grove is carefully maintained. Young trees may be pruned occasionally, but not a single twig can be removed without the village's formal consent and a ceremonial offering to the god.[160] In some areas of Berar, the sacred groves are so well-preserved that during annual festivals held there, it is customary to gather and solemnly burn all dead and fallen branches and42trees.[161] The Larka Kols of India believe that the tops of trees are the homes of spirits who are disturbed by tree cutting and will seek vengeance.[162] The Parahiya, a Dravidian tribe from Mirzapur, think that evil spirits dwell in the sâl, pîpal, and mahua trees; they make offerings to these trees and refrain from climbing into their branches.[163] In Travancore, demons are believed to reside in certain large, ancient trees, which it is considered sacrilegious and dangerous to chop down. A rough stone is usually placed at the base of one of these trees as a symbol, and turmeric powder is applied to it.[164] Some of the Western tribes of British New Guinea fear certain female spirits that inhabit large trees and are very dangerous. Trees believed to be the homes of these demons are treated with great respect and never cut down.[165] Near Old Calabar, there is a ravine filled with thick, lush vegetation, from which a clear stream flows into the river. A former king considered this place sacred, the home of Anansa, the guardian god of Old Calabar. The people were given strict orders to honor the grove, and no branches may be cut.[166] Among the Bambaras of the Upper Niger, every village has its sacred tree, usually a tamarind, which is thought to be the home of the fetish and is carefully protected. The fetish is consulted for important events, and sacrifices of sheep, dogs, and chickens, along with offerings of millet and fruits, are made beneath the sacred tree.[167] In the deserts of Arabia, a modern traveler found a solitary acacia tree that the Bedouins believed to be inhabited by a jinnee. Strands of cotton and goat horns hung among the branches, and nails were driven into the trunk. An Arab strongly discouraged the traveler from cutting a branch from the tree,43warning that it was fatal to do so.[168] The Yourouks, who live on the southern coasts of Asia Minor and the heights of Mount Taurus, have sacred trees that they never cut down for fear of driving away the spirits that reside there.[169] The old Prussians believed that gods lived in tall trees, like oaks, and answered inquiries with audible responses; thus, these trees were not cut down but were worshipped as homes of deities. Among the trees they venerated was the elder tree.[170] The Samagitians thought that anyone who dared to harm certain groves, or the birds and animals in them, would have their hands or feet made crooked by the spirits.[171] Up until the nineteenth century, the Esthonians were so afraid of many trees, which they considered the dwelling place of powerful spirits, that they wouldn't even pick a flower or berry in the shadow of the trees, let alone break a branch off.[172]
|Sacred groves.| Even where no mention is made of wood-spirits, we may generally assume that when trees or groves are sacred and inviolable, it is because they are believed to be either inhabited or animated by sylvan deities. In Central India the bar tree (Ficus Indica) and the pipal (Ficus religiosa) are sacred, and every child learns the saying that “it is better to die a leper than pluck a leaf of a pipal, and he who can wound a bar will kick his little sister.”[173] In Livonia there is a sacred grove in which, if any man fells a tree or breaks a branch, he will die within the year.[174] The Wotyaks have 44sacred groves. A Russian who ventured to hew a tree in one of them fell sick and died next day.[175] The heathen Cheremiss of South-Eastern Russia have sacred groves, and woe to him who dares to fell one of the holy trees. If the author of the sacrilege is unknown, they take a cock or a goose, torture it to death and then throw it on the fire, while they pray to the gods to punish the sinner and cause him to perish like the bird.[176] Near a chapel of St. Ninian, in the parish of Belly, there stood more than a century and a half ago a row of trees, “all of equal size, thick planted for about the length of a butt,” which were “looked upon by the superstitious papists as sacred trees, from which they reckon it sacrilege to take so much as a branch or any of the fruit.”[177] So in the island of Skye some two hundred and fifty years ago there was a holy lake, “surrounded by a fair wood, which none presumes to cut”; and those who ventured to infringe its sanctity by breaking even a twig either sickened on the spot or were visited afterwards by “some signal inconvenience.”[178] Sacrifices offered at cutting down trees are doubtless meant to appease the wood-spirits. In Gilgit it is usual to sprinkle goat’s blood on a tree of any kind before felling it.[179] The Akikuyu of British East Africa hold the mugumu or mugomo tree, a species of fig, sacred on account of its size and fine appearance; hence they do not ruthlessly cut it down like all other trees which cumber a patch of ground that is to be cleared for tillage. Groves of this tree are sacred. In them no axe may be laid to any tree, no branch broken, no firewood gathered, no grass burnt; and wild animals which have taken refuge there may not be molested. In these sacred groves sheep and goats are sacrificed and prayers are offered for rain or fine weather or in behalf of sick children. The whole meat of the sacrifices is left in the grove for God (Ngai) to eat; the fat is placed in a cleft of the trunk or in the branches as a tit-bit for 45him. He lives up in the boughs but comes down to partake of the food.[180]
Sacred groves. Even when there’s no mention of wood spirits, we can usually assume that when trees or groves are sacred and untouchable, it’s because they’re believed to be inhabited or animated by forest deities. In Central India, the bar tree (Ficus Indica) and the pipal (Ficus religiosa) are sacred, and every child learns the saying that “it’s better to die a leper than to pluck a leaf from a pipal, and anyone who harms a bar will end up kicking his little sister.”[173] In Livonia, there’s a sacred grove where if anyone cuts down a tree or breaks a branch, they will die within the year.[174] The Wotyaks have sacred groves as well. A Russian who dared to cut down a tree in one of them fell ill and died the next day.[175] The pagan Cheremiss in South-Eastern Russia have sacred groves too, and anyone who dares to cut down one of the holy trees faces severe consequences. If the perpetrator of the sacrilege is unknown, they will take a rooster or a goose, torture it to death, and then throw it on the fire, while praying to the gods to punish the sinner and make him suffer like the bird.[176] Near a chapel of St. Ninian, in the parish of Belly, over a century and a half ago, there was a row of trees, “all of equal size, densely planted for about the length of a butt,” that were “regarded by the superstitious Catholics as sacred trees, and it was considered sacrilege to take so much as a branch or any of the fruit.”[177] Similarly, on the island of Skye about two hundred and fifty years ago, there was a holy lake, “surrounded by a beautiful wood, which no one dares to cut”; those who tried to break its sanctity by even breaking a twig either fell ill on the spot or later faced “some serious misfortune.”[178] Sacrifices offered when cutting down trees are likely intended to appease the wood spirits. In Gilgit, it’s customary to sprinkle goat’s blood on any tree before felling it.[179] The Akikuyu of British East Africa regard the mugumu or mugomo tree, a type of fig, as sacred due to its size and beautiful appearance; therefore, they don’t cut it down like other trees they clear for agriculture. Groves of this tree are sacred. In them, no axe can be laid to any tree, no branch broken, no firewood gathered, and no grass burned; wild animals taking refuge there can’t be disturbed either. In these sacred groves, sheep and goats are sacrificed, and prayers are offered for rain or good weather or for the health of sick children. The entire meat from the sacrifices is left in the grove for God (Ngai) to eat; the fat is placed in a notch in the trunk or in the branches as a treat for him. He resides high in the branches but comes down to share in the food.[180]
§ 2. Beneficent Powers of Tree-Spirits
|Transition of tree-spirit into anthropomorphic deity of the woods.| When a tree comes to be viewed, no longer as the body of the tree-spirit, but simply as its abode which it can quit at pleasure, an important advance has been made in religious thought. Animism is passing into polytheism. In other words, instead of regarding each tree as a living and conscious being, man now sees in it merely a lifeless, inert mass, tenanted for a longer or shorter time by a supernatural being who, as he can pass freely from tree to tree, thereby enjoys a certain right of possession or lordship over the trees, and, ceasing to be a tree-soul, becomes a forest god. As soon as the tree-spirit is thus in a measure disengaged from each particular tree, he begins to change his shape and assume the body of a man, in virtue of a general tendency of early thought to clothe all abstract spiritual beings in concrete human form. Hence in classical art the sylvan deities are depicted in human shape, their woodland character being denoted by a branch or some equally obvious symbol.[181] But this change of shape does not affect the essential character of the tree-spirit. The powers which he exercised as a tree-soul incorporate in a tree, he still continues to wield as a god of trees. This I shall now attempt to prove in detail. I shall shew, first, that trees considered as animate beings are credited with the power of making the rain to fall, the sun to shine, flocks and herds to multiply, and women to bring forth easily; and, second, that the very same powers are attributed to tree-gods conceived as anthropomorphic beings or as actually incarnate in living men.
|Transformation of a tree spirit into an anthropomorphic god of the forest.| When a tree is seen not just as the physical form of a tree-spirit, but rather as its home that the spirit can leave whenever it wants, a significant shift in religious thinking occurs. Animism is evolving into polytheism. In other words, instead of viewing each tree as a living, conscious being, people now see it as a lifeless, inert object, temporarily inhabited by a supernatural being. This being, able to move freely from tree to tree, effectively claims a certain ownership or authority over the trees and, by no longer being just a tree-soul, becomes a forest god. Once the tree-spirit is somewhat separate from each specific tree, it begins to transform and take on human form, reflecting an early tendency to represent all abstract spiritual entities in concrete human shapes. Therefore, in classical art, woodland deities are shown in human form, with their forest nature indicated by a branch or some other clear symbol.[181] But this transformation does not change the fundamental nature of the tree-spirit. The powers it had as a tree-soul within a tree, it still possesses as a god of trees. I will now attempt to demonstrate this in detail. First, I will show that trees viewed as living beings are believed to have the ability to bring rain, sunshine, increase the number of livestock, and assist women in childbirth; and second, that the same powers are attributed to tree-gods understood as anthropomorphic figures or as beings currently incarnated in living men.
|Trees supposed to give rain and sunshine.| First, then, trees or tree-spirits are believed to give rain 46and sunshine. When the missionary Jerome of Prague was persuading the heathen Lithuanians to fell their sacred groves, a multitude of women besought the Prince of Lithuania to stop him, saying that with the woods he was destroying the house of god from which they had been wont to get rain and sunshine.[182] The Mundaris in Assam think that if a tree in the sacred grove is felled the sylvan gods evince their displeasure by withholding rain.[183] In order to procure rain the inhabitants of Monyo, a village in the Sagaing district of Upper Burma, chose the largest tamarind-tree near the village and named it the haunt of the spirit (nat) who controls the rain. Then they offered bread, coco-nuts, plantains, and fowls to the guardian spirit of the village and to the spirit who gives rain, and they prayed, “O Lord nat have pity on us poor mortals, and stay not the rain. Inasmuch as our offering is given ungrudgingly, let the rain fall day and night.” Afterwards libations were made in honour of the spirit of the tamarind-tree; and still later three elderly women, dressed in fine clothes and wearing necklaces and earrings, sang the Rain Song.[184] In Cambodia each village or province has its sacred tree, the abode of a spirit. If the rains are late the people sacrifice to the tree.[185] In time of drought the elders of the Wakamba in East Africa assemble and take a calabash of cider and a goat to a baobab-tree, where they kill the goat but do not eat it.[186] When Ovambo women go out to sow corn they take with them in the basket of seed two green branches of a particular kind of tree (Peltophorum africanum Sond.), one of which they plant in the field along with the first seed sown. The branch is believed to have the power of attracting rain; hence in one of the native dialects the tree goes by the name of the “rain-bush.”[187] To extort rain from the tree-spirit 47a branch is sometimes dipped in water, as we have seen above.[188] In such cases the spirit is doubtless supposed to be immanent in the branch, and the water thus applied to the spirit produces rain by a sort of sympathetic magic, exactly as we saw that in New Caledonia the rain-makers pour water on a skeleton, believing that the soul of the deceased will convert the water into rain.[189] There is hardly room to doubt that Mannhardt is right in explaining as a rain-charm the European custom of drenching with water the trees which are cut at certain popular festivals, as midsummer, Whitsuntide, and harvest.[190]
Trees are thought to bring rain and sunshine. First, trees or tree spirits are thought to bring rain 46and sunshine. When the missionary Jerome of Prague was convincing the pagans of Lithuania to cut down their sacred groves, a crowd of women pleaded with the Prince of Lithuania to stop him, saying that by destroying the woods, he was ruining the house of God from which they had always received rain and sunshine.[182] The Mundaris in Assam believe that if a tree in a sacred grove is cut down, the forest gods show their anger by withholding rain.[183] To bring about rain, the people of Monyo, a village in the Sagaing district of Upper Burma, chose the largest tamarind tree near their village and declared it the home of the spirit (nat) who controls rain. They then offered bread, coconuts, plantains, and chickens to the village guardian spirit and to the rain spirit, praying, “O Lord nat, have mercy on us poor mortals, and do not stop the rain. Since our offering is given willingly, let the rain fall day and night.” They then made libations in honor of the tamarind tree spirit; later, three elderly women, dressed in fine clothes and wearing necklaces and earrings, sang the Rain Song.[184] In Cambodia, each village or province has its sacred tree, the residence of a spirit. If the rains are delayed, the people make sacrifices to the tree.[185] During drought, the elders of the Wakamba in East Africa gather and take a calabash of cider and a goat to a baobab tree, where they kill the goat but do not eat it.[186] When Ovambo women go out to plant corn, they bring with them in their seed basket two green branches of a specific tree (Peltophorum africanum Sond.), one of which they plant in the field with the first seed sown. The branch is believed to attract rain; thus, in one of the local dialects, the tree is called the “rain-bush.”[187] To get rain from the tree spirit, 47sometimes a branch is dipped in water, as we have seen earlier.[188] In such cases, the spirit is likely thought to be present in the branch, and the water applied to the spirit magically triggers rain, just as we observed in New Caledonia where rain-makers pour water on a skeleton, believing that the soul of the deceased will transform the water into rain.[189] There seems to be little doubt that Mannhardt is correct in interpreting the European tradition of soaking trees with water during certain popular festivals, like midsummer, Whitsuntide, and harvest, as a rain charm.[190]
|Tree-spirits supposed to make the crops grow.| Again, tree-spirits make the crops to grow. Amongst the Mundaris every village has its sacred grove, and “the grove deities are held responsible for the crops, and are especially honoured at all the great agricultural festivals.”[191] The negroes of the Gold Coast are in the habit of sacrificing at the foot of certain tall trees, and they think that if one of these were felled all the fruits of the earth would perish.[192] Before harvest the Wabondëi of East Africa sacrifice a goat to the spirit that lives in baobab-trees; the blood is poured into a hole at the foot of one of the trees. If the sacrifice were omitted the spirit would send disease and death among the people.[193] The Gallas dance in couples round sacred trees, praying for a good harvest. Every couple consists of a man and woman, who are linked together by a stick, of which each holds one end. Under their arms they carry green corn or grass.[194] Swedish peasants stick a leafy branch in each furrow of their corn-fields, believing that this will |The Harvest-May.| ensure an abundant crop.[195] The same idea comes out in the German and French custom of the Harvest-May. This is a large branch or a whole tree, which is decked with ears of corn, brought home on the last waggon from the harvest-field, 48and fastened on the roof of the farmhouse or of the barn, where it remains for a year. Mannhardt has proved that this branch or tree embodies the tree-spirit conceived as the spirit of vegetation in general, whose vivifying and fructifying influence is thus brought to bear upon the corn in particular. Hence in Swabia the Harvest-May is fastened amongst the last stalks of corn left standing on the field; in other places it is planted on the corn-field and the last sheaf cut is attached to its trunk.[196] The Harvest-May of Germany has its counterpart in the eiresione of ancient Greece.[197] The eiresione was a branch of olive or laurel, bound about with ribbons and hung with a variety of fruits. This branch was carried in procession at a harvest festival and was fastened over the door of the house, where it remained for a year. The object of preserving the Harvest-May or the eiresione for a year is that the life-giving virtue of the bough may foster the growth of the crops throughout the year. By the end of the year the virtue of the bough is supposed to be exhausted and it is replaced by a new one. Following a similar train of thought some of the Dyaks of Sarawak are careful at the rice harvest to take up the roots of a certain bulbous plant, which bears a beautiful crown of white and fragrant flowers. These roots are preserved with the rice in the granary and are planted again with the seed-rice in the following season; for the Dyaks say that the rice will not grow unless a plant of this sort be in the field.[198]
Tree spirits are thought to help crops thrive. Once again, tree spirits are thought to promote crop growth. Among the Mundaris, every village has its sacred grove, and “the grove deities are responsible for the crops and are especially honored during major agricultural festivals.”[191] The people of the Gold Coast often sacrifice at the base of certain tall trees, believing that if one of these trees is cut down, all the earth's fruits will perish.[192] Before the harvest, the Wabondëi of East Africa sacrifice a goat to the spirit residing in baobab trees, pouring the blood into a hole at the base of one of the trees. If the sacrifice is missed, the spirit is believed to send disease and death among the people.[193] The Gallas dance in pairs around sacred trees, praying for a good harvest. Each pair consists of a man and a woman linked by a stick, each holding one end. They carry green corn or grass under their arms.[194] Swedish farmers place a leafy branch in each furrow of their cornfields, convinced that this will ensure a plentiful crop.[195] The same idea is reflected in the German and French tradition of the Harvest-May. This involves a large branch or an entire tree, decorated with ears of corn, brought home on the last wagon from the harvest field, 48and fastened to the roof of a farmhouse or barn, where it stays for a year. Mannhardt has shown that this branch or tree represents the tree spirit, viewed as the spirit of vegetation in general, whose life-giving and fruitful influence is thus applied specifically to the corn. Thus, in Swabia, the Harvest-May is secured among the last stalks of corn left standing in the field; in other locations, it is planted in the cornfield, and the last sheaf harvested is attached to its trunk.[196] The Harvest-May in Germany has a counterpart in the eiresione of ancient Greece.[197] The eiresione was a branch of olive or laurel, wrapped with ribbons and adorned with a variety of fruits. This branch was carried in procession during a harvest festival and was hung over the door, remaining there for a year. The purpose of keeping the Harvest-May or the eiresione for a year is so that the life-giving power of the branch can support crop growth throughout the year. By the end of the year, the power of the branch is believed to be depleted, and it is replaced with a new one. Similarly, some Dyaks of Sarawak are careful during the rice harvest to dig up the roots of a certain bulbous plant that produces a beautiful crown of white, fragrant flowers. These roots are stored with the rice in the granary and replanted with the seed-rice the following season, as the Dyaks believe that rice will not grow unless this type of plant is in the field.[198]
|Customs like the Harvest-May in India and Africa.| Customs like that of the Harvest-May appear to exist in India and Africa. At a harvest festival of the Lhoosai of South-Eastern India the chief goes with his people into the forest and fells a large tree, which is then carried into the village and set up in the midst. Sacrifice is offered, and spirits and rice are poured over the tree. The ceremony closes with a feast and a dance, at which the unmarried men and girls are the only performers.[199] Among the Bechuanas the hack-thorn is very sacred, and it would be a serious offence to cut a bough from it and carry it into the village 49during the rainy season. But when the corn is ripe in the ear the people go with axes, and each man brings home a branch of the sacred hack-thorn, with which they repair the village cattle-yard.[200] According to another authority, it is a rule with the Bechuanas that “neither the hook-thorn nor the milk-tree must be cut down while the corn is on the ground, for this, they think, would prevent rain. When I was at Lattakoo, though Mr. Hamilton stood in much need of some milk-tree timber, he durst not supply himself till all the corn was gathered in.”[201] Many tribes of South-Eastern Africa will not cut down timber while the corn is green, fearing that if they did so, the crops would be destroyed by blight, hail, or early frost.[202] The heathen Cheremiss, in the Russian Government of Kasan, will not fell trees, mow grass, or dig the ground while the corn is in bloom.[203] Again, the fructifying power of the tree is put forth at seed-time as well as at harvest. Among the Aryan tribes of Gilgit, on the north-western frontier of India, the sacred tree is the Chili, a species of cedar (Juniperus excelsa). At the beginning of wheat-sowing the people receive from the rajah’s granary a quantity of wheat, which is placed in a skin mixed with sprigs of the sacred cedar. A large bonfire of the cedar wood is lighted, and the wheat which is to be sown is held over the smoke. The rest is ground and made into a large cake, which is baked on the same fire and given to the ploughman.[204] Here the intention of fertilising the seed by means of the sacred cedar is unmistakable.
Customs such as the Harvest-May in India and Africa. Customs similar to the Harvest-May can be found in India and Africa. During the Lhoosai harvest festival in South-Eastern India, the chief and his people go into the forest and cut down a large tree. This tree is then brought back to the village and set up in the center. A sacrifice is made, and spirits and rice are poured over the tree. The ceremony concludes with a feast and a dance, featuring only the unmarried men and girls.[199] Among the Bechuanas, the hack-thorn tree is considered very sacred, and cutting a branch from it to bring into the village during the rainy season is seen as a serious offense. However, when the corn ripens, the people go out with axes, and each man brings home a branch of the sacred hack-thorn to repair the village cattle-yard.[200] According to another source, the Bechuanas have a rule that “neither the hook-thorn nor the milk-tree can be cut down while the corn is still in the ground, as they believe this would prevent rain. When I was in Lattakoo, even though Mr. Hamilton needed some milk-tree timber, he wouldn’t take any until all the corn was harvested.”[201] Many tribes in South-Eastern Africa avoid cutting down timber while the corn is still green, fearing that doing so might lead to crop destruction by blight, hail, or early frost.[202] The pagan Cheremiss people in the Russian Government of Kasan also refrain from cutting trees, mowing grass, or digging the ground while the corn is in bloom.[203] Similarly, the tree’s life-giving power is acknowledged during both planting and harvest times. Among the Aryan tribes of Gilgit, located on the north-western frontier of India, the sacred tree is the Chili, a type of cedar (Juniperus excelsa). At the start of the wheat-sowing season, the people receive a quantity of wheat from the rajah’s granary, which they place in a skin mixed with sprigs of the sacred cedar. They light a large bonfire using cedar wood, and the wheat intended for sowing is held over the smoke. The remainder is ground into a large cake, baked on the same fire, and given to the ploughman.[204] Here, the intention behind fertilizing the seed with the sacred cedar is clear.
|Fertilising virtue attributed to trees.| In all these cases the power of fostering the growth of crops, and, in general, of cultivated plants, is ascribed to trees. The ascription is not unnatural. For the tree is the 50largest and most powerful member of the vegetable kingdom, and man is familiar with it before he takes to cultivating corn. Hence he naturally places the feebler and, to him, newer plant under the dominion of the older and more powerful.
Fertilizing virtue linked to trees. In all these cases, the ability to promote the growth of crops and, in general, cultivated plants is credited to trees. This belief makes sense. The tree is the largest and most powerful member of the plant kingdom, and people are familiar with it before they start growing grains. Therefore, it’s natural for them to see the weaker and, to them, newer plants as being under the control of the older and stronger ones.
|Tree-spirits make herds to multiply and women to bring forth.| Again, the tree-spirit makes the herds to multiply and blesses women with offspring. The sacred Chili or cedar of Gilgit was supposed to possess this virtue in addition to that of fertilising the corn. At the commencement of wheat-sowing three chosen unmarried youths, after undergoing daily washing and purification for three days, used to start for the mountain where the cedars grew, taking with them wine, oil, bread, and fruit of every kind. Having found a suitable tree they sprinkled the wine and oil on it, while they ate the bread and fruit as a sacrificial feast. Then they cut off the branch and brought it to the village, where, amid general rejoicing, it was placed on a large stone beside running water. “A goat was then sacrificed, its blood poured over the cedar branch, and a wild dance took place, in which weapons were brandished about, and the head of the slaughtered goat was borne aloft, after which it was set up as a mark for arrows and bullet-practice. Every good shot was rewarded with a gourd full of wine and some of the flesh of the goat. When the flesh was finished the bones were thrown into the stream and a general ablution took place, after which every man went to his house taking with him a spray of the cedar. On arrival at his house he found the door shut in his face, and on his knocking for admission, his wife asked, ‘What have you brought?’ To which he answered, ‘If you want children, I have brought them to you; if you want food, I have brought it; if you want cattle, I have brought them; whatever you want, I have it.’ The door was then opened and he entered with his cedar spray. The wife then took some of the leaves, and pouring wine and water on them placed them on the fire, and the rest were sprinkled with flour and suspended from the ceiling. She then sprinkled flour on her husband’s head and shoulders, and addressed him thus, ‘Ai Shiri Bagerthum, son of the fairies, you have come from far!’ Shiri Bagerthum, ‘the dreadful king,’ being the form 51of address to the cedar when praying for wants to be fulfilled. The next day the wife baked a number of cakes, and taking them with her, drove the family goats to the Chili stone. When they were collected round the stone, she began to pelt them with pebbles, invoking the Chili at the same time. According to the direction in which the goats ran off, omens were drawn as to the number and sex of the kids expected during the ensuing year. Walnuts and pomegranates were then placed on the Chili stone, the cakes were distributed and eaten, and the goats followed to pasture in whatever direction they showed a disposition to go. For five days afterwards this song was sung in all the houses:—
Tree spirits assist in the growth of livestock and help women during childbirth. Again, the tree spirit helps livestock to multiply and blesses women with children. The sacred Chili or cedar of Gilgit was believed to have this power, along with the ability to fertilize crops. At the start of wheat planting, three selected unmarried young men, after going through daily cleansing and purification for three days, would head to the mountain where the cedars grew, bringing wine, oil, bread, and a variety of fruits. Once they found a suitable tree, they sprinkled it with wine and oil, while enjoying the bread and fruit as a sacrificial meal. They then cut off a branch and brought it back to the village, where, amidst celebrations, it was placed on a large stone by the flowing water. A goat was then sacrificed, its blood poured over the cedar branch, and a wild dance ensued, with weapons waved around, and the head of the slain goat held high, afterward being set up as a target for arrows and shooting practice. Every good shot was rewarded with a gourd full of wine and some goat meat. When the meat was consumed, the bones were tossed into the stream, and everyone participated in a cleansing ritual, after which each man returned home with a cedar spray. When he arrived, he found the door closed, and upon knocking, his wife asked, ‘What did you bring?’ He replied, ‘If you want children, I’ve brought them; if you want food, I have it; if you want livestock, I’ve got them; whatever you wish for, I have it.’ The door then opened, and he entered with his cedar spray. The wife took some leaves, poured wine and water over them, placed them on the fire, and sprinkled the rest with flour to hang from the ceiling. She then dusted flour onto her husband’s head and shoulders, and said to him, ‘Ai Shiri Bagerthum, son of the fairies, you have come from far!’ Shiri Bagerthum, ‘the dreadful king,’ is the term used to address the cedar when praying for needs to be met. The following day, the wife baked several cakes and took them with her as she drove the family goats to the Chili stone. Once the goats gathered around the stone, she began to throw pebbles at them while invoking the Chili. Based on the direction the goats ran off, omens were drawn regarding the expected number and gender of the kids in the coming year. Walnuts and pomegranates were then placed on the Chili stone, the cakes were shared and consumed, and the goats went off to pasture in whatever direction they chose. For five days afterwards, this song was sung in every home:—
|Fertilising virtue attributed to trees.| Here the driving of the goats to the stone on which the cedar had been placed is clearly meant to impart to them the fertilising influence of the cedar. In Northern India the Emblica officinalis is a sacred tree. On the eleventh of the month Phalgun (February) libations are poured at the foot of the tree, a red or yellow string is bound about the trunk, and prayers are offered to it for the fruitfulness of women, animals, and crops.[206] Again, in Northern India the coco-nut is esteemed one of the most sacred fruits, and is called Sriphala, or the fruit of Sri, the goddess of prosperity. It is the symbol of fertility, and all through Upper India is kept in shrines and presented by the priests to women who desire to become mothers.[207] In the town of Qua, near Old Calabar, there used to grow a palm-tree which ensured conception to any barren woman who ate a nut from its branches.[208] In 52|Influence of May-trees on cattle.| Europe the May-tree or May-pole is apparently supposed to possess similar powers over both women and cattle. Thus in some parts of Germany on the first of May the peasants set up May-trees or May-bushes at the doors of stables and byres, one for each horse and cow; this is thought to make the cows yield much milk.[209] Of the Irish we are told that “they fancy a green bough of a tree, fastened on May-day against the house, will produce plenty of milk that summer.”[210] In Suffolk there was an old custom, observed in most farm-houses, that any servant who could bring in a branch of hawthorn in blossom on the first of May was entitled to a dish of cream for breakfast.[211] Similarly, “in parts of Cornwall, till certainly ten years ago, any child who brought to a dairy on May morning a piece of hawthorn in bloom, or a piece of fresh bracken, long enough to surround the earthenware bowl in which cream is kept, was given a bowl of cream.”[212] On May Day English milkmaids used to dance with garlands on their pails. One May morning long ago Pepys on his way to Westminster saw many of them dancing thus to the music of a fiddle while pretty Nel Gwynne, in her smock sleeves and bodice, watched them from the door of her lodgings in Drury-lane.[213]
Fertilizing virtue linked to trees. Here, taking the goats to the stone where the cedar had been placed is clearly intended to give them the fertilizing influence of the cedar. In Northern India, the Emblica officinalis is considered a sacred tree. On the eleventh day of the month Phalgun (February), offerings are made at the base of the tree, a red or yellow thread is tied around the trunk, and prayers are offered for the fertility of women, animals, and crops.[206] Likewise, in Northern India, the coconut is regarded as one of the most sacred fruits and is referred to as Sriphala, or the fruit of Sri, the goddess of prosperity. It symbolizes fertility and is kept in shrines throughout Upper India, presented by priests to women who wish to become mothers.[207] In the town of Qua, near Old Calabar, there used to be a palm tree whose nuts would ensure conception for any barren woman who ate one from its branches.[208] In 52Influence of May trees on cattle. Europe, the May-tree or May-pole is believed to have similar effects on both women and cattle. In some parts of Germany, on the first of May, peasants set up May-trees or May-bushes at the entrances of stables and byres, one for each horse and cow, as it is thought to increase milk production from the cows.[209] It is said of the Irish that they believe a green branch of a tree, placed on May Day against the house, will ensure plenty of milk that summer.[210] In Suffolk, there was an old tradition observed in most farmhouses, where any servant who brought a blooming hawthorn branch on the first of May was entitled to a dish of cream for breakfast.[211] Similarly, in parts of Cornwall, until at least ten years ago, any child who brought a piece of blooming hawthorn or a piece of fresh bracken to a dairy on May morning, long enough to go around the bowl in which the cream is kept, would be rewarded with a bowl of cream.[212] On May Day, English milkmaids would dance with garlands on their pails. One May morning long ago, Pepys, on his way to Westminster, saw many of them dancing to the music of a fiddle while the lovely Nel Gwynne, in her smock sleeves and bodice, watched them from the door of her lodgings in Drury Lane.[213]
|May-tree or May-bush a protection against witchcraft.| However in these and similar European customs it seems that the influence of the tree, bush, or bough is really protective rather than generative; it does not so much fill the udders of the cows as prevent them from being drained dry by witches, who ride on broomsticks or pitchforks through the air on the Eve of May Day (the famous Walpurgis Night) and make great efforts to steal the milk from the cattle. Hence the many precautions which the prudent herdsman must take to guard his beasts at this season from the raids of these baleful creatures. For example, on May morning the Irish scatter primroses on the threshold, keep a 53piece of red-hot iron on the hearth, or twine branches of whitethorn and mountain-ash or rowan about the door. To save the milk they cut and peel boughs of mountain-ash (rowan), and bind the twigs round the milk-pails and the churn.[214] According to a writer of the sixteenth century, whose description is quoted by Camden, the Irish “account every woman who fetches fire on May-day a witch, nor will they give it to any but sick persons, and that with an imprecation, believing she will steal all the butter the next summer. On May day they kill all the hares they find among their cattle, supposing them the old women who have designs on the butter. They imagine the butter so stolen may be recovered if they take some of the thatch hanging over the door and burn it.”[215] In the north-east of Scotland pieces of rowan-tree and woodbine, or of rowan alone, used to be placed over the doors of the cow-houses on May Day to keep the witches from the kine; and a still better way of attaining the same object was to tie a cross of rowan-tree wood with a scarlet thread to each animal’s tail.[216] The Highlanders of Scotland believe that on Beltane eve, that is the night before May Day, the witches go about in the shape of hares and suck the milk from the cows. To guard against their depredations tar was put behind the ears of the cattle and at the root of the tail, and the house was hung with rowan-tree.[217] For the same reason the Highlanders say that the peg of the cow-shackle and the handle and cross of the churn-staff should always be made of rowan, because that is the most potent charm against witchcraft.[218] In the Isle of Man on May Day, old style, people carried crosses of rowan in their hats and fastened May-flowers over their doors as a protection against elves and witches, and for the same purpose they tied crosses of rowan to the tails of 54the cattle. Also women washed their faces in the dew early on May morning in order to secure good luck, a fine complexion, and immunity from witches. Further, the break of day on that morning was the signal for setting the ling or gorse on fire, which was done for the sake of burning out the witches, who are wont to take the shape of hares. In some places, indeed, as in the Lezayre parish, the practice was to burn gorse in the hedge of every field to drive away the witches, who are still feared in the Isle of Man.[219] In Norway and Denmark branches of rowan are |Precautions against witchcraft on May Day and Walpurgis Night.| similarly used to protect houses and cattle-stalls against witches on Walpurgis Night, and there, too, it is thought that the churn-staff should be made of rowan.[220] In Germany a common way of keeping witches from the cattle on Walpurgis Night is to chalk up three crosses on the door of the cowhouse.[221] Branches of buckthorn stuck in the muck-heaps on the eve of May Day answer the same purpose.[222] In Silesia the precautions taken at this season against witches are many and various; for example, pieces of buckthorn are nailed crosswise over the door of the cowhouse; pitchforks and harrows, turned upside down, with the prongs pointing outwards, are placed at the doors; and a sod of fresh turf from a meadow is laid before the threshold and strewed with marsh-marigolds. Before the witches can pass the threshold, they must count every blade of grass in the turf and every petal of the marigolds; and while they are still counting the day breaks and their power is gone. For the same reason little birch-trees are set up at the house-door, because the witches cannot enter the house till they have counted all the leaves; and before they have done the sum it is broad 55daylight, and they must flee away with the shadows.[223] On Walpurgis Night the Germans of Moravia put knives under the threshold of the cowhouse and twigs of birch at the door and in the muck-heap to keep the witches from the cows.[224] For the same purpose the Bohemians at this season lay branches of gooseberry bushes, hawthorn, and wild rose-trees on the thresholds of the cowhouses, because the witches are caught by the thorns and can get no farther.[225] We now see why thorny trees and bushes, whether hawthorn, buckthorn, or what not, afford protection against witchcraft: they serve as prickly hedges through which the witches cannot force their way. But this explanation clearly does not apply to the mountain-ash and the birch.
May tree or May bush as a safeguard against witchcraft. In these and similar European customs, it seems that the influence of the tree, bush, or branch is more about protection than fertility; it doesn't really fill the cows' udders but rather stops witches from draining them dry. These witches ride broomsticks or pitchforks through the air on the eve of May Day (the well-known Walpurgis Night) and make significant efforts to steal milk from the cattle. Hence, the various precautions a wise herdsman must take to safeguard his animals during this time from these harmful beings. For instance, on May morning, the Irish scatter primroses at the doorway, keep a piece of red-hot iron on the hearth, or weave branches of whitethorn and mountain-ash (rowan) around the door. To preserve the milk, they cut and peel boughs of mountain-ash and tie the twigs around the milk pails and the churn.[214] According to a sixteenth-century writer quoted by Camden, the Irish “consider every woman who fetches fire on May day to be a witch, and will only give it to sick people, and that with a curse, believing she will steal all the butter the next summer. On May day, they kill every hare they find among their cattle, thinking they are old women planning to steal the butter. They believe the stolen butter can be recovered if they take some of the thatch over the door and burn it.”[215] In the north-east of Scotland, pieces of rowan and honeysuckle, or just rowan, were placed over the doors of cow houses on May Day to keep witches away from the livestock; an even better method was to tie a cross of rowan wood with a scarlet thread to each animal’s tail.[216] The Highlanders of Scotland believe that on Beltane eve, the night before May Day, witches take the form of hares and milk the cows. To protect against their attacks, tar was applied behind the ears of the cattle and at the base of the tail, and the house was decorated with rowan.[217] For the same reason, the Highlanders say that the peg of the cow shackle, as well as the handle and cross of the churn staff, should always be made of rowan since it is the strongest charm against witchcraft.[218] In the Isle of Man on old-style May Day, people carried crosses of rowan in their hats and hung May flowers over their doors for protection against elves and witches, and they also tied rowan crosses to the tails of the cattle. Additionally, women washed their faces in the dew early on May morning for good luck, a nice complexion, and freedom from witches. Furthermore, the break of dawn that morning was a signal to set fire to the heather or gorse to drive away witches, who often take the form of hares. In some areas, like the Lezayre parish, it was customary to burn gorse in the hedges of every field to scare off witches, who are still feared in the Isle of Man.[219] In Norway and Denmark, branches of rowan are similarly used to protect homes and cattle enclosures from witches on Walpurgis Night, and it is also believed that the churn staff should be made of rowan.[220] In Germany, a common way to keep witches away from cattle on Walpurgis Night is to draw three crosses on the door of the cowhouse.[221] Buckthorn branches stuck in manure heaps on the eve of May Day serve the same purpose.[222] In Silesia, there are many different precautions taken during this season against witches; for example, pieces of buckthorn are nailed crosswise over the door of the cowhouse; pitchforks and harrows are turned upside down with the prongs facing outwards at the doors; and a sod of fresh turf from a meadow is placed at the threshold and sprinkled with marsh-marigolds. Before witches can cross the threshold, they must count every blade of grass in the turf and every petal of the marigolds; meanwhile, the day breaks, and their power is lost. For the same reason, little birch trees are set up at the entrance, as witches cannot enter until they have counted all the leaves; and by the time they finish, it is broad daylight, and they must escape with the shadows.[223] On Walpurgis Night, Germans in Moravia place knives under the threshold of the cowhouse and birch twigs at the door and in the manure heap to keep witches away from the cows.[224] For the same reason, the Bohemians lay branches of gooseberry bushes, hawthorn, and wild rose-trees at the thresholds of cowhouses during this time, as the thorns snag the witches and prevent them from going any further.[225] This is why thorny trees and bushes, whether hawthorn, buckthorn, or others, can protect against witchcraft: they act as prickly barriers through which witches cannot pass. But this explanation clearly does not apply to mountain-ash and birch.
|Influence of tree-spirits on cattle among the Wends, Esthonians, and Circassians.| On the second of July some of the Wends used to set up an oak-tree in the middle of the village with an iron cock fastened to its top; then they danced round it, and drove the cattle round it to make them thrive.[226] Some of the Esthonians believe in a mischievous spirit called Metsik, who lives in the forest and has the weal of the cattle in his hands. Every year a new image of him is prepared. On an appointed day all the villagers assemble and make a straw man, dress him in clothes, and take him to the common pasture-land of the village. Here the figure is fastened to a high tree, round which the people dance noisily. On almost every day of the year prayer and sacrifice are offered to him that he may protect the cattle. Sometimes the image of Metsik is made of a corn-sheaf and fastened to a tall tree in the wood. The people perform strange antics before it to induce Metsik to guard the corn and the cattle.[227] The Circassians regard the pear-tree as the protector of cattle. So they cut down a young pear-tree in the forest, branch it, and carry it home, where it is adored as a divinity. Almost every house has one such pear-tree. In autumn, on the day of the festival, the tree is carried into the house with great ceremony to the sound of music and 56amid the joyous cries of all the inmates, who compliment it on its fortunate arrival. It is covered with candles, and a cheese is fastened to its top. Round about it they eat, drink, and sing. Then they bid the tree good-bye and take it back to the courtyard, where it remains for the rest of the year, set up against the wall, without receiving any mark of respect.[228]
|Impact of tree spirits on cattle among the Wends, Estonians, and Circassians.| On July 2nd, some of the Wends would set up an oak tree in the center of the village with an iron rooster attached to the top. Then they danced around it and drove the cattle around it to ensure their well-being.[226] Some of the Esthonians believe in a mischievous spirit called Metsik, who lives in the forest and controls the fortune of the cattle. Every year, a new image of him is created. On a designated day, all the villagers gather and make a straw figure, dress it in clothing, and take it to the communal pasture. There, the figure is tied to a tall tree, and the people dance noisily around it. Throughout the year, prayers and sacrifices are offered to him to protect the cattle. Sometimes, the image of Metsik is made from a sheaf of corn and tied to a tall tree in the woods. The people perform strange antics before it to encourage Metsik to guard the corn and cattle.[227] The Circassians see the pear tree as the guardian of cattle. They cut down a young pear tree in the forest, prune it, and bring it home, where it is revered as a deity. Almost every household has one such pear tree. In the fall, on the day of the festival, the tree is brought into the house with great ceremony, accompanied by music and the joyful shouts of everyone inside, who praise its fortunate arrival. It is decorated with candles, and a cheese is placed on top. They gather around it to eat, drink, and sing. Afterward, they say goodbye to the tree and take it back to the courtyard, where it stays for the rest of the year, propped against the wall, without receiving any token of respect.[228]
|Tree-spirits grant offspring or an easy delivery to women.| In the Tuhoe tribe of Maoris “the power of making women fruitful is ascribed to trees. These trees are associated with the navel-strings of definite mythical ancestors, as indeed the navel-strings of all children used to be hung upon them down to quite recent times. A barren woman had to embrace such a tree with her arms, and she received a male or a female child according as she embraced the east or the west side.”[229] The common European custom of placing a green bush on May Day before or on the house of a beloved maiden probably originated in the belief of the fertilising power of the tree-spirit.[230] In some parts of Bavaria such bushes are set up also at the houses of newly-married pairs, and the practice is only omitted if the wife is near her confinement; for in that case they say that the husband has “set up a May-bush for himself.”[231] Among the South Slavonians a barren woman, who desires to have a child, places a new chemise upon a fruitful tree on the eve of St. George’s Day. Next morning before sunrise she examines the garment, and if she finds that some living creature has crept on it, she hopes that her wish will be fulfilled within the year. Then she 57puts on the chemise, confident that she will be as fruitful as the tree on which the garment has passed the night.[232] Among the Kara-Kirghiz barren women roll themselves on the ground under a solitary apple-tree, in order to obtain offspring.[233] Some of the hill-tribes of India have a custom of marrying the bride and bridegroom to two trees before they are married to each other. For example, among the Mundas the bride touches with red lead a mahwá-tree, clasps it in her arms, and is tied to it; and the bridegroom goes through a like ceremony with a mango-tree.[234] The intention of the custom may perhaps be to communicate to the newly-wedded pair the vigorous reproductive power of the trees.[235] Lastly, the 58power of granting to women an easy delivery at child-birth is ascribed to trees both in Sweden and Africa. In some districts of Sweden there was formerly a bårdträd or guardian-tree (lime, ash, or elm) in the neighbourhood of every farm. No one would pluck a single leaf of the sacred tree, any injury to which was punished by ill-luck or sickness. Pregnant women used to clasp the tree in their arms in order to ensure an easy delivery.[236] In some negro tribes of the Congo region pregnant women make themselves garments out of the bark of a certain sacred tree, because they believe that this tree delivers them from the dangers that attend child-bearing.[237] The story that Leto clasped a palm-tree and an olive-tree or two laurel-trees, when she was about to give birth to the divine twins Apollo and Artemis, perhaps points to a similar Greek belief in the efficacy of certain trees to facilitate delivery.[238]
|Tree spirits assist women in becoming pregnant or having a smooth delivery.| In the Tuhoe tribe of Maoris, “the ability to make women fruitful is linked to trees. These trees are tied to the navel cords of specific mythical ancestors, and until recently, the navel cords of all children would be hung on them. A woman who cannot have children would embrace such a tree, and she would have a baby boy or girl depending on whether she hugged the east or west side.”[229] The common European tradition of placing a green bush outside the home of a beloved maiden on May Day likely comes from the belief in the fertility power of the tree spirit.[230] In some areas of Bavaria, these bushes are also set up at the homes of newlyweds, and the custom is skipped only if the wife is close to giving birth; in that case, it is said that the husband has “set up a May bush for himself.”[231] Among the South Slavonians, a barren woman who wants a child places a new chemise on a fruitful tree on the eve of St. George’s Day. The next morning before sunrise, she checks the garment, and if she finds that some living creature has crawled on it, she hopes her wish will come true within the year. Then she puts on the chemise, confident that she will be as fertile as the tree on which the garment spent the night.[232] Among the Kara-Kirghiz, barren women roll on the ground under a lone apple tree to obtain offspring.[233] Some hill tribes in India have a custom of marrying the bride and groom to two trees before they marry each other. For instance, among the Mundas, the bride touches a mahwá-tree with red lead, hugs it, and is tied to it; the groom does a similar ritual with a mango tree.[234] The purpose of this custom may be to pass on the strong reproductive qualities of the trees to the newlyweds.[235] Finally, the ability to provide women with an easy delivery during childbirth is attributed to trees in both Sweden and Africa. In some regions of Sweden, there was once a bårdträd or guardian tree (lime, ash, or elm) near every farm. No one would pick a single leaf from the sacred tree, as damaging it was believed to bring bad luck or illness. Pregnant women would hug the tree to ensure an easy delivery.[236] In some tribes in the Congo area, pregnant women make garments from the bark of a certain sacred tree because they believe this tree protects them from the dangers of childbirth.[237] The story of Leto hugging a palm tree and an olive tree, or two laurel trees, when she was about to give birth to the divine twins Apollo and Artemis, might suggest a similar Greek belief in the power of certain trees to aid in delivery.[238]
CHAPTER X
RELICS OF TREE-WORSHIP IN MODERN EUROPE
|May-trees in Europe.| From the foregoing review of the beneficent qualities commonly ascribed to tree-spirits, it is easy to understand why customs like the May-tree or May-pole have prevailed so widely and figured so prominently in the popular festivals of European peasants. In spring or early summer or even on Midsummer Day, it was and still is in many parts of Europe the custom to go out to the woods, cut down a tree and bring it into the village, where it is set up amid general rejoicings; or the people cut branches in the woods, and fasten them on every house. The intention of these customs is to bring home to the village, and to each house, the blessings which the tree-spirit has in its power to bestow. Hence the custom in some places of planting a May-tree before every house, or of carrying the village May-tree from door to door, that every household may receive its share of the blessing. Out of the mass of evidence on this subject a few examples may be selected.
May trees in Europe. From the earlier discussion about the positive qualities often associated with tree spirits, it’s clear why traditions like the May-tree or May-pole have become so popular and played such a significant role in the festivals of European peasants. In spring or early summer, or even on Midsummer Day, it was and still is common in many parts of Europe to venture into the woods, cut down a tree, and bring it into the village, where it is raised amid celebrations; or people cut branches in the woods and attach them to every house. The aim of these customs is to bring the blessings that tree spirits can offer into the village and to each home. This is why, in some places, it is customary to plant a May-tree in front of every house or to carry the village May-tree from door to door, ensuring that every household receives its share of the blessing. From the wealth of evidence on this topic, a few examples can be highlighted.
|May-trees and May-bushes in England.| Sir Henry Piers, in his Description of Westmeath, writing in 1682 says: “On May-eve, every family sets up before their door a green bush, strewed over with yellow flowers, which the meadows yield plentifully. In countries where timber is plentiful, they erect tall slender trees, which stand high, and they continue almost the whole year; so as a stranger would go nigh to imagine that they were all signs of ale-sellers, and that all houses were ale-houses.”[239] In Northamptonshire a young tree ten or twelve feet high used to be planted before each house on May Day so as to appear 60growing; flowers were thrown over it and strewn about the door.[240] “Among ancient customs still retained by the Cornish, may be reckoned that of decking their doors and porches on the first of May with green boughs of sycamore and hawthorn, and of planting trees, or rather stumps of trees, before their houses.”[241] In the north of England it was |May garlands in England.| formerly the custom for young people to rise a little after midnight on the morning of the first of May, and go out with music and the blowing of horns into the woods, where they broke branches and adorned them with nosegays and crowns of flowers. This done, they returned about sunrise and fastened the flower-decked branches over the doors and windows of their houses.[242] At Abingdon in Berkshire young people formerly went about in groups on May morning, singing a carol of which the following are two of the verses:—
May trees and May bushes in England. Sir Henry Piers, in his Description of Westmeath, writing in 1682 says: “On May-eve, every family puts up a green bush in front of their door, covered with yellow flowers that the meadows provide abundantly. In places where timber is abundant, they raise tall, slender trees that stand high and remain almost the entire year; so much so that a stranger might think they were all signs of ale-sellers, and that every house was an ale-house.”[239] In Northamptonshire, a young tree ten or twelve feet high would be planted in front of each house on May Day to appear as if it were growing; flowers were thrown over it and scattered around the door.[240] “Among the ancient customs still practiced by the Cornish are the traditions of decorating their doors and porches on the first of May with green branches of sycamore and hawthorn and planting trees, or rather tree stumps, in front of their houses.”[241] In northern England, it was once the custom for young people to wake up shortly after midnight on May 1st and head out with music and the sound of horns into the woods, where they would break branches and decorate them with nosegays and crowns of flowers. Afterward, they would return around sunrise and hang the flower-adorned branches over the doors and windows of their homes.[242] At Abingdon in Berkshire, young people used to roam in groups on May morning, singing a carol with the following two verses:—
At the towns of Saffron Walden and Debden in Essex on the first of May little girls go about in parties from door to door singing a song almost identical with the above and carrying garlands; a doll dressed in white is usually placed in the middle of each garland.[244] Similar customs have been and indeed are still observed in various parts of England. The garlands are generally in the form of hoops intersecting each other at right angles. Thus on May morning the girls of the neighbouring villages used to flock into Northampton bringing their garlands, which they exhibited from house to house. The skeleton of 61the garland was formed of two hoops of osier or hazel crossing each other at right angles, and so twined with flowers and ribbons that no part of them could be seen. In the centre of the garlands were placed gaily dressed dolls, one, two, or three in number according to the size of the garland. The whole was fixed to a staff about five feet long, by which it was carried. In shewing their garlands the children chanted some simple ditties and received in return pennies, which furnished forth a feast on their return to their homes. A merry dance round the garland concluded the festivity.[245] At Uttoxeter groups of children carry garlands of flowers about the town on May Day. “The garlands consist of two hoops, one passing through the other, which give the appearance of four half-circles, and they are decorated with flowers and evergreens, and surmounted with a bunch of flowers as a sort of crown, and in the centre of the hoops is a pendant orange and flowers.” One or more of the children carry a little pole or stick upright with a bunch of flowers fastened to the top. They are themselves decorated with flowers and ribbons, and receive pence from the houses which they visit.[246] At Watford in Hertfordshire, groups of children, almost entirely girls, go about the streets from door to door on May Day singing some verses, of which two agree almost verbally with those which, as we have seen, are sung at Abingdon in Berkshire. They are dressed in white, and adorned with gay ribbons and sashes of many hues. “Two of the girls carry between them on a stick what they call ‘the garland,’ which in its simplest form, is made of two circular hoops, intersecting each other at right angles; a more elaborate form has, in addition, smaller semicircles inserted in the four angles formed by the meeting of the hoops at the top of ‘the garland.’ These hoops are covered with any wild-flowers in season, and are further ornamented with ribbons. The 62‘garland’ in shape reminds me of the ‘Christmas’ which used to form the centre of the Christmas decorations in Yorkshire some few years ago, except that the latter had a bunch of mistletoe inside the hoops.”[247] A similar custom was observed at Bampton-in-the-Bush in Oxfordshire down to about the middle of the nineteenth century. The garland consisted of two crossed hoops covered with moss, flowers, and ribbons. Two girls, known as the Lady and her Maid, bore the garland between them on a stick; and a boy called the Lord, who carried a stick dressed with ribbons and flowers, collected contributions from the spectators. From time to time the Lady sang a few lines and was then kissed by the Lord.[248] At Sevenoaks in Kent the children carry boughs and garlands from door to door on May Day. The boughs consist of sticks carried upright with bunches of leaves and wild-flowers fastened to the top. The garlands are formed of two hoops interlaced cross-wise and covered with blue and yellow flowers from the woods and hedges. Sometimes the garlands are fastened to the end of a stick carried perpendicularly, sometimes they hang from the middle of a stick borne horizontally by two children.[249] In the streets of Cambridge little girls regularly make their appearance every May Day with female dolls enclosed in hoops, which are covered with ribbons and flowers. These they shew to passers-by, inviting them to remember the May Lady by paying a small sum to her bearers.[250] At Salisbury girls go through the streets on May Day in pairs, carrying between them on a stick a circular garland or hoop adorned with flowers and bows; they visit the shops asking for money. A similar custom is observed at Wilton a few miles from Salisbury.[251] At Cawthorne in Yorkshire “on the first of May the school-children came with hoops to beg for artificial flowers; these my mother’s maid 63used to sew on to the hoops, which with ribbons and other decorations, were used in decking out a tall May-pole planted in the village.”[252] It appears that a hoop wreathed with rowan and marsh marigold, and bearing suspended within it two balls, is still carried on May Day by villagers in some parts of Ireland. The balls, which are sometimes covered with gold and silver paper, are said to have originally represented the sun and moon.[253]
In the towns of Saffron Walden and Debden in Essex on May 1st, little girls go around in groups from door to door singing a song almost identical to the one above and carrying garlands; a doll dressed in white is usually placed in the center of each garland.[244] Similar customs have been, and are still, observed in various parts of England. The garlands are generally in the shape of hoops that intersect each other at right angles. On May morning, the girls from nearby villages used to gather in Northampton, bringing their garlands, which they displayed from house to house. The frame of the garland was formed by two crossed hoops made of willow or hazel, intertwined with flowers and ribbons so that no part of the hoops was visible. In the center of the garlands were placed brightly dressed dolls, either one, two, or three depending on the size of the garland. The entire arrangement was attached to a staff about five feet long for carrying. While showing their garlands, the children sang simple songs and received pennies in return, which they used to throw a feast when they returned home. A joyous dance around the garland concluded the celebration.[245] In Uttoxeter, groups of children carry garlands of flowers around the town on May Day. “The garlands consist of two hoops, one passing through the other, creating the appearance of four half-circles, decorated with flowers and evergreens, topped with a bunch of flowers as a sort of crown, and in the center of the hoops hangs a pendant orange and flowers.” One or more of the children carry a little pole or stick upright with a bunch of flowers attached to the top. They are themselves decorated with flowers and ribbons, and receive pennies from the houses they visit.[246] In Watford, Hertfordshire, groups of children, mostly girls, go from door to door on May Day singing verses that almost match those sung in Abingdon, Berkshire. They are dressed in white and adorned with colorful ribbons and sashes. “Two of the girls carry on a stick what they call ‘the garland,’ which, in its simplest form, consists of two circular hoops that intersect at right angles; a more elaborate version has smaller semicircles added in the four angles formed where the hoops meet. These hoops are covered with whatever wildflowers are in season and further decorated with ribbons. The ‘garland’ resembles the ‘Christmas’ decorations that used to be the center of Christmas celebrations in Yorkshire a few years ago, except that the latter had mistletoe inside the hoops.”[247] A similar custom was observed in Bampton-in-the-Bush in Oxfordshire until about the mid-nineteenth century. The garland was made of two crossed hoops covered with moss, flowers, and ribbons. Two girls, known as the Lady and her Maid, carried the garland between them on a stick; and a boy called the Lord, who held a stick adorned with ribbons and flowers, collected donations from the spectators. Occasionally, the Lady would sing a few lines and then be kissed by the Lord.[248] In Sevenoaks, Kent, the children carry branches and garlands from door to door on May Day. The branches consist of sticks held upright with bunches of leaves and wildflowers attached at the top. The garlands are made from two hoops interlaced crosswise and covered with blue and yellow flowers from the woods and hedges. Sometimes the garlands are attached to the end of a stick carried vertically, and sometimes they hang from the middle of a stick carried horizontally by two children.[249] In the streets of Cambridge, little girls regularly show up every May Day with female dolls enclosed in hoops covered with ribbons and flowers. They display these to passers-by, inviting them to remember the May Lady by giving a small donation to her bearers.[250] In Salisbury, girls walk through the streets on May Day in pairs, carrying between them on a stick a circular garland or hoop decorated with flowers and bows; they visit shops asking for money. A similar tradition occurs in Wilton, just a few miles from Salisbury.[251] In Cawthorne, Yorkshire, “on May 1st, the schoolchildren came with hoops to ask for artificial flowers; these my mother’s maid used to sew onto the hoops, which, along with ribbons and other decorations, were used to decorate a tall May-pole planted in the village.”[252] It seems that a hoop adorned with rowan and marsh marigold, with two balls suspended inside, is still carried on May Day by villagers in certain parts of Ireland. The balls, sometimes covered in gold and silver paper, are said to have originally represented the sun and moon.[253]
|May customs in France, Germany, and Greece.| In some villages of the Vosges Mountains on the first Sunday of May young girls go in bands from house to house, singing a song in praise of May, in which mention is made of the “bread and meal that come in May.” If money is given them, they fasten a green bough to the door; if it is refused, they wish the family many children and no bread to feed them.[254] In the French department of Mayenne, boys who bore the name of Maillotins used to go about from farm to farm on the first of May singing carols, for which they received money or a drink; they planted a small tree or a branch of a tree.[255] Among the Germans of Moravia on the third Sunday before Easter, which goes by the name of Laetare Sunday, it is customary in some places for young girls to carry a small fir-tree about from door to door, while they sing songs, for which they receive presents. The tree is tricked out with many-coloured ribbons, and sometimes with flowers and dyed egg-shells, and its branches are twined together so as to form what is called a crown.[256] In Corfu the children go about singing May songs on the first of May. The boys carry small cypresses adorned with ribbons, flowers, and the fruits of the season. They receive a glass of wine at each 64house. The girls carry nosegays. One of them is dressed up like an angel, with gilt wings, and scatters flowers.[257]
May traditions in France, Germany, and Greece. In some villages of the Vosges Mountains, on the first Sunday of May, young girls go around in groups from house to house, singing a song praising May, which mentions the “bread and meal that come in May.” If they are given money, they attach a green branch to the door; if not, they wish the family many children and no food to feed them.[254] In the French department of Mayenne, boys known as Maillotins used to go from farm to farm on May 1st, singing carols for money or a drink; they would plant a small tree or a branch of a tree.[255] Among the Germans in Moravia, on the third Sunday before Easter, known as Laetare Sunday, it's common in some places for young girls to carry a small fir tree from door to door while singing songs, and they receive gifts in return. The tree is decorated with colorful ribbons, flowers, and sometimes dyed eggshells, and its branches are woven together to form what is called a crown.[256] In Corfu, children go around singing May songs on May 1st. The boys carry small cypress trees adorned with ribbons, flowers, and seasonal fruits, receiving a glass of wine at each house. The girls carry bouquets. One of them is dressed like an angel, with gold wings, and scatters flowers.[257]
|Whitsuntide customs in Russia.| On the Thursday before Whitsunday the Russian villagers “go out into the woods, sing songs, weave garlands, and cut down a young birch-tree, which they dress up in woman’s clothes, or adorn with many-coloured shreds and ribbons. After that comes a feast, at the end of which they take the dressed-up birch-tree, carry it home to their village with joyful dance and song, and set it up in one of the houses, where it remains as an honoured guest till Whitsunday. On the two intervening days they pay visits to the house where their ‘guest’ is; but on the third day, Whitsunday, they take her to a stream and fling her into its waters,” throwing their garlands after her. “All over Russia every village and every town is turned, a little before Whitsunday, into a sort of garden. Everywhere along the streets the young birch-trees stand in rows, every house and every room is adorned with boughs, even the engines upon the railway are for the time decked with green leaves.”[258] In this Russian custom the dressing of the birch in woman’s clothes shews how clearly the tree is personified; and the throwing it into a stream is most probably a rain-charm. In some villages of Altmark it was formerly the custom for serving-men, grooms, and cowherds to go from farm to farm at Whitsuntide distributing crowns made of birch branches and flowers to the farmers; these crowns were hung up in the houses and left till the following year.[259]
Whitsun traditions in Russia. On the Thursday before Whitsunday, the Russian villagers head into the woods, sing songs, weave garlands, and cut down a young birch tree, which they dress in women's clothes or decorate with colorful scraps and ribbons. After that, there's a feast, and at the end, they take the decorated birch tree, carry it back to their village with joyful dancing and singing, and set it up in one of the houses, where it stays as an honored guest until Whitsunday. During the two days in between, they visit the house where their 'guest' is; but on the third day, Whitsunday, they take her to a stream and toss her into the water, throwing their garlands after her. All over Russia, every village and town transforms into a kind of garden just before Whitsunday. Young birch trees line the streets, every house and room is decorated with branches, and even the train engines are temporarily adorned with green leaves.[258] In this Russian custom, dressing the birch in women's clothes clearly personifies the tree, and throwing it into a stream likely serves as a rain charm. In some villages in Altmark, it was once customary for laborers, grooms, and cowherds to go from farm to farm during Whitsuntide, distributing crowns made of birch branches and flowers to the farmers; these crowns were hung up in the houses and left until the following year.[259]
|May-trees in Germany and Sweden.| In the neighbourhood of Zabern in Alsace bands of people go about carrying May-trees. Amongst them is a man dressed in a white shirt, with his face blackened; in front of him is carried a large May-tree, but each member of the band also carries a smaller one. One of the company bears a huge basket in which he collects eggs, bacon, and so forth.[260] In some parts of Sweden on the eve of May Day lads go about carrying each a bunch of fresh-gathered birch twigs, wholly or partially in leaf. With the village fiddler at 65their head, they make the round of the houses singing May songs; the burden of their songs is a prayer for fine weather, a plentiful harvest, and worldly and spiritual blessings. One of them carries a basket in which he collects gifts of eggs and the like. If they are well received they stick a leafy twig in the roof over the cottage door.[261]
May trees in Germany and Sweden. In the area around Zabern in Alsace, groups of people walk around with May-trees. Among them, there’s a man in a white shirt with his face blackened; he carries a large May-tree, while each person in the group also has a smaller one. One of them carries a big basket to collect eggs, bacon, and other items.[260] In some parts of Sweden, on the eve of May Day, young men walk around each holding a bunch of freshly picked birch twigs, either fully or partially leafed. With the village fiddler leading them, they visit the houses singing May songs; their songs express prayers for good weather, a bountiful harvest, and both material and spiritual blessings. One of them has a basket where he collects gifts like eggs. If they’re welcomed warmly, they stick a leafy twig in the roof above the cottage door.[261]
|Midsummer trees and poles in Sweden.| But in Sweden midsummer is the season when these ceremonies are chiefly observed. On the Eve of St. John (the twenty-third of June) the houses are thoroughly cleansed and garnished with green boughs and flowers. Young fir-trees are raised at the doorway and elsewhere about the homestead; and very often small umbrageous arbours are constructed in the garden. In Stockholm on this day a leaf-market is held at which thousands of May-poles (Maj Stănger), from six inches to twelve feet high, decorated with leaves, flowers, slips of coloured paper, gilt egg-shells strung on reeds, and so on, are exposed for sale. Bonfires are lit on the hills, and the people dance round them and jump over them. But the chief event of the day is setting up the May-pole. This consists of a straight and tall spruce-pine tree, stripped of its branches. “At times hoops and at others pieces of wood, placed cross-wise, are attached to it at intervals; whilst at others it is provided with bows, representing, so to say, a man with his arms akimbo. From top to bottom not only the ‘Maj Stăng’ (May-pole) itself, but the hoops, bows, etc., are ornamented with leaves, flowers, slips of various cloth, gilt egg-shells, etc.; and on the top of it is a large vane, or it may be a flag.” The raising of the May-pole, the decoration of which is done by the village maidens, is an affair of much ceremony; the people flock to it from all quarters, and dance round it in a great ring.[262] Midsummer customs of the same sort used to be observed in some parts of Germany. Thus in the towns of the Upper Harz Mountains tall fir-trees, with the bark peeled off their lower trunks, were set up in open places and decked with flowers and eggs, which were painted yellow and red. Round these trees the young folk danced by day and the old folk in the evening. Many 66people disguised themselves, and dramatic representations were given, amongst others mock executions, at which the sufferer’s hat was knocked off instead of his head. At the village of Lerbach in these fir-clad mountains children would gather together on Midsummer Day, each with a tiny fir-tree, which they made to revolve from left to right in the direction of the sun, while they sang “The maiden turned herself about,” or “Oh, thou dear Summertime! Oh, thou dear Summertime!”[263] In some parts of Bohemia also a May-pole or midsummer-tree is erected on St. John’s Eve. The lads fetch a tall fir or pine from the wood and set it up on a height, where the girls deck it with nosegays, garlands, and red ribbons. It is afterwards burned.[264]
Midsummer trees and poles in Sweden. In Sweden, midsummer is when these celebrations mostly take place. On the evening of St. John (June 23rd), people thoroughly clean their homes and decorate them with green branches and flowers. Young fir trees are raised at the entrance and around the house, and small shaded arbours are often built in the garden. In Stockholm on this day, a leaf market is held where thousands of May-poles (Maj Stănger), ranging from six inches to twelve feet high, are sold, decorated with leaves, flowers, colored paper strips, gilt eggshells strung on reeds, and more. Bonfires are lit on the hills, and people dance around them and jump over them. However, the main event is the raising of the May-pole. This is a tall, straight spruce-pine tree stripped of its branches. “Sometimes hoops and at other times pieces of wood placed crosswise are attached to it at intervals; at other times it has bows, resembling a person with their arms crossed. From top to bottom, not only the ‘Maj Stăng’ (May-pole) but also the hoops, bows, etc., are decorated with leaves, flowers, strips of various fabrics, gilt eggshells, etc.; and on top of it sits a large vane, or possibly a flag.” The raising of the May-pole, which is decorated by the village girls, is a grand event; people come from all around and dance around it in a large circle.[262] Midsummer customs like this were also celebrated in some parts of Germany. In the towns of the Upper Harz Mountains, tall fir trees with the bark stripped from their lower trunks were erected in public places and adorned with flowers and eggs painted yellow and red. Young people danced around these trees during the day, while older folks did so in the evening. Many people dressed up in disguise, and theatrical performances were held, including mock executions where the person's hat was knocked off instead of their head. In the village of Lerbach in these forested mountains, children would gather on Midsummer Day, each with a small fir tree, which they would spin clockwise towards the sun while singing “The maiden turned herself about,” or “Oh, thou dear Summertime! Oh, thou dear Summertime!”[263] In some areas of Bohemia, a May-pole or midsummer tree is also set up on St. John's Eve. The boys bring a tall fir or pine from the woods and place it on a hill, where the girls decorate it with bouquets, garlands, and red ribbons. It is then burned.[264]
|Village May-poles in England.| It would be needless to illustrate at length the custom, which has prevailed in various parts of Europe, such as England, France, and Germany, of setting up a village May-tree or May-pole on May Day.[265] A few examples will suffice. The puritanical writer Phillip Stubbes in his Anatomie of Abuses, first published at London in 1583, has described with manifest disgust how they used to bring in the May-pole in the days of good Queen Bess. His description affords us a vivid glimpse of merry England in the olden time. “Against May, Whitsonday, or other time, all the yung men and maides, olde men and wives, run gadding over night to the woods, groves, hils, and mountains, where they spend all the night in plesant pastimes; and in the morning they return, bringing with them birch and branches of trees, to deck their assemblies withall. And no mervaile, for there is a great Lord present amongst them, as superintendent and Lord over their pastimes and sportes, namely, Sathan, prince of hel. But the chiefest jewel they bring from thence is their May-pole, which they bring home 67|Bringing in the May-pole.| with great veneration, as thus. They have twentie or fortie yoke of oxen, every oxe having a sweet nose-gay of flouers placed on the tip of his hornes, and these oxen drawe home this May-pole (this stinkyng ydol, rather), which is covered all over with floures and hearbs, bound round about with strings, from the top to the bottome, and sometime painted with variable colours, with two or three hundred men, women and children following it with great devotion. And thus beeing reared up, with handkercheefs and flags hovering on the top, they straw the ground rounde about, binde green boughes about it, set up sommer haules, bowers, and arbors hard by it. And then fall they to daunce about it, like as the heathen people did at the dedication of the Idols, whereof this is a perfect pattern, or rather the thing itself. I have heard it credibly reported (and that viva voce) by men of great gravitie and reputation, that of fortie, threescore, or a hundred maides going to the wood over night, there have scaresly the third part of them returned home againe undefiled.”[266] Of the Cornish people their historian Borlase says: “From towns they make excursions, on May eve, into the country, cut down a tall elm, bring it into town with rejoicings, and having fitted a straight taper pole to the end of it, and painted it, erect it in the most publick part, and upon holidays and festivals dress it with garlands of flowers, or ensigns and streamers.”[267] In Northumberland, down apparently to near the end of the eighteenth century, young people of both sexes used to go out early on May morning to gather the flowering thorn and the dew off the grass, which they brought home with music and acclamations; then, having dressed a pole on the green with garlands, they danced about it. The dew was considered as a great cosmetic, and preserved the face from wrinkles, blotches, and the traces of old age. A syllabub made of warm milk from the cow, sweet cakes, and wine was prepared for the feast; and a kind of divination, to discover who should be wedded first, was practised by dropping a marriage-ring into the syllabub and fishing for it 68with a ladle.[268] At Padstow in Cornwall, when shipbuilding was a thriving industry of the port, the shipwrights used to erect a tall May-pole at the top of Cross Street in the middle of a cross inlaid with stone. The pole was gaily decorated with spring flowers and so forth. But the custom has long been abandoned. A great feature of the celebration of May Day at Padstow used to be the Hobby Horse, that is, a man wearing a ferocious mask, who went dancing and singing before the chief houses, accompanied by a great flower-bedecked crowd of men and women, while the men fired pistols loaded with powder in all directions.[269]
Village Maypoles in England. There's no need to go into too much detail about the custom that has been popular in different parts of Europe, like England, France, and Germany, of setting up a village May-tree or May-pole on May Day.[265] A few examples will do. The Puritan writer Phillip Stubbes, in his Anatomie of Abuses, first published in London in 1583, expressed his clear disgust at how they would bring in the May-pole during the reign of good Queen Bess. His description gives us a vivid picture of merry England in the past. “During May, Whitsunday, or other times, all the young men and women, old men and wives, would run off overnight to the woods, groves, hills, and mountains, where they would spend the night enjoying themselves; and in the morning they would come back carrying birch and branches of trees to decorate their gatherings. And it’s no wonder, because there’s a great Lord present among them, as supervisor and Lord over their fun and games, namely, Satan, prince of hell. But the main treasure they bring back is their May-pole, which they carry home 67Setting up the Maypole. with great respect, like this. They have twenty or forty yoke of oxen, each ox having a sweet bouquet of flowers on the tip of its horns, and these oxen pull this May-pole (this stinky idol, rather), which is covered all over with flowers and herbs, tied around with ribbons from top to bottom, and sometimes painted in varying colors, with two or three hundred men, women, and children following it with great devotion. And once it’s raised up, with handkerchiefs and flags flying at the top, they scatter straw on the ground around it, bind green branches around it, set up summer huts, arbors, and shelters nearby. And then they dance around it, just like the heathens did at the dedication of idols, which is a perfect example of that, or rather, the thing itself. I have heard it reliably reported (and that viva voce) by respected and reputable men that of forty, sixty, or a hundred maidens going to the woods overnight, hardly a third of them return home untouched.”[266] Of the Cornish people, their historian Borlase says: “From towns they make trips into the countryside on May eve, cut down a tall elm, bring it back into town with celebrations, and after fitting a straight, tapered pole to the end of it and painting it, they erect it in the most public place, and on holidays and festivals, dress it with garlands of flowers, ensigns, and streamers.”[267] In Northumberland, well into the late eighteenth century, young people of both genders would go out early on May morning to gather flowering thorn and dew from the grass, which they brought home with music and cheers; then, having dressed a pole on the green with garlands, they danced around it. The dew was considered a great beautifier, preventing wrinkles, blemishes, and signs of aging. A syllabub made from warm cow's milk, sweet cakes, and wine was prepared for the feast; and a type of divination to find out who would be married first was practiced by dropping a wedding ring into the syllabub and fishing for it 68 with a ladle.[268] At Padstow in Cornwall, when shipbuilding was a booming industry in the port, the shipwrights would erect a tall May-pole at the top of Cross Street in the middle of a stone-inlaid cross. The pole was brightly decorated with spring flowers and more. But that custom has long been set aside. A major part of the May Day celebrations in Padstow used to be the Hobby Horse, which was a man wearing a terrifying mask who danced and sang in front of the main houses, accompanied by a large crowd of men and women adorned with flowers, while the men fired pistols loaded with powder in all directions.[269]
|Village May-trees and May-poles in Germany.| In Swabia on the first of May a tall fir-tree used to be fetched into the village, where it was decked with ribbons and set up; then the people danced round it merrily to music. The tree stood on the village green the whole year through, until a fresh tree was brought in next May Day.[270] In Saxony “people were not content with bringing the summer symbolically (as king or queen) into the village; they brought the fresh green itself from the woods even into the houses: that is the May or Whitsuntide trees, which are mentioned in documents from the thirteenth century onwards. The fetching in of the May-tree was also a festival. The people went out into the woods to seek the May (majum quaerere), brought young trees, especially firs and birches, to the village and set them up before the doors of the houses or of the cattle-stalls or in the rooms. Young fellows erected such May-trees, as we have already said, before the chambers of their sweethearts. Besides these household Mays, a great May-tree or May-pole, which had also been brought in solemn procession to the village, was set up in the middle of the village or in the market-place of the town. It had been chosen by the whole community, who watched over it most carefully. Generally the tree was stripped of its branches and leaves, nothing but the crown being left, on which were displayed, in addition to many-coloured ribbons and cloths, a variety of victuals such as 69sausages, cakes, and eggs. The young folk exerted themselves to obtain these prizes. In the greasy poles which are still to be seen at our fairs we have a relic of these old May-poles. Not uncommonly there was a race on foot or on horseback to the May-tree—a Whitsuntide pastime which in course of time has been divested of its goal and survives as a popular custom to this day in many parts of Germany. In the great towns of our land the custom has developed into sport, for our spring races are in their origin nothing but the old German horse-races, in which the victor received a prize (generally a red cloth) from the hand of a maiden, while the last rider was greeted with jeers and gibes by the assembled community.”[271] The custom of the May-tree is observed by the Wends of Saxony, as well as by the Germans. The young men of the village choose the slimmest and tallest tree in the wood, peel it and set it up on the village green. Its leafy top is decked with cloths and ribbons presented by the girls. Here it stands, towering high above the roofs, till Ascension Day, or in many places till Whitsuntide. When it is being taken down, the young folk dance round it, and the youth who catches and breaks off the leafy crown of the falling tree is the hero of the day. Holding the green boughs aloft he is carried shoulder-high, with music and joyous shouts, to the ale-house, where the dance is resumed.[272] At Bordeaux on the |May-poles and May-trees in France.| first of May the boys of each street used to erect in it a May-pole, which they adorned with garlands and a great crown; and every evening during the whole of the month the young people of both sexes danced singing about the pole.[273] Down to the present day May-trees decked with flowers and ribbons are set up on May Day in every village and hamlet of gay Provence. Under them the young folk make merry and the old folk rest.[274] The Red Karens of |May-poles among the Karens of Burma.| Upper Burma hold a festival in April, at which the chief ceremony is the erection of a post on ground set apart for 70the purpose in or near each village. A new post is set up every year; the old ones are left standing, but are not renewed if they fall or decay. Omens are first drawn from chicken bones as to which tree will be the best to fell for the post, which day will be the luckiest, and so on. A pole some twenty or thirty feet long is then hewn from the tree and ornamented with a rudely carved capital. On the lucky day all the villagers assemble and drag the pole to the chosen spot. When it has been set up, the people dance “a rude sort of May-pole dance” to the music of drums and gongs. Much pork is eaten and much liquor drunk on this festive occasion.[275]
|May trees and Maypoles in German villages.| On the first of May in Swabia, a tall fir-tree used to be brought into the village, where it was decorated with ribbons and set up; then the villagers would joyfully dance around it to music. The tree remained on the village green for the entire year until a new tree was brought in the following May Day.[270] In Saxony, people didn’t just symbolically bring summer into the village as a king or queen; they actually brought fresh greenery from the woods into their homes: these are the May or Whitsuntide trees mentioned in documents dating back to the thirteenth century. The act of bringing in the May-tree was also celebrated. The villagers would go into the woods to search for the May (majum quaerere), bringing young trees, especially firs and birches, back to the village to set up in front of the doors of houses, cattle stalls, or even inside rooms. Young men would erect such May-trees in front of their sweethearts’ homes. In addition to these household May-trees, a large May-tree or May-pole was brought to the village in a solemn procession and placed in the center of the village or town square. It was chosen by the entire community, who took care to watch over it. Generally, the tree was stripped of its branches and leaves, leaving only the crown adorned with colorful ribbons and various food items like sausages, cakes, and eggs. The youth would strive to claim these prizes. The greasy poles still seen at fairs today are a remnant of these old May-poles. Often there was a race, either on foot or horseback, to reach the May-tree—a Whitsuntide activity that has evolved over time but still exists today in many parts of Germany. In our large towns, the tradition has turned into a sport, as our spring races originally stemmed from those old German horse races, where the winner would receive a prize (usually a red cloth) from a maiden, while the last rider faced ridicule from the gathered crowd.”[271] The May-tree tradition is also practiced by the Wends of Saxony, as well as by the Germans. The village young men select the thinnest and tallest tree from the woods, strip its bark, and set it up on the village green. Its leafy top is decorated with cloths and ribbons provided by the girls. It stands high above the roofs until Ascension Day, or in many places, until Whitsuntide. When it’s time to take it down, the young people dance around it, and the young man who catches and breaks off the leafy crown of the falling tree is celebrated as the hero of the day. Holding the green boughs high, he is carried on shoulders, accompanied by music and cheers, to the tavern, where the dancing continues.[272] In Bordeaux, on the first of May, the boys in each street used to erect a May-pole, decorating it with garlands and a large crown; and every evening throughout the month, young people of both genders would dance and sing around the pole.[273] Even today, May-trees adorned with flowers and ribbons are set up on May Day in every village and hamlet of vibrant Provence. Under them, the young people celebrate while the older folks relax.[274] The Red Karens of Maypoles among the Karens of Burma. Upper Burma hold a festival in April, where the main event is the erection of a post in a designated area in or near each village. A new post is set up every year; the old ones remain standing but are not replaced if they fall or decay. Omens are drawn from chicken bones to determine which tree is best to fell for the post and when would be the most auspicious day. A pole about twenty or thirty feet long is then cut from the tree and decorated with a crudely carved top. On the chosen day, all the villagers gather and drag the pole to the selected spot. Once it’s set up, people dance “a rough sort of May-pole dance” to the sounds of drums and gongs. Plenty of pork is eaten, and lots of alcohol is consumed during this festive occasion.[275]
|Permanent May-poles.| In all these cases, apparently, the custom is or was to bring in a new May-tree each year. However, in England the village May-pole seems as a rule, at least in later times, to have been permanent, not renewed annually.[276] Villages of Upper Bavaria renew their May-pole once every three, four, or five years. It is a fir-tree fetched from the forest, and amid all the wreaths, flags, and inscriptions with which it is bedecked, an essential part is the bunch of dark green foliage left at the top “as a memento that in it we have to do, not with a dead pole, but with a living tree from the greenwood.”[277] We can hardly doubt that originally the practice everywhere was to set up a new May-tree every year. As the object of the custom was to bring in the fructifying spirit of vegetation, newly awakened in spring, the end would have been defeated if, instead of a living tree, green and sappy, an old withered one had been erected year after year or allowed to stand permanently. When, however, the meaning of the custom had been forgotten, and the May-tree was regarded simply as a centre for holiday merry-making, people saw no reason for felling a fresh tree every year, and preferred to let the same tree stand permanently, only decking it with fresh flowers on May Day. But even when the May-pole had thus become a fixture, the need of giving it the appearance of being a green tree, not a dead pole, was sometimes felt. Thus at Weverham in Cheshire “are two May-poles, which 71are decorated on this day (May Day) with all due attention to the ancient solemnity; the sides are hung with garlands, and the top terminated by a birch or other tall slender tree with its leaves on; the bark being peeled, and the stem spliced to the pole, so as to give the appearance of one tree from the summit.”[278] Thus the renewal of the May-tree is like the renewal of the Harvest-May;[279] each is intended to secure a fresh portion of the fertilising spirit of vegetation, and to preserve it throughout the year. But whereas the efficacy of the Harvest-May is restricted to promoting the growth of the crops, that of the May-tree or May-branch extends also, as we have seen, to women and cattle. Lastly, |The May-tree burnt at the end of the year.| it is worth noting that the old May-tree is sometimes burned at the end of the year. Thus in the district of Prague young people break pieces of the public May-tree and place them behind the holy pictures in their rooms, where they remain till next May Day, and are then burned on the hearth.[280] In Würtemberg the bushes which are set up on the houses on Palm Sunday are sometimes left there for a year and then burnt.[281] The eiresione (the Harvest-May of Greece) was perhaps burnt at the end of the year.[282]
Permanent Maypoles. In all these cases, it seems that the tradition is or was to bring in a new May-tree each year. However, in England, the village May-pole has generally been permanent in more recent times, rather than being replaced each year.[276] Villages in Upper Bavaria renew their May-pole every three, four, or five years. It is a fir tree brought in from the forest, and among all the wreaths, flags, and decorations it has, an important part is the bunch of dark green foliage left at the top "as a reminder that we are dealing with a living tree from the woods, not a dead pole." [277] We can hardly doubt that the original practice everywhere was to set up a new May-tree each year. Since the purpose of the custom was to bring in the life-giving spirit of growth that awakens in spring, the goal would have been defeated if, instead of a lively, green tree, an old, withered one was set up year after year or allowed to remain permanently. However, when the meaning of the custom was forgotten and the May-tree became simply a focal point for holiday festivities, people saw no reason to cut down a new tree every year and preferred to leave the same tree standing permanently, simply adding fresh flowers to it on May Day. But even after the May-pole became a permanent fixture, there was still a need at times to make it look like a green tree rather than a dead pole. For example, in Weverham, Cheshire, "there are two May-poles that are decorated on this day (May Day) with all due respect to the ancient tradition; the sides are adorned with garlands, and the top is finished with a birch or some other tall, slender tree with its leaves intact; the bark is peeled, and the stem is spliced to the pole to give the appearance of one tree from the top." [278] Thus, the renewal of the May-tree is like the renewal of the Harvest-May;[279] each is meant to secure a fresh dose of the life-giving spirit of vegetation and to maintain it throughout the year. But while the purpose of the Harvest-May is limited to encouraging the growth of crops, the May-tree or May-branch, as we’ve seen, also extends to women and livestock. Finally, The May tree burned at the end of the year. it’s worth noting that the old May-tree is sometimes burned at the end of the year. For instance, in the Prague area, young people break pieces off the public May-tree and place them behind holy pictures in their rooms, where they stay until the next May Day, and then are burned on the hearth.[280] In Württemberg, the bushes set up on houses on Palm Sunday are sometimes left there for a year before being burned.[281] The eiresione (the Harvest-May of Greece) may have also been burned at the end of the year.[282]
|Tree-spirit detached from the tree and represented in human form.| So much for the tree-spirit conceived as incorporate or immanent in the tree. We have now to shew that the tree-spirit is often conceived and represented as detached from the tree and clothed in human form, and even as embodied in living men or women. The evidence for this anthropomorphic representation of the tree-spirit is largely to be found in the popular customs of European peasantry. These will be described presently, but before examining them we may notice an Esthonian folk-tale which illustrates the same train of thought very clearly. Once upon a time, so runs |Esthonian story of a tree-elf.| the tale, a young peasant was busy raking the hay in a 72meadow, when on the rim of the horizon a heavy thunder-cloud loomed black and angry, warning him to make haste with his work before the storm should break. He finished in time, and was wending his way homeward, when under a tree he espied a stranger fast asleep. “He will be drenched to the skin,” thought the good-natured young fellow to himself, “if I allow him to sleep on.” So he stepped up to the sleeper and shaking him forcibly roused him from his slumber. The stranger started up, and at sight of the thunder-cloud, which now darkened the sky, he blenched, fumbled in his pockets, and finding nothing in them wherewith to reward the friendly swain, he said, “This time I am your debtor. But the time will come when I shall be able to repay your kindness. Remember what I tell you. You will enlist. You will be parted from your friends for years, and one day a feeling of homesickness will come over you in a foreign land. Then look up, and you will see a crooked birch-tree a few steps from you. Go to it, knock thrice on the trunk, and ask, ‘Is the Crooked One at home?’ The rest will follow.” With these words the stranger hastened away and was out of sight in a moment. The peasant also went his way, and soon forgot all about the matter. Well, time went by and part of the stranger’s prophecy came true. For the peasant turned soldier and served in a cavalry regiment for years. One day, when he was quartered with his regiment in the north of Finland, it fell to his turn to tend the horses while his comrades were roistering in the tavern. Suddenly a great yearning for home, such as he had never known before, came over the lonely trooper; tears started to his eyes, and dear visions of his native land crowded on his soul. Then he bethought him of the sleeping stranger in the wood, and the whole scene came back to him as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. He looked up, and there, strange to tell, he was aware of a crooked birch-tree right in front of him. More in jest than in earnest he went up to it and did as the stranger had bidden him. Hardly had the words, “Is the Crooked One at home?” passed his lips when the stranger himself stood before him and said, “I am glad you have come. I feared you had forgotten me. You wish to be at 73home, do you not?” The trooper said yes, he did. Then the Crooked One cried into the tree, “Young folks, which of you is the fleetest?” A voice from the birch replied, “Father, I can run as fast as a moor-hen flies.” “Well, I need a fleeter messenger to-day.” A second voice answered, “I can run like the wind.” “I need a swifter envoy,” said the father. Then a third voice cried, “I can run like the thought of man.” “You are after my own heart. Fill a bag full of gold and take it with my friend and benefactor to his home.” Then he caught the soldier by the hat, crying, “The hat to the man, and the man to the house!” The same moment the soldier felt his hat fly from his head. When he looked about for it, lo! he was at home in the old familiar parlour wearing his old peasant clothes, and the great sack of money stood beside him. Yet on parade and at the roll-call he was never missed. When the man who told this story was asked, “Who could the stranger be?” he answered, “Who but a tree-elf?”[283]
|Tree spirit that is distinct from the tree and shown in human form.| That’s enough about the tree spirit seen as part of or inherent in the tree. Now we need to show that the tree spirit is often imagined and represented as separate from the tree and dressed in human form, sometimes even embodied in living men or women. The evidence for this human-like representation of the tree spirit is mostly found in the popular customs of European peasants. These will be described shortly, but before we dive into that, let’s take a look at an Estonian folktale that clearly illustrates this idea. Once upon a time, as the story goes, a young peasant was busy raking hay in a meadow when a dark and angry thundercloud appeared on the horizon, urging him to hurry up with his work before the storm hit. He finished just in time and was on his way home when he noticed a stranger fast asleep under a tree. “He will get soaked,” thought the kind-hearted young man, “if I let him sleep here.” So he approached the sleeper and shook him awake. The stranger jumped up, and upon seeing the thundercloud darkening the sky, he blanched, searched his pockets, and finding nothing to reward the helpful peasant, he said, “This time I owe you one. But there will come a time when I can repay your kindness. Remember this: you will enlist. You’ll be separated from your friends for years, and one day you’ll feel a deep homesickness while in a foreign land. Then look up, and you’ll see a crooked birch tree a short distance away. Go to it, knock three times on the trunk, and ask, ‘Is the Crooked One at home?’ The rest will follow.” With that, the stranger hurried away and vanished in no time. The peasant continued on his way and soon forgot all about it. Time passed, and part of the stranger’s prophecy came true, for the peasant became a soldier and served in a cavalry regiment for years. One day, while stationed with his regiment in northern Finland, he was tasked with caring for the horses while his comrades partied at the tavern. Suddenly, an overwhelming longing for home, unlike anything he’d ever felt, washed over him; tears filled his eyes as cherished memories of his homeland flooded his mind. Then he remembered the sleeping stranger in the woods, and the whole scene came back to him as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. He looked up, and to his surprise, he saw a crooked birch tree right in front of him. More in jest than in earnest, he approached it and did what the stranger had told him. No sooner had he asked, “Is the Crooked One at home?” than the stranger appeared before him and said, “I’m glad to see you. I was worried you’d forgotten me. You want to go home, don’t you?” The soldier replied that he did. Then the Crooked One called into the tree, “Young ones, which of you is the fastest?” A voice from the birch answered, “Father, I can run as fast as a moorhen flies.” “Well, I need a faster messenger today.” A second voice said, “I can run like the wind.” “I need a swifter one,” said the father. Then a third voice piped up, “I can run like a man’s thought.” “You are exactly what I need. Fill a bag with gold and take it to my friend and benefactor at his home.” Then he grabbed the soldier’s hat, exclaiming, “The hat to the man, and the man to the house!” The next moment, the soldier felt his hat fly off his head. When he looked around for it, he found himself at home in his familiar living room, dressed in his old peasant clothes, with a huge sack of money beside him. Yet during the parade and roll call, no one noticed he was gone. When the man who told this story was asked, “Who could the stranger be?” he replied, “Who but a tree spirit?”[283]
|Tree-spirit represented simultaneously in vegetable and human form.| There is an instructive class of cases in which the tree-spirit is represented simultaneously in vegetable form and in human form, which are set side by side as if for the express purpose of explaining each other. In these cases the human representative of the tree-spirit is sometimes a doll or puppet, sometimes a living person; but whether a puppet or a person, it is placed beside a tree or bough; so that together the person or puppet, and the tree or bough, form a sort of bilingual inscription, the one being, so to speak, a translation of the other. Here, therefore, there is no room left for doubt that the spirit of the tree is actually represented in human form. Thus in Bohemia, on the fourth Sunday in Lent, young people throw a puppet called Death into the water; then the girls go into the wood, cut down a young tree, and fasten to it a puppet dressed in white clothes to look like a woman; with this tree and puppet they go from house to house collecting gratuities and singing songs with the refrain:—
|Tree spirit shown in both plant and human forms.| There is an interesting group of cases where the tree-spirit is depicted at the same time in both plant form and human form, placed side by side to clarify each other. In these instances, the human representative of the tree-spirit can be a doll or puppet, or it can be a living person; regardless of whether it's a puppet or a person, it is positioned next to a tree or branch. Together, the person or puppet and the tree or branch create a kind of bilingual message, with one serving as a translation of the other. Thus, there’s no doubt that the tree's spirit is truly represented in human form. For example, in Bohemia, on the fourth Sunday in Lent, young people throw a puppet called Death into the water; afterward, the girls go into the woods, cut down a young tree, and attach a puppet dressed in white to make it look like a woman. With this tree and puppet, they visit houses collecting tips and singing songs with the refrain:—
Here, as we shall see later on, the “Summer” is the spirit of vegetation returning or reviving in spring. In some parts of our own country children go about asking for pence with some small imitations of May-poles, and with a finely-dressed doll which they call the Lady of the May.[285] In these cases the tree and the puppet are obviously regarded as equivalent.
Here, as we will explore later, "Summer" represents the spirit of plant life coming back to life in spring. In some areas of our country, kids walk around asking for coins with little replicas of Maypoles and a beautifully dressed doll they call the Lady of the May.[285] In these situations, the tree and the doll are clearly seen as being the same.
|The Little May Rose.| At Thann, in Alsace, a girl called the Little May Rose, dressed in white, carries a small May-tree, which is gay with garlands and ribbons. Her companions collect gifts from door to door, singing a song:—
The Little May Rose. In Thann, Alsace, a girl named the Little May Rose, dressed in white, carries a small May-tree adorned with colorful garlands and ribbons. Her friends go from house to house gathering gifts while singing a song:—
In the course of the song a wish is expressed that those who give nothing may lose their fowls by the marten, that their vine may bear no clusters, their tree no nuts, their field no corn; the produce of the year is supposed to depend on the gifts offered to these May singers.[286] Here and in the cases mentioned above, where children go about with green boughs or garlands on May Day singing and collecting money, the meaning is that with the spirit of vegetation they bring plenty and good luck to the house, and they expect to be paid for the service. In Russian Lithuania, on the first of May, they used to set up a green tree before the village. Then the rustic swains chose the prettiest girl, crowned her, swathed her in birch branches and set her beside the May-tree, where they danced, sang, and shouted “O May! O May!”[287] In Brie (Isle de France) a May-tree is set up in the midst of the village; its top is crowned with flowers; lower down it is twined with leaves and twigs, still lower with huge green branches. The girls dance round it, and 75at the same time a lad wrapt in leaves and called Father May is led about.[288] In the small towns of the Franken Wald |The Walber.| mountains in Northern Bavaria, on the second of May, a Walber tree is erected before a tavern, and a man dances round it, enveloped in straw from head to foot in such a way that the ears of corn unite above his head to form a crown. He is called the Walber, and used to be led in procession through the streets, which were adorned with sprigs of birch.[289]
In the song, there’s a wish that those who give nothing might lose their chickens to the marten, that their vines won’t produce any grapes, their trees won’t have any nuts, and their fields won’t yield any corn; it’s believed that the harvest of the year depends on the gifts given to the May singers.[286] Here and in the other situations mentioned, where children walk around with green branches or garlands on May Day singing and collecting money, the idea is that they bring abundance and good fortune to the home with the spirit of nature, and they expect to be compensated for their efforts. In Russian Lithuania, on May 1st, they used to put up a green tree in front of the village. Then the local boys would choose the prettiest girl, crown her, wrap her in birch branches, and place her next to the May tree, where they would dance, sing, and shout “O May! O May!”[287] In Brie (Isle de France), a May tree is set up in the center of the village; its top is decorated with flowers, lower down it is adorned with leaves and twigs, and even lower with large green branches. The girls dance around it, while at the same time a boy wrapped in leaves, called Father May, is led around.[288] In the small towns of the Franken Wald mountains in Northern Bavaria, on May 2nd, a Walber tree is put up in front of a tavern, and a man dances around it, covered in straw from head to toe so that the ears of corn come together above his head to form a crown. He is called the Walber, and he used to be led in procession through the streets, which were decorated with birch branches.[289]
|Green George in Carinthia.| Amongst the Slavs of Carinthia, on St. George’s Day (the twenty-third of April), the young people deck with flowers and garlands a tree which has been felled on the eve of the festival. The tree is then carried in procession, accompanied with music and joyful acclamations, the chief figure in the procession being the Green George, a young fellow clad from head to foot in green birch branches. At the close of the ceremonies the Green George, that is an effigy of him, is thrown into the water. It is the aim of the lad who acts Green George to step out of his leafy envelope and substitute the effigy so adroitly that no one shall perceive the change. In many places, however, the lad himself who plays the part of Green George is ducked in a river or pond, with the express intention of thus ensuring rain to make the fields and meadows green in summer. In some places the cattle are crowned and driven from their stalls to the accompaniment of a song:—
Green George in Carinthia. In Carinthia among the Slavs, on St. George’s Day (April 23), young people decorate a tree with flowers and garlands, which was cut down the night before the festival. The tree is then carried in a parade, accompanied by music and joyful cheers, with the main figure being Green George, a young man dressed entirely in green birch branches. At the end of the celebrations, an effigy of Green George is thrown into the water. The goal of the boy playing Green George is to slip out of his leafy disguise and replace the effigy so skillfully that no one notices the swap. In many places, however, the boy who takes on the role of Green George is also dunked in a river or pond, specifically to ensure rain for making the fields and meadows green in summer. In some areas, the cattle are adorned with crowns and led from their stalls while a song is sung:—
Here we see that the same powers of making rain and fostering the cattle, which are ascribed to the tree-spirit regarded as incorporate in the tree, are also attributed to the tree-spirit represented by a living man.
Here we see that the same abilities to create rain and nurture the cattle, which are attributed to the tree-spirit seen as embodied in the tree, are also given to the tree-spirit represented by a living man.
|Green George among the gypsies.| Among the gypsies of Transylvania and Roumania the 76festival of Green George is the chief celebration of spring. Some of them keep it on Easter Monday, others on St. George’s Day (the twenty-third of April). On the eve of the festival a young willow tree is cut down, adorned with garlands and leaves, and set up in the ground. Women with child place one of their garments under the tree, and leave it there over night; if next morning they find a leaf of the tree lying on the garment, they know that their delivery will be easy. Sick and old people go to the tree in the evening, spit on it thrice, and say, “You will soon die, but let us live.” Next morning the gypsies gather about the willow. The chief figure of the festival is Green George, a lad who is concealed from top to toe in green leaves and blossoms. He throws a few handfuls of grass to the beasts of the tribe, in order that they may have no lack of fodder throughout the year. Then he takes three iron nails, which have lain for three days and nights in water, and knocks them into the willow; after which he pulls them out and flings them into a running stream to propitiate the water-spirits. Finally, a pretence is made of throwing Green George into the water, but in fact it is only a puppet made of branches and leaves which is ducked in the stream.[291] In this version of the custom the powers of granting an easy delivery to women and of communicating vital energy to the sick and old are clearly ascribed to the willow; while Green George, the human double of the tree, bestows food on the cattle, and further ensures the favour of the water-spirits by putting them in indirect communication with the tree.
Green George with the gypsies. Among the gypsies of Transylvania and Romania, the 76festival of Green George is the main spring celebration. Some celebrate it on Easter Monday, while others do so on St. George’s Day (April 23rd). On the eve of the festival, a young willow tree is cut down, decorated with garlands and leaves, and planted in the ground. Pregnant women place one of their garments under the tree and leave it there overnight; if they find a leaf of the tree on the garment the next morning, they believe their delivery will be easy. Sick and elderly individuals go to the tree in the evening, spit on it three times, and say, “You will soon die, but let us live.” The next morning, the gypsies gather around the willow. The central figure of the festival is Green George, a young man completely covered in green leaves and blossoms. He throws a handful of grass to the tribe's animals to ensure they have enough food throughout the year. Then he takes three iron nails that have been soaked in water for three days and nights and drives them into the willow; after that, he pulls them out and tosses them into a flowing stream to appease the water spirits. Finally, there's a pretend act of throwing Green George into the water, but in reality, it’s just a puppet made of branches and leaves that gets dipped in the stream.[291] In this version of the custom, the willow is clearly seen as having the power to grant an easy delivery to women and to give vital energy to the sick and elderly, while Green George, the human counterpart of the tree, feeds the cattle and also ensures the favor of the water spirits by connecting them indirectly with the tree.
|Double representation of the tree-spirit by tree and man among the Oraons.| An example of the double representation of the spirit of vegetation by a tree and a living man is reported from Bengal. The Oraons have a festival in spring while the sál-trees are in blossom, because they think that at this time the marriage of earth is celebrated and the sál flowers are necessary for the ceremony. On an appointed day the villagers go with their priest to the Sarna, the sacred grove, a remnant of the old sál forest in which a goddess Sarna Burhi, or woman of the grove, is supposed to dwell. She is thought to have great influence on the rain; and the priest 77arriving with his party at the grove sacrifices to her five fowls, of which a morsel is given to each person present. Then they gather the sál flowers and return laden with them to the village. Next day the priest visits every house, carrying the flowers in a wide open basket. The women of each house bring out water to wash his feet as he approaches, and kneeling make him an obeisance. Then he dances with them and places some of the sál flowers over the door of the house and in the women’s hair. No sooner is this done than the women empty their water-jugs over him, drenching him to the skin. A feast follows, and the young people, with sál flowers in their hair, dance all night on the village green.[292] Here, the equivalence of the flower-bearing priest to the goddess of the flowering tree comes out plainly. For she is supposed to influence the rain, and the drenching of the priest with water is, doubtless, like the ducking of the Green George in Carinthia and elsewhere, a rain-charm. Thus the priest, as if he were the tree goddess herself, goes from door to door dispensing rain and bestowing fruitfulness on each house, but especially on the women. In some parts |Double representation of the harvest-goddess Gauri by a bundle of plants and an unmarried girl.| of India the harvest-goddess Gauri, the wife of Siva, is represented both by an unmarried girl and by a bundle of the wild flowering balsam plant touch-me-not (Impatiens sp.), which is tied up in a mummy-like figure with a woman’s mask, dress, and ornaments. Before being removed from the soil to represent the goddess the plants are worshipped. The girl is also worshipped. Then the bundle of plants is carried and the girl who personates the goddess walks through the rooms of the house, while the supposed footprints of Gauri herself are imprinted on the floor with red paste. On entering each room the human representative of Gauri is asked, “Gauri, Gauri, whither have you come and what do you see?” and the girl makes appropriate replies. Then she is given a mouthful of sweets and the mistress of the house says, “Come with golden feet and stay for ever.” The plant-formed effigy of Gauri is afterwards worshipped as the goddess herself and receives offerings of rice-cakes and pancakes. On the third day it is thrown into a river or tank; then a handful of pebbles or sand is brought home from the 78spot and thrown all over the house and the trees to bring good luck to the house and to protect the trees from vermin. A remarkable feature of the ceremonies is that the goddess Gauri is supposed to be secretly followed by her husband Siva, who remains hidden under the fold of her garment and is represented by a lôṭâ, covered by a coco-nut and filled with rice, which is carefully measured. After the image of Gauri has been thrown into the river or tank, the rice in the lôṭâ representing Siva is carefully measured again, in order to see whether the quantity has increased or decreased, and according to the result an abundant or a scanty harvest is prognosticated.[293] Hence it appears that the whole ritual aims at ensuring a plentiful crop of rice. In this case the spirit of vegetation thus represented in duplicate by a living girl and the effigy of a woman is a harvest goddess, not a tree-spirit, but the principle is the same.
Double representation of the tree spirit by tree and human among the Oraons. An example of the double representation of the spirit of vegetation by a tree and a living person is noted from Bengal. The Oraons celebrate a spring festival when the sál-trees are blooming, as they believe this is the time to honor the marriage of the earth and the sál flowers are essential for the ceremony. On a specific day, the villagers go with their priest to the Sarna, the sacred grove, a remnant of the old sál forest where a goddess named Sarna Burhi, or woman of the grove, is believed to reside. She is thought to have a significant impact on rain; and when the priest 77arrives with his group at the grove, he sacrifices five chickens to her, with a piece given to everyone present. They then gather the sál flowers and return to the village carrying them. The next day, the priest visits every house, holding the flowers in a wide open basket. The women of each home bring out water to wash his feet as he approaches, and kneel to show their respect. Then, he dances with them and places some of the sál flowers over the door and in the women’s hair. As soon as this is done, the women pour their water-jugs over him, soaking him completely. A feast follows, and the young people, with sál flowers in their hair, dance all night on the village green.[292] Here, the connection between the flower-bearing priest and the goddess of the blooming tree is evident. She is thought to influence the rain, and the priest being drenched with water is likely similar to other rain charms like the ducking of the Green George in Carinthia and other places. Therefore, the priest, as though he were the tree goddess herself, goes from house to house bringing rain and blessing each home, especially the women. In some areas Double representation of the harvest goddess Gauri by a bundle of plants and an unmarried girl. of India, the harvest-goddess Gauri, the wife of Siva, is represented by both an unmarried girl and a bundle of the wild flowering balsam plant touch-me-not (Impatiens sp.), tied up to resemble a mummy with a woman’s mask, dress, and ornaments. Before removing the plants from the soil to represent the goddess, they are worshipped. The girl is also honored. The bundle is then carried, and the girl portraying the goddess walks through the rooms of the house, while red paste is used to leave the supposed footprints of Gauri herself on the floor. Upon entering each room, the human representative of Gauri is asked, “Gauri, Gauri, where have you come from and what do you see?” and the girl responds accordingly. She is then offered a bite of sweets, and the mistress of the house says, “Come with golden feet and stay forever.” The plant figure of Gauri is later worshipped as the goddess herself and receives offerings of rice-cakes and pancakes. On the third day, it is thrown into a river or tank; then, a handful of pebbles or sand is brought home from the 78location and scattered throughout the house and on the trees to bring good luck and protect them from pests. An interesting part of the ceremonies is that the goddess Gauri is believed to be secretly followed by her husband Siva, who remains hidden under her garment, represented by a lôṭâ, covered by a coconut and filled with rice, which is carefully measured. After the image of Gauri has been thrown into the river or tank, the rice in the lôṭâ representing Siva is measured again to determine if the amount has increased or decreased, and based on the result, a plentiful or poor harvest is predicted.[293] Thus, it seems that the entire ritual is focused on ensuring a good crop of rice. In this case, the spirit of vegetation is represented in two ways: by a living girl and the effigy of a woman, as the harvest goddess, not a tree-spirit, but the concept remains consistent.
|W. Mannhardt’s summary of the evidence.| Without citing more examples to the same effect, we may sum up the results of the preceding pages in the words of Mannhardt: “The customs quoted suffice to establish with certainty the conclusion that in these spring processions the spirit of vegetation is often represented both by the May-tree and in addition by a man dressed in green leaves or flowers or by a girl similarly adorned. It is the same spirit which animates the tree and is active in the inferior plants and which we have recognised in the May-tree and the Harvest-May. Quite consistently the spirit is also supposed to manifest his presence in the first flower of spring and reveals himself both in a girl representing a May-rose, and also, as giver of harvest, in the person of the Walber. The procession with this representative of the divinity was supposed to produce the same beneficial effects on the fowls, the fruit-trees, and the crops as the presence of the deity himself. In other words, the mummer was regarded not as an image but as an actual representative of the spirit of vegetation; hence the wish expressed by the attendants on the May-rose and the May-tree that those who refuse them gifts of eggs, bacon, and so forth, may have no share in the blessings which it is in the power of the itinerant 79spirit to bestow. We may conclude that these begging processions with May-trees or May-boughs from door to door (‘bringing the May or the summer’) had everywhere originally a serious and, so to speak, sacramental significance; people really believed that the god of growth was present unseen in the bough; by the procession he was brought to each house to bestow his blessing. The names May, Father May, May Lady, Queen of the May, by which the anthropomorphic spirit of vegetation is often denoted, shew that the idea of the spirit of vegetation is blent with a personification of the season at which his powers are most strikingly manifested.”[294]
W. Mannhardt’s summary of the evidence. Without providing more examples to support this point, we can summarize the results of the previous pages using Mannhardt’s words: “The customs mentioned are enough to confirm the conclusion that in these spring processions, the spirit of vegetation is often represented by both the May-tree and a man dressed in green leaves or flowers, or a girl adorned in a similar way. This same spirit animates the tree and is active in lower plants, which we have identified in the May-tree and the Harvest-May. Consistently, the spirit is believed to reveal itself in the first flower of spring, embodying both a girl representing a May-rose and, as the giver of harvest, in the figure of the Walber. The procession featuring this representative of the divinity was thought to have the same beneficial effects on the birds, fruit trees, and crops as the presence of the deity himself. In other words, the performer was seen not just as a figure but as a true representative of the spirit of vegetation; thus, those attending the May-rose and the May-tree wished that anyone who refused to give offerings of eggs, bacon, and such, might miss out on the blessings that the roaming spirit could provide. We can conclude that these begging processions with May-trees or May-boughs from door to door (‘bringing the May or the summer’) originally held a serious and, so to speak, sacramental significance; people genuinely believed that the god of growth was present invisibly in the bough, and the procession brought him to each house to bestow his blessing. The names May, Father May, May Lady, and Queen of the May, which often denote the anthropomorphic spirit of vegetation, show that the idea of the spirit of vegetation is intertwined with a personification of the season when his powers are most vividly expressed.”[294]
|Tree-spirit or vegetation-spirit represented by a person alone.| Thus far we have seen that the tree-spirit or the spirit of vegetation in general is represented either in vegetable form alone, as by a tree, bough, or flower; or in vegetable and human form simultaneously, as by a tree, bough, or flower in combination with a puppet or a living person. It remains to shew that the representation of him by a tree, bough, or flower is sometimes entirely dropped, while the representation of him by a living person remains. In this case the representative character of the person is generally marked by dressing him or her in leaves or flowers; sometimes too it is indicated by the name he or she bears.
|Tree spirit or plant spirit shown by a single individual.| So far, we've seen that the tree spirit or the spirit of plants is represented either in plant form alone, like a tree, branch, or flower; or in both plant and human form at the same time, like a tree, branch, or flower combined with a puppet or a living person. Now, we need to show that sometimes the representation by a tree, branch, or flower is entirely left out, while the representation by a living person remains. In this case, the person's representative role is usually highlighted by dressing them in leaves or flowers; sometimes it’s also indicated by the name they have.
|Green George in Russia.| Thus in some parts of Russia on St. George’s Day (the twenty-third of April) a youth is dressed out, like our Jack-in-the-Green, with leaves and flowers. The Slovenes call him the Green George. Holding a lighted torch in one hand and a pie in the other, he goes out to the corn-fields, followed by girls singing appropriate songs. A circle of brushwood is then lighted, in the middle of which is set the pie. All who take part in the ceremony then sit down around the fire and divide the pie among them.[295] In this custom the Green George dressed in leaves and flowers is plainly identical with the similarly disguised Green George who is associated with a tree in the Carinthian, Transylvanian, and Roumanian customs observed on the same day. Again, |Whitsuntide customs in Russia.| we saw that in Russia at Whitsuntide a birch-tree is dressed 80in woman’s clothes and set up in the house. Clearly equivalent to this is the custom observed on Whit-Monday by Russian girls in the district of Pinsk. They choose the prettiest of their number, envelop her in a mass of foliage taken from the birch-trees and maples, and carry her about through the village. In a district of Little Russia they take round a “poplar,” represented by a girl wearing bright flowers in her hair.[296] At Whitsuntide in Holland poor women used to go about begging with a little girl called Whitsuntide Flower (Pinxterbloem, perhaps a kind of iris); she was decked with flowers and sat in a waggon. In North Brabant she wears the flowers from which she takes her name and a song is sung:—
Green George in Russia. In some parts of Russia on St. George’s Day (April 23), a young man dresses up like our Jack-in-the-Green with leaves and flowers. The Slovenes refer to him as Green George. He carries a lit torch in one hand and a pie in the other as he heads to the cornfields, followed by girls singing relevant songs. A circle of brushwood is set on fire, and a pie is placed in the center. Everyone participating in the ceremony sits around the fire and shares the pie.[295] This custom clearly links Green George, adorned with leaves and flowers, to the similarly dressed Green George associated with trees in the Carinthian, Transylvanian, and Romanian customs celebrated on the same day. Again, Whitsun traditions in Russia. we notice that during Whitsuntide in Russia, a birch tree is dressed in women’s clothing and brought into the house. This is comparable to a custom on Whit-Monday in the Pinsk region, where Russian girls select the prettiest among them, wrap her in foliage from birch and maple trees, and carry her around the village. In a part of Little Russia, they take around a “poplar,” represented by a girl adorned with bright flowers in her hair.[296] During Whitsuntide in Holland, poor women used to beg with a little girl called Whitsuntide Flower (Pinxterbloem, possibly a type of iris); she was decorated with flowers and sat in a wagon. In North Brabant, she wears the flowers that inspired her name, and a song is sung:—
|May customs in France.| All over Provence on the first of May pretty little girls are dressed in white, decked with crowns and wreaths of roses, and set on seats or platforms strewn with flowers in the streets, while their companions go about begging coppers for the Mayos or Mayes, as they are called, from the passers-by.[298] In some parts of the Ardennes on May Day a small girl, clad in white and wearing a chaplet of flowers on her head, used to go from house to house with her play-mates, collecting contributions and singing that it was May, the month of May, the pretty month of May, that the wheat was tall, the hawthorn in bloom, and the lark carolling in the sky.[299]
May traditions in France. All over Provence on May 1st, little girls are dressed in white, adorned with crowns and wreaths of roses, and placed on seats or platforms covered with flowers in the streets, while their friends go around asking for coins for the Mayos or Mayes, as they’re called, from passers-by.[298] In some areas of the Ardennes on May Day, a small girl dressed in white and wearing a flower crown would go door to door with her friends, collecting donations and singing about May, the month of May, the lovely month of May, when the wheat is tall, the hawthorn is in bloom, and the lark is singing in the sky.[299]
|The Little Leaf Man.| In Ruhla (Thüringen) as soon as the trees begin to grow green in spring, the children assemble on a Sunday and go out into the woods, where they choose one of their play-mates to be the Little Leaf Man. They break branches from the trees and twine them about the child till only his 81shoes peep out from the leafy mantle. Holes are made in it for him to see through, and two of the children lead the Little Leaf Man that he may not stumble or fall. Singing and dancing they take him from house to house, asking for gifts of food such as eggs, cream, sausages, and cakes. Lastly, they sprinkle the Leaf Man with water and feast on the food they have collected.[300] At Röllshausen on the |Leaf-clad mummers at Whitsuntide.| Schwalm, in Hesse, when afternoon service is over on Whitsunday, the schoolboys and schoolgirls go out into the wood and there clothe a boy from head to foot in leaves so that nobody would know him. He is called the Little Whitsuntide Man. A procession is then formed. Two boys lead their leaf-clad playfellow; two others precede him with a basket; and two girls with another basket bring up the rear. Thus they go from house to house singing hymns or popular songs and collecting eggs and cakes in the baskets. When they have feasted on these, they strip their comrade of his verdant envelope on an open place in front of the village.[301] In some parts of Rhenish Bavaria at Whitsuntide a boy or lad is swathed in the yellow blossom of the broom, the dark green twigs of the firs, and other foliage. Thus attired he is known as the Quack and goes from door to door, whirling about in the dance, while an appropriate song is chanted and his companions levy contributions.[302] In the Fricktal, Switzerland, at Whitsuntide boys go out into a wood and swathe one of their number in leafy boughs. He is called the Whitsuntide-lout (Pfingstlümmel), and being mounted on horseback with a green branch in his hand he is led back into the village. At the village-well a halt is called and the leaf-clad lout is dismounted and ducked in the trough. Thereby he acquires the right of sprinkling water on everybody, and he exercises the right specially on girls and street urchins. The urchins 82march before him in bands begging him to give them a Whitsuntide wetting.[303]
The Little Leaf Man. In Ruhla (Thüringen), as soon as the trees start to turn green in spring, the kids gather on a Sunday and head out to the woods, where they pick one of their friends to be the Little Leaf Man. They break branches from the trees and wrap them around the child until only his 81shoes are visible from the leafy outfit. They make holes in it for him to see through, and two kids guide the Little Leaf Man so he doesn’t trip or fall. Singing and dancing, they take him from house to house, asking for food donations like eggs, cream, sausages, and cakes. Finally, they splash water on the Leaf Man and enjoy the food they’ve gathered.[300] At Röllshausen on the Leaf-covered performers at Whitsuntide. Schwalm, in Hesse, when the afternoon service ends on Whitsunday, the schoolboys and schoolgirls go into the woods and dress a boy completely in leaves so that nobody can recognize him. He’s called the Little Whitsuntide Man. They then form a procession. Two boys lead their leaf-clad friend; two others go ahead carrying a basket; and two girls with another basket bring up the rear. They walk from house to house singing hymns or popular songs while collecting eggs and cakes in the baskets. Once they’ve had their feast, they remove their friend's leafy disguise in a public spot in front of the village.[301] In some areas of Rhenish Bavaria during Whitsuntide, a boy or young man is wrapped in yellow broom blossoms, dark green fir twigs, and other foliage. Dressed like this, he’s known as the Quack and goes from door to door, spinning around in a dance while a fitting song is sung, and his companions collect donations.[302] In the Fricktal, Switzerland, at Whitsuntide, boys go into the woods and wrap one of their friends in leafy branches. He’s called the Whitsuntide-lout (Pfingstlümmel), and while mounted on horseback with a green branch in his hand, he’s led back to the village. At the village well, they stop, and the leaf-clad lout is dismounted and dunked in the trough. This earns him the right to splash water on everyone, which he especially enjoys doing to girls and street kids. The street kids march in front of him, begging him for a Whitsuntide soaking.[303]
|Jack-in-the-Green in England.| In England the best-known example of these leaf-clad mummers is the Jack-in-the-Green, a chimney-sweeper who walks encased in a pyramidal framework of wickerwork, which is covered with holly and ivy, and surmounted by a crown of flowers and ribbons. Thus arrayed he dances on May Day at the head of a troop of chimney-sweeps, who collect pence.[304] The ceremony was witnessed at Cheltenham on the second of May 1892, by Dr. W. H. D. Rouse, who has described in detail the costume of the performers. They were all chimney-sweeps of the town. Jack-in-the-Green or the Bush-carrier was enclosed in a wooden framework on which leaves were fastened so as to make a thick cone about six feet high, topped with a crown, which consisted of two wooden hoops placed crosswise and covered with flowers. The leafy envelope was unbroken except for a single opening through which peered the face of the mummer. From time to time in their progress through the streets the performers halted, and three of them, dressed in red, blue, and yellow respectively, tripped lightly round the leaf-covered man to the inspiring strains of a fiddle and a tin whistle on which two of their comrades with blackened faces discoursed sweet music. The leader of the procession was a clown fantastically clad in a long white pinafore or blouse with coloured fringes and frills, and wearing on his head a beaver hat of the familiar pattern, the crown of which hung loose and was adorned with ribbons and a bird or a bundle of feathers. Large black rings surrounded his eyes, and a red dab over mouth and chin lent a pleasing variety to his countenance. He contributed to the public hilarity by flapping the yellow fringe of his blouse with quaint gestures and occasionally fanning himself languidly. His efforts were seconded by another performer, who wore a red fool’s cap, all stuck with flowers, and a white pinafore enriched with black human figures in front and a black gridiron-like pattern, crossed diagonally by a red bar, at the back. Two 83boys in white pinafores, with similar figures, or stars, on the breast, and a fish on the back, completed the company. Formerly there used to be a man in woman’s clothes, who personated the clown’s wife.[305] In some parts also of France a young fellow is encased in a wicker framework covered with leaves and is led about.[306] In Frickthal, in the Swiss |The Whitsuntide Basket in Switzerland.| canton of Aargau, a similar frame of basketwork is called the Whitsuntide Basket. As soon as the trees begin to bud, a spot is chosen in the wood, and here the village lads make the frame with all secrecy, lest others should forestall them. Leafy branches are twined round two hoops, one of which rests on the shoulders of the wearer, the other encircles his calves; holes are made for his eyes and mouth; and a large nosegay crowns the whole. In this guise he appears suddenly in the village at the hour of vespers, preceded by three boys blowing on horns made of willow bark. The great object of his supporters is to set up the Whitsuntide Basket on the village well, and to keep it and him there, despite the efforts of the lads from neighbouring villages, who seek to carry off the Whitsuntide Basket and set it up on their own well.[307] In the neighbourhood of Ertingen (Würtemberg) a |The Lazy Man in Würtemberg.| masker of the same sort, known as the Lazy Man (Latzmann), goes about the village on Midsummer Day; he is hidden under a great pyramidal or conical frame of wickerwork, ten or twelve feet high, which is completely covered with sprigs of fir. He has a bell which he rings as he goes, and he is attended by a suite of persons dressed up in character—a footman, a colonel, a butcher, an angel, the devil, the doctor, and so on. They march in Indian file and halt before every house, where each of them speaks in character, except the Lazy Man, who says nothing. With what they get by begging from door to door they hold a feast.[308]
Jack-in-the-Green in England. In England, the best-known example of these leaf-covered performers is the Jack-in-the-Green, a chimney sweep who walks encased in a pyramid-shaped frame made of wicker, covered with holly and ivy, and topped with a crown of flowers and ribbons. Dressed this way, he dances on May Day at the front of a group of chimney sweeps who collect coins.[304] Dr. W. H. D. Rouse observed the ceremony in Cheltenham on May 2, 1892, and described the performers' costumes in detail. They were all chimney sweeps from the town. Jack-in-the-Green, or the Bush-carrier, was enclosed in a wooden frame with leaves attached to create a thick cone about six feet tall, crowned with two wooden hoops crossed over one another and covered with flowers. The leafy covering was intact except for a single opening where the mummer's face could be seen. Occasionally, as they moved through the streets, the performers paused, and three of them, dressed in red, blue, and yellow, danced lightly around the leaf-covered figure to the lively music of a fiddle and a tin whistle played by two of their companions with blackened faces. The leader of the group was a clown dressed in a long white apron or blouse with colorful fringes and ruffles, wearing a loose-fitting beaver hat adorned with ribbons and a bird or a bunch of feathers on top. His eyes were highlighted with large black rings, and he had a red smear over his mouth and chin, adding a fun touch to his look. He entertained the crowd by playfully waving the yellow fringe of his blouse and occasionally fanning himself lazily. Another performer, wearing a red fool’s cap decorated with flowers, and a white apron featuring black human figures in front and a black gridiron-like pattern crossed with a red bar on the back, joined in. Two boys in white aprons, with similar designs, or stars on their chests, and a fish on their backs, completed the group. In the past, there used to be a man dressed as a woman who portrayed the clown's wife.[305] In some regions of France, a young man is also encased in a wicker framework covered with leaves and is led around.[306] In Frickthal, in the Swiss canton of Aargau, a similar frame of woven materials is called the Whitsuntide Basket. As soon as the trees start to bud, the village boys secretly make the frame in a chosen spot in the woods to prevent others from getting ahead of them. Leafy branches are wrapped around two hoops, one resting on the wearer's shoulders and the other circling their calves; holes are cut for their eyes and mouth, and a large nosegay crowns the creation. In this outfit, they suddenly appear in the village around vespers, preceded by three boys blowing horns made from willow bark. The main goal of their supporters is to place the Whitsuntide Basket on the village well and keep it there, despite efforts from boys from neighboring villages trying to carry it away and set it up on their own well.[307] Near Ertingen (Würtemberg), a similar figure, known as the Lazy Man (Latzmann), walks around the village on Midsummer Day; he hides under a large pyramidal or conical wicker frame, ten to twelve feet high, entirely covered with fir branches. He carries a bell that he rings as he walks, accompanied by a group of people dressed in character—a footman, a colonel, a butcher, an angel, the devil, the doctor, and more. They march in single file and stop in front of each house, where each of them speaks in character, except for the Lazy Man, who says nothing. With what they collect while begging from door to door, they hold a feast.[308]
In the class of cases of which the foregoing are specimens it is obvious that the leaf-clad person who is led about is 84equivalent to the May-tree, May-bough, or May-doll, which is carried from house to house by children begging. Both are representatives of the beneficent spirit of vegetation, whose visit to the house is recompensed by a present of money or food.
In the types of cases mentioned above, it's clear that the person dressed in leaves who is paraded around is similar to the May-tree, May-bough, or May-doll, which kids take from house to house while asking for donations. Both symbolize the generous spirit of nature, and when this spirit visits a home, it's rewarded with some money or food.
|Leaf-clad representative of vegetation sometimes called a King or Queen.| Often the leaf-clad person who represents the spirit of vegetation is known as the king or the queen; thus, for example, he or she is called the May King, Whitsuntide King, Queen of May, and so on. These titles, as Mannhardt observes, imply that the spirit incorporate in vegetation is a ruler, whose creative power extends far and wide.[309]
|A nature figure covered in leaves, sometimes referred to as a King or Queen.| Often, the leaf-covered figure who symbolizes the spirit of nature is referred to as the king or queen; for example, they are called the May King, Whitsuntide King, Queen of May, and so on. These titles, as Mannhardt notes, suggest that the spirit embodied in nature is a leader, whose creative power is vast and influential.[309]
|May-Kings at Whitsuntide in Germany and Bohemia.| In a village near Salzwedel a May-tree is set up at Whitsuntide and the boys race to it; he who reaches it first is king; a garland of flowers is put round his neck and in his hand he carries a May-bush, with which, as the procession moves along, he sweeps away the dew. At each house they sing a song, wishing the inmates good luck, referring to the “black cow in the stall milking white milk, black hen on the nest laying white eggs,” and begging a gift of eggs, bacon, and so on.[310] At the village of Ellgoth in Silesia a ceremony called the King’s Race is observed at Whitsuntide. A pole with a cloth tied to it is set up in a meadow, and the young men ride past it on horseback, each trying to snatch away the cloth as he gallops by. The one who succeeds in carrying it off and dipping it in the neighbouring Oder is proclaimed King.[311] Here the pole is clearly a substitute for a May-tree. In some villages of Brunswick at Whitsuntide a May King is completely enveloped in a May-bush. In some parts of Thüringen also they have a May King at Whitsuntide, but he is dressed up rather differently. A frame of wood is made in which a man can stand; it is completely covered with birch boughs and is surmounted by a crown of birch and flowers, in which a bell is fastened. This frame is placed in the wood and the May King gets into it. The rest go out and look for him, and when they have found him they lead him back into the village to the magistrate, the clergyman, and others, who have to guess 85who is in the verdurous frame. If they guess wrong, the May King rings his bell by shaking his head, and a forfeit of beer or the like must be paid by the unsuccessful guesser.[312] At Wahrstedt in Brunswick the boys at Whitsuntide choose by lot a king and a high-steward (füstje-meier). The latter is completely concealed in a May-bush, wears a wooden crown wreathed with flowers, and carries a wooden sword. The king, on the other hand, is only distinguished by a nosegay in his cap, and a reed, with a red ribbon tied to it, in his hand. They beg for eggs from house to house, threatening that, where none are given, none will be laid by the hens throughout the year. In this custom the high-steward appears, for some reason, to have usurped the insignia of the king.[313] At Hildesheim, in Hanover, five or six young fellows go about on the afternoon of Whit-Monday cracking long whips in measured time and collecting eggs from the houses. The chief person of the band is the |The Leaf King.| Leaf King, a lad swathed so completely in birchen twigs that nothing of him can be seen but his feet. A huge head-dress of birchen twigs adds to his apparent stature. In his hand he carries a long crook, with which he tries to catch stray dogs and children.[314] In some parts of Bohemia on Whit-Monday the young fellows disguise themselves in tall caps of birch bark adorned with flowers. One of them is dressed as a king and dragged on a sledge to the village green, and if on the way they pass a pool the sledge is always overturned into it. Arrived at the green they gather round the king; the crier jumps on a stone or climbs up a tree and recites lampoons about each house and its inmates. Afterwards the disguises of bark are stripped off and they go about the village in holiday attire, carrying a May-tree and begging. Cakes, eggs, and corn are sometimes given them.[315] At Grossvargula, near Langensalza, in |The Grass King.| the eighteenth century a Grass King used to be led about in procession at Whitsuntide. He was encased in a pyramid 86of poplar branches, the top of which was adorned with a royal crown of branches and flowers. He rode on horseback with the leafy pyramid over him, so that its lower end touched the ground, and an opening was left in it only for his face. Surrounded by a cavalcade of young fellows, he rode in procession to the town hall, the parsonage, and so on, where they all got a drink of beer. Then under the seven lindens of the neighbouring Sommerberg, the Grass King was stripped of his green casing; the crown was handed to the Mayor, and the branches were stuck in the flax fields in order to make the flax grow tall.[316] In this last trait the fertilising influence ascribed to the representative of the tree-spirit comes out clearly. In the neighbourhood of Pilsen (Bohemia) a conical hut of green branches, without any door, is erected at Whitsuntide in the midst of the village. To this hut rides a troop of village lads with a king at their head. He wears a sword at his side and a sugar-loaf hat of rushes on his head. In his train are a judge, a crier, and a personage called the Frog-flayer or Hangman. This last is a sort of ragged merryandrew, wearing a rusty old sword and bestriding a sorry hack. On reaching the hut the crier dismounts and goes round it looking for a door. Finding none, he says, “Ah, this is perhaps an enchanted castle; the witches creep through the leaves and need no door.” At last he draws his sword and hews his way into the hut, where there is a chair, on which he seats himself and proceeds to criticise in rhyme the girls, farmers, and farm-servants of the neighbourhood. When this is over, the Frog-flayer steps forward and, after exhibiting a cage with frogs in it, sets up a gallows on which he hangs the frogs in a row.[317] In the neighbourhood of Plas the ceremony differs in some points. The king and his soldiers are completely clad in bark, adorned with flowers and ribbons; they all carry swords and ride horses, which are gay with green branches and flowers. While the village dames and girls are being criticised at the arbour, a frog is secretly pinched and poked by the crier till it quacks. Sentence of death is 87passed on the frog by the king; the hangman beheads it and flings the bleeding body among the spectators. Lastly, the king is driven from the hut and pursued by the soldiers.[318] The pinching and beheading of the frog are doubtless, as Mannhardt observes,[319] a rain-charm. We have seen that some Indians of the Orinoco beat frogs for the express purpose of producing rain, and that killing a frog is a European rain-charm.[320]
|May Kings celebrated at Whitsuntide in Germany and Bohemia.| In a village near Salzwedel, a May-tree is put up at Whitsuntide, and the boys race to it; whoever reaches it first becomes the king. A garland of flowers is placed around his neck, and he carries a May-bush, which he uses to sweep away the dew as the procession moves along. At each house, they sing a song wishing the residents good luck, mentioning the “black cow in the stall milking white milk, black hen on the nest laying white eggs,” and asking for gifts of eggs, bacon, and so on.[310] In the village of Ellgoth in Silesia, a ceremony called the King’s Race takes place at Whitsuntide. A pole with a cloth tied to it is set up in a meadow, and the young men ride past it on horseback, each trying to grab the cloth as they gallop by. The one who succeeds in taking it and dipping it in the nearby Oder is declared King.[311] Here, the pole clearly represents a May-tree. In some villages of Brunswick at Whitsuntide, a May King is entirely wrapped in a May-bush. In some areas of Thüringen, they also have a May King at Whitsuntide, but he is dressed differently. A wooden frame is created for a man to stand in; it's completely covered with birch branches and topped with a crown of birch and flowers, in which a bell is attached. This frame is placed in the woods, and the May King gets inside it. The others go out to find him, and when they do, they lead him back into the village to the magistrate, the clergyman, and others, who have to guess who is in the leafy frame. If they guess wrong, the May King rings his bell by shaking his head, and the unsuccessful guesser must pay a forfeit of beer or a similar treat.[312] In Wahrstedt, Brunswick, the boys at Whitsuntide randomly select a king and a high-steward (füstje-meier). The high-steward is completely hidden under a May-bush, wears a wooden crown decorated with flowers, and carries a wooden sword. The king, on the other hand, is recognized only by a nosegay in his cap and a reed with a red ribbon tied to it in his hand. They go door-to-door begging for eggs, threatening that if none are given, the hens won't lay any throughout the year. In this custom, for some reason, the high-steward appears to have taken on the symbols of the king.[313] In Hildesheim, Hanover, five or six young men walk around on the afternoon of Whit-Monday cracking long whips in time and collecting eggs from houses. The main person in the group is the The Leaf King. Leaf King, a boy completely wrapped in birch twigs, so that only his feet are visible. A large headdress of birch twigs makes him appear taller. In his hand, he carries a long crook with which he tries to catch stray dogs and children.[314] In some parts of Bohemia on Whit-Monday, the young men dress up in tall caps made of birch bark, adorned with flowers. One of them is dressed as a king and pulled on a sledge to the village green, and if they pass a puddle on the way, the sledge is always overturned into it. Once at the green, they gather around the king; the crier jumps on a stone or climbs a tree and recites lampoons about each house and its inhabitants. Afterwards, they remove the bark disguises and walk around the village in festive attire, carrying a May-tree and begging. Sometimes they receive cakes, eggs, and grain.[315] In Grossvargula, near Langensalza, in the eighteenth century, a Grass King used to be paraded at Whitsuntide. He was enclosed in a pyramid of poplar branches, topped with a royal crown of branches and flowers. He rode on horseback with the leafy pyramid over him, so that its lower end touched the ground, leaving only his face exposed. Surrounded by a group of young men, he rode in procession to the town hall, the parsonage, and other places, where they all enjoyed a drink of beer. Then, under the seven linden trees of the nearby Sommerberg, the Grass King was stripped of his green covering; the crown was handed to the Mayor, and the branches were planted in the flax fields to promote tall growth.[316] In this last aspect, the fertilizing influence attributed to the tree-spirit is clearly illustrated. Near Pilsen (Bohemia), a conical hut made of green branches, without a door, is set up at Whitsuntide in the middle of the village. A group of village boys, led by a king, rides there. He wears a sword at his side and a conical rush hat on his head. Following him are a judge, a crier, and a character known as the Frog-flayer or Hangman. The Frog-flayer is a sort of ragged jester, carrying a rusty old sword and riding a sorry-looking horse. Upon reaching the hut, the crier dismounts and goes around looking for a door. When he finds none, he remarks, “Ah, maybe this is an enchanted castle; the witches sneak through the leaves and don’t need a door.” Finally, he draws his sword and hacks his way into the hut, where there is a chair. He sits down and begins to rhyme about the girls, farmers, and farm-servants of the area. When that’s done, the Frog-flayer comes forward, presents a cage with frogs, and sets up a gallows where he hangs the frogs one by one.[317] In the area of Plas, the ceremony has some differences. The king and his soldiers are completely clothed in bark, decorated with flowers and ribbons; they all carry swords and ride horses that are adorned with green branches and flowers. While the village women and girls are being mocked at the gazebo, a frog is secretly prodded by the crier until it quacks. The king sentences the frog to death; the hangman beheads it and tosses the bleeding corpse into the crowd. Finally, the king is expelled from the hut and chased by the soldiers.[318] The pinching and beheading of the frog are likely, as Mannhardt notes,[319] a rain-charm. We have seen that some Orinoco Indians beat frogs specifically to produce rain, and that killing a frog is a European rain-charm.[320]
|May-Queens and Whitsuntide Queens.| Often the spirit of vegetation in spring is represented by a queen instead of a king. In the neighbourhood of Libchowic (Bohemia), on the fourth Sunday in Lent, girls dressed in white and wearing the first spring flowers, as violets and daisies, in their hair, lead about the village a girl who is called the Queen and is crowned with flowers. During the procession, which is conducted with great solemnity, none of the girls may stand still, but must keep whirling round continually and singing. In every house the Queen announces the arrival of spring and wishes the inmates good luck and blessings, for which she receives presents.[321] In German Hungary the girls choose the prettiest girl to be their Whitsuntide Queen, fasten a towering wreath on her brow, and carry her singing through the streets. At every house they stop, sing old ballads, and receive presents.[322] In the south-east of Ireland on May Day the prettiest girl used to be chosen Queen of the district for twelve months. She was crowned with wild flowers; feasting, dancing, and rustic sports followed, and were closed by a grand procession in the evening. During her year of office she presided over rural gatherings of young people at dances and merry-makings. If she married before next May Day, her authority was at an end, but her successor was not elected till that day came round.[323] The May Queen is common in France[324] and familiar in England. Thus at the adjoining 88|The May Queen in Warwickshire.| villages of Cherrington and Stourton in south Warwickshire, the Queen of May is still represented on May Day by a small girl dressed in white and wearing a wreath of flowers on her head. An older girl wheels the Queen in what is called a mail-cart, that is, a child’s perambulator on two wheels. Another girl carries a money-box. Four boys bear the May-pole, a conical framework formed of a high tripod with a central shaft. The whole structure is encased in a series of five hoops, which rise one above the other, diminishing in size from bottom to top with the tapering of the cone. The hoops, as well as the tripod and the central shaft, are all covered with whatever flowers happen to be in bloom, such as marsh-marigolds, primroses, or blue-bells. To the top of the central shaft is fastened a bunch of the flower called crown-imperial, if it is in season. The lowest hoop is crossed by two bars at right angles to each other, and the projecting ends of the bars serve as handles, by which the four boys carry the May-pole. Each of the bearers has a garland of flowers slung over his shoulder. Thus the children go from house to house, singing their songs and receiving money, which goes to provide a treat for them in the afternoon.[325]
May Queens and Whitsun Queens. Often, the spirit of growth in spring is represented by a queen rather than a king. In the area around Libchowic (Bohemia), on the fourth Sunday in Lent, girls dressed in white and wearing the first spring flowers, like violets and daisies, in their hair, lead through the village a girl known as the Queen, who is crowned with flowers. During the procession, which is conducted with great seriousness, none of the girls may stand still; they must keep spinning around and singing. In every house, the Queen announces the arrival of spring and wishes the inhabitants good luck and blessings, for which she receives gifts.[321] In German Hungary, the girls choose the prettiest girl to be their Whitsuntide Queen, attach a tall wreath on her head, and carry her singing through the streets. At each house, they stop, sing old ballads, and receive presents.[322] In the southeast of Ireland on May Day, the prettiest girl used to be crowned Queen of the district for twelve months. She was crowned with wildflowers; feasting, dancing, and rustic games followed, culminating in a grand procession in the evening. During her year in office, she presided over rural gatherings of young people at dances and celebrations. If she married before the next May Day, her reign ended, but her successor wouldn’t be elected until that day arrived.[323] The May Queen is common in France[324] and well-known in England. For example, in the nearby villages of Cherrington and Stourton in south Warwickshire, the May Queen is still represented on May Day by a little girl dressed in white and wearing a flower crown. An older girl pushes the Queen in what is called a mail-cart, which is essentially a child’s stroller on two wheels. Another girl carries a money-box. Four boys support the May-pole, a conical framework made of a tall tripod with a central shaft. The entire structure is wrapped in five hoops, decreasing in size from bottom to top as the cone narrows. The hoops, as well as the tripod and central shaft, are covered with whatever flowers are in bloom, such as marsh-marigolds, primroses, or bluebells. At the top of the central shaft, if in season, a bunch of crown-imperial flowers is attached. The lowest hoop is crossed by two bars at right angles to each other, and the extending ends of the bars act as handles, allowing the four boys to carry the May-pole. Each of the bearers has a garland of flowers draped over their shoulders. The children then go from house to house, singing their songs and collecting money, which is used to provide a treat for them in the afternoon.[325]
|Spirit of vegetation represented simultaneously by a King and Queen or a Bridegroom and Bride.| Again the spirit of vegetation is sometimes represented by a king and queen, a lord and lady, or a bridegroom and bride. Here again the parallelism holds between the anthropomorphic and the vegetable representation of the tree-spirit, for we have seen above that trees are sometimes married to each other.[326] At Halford in south Warwickshire the children go from house to house on May Day, |Whitsuntide King and Queen.| walking two and two in procession and headed by a King and Queen. Two boys carry a May-pole some six or seven feet high, which is covered with flowers and greenery. Fastened to it near the top are two cross-bars at right angles to each other. These are also decked with flowers, and from 89the ends of the bars hang hoops similarly adorned. At the houses the children sing May songs and receive money, which is used to provide tea for them at the school-house in the afternoon.[327] In a Bohemian village near Königgrätz on Whit-Monday the children play the king’s game, at which a king and queen march about under a canopy, the queen wearing a garland, and the youngest girl carrying two wreaths on a plate behind them. They are attended by boys and girls called groomsmen and bridesmaids, and they go from house to house collecting gifts.[328] A regular feature in the popular celebration of Whitsuntide in Silesia used to be, and to some extent still is, the contest for the kingship. This contest took various forms, but the mark or goal was generally the May-tree or May-pole. Sometimes the youth who succeeded in climbing the smooth pole and bringing down the prize was proclaimed the Whitsuntide King and his sweetheart the Whitsuntide Bride. Afterwards the king, carrying the May-bush, repaired with the rest of the company to the ale-house, where a dance and a feast ended the merry-making. Often the young farmers and labourers raced on horseback to the May-pole, which was adorned with flowers, ribbons, and a crown. He who first reached the pole was the Whitsuntide King, and the rest had to obey his orders for that day. The worst rider became the clown. At the May-tree all dismounted and hoisted the king on their shoulders. He nimbly swarmed up the pole and brought down the May-bush and the crown, which had been fastened to the top. Meantime the clown hurried to the ale-house and proceeded to bolt thirty rolls of bread and to swig four quart bottles of brandy with the utmost possible despatch. He was followed by the king, who bore the May-bush and crown at the head of the company. If on their arrival the clown had already disposed of the rolls and the brandy, and greeted the king with a speech and a glass of beer, his score was paid by the king; otherwise he had to settle it himself. After church time the stately procession wound through the village. At the head of it rode the king, decked 90with flowers and carrying the May-bush. Next came the clown with his clothes turned inside out, a great flaxen beard on his chin, and the Whitsuntide crown on his head. Two riders disguised as guards followed. The procession drew up before every farmyard; the two guards dismounted, shut the clown into the house, and claimed a contribution from the housewife to buy soap with which to wash the clown’s beard. Custom allowed them to carry off any victuals which were not under lock and key. Last of all they came to the house in which the king’s sweetheart lived. She was greeted as Whitsuntide Queen and received suitable presents—to wit, a many-coloured sash, a cloth, and an apron. The king got as a prize, a vest, a neckcloth, and so forth, and had the right of setting up the May-bush or Whitsuntide-tree before his master’s yard, where it remained as an honourable token till the same day next year. Finally the procession took its way to the tavern, where the king and queen opened the dance. Sometimes the Whitsuntide King and Queen succeeded to office in a different way. A man of straw, as |King and Queen of May.| large as life and crowned with a red cap, was conveyed in a cart, between two men armed and disguised as guards, to a place where a mock court was waiting to try him. A great crowd followed the cart. After a formal trial the straw man was condemned to death and fastened to a stake on the execution ground. The young men with bandaged eyes tried to stab him with a spear. He who succeeded became king and his sweetheart queen. The straw man was known as the Goliath.[329] Near Grenoble, in France, a king and queen are chosen on the first of May and are set on a throne for all to see.[330] At Headington, near Oxford, children used to carry garlands from door to door on May Day. Each garland was borne by two girls, and they were followed by a lord and lady—a boy and girl linked together by a white handkerchief, of which each held an end, and dressed with ribbons, sashes, and flowers. At each door they sang a verse:—
|Spirit of nature shown at the same time as a King and Queen or a Groom and Bride.| The spirit of vegetation is sometimes represented by a king and queen, a lord and lady, or a bridegroom and bride. Here again, there’s a parallel between the human and the tree representation of the tree-spirit, as we noted earlier that trees are sometimes seen as married to each other.[326] In Halford, south Warwickshire, children go door to door on May Day, Whitsun King and Queen. walking two by two in a procession led by a King and Queen. Two boys carry a May-pole about six or seven feet tall, decorated with flowers and greenery. Near the top, there are two crossbars positioned at right angles to each other, also adorned with flowers, and hoops hang from the ends of the bars, similarly decorated. At the houses, the children sing May songs and receive money, which is used to provide tea for them at the school-house in the afternoon.[327] In a Bohemian village near Königgrätz on Whit-Monday, the children play the king’s game, where a king and queen parade under a canopy, the queen wearing a garland, while the youngest girl carries two wreaths on a plate behind them. They are accompanied by boys and girls acting as groomsmen and bridesmaids, going from house to house collecting gifts.[328] A traditional aspect of the Whitsuntide celebration in Silesia used to be—and still somewhat is—the competition for the kingship. This competition took different forms, but the target was typically the May-tree or May-pole. Sometimes, the young person who successfully climbed the smooth pole and retrieved the prize was declared the Whitsuntide King, with his partner as the Whitsuntide Bride. Afterward, the king, carrying the May-bush, would head with the rest of the group to the ale-house, where a dance and feast would wrap up the festivities. Often, young farmers and laborers raced on horseback to the May-pole, which was adorned with flowers, ribbons, and a crown. The first to reach the pole became the Whitsuntide King, and the rest had to follow his orders for the day. The worst rider became the clown. At the May-tree, they all dismounted and lifted the king onto their shoulders. He quickly climbed the pole to retrieve the May-bush and the crown that had been tied to the top. Meanwhile, the clown hurried to the ale-house, where he quickly ate thirty rolls of bread and drank four quart bottles of brandy. The king, carrying the May-bush and crown at the front of the group, followed him. If they arrived and the clown had already finished the rolls and brandy, he welcomed the king with a speech and a glass of beer, which the king paid for; otherwise, the clown had to settle the tab himself. After church, the grand procession moved through the village. Leading it was the king, adorned with flowers and carrying the May-bush. Next came the clown, with his clothes turned inside out, a big flaxen beard on his chin, and the Whitsuntide crown on his head. Two riders dressed as guards followed. The procession stopped at every farm; the two guards dismounted, locked the clown in the house, and asked the housewife for a contribution to buy soap to wash the clown’s beard. They had the right to take any food that wasn’t locked away. Finally, they arrived at the house of the king’s sweetheart. She was celebrated as the Whitsuntide Queen and received appropriate gifts—including a colorful sash, cloth, and apron. The king received prizes like a vest, neckcloth, and so forth, and had the right to set up the May-bush or Whitsuntide-tree in front of his master’s yard, where it would remain as an honored symbol until the same day next year. Eventually, the procession headed to the tavern, where the king and queen initiated the dance. Occasionally, the Whitsuntide King and Queen came to power in another way. A life-sized straw man, crowned with a red cap, was brought in a cart between two men disguised as guards to a mock court awaiting to judge him. A large crowd followed the cart. After a formal trial, the straw man was found guilty and tied to a stake for execution. Young men, with their eyes bandaged, attempted to stab him with a spear. The one who succeeded became king, and his sweetheart became queen. The straw man was called Goliath.[329] Near Grenoble, France, a king and queen are chosen on the first of May and placed on a throne for everyone to see.[330] In Headington, near Oxford, children used to carry garlands from door to door on May Day. Each garland was carried by two girls, followed by a lord and lady—a boy and girl linked by a white handkerchief, each holding one end, dressed with ribbons, sashes, and flowers. At each door, they sang a verse:—
On receiving money the lord put his arm about his lady’s waist and kissed her.[331] At Fleuriers in Switzerland on the seventh of May 1843 a May-bridegroom (Époux de Mai) and his bride were escorted in a procession of over two hundred children, some of whom carried green branches of beech. A number of May Fools were entrusted with the delicate duty of going round with the hat. The proceeds of their tact and industry furnished a banquet in the evening, and the day ended with a children’s ball.[332] In some Saxon villages at Whitsuntide a lad and a lass used to disguise themselves and hide in the bushes or high grass outside the village. Then the whole village went out with music “to seek the bridal pair.” When they found the couple they all gathered round them, the music struck up, and the bridal pair was led merrily to the village. In the evening they danced. In some places the bridal pair was called the prince and the princess.[333]
Upon receiving the money, the lord put his arm around his lady’s waist and kissed her.[331] At Fleuriers in Switzerland on May 7, 1843, a May-bridegroom (Époux de Mai) and his bride were celebrated in a procession with over two hundred children, some of whom carried green beech branches. A group of May Fools had the special task of going around with the hat. The money they collected funded a banquet in the evening, and the day concluded with a children’s ball.[332] In some Saxon villages during Whitsuntide, a boy and a girl would disguise themselves and hide in the bushes or tall grass outside the village. Then the entire village would go out with music “to find the bridal pair.” When they discovered the couple, everyone would gather around them, music would start, and the bridal pair would be joyfully led back to the village. In the evening, they danced. In some areas, the bridal pair was referred to as the prince and princess.[333]
|Whitsuntide Bridegroom and Bride in Denmark.| In a parish of Denmark it used to be the custom at Whitsuntide to dress up a little girl as the Whitsun-bride (pinse-bruden) and a little boy as her groom. She was decked in all the finery of a grown-up bride, and wore a crown of the freshest flowers of spring on her head. Her groom was as gay as flowers, ribbons, and knots could make him. The other children adorned themselves as best they could with the yellow flowers of the trollius and caltha. Then they went in great state from farmhouse to farmhouse, two little girls walking at the head of the procession as bridesmaids, and six or eight outriders galloping ahead on hobby-horses to announce their coming. Contributions 92of eggs, butter, loaves, cream, coffee, sugar, and tallow-candles were received and conveyed away in baskets. When they had made the round of the farms, some of the farmers’ wives helped to arrange the wedding feast, and the children danced merrily in clogs on the stamped clay floor till the sun rose and the birds began to sing. All this is now a thing of the past. Only the old folks still remember the little Whitsun-bride and her mimic pomp.[334]
|Whitsun Bridegroom and Bride in Denmark.| In a parish in Denmark, it used to be a tradition at Whitsuntide to dress up a little girl as the Whitsun-bride (pinse-bruden) and a little boy as her groom. She was adorned in all the beautiful attire of a grown-up bride and wore a crown made of the freshest spring flowers on her head. Her groom was dressed in bright colors, with flowers, ribbons, and decorative knots. The other kids dressed up as best they could with the yellow flowers of trollius and caltha. Then, they paraded from farmhouse to farmhouse, with two little girls leading the procession as bridesmaids and six or eight outriders galloping ahead on hobby-horses to announce their arrival. They collected contributions of eggs, butter, loaves, cream, coffee, sugar, and tallow candles, which they carried away in baskets. After visiting all the farms, some of the farmers’ wives helped to prepare the wedding feast, while the children danced happily in clogs on the packed clay floor until sunrise and the birds started to sing. All of this is now a memory. Only the older generation still remembers the little Whitsun-bride and her playful ceremony.[334]
|Midsummer Bridegroom and Bride in Sweden and Norway.| We have seen that in Sweden the ceremonies associated elsewhere with May Day or Whitsuntide commonly take place at Midsummer.[335] Accordingly we find that in some parts of the Swedish province of Blekinge they still choose a Midsummer’s Bride, to whom the “church coronet” is occasionally lent. The girl selects for herself a Bridegroom, and a collection is made for the pair, who for the time being are looked on as man and wife. The other youths also choose each his bride.[336] A similar ceremony seems to be still kept up in Norway, for a correspondent writes to me as follows in reference to the Danish custom of the Whitsun-bride: “It may interest you to know that on June 23, 1893, I witnessed at Ullensvang, Hardanger, Norway, a ceremony almost exactly the same as that described in your book. Wild flowers are scarce there, and the bride wore the usual metal crown, the attendants for the most part wearing the pretty Hardanger costume. The dancing took place in an unlighted barn, as the farmer was afraid of fire. There were plenty of boys at the dance, but so far as I can remember, none in the procession. The custom is clearly dying out, and the somewhat reluctant bridegroom was the subject of a good deal of chaff from his fellows.”[337] In Sardinia the Midsummer couples are known as the Sweethearts of St. John, and their association with the growth of plants is clearly brought out by the pots of sprouting grain which form a principal part of the ceremony.[338]
|Midsummer Groom and Bride in Sweden and Norway.| We've seen that in Sweden, the traditions associated with May Day or Whitsuntide usually happen at Midsummer.[335] In some areas of the Swedish province of Blekinge, people still select a Midsummer Bride, to whom the “church coronet” is sometimes lent. The girl picks her own Bridegroom, and a collection is taken for the couple, who are viewed as husband and wife for the occasion. Other young men also choose their brides.[336] A similar tradition appears to be kept alive in Norway, as a correspondent shared with me about the Danish custom of the Whitsun-bride: “It might interest you to know that on June 23, 1893, I witnessed a ceremony at Ullensvang, Hardanger, Norway, that was almost exactly like what you described in your book. Wildflowers are rare there, and the bride wore the usual metal crown, with most of the attendants dressed in the lovely Hardanger costume. The dancing happened in a dark barn, as the farmer was worried about fire. There were plenty of boys at the dance, but as far as I can remember, none joined the procession. The custom is clearly fading, and the somewhat hesitant bridegroom faced a lot of teasing from his friends.”[337] In Sardinia, the Midsummer couples are called the Sweethearts of St. John, and their connection to plant growth is highlighted by the pots of sprouting grain that are a key part of the ceremony.[338]
|Forsaken Bridegroom or Bride of May or Whitsuntide.| In the neighbourhood of Briançon (Dauphiné) on May 93Day the lads wrap up in green leaves a young fellow whose sweetheart has deserted him or married another. He lies down on the ground and feigns to be asleep. Then a girl who likes him, and would marry him, comes and wakes him, and raising him up offers him her arm and a flag. So they go to the alehouse, where the pair lead off the dancing. But they must marry within the year, or they are treated as old bachelor and old maid, and are debarred the company of the young folk. The lad is called the bridegroom of the month of May (le fiancé du mois de May). In the alehouse he puts off his garment of leaves, out of which, mixed with flowers, his partner in the dance makes a nosegay, and wears it at her breast next day, when he leads her again to the alehouse.[339] Like this is a Russian custom observed in the district of Nerechta on the Thursday before Whitsunday. The girls go out into a birch-wood, wind a girdle or band round a stately birch, twist its lower branches into a wreath, and kiss each other in pairs through the wreath. The girls who kiss through the wreath call each other gossips. Then one of the girls steps forward, and mimicking a drunken man, flings herself on the ground, rolls on the grass, and feigns to fall fast asleep. Another girl wakens the pretended sleeper and kisses him; then the whole bevy trips singing through the wood to twine garlands, which they throw into the water. In the fate of the garlands floating on the stream they read their own.[340] Here the part of the sleeper was probably at one time played by a lad. In these French and Russian customs we have a forsaken bridegroom, in the following a forsaken bride. On Shrove Tuesday the Slovenes of Oberkrain drag a straw puppet with joyous cries up and down the village; then they throw it into the water or burn it, and from the height of the flames they judge of the abundance of the next harvest. The noisy crew is followed by a female masker, who drags a great board by a string and gives out that she is a forsaken bride.[341]
Forsaken Groom or Bride of May or Whitsun. In the area around Briançon (Dauphiné) on May 93Day, the guys wrap a young man whose girlfriend has left him or married someone else in green leaves. He lies down on the ground and pretends to be asleep. Then a girl who likes him and wants to marry him comes along, wakes him up, and offers him her arm and a flag. They head to the pub, where they start the dancing. However, they must get married within the year, or they'll be treated as an old bachelor and an old maid and won't be allowed to hang out with the young folks. The guy is known as the bridegroom of May (le fiancé du mois de May). At the pub, he removes his leaf outfit, and his dance partner turns it into a nosegay mixed with flowers, which she wears on her chest the next day when he takes her back to the pub.[339] This resembles a Russian tradition observed in the Nerechta area on the Thursday before Whitsunday. The girls head into a birch forest, wrap a belt around a majestic birch tree, twist its lower branches into a wreath, and kiss each other in pairs through the wreath. The girls who kiss through the wreath refer to each other as gossips. Then one of the girls steps forward, acting like a drunken person, throws herself on the ground, rolls on the grass, and pretends to fall fast asleep. Another girl wakes up the pretend sleeper and kisses her; then the whole group dances happily through the woods to weave garlands, which they toss into the water. They interpret the fate of the garlands floating downstream as a reflection of their own.[340] Here, the role of the sleeper might have once been played by a boy. In these French and Russian customs, we have a forsaken bridegroom, and in the following, a forsaken bride. On Shrove Tuesday, the Slovenes of Oberkrain joyfully drag a straw puppet around the village; then they throw it in the water or burn it, using the height of the flames to predict the abundance of the next harvest. The noisy group is followed by a female masker who pulls along a large board on a string and claims to be a forsaken bride.[341]
Viewed in the light of what has gone before, the awakening of the forsaken sleeper in these ceremonies probably 94represents the revival of vegetation in spring. But it is not easy to assign their respective parts to the forsaken bridegroom and to the girl who wakes him from his slumber. Is the sleeper the leafless forest or the bare earth of winter? Is the girl who wakens him the fresh verdure or the genial sunshine of spring? It is hardly possible, on the evidence before us, to answer these questions. The Oraons of Bengal, it may be remembered, celebrate the marriage of earth in the springtime, when the sál-tree is in blossom.[342] But from this we can hardly argue that in the European ceremonies the sleeping bridegroom is “the dreaming earth” and the girl the spring blossoms.
Viewed in light of what has come before, the awakening of the forsaken sleeper in these ceremonies likely represents the revival of vegetation in spring. However, it's not easy to determine the roles of the forsaken bridegroom and the girl who awakens him from his slumber. Is the sleeper the leafless forest or the bare earth of winter? Is the girl who wakes him the fresh greenery or the warm sunshine of spring? It's difficult to answer these questions based on the evidence we have. The Oraons of Bengal, it should be noted, celebrate the marriage of earth in the springtime when the sál-tree is in bloom.[342] But from this, we can't really conclude that in the European ceremonies the sleeping bridegroom represents “the dreaming earth” and the girl represents the spring blossoms.
|St. Bride in Scotland and the Isle of Man.| In the Highlands of Scotland the revival of vegetation in spring used to be graphically represented on St. Bride’s Day, the first of February. Thus in the Hebrides “the mistress and servants of each family take a sheaf of oats, and dress it up in women’s apparel, put it in a large basket, and lay a wooden club by it, and this they call Briid’s bed; and then the mistress and servants cry three times, ‘Briid is come, Briid is welcome.’ This they do just before going to bed, and when they rise in the morning they look among the ashes, expecting to see the impression of Briid’s club there; which if they do, they reckon it a true presage of a good crop and prosperous year, and the contrary they take as an ill omen.”[343] The same custom is described by another witness thus: “Upon the night before Candlemas it is usual to make a bed with corn and hay, over which some blankets are laid, in a part of the house, near the door. When it is ready, a person goes out and repeats three times, ... ‘Bridget, Bridget, come in; thy bed is ready.’ One or more candles are left burning near it all night.”[344] Similarly in the 95Isle of Man “on the eve of the first of February, a festival was formerly kept, called, in the Manks language, Laa’l Breeshey, in honour of the Irish lady who went over to the Isle of Man to receive the veil from St. Maughold. The custom was to gather a bundle of green rushes, and standing with them in the hand on the threshold of the door, to invite the holy Saint Bridget to come and lodge with them that night. In the Manks language, the invitation ran thus:—‘Brede, Brede, tar gys my thie tar dyn thie ayms noght. Foshil jee yn dorrys da Brede, as lhig da Brede e heet staigh.’ In English: ‘Bridget, Bridget, come to my house, come to my house to-night. Open the door for Bridget, and let Bridget come in.’ After these words were repeated, the rushes were strewn on the floor by way of a carpet or bed for St. Bridget. A custom very similar to this was also observed in some of the Out-Isles of the ancient kingdom of Man.”[345] In these Manx and Highland ceremonies it is obvious that St. Bride, or St. Bridget, is an old heathen goddess of fertility, disguised in a threadbare Christian cloak. Probably she is no other than the Celtic goddess Brigit, who will meet us again later on.[346]
St. Bride in Scotland and the Isle of Man. In the Highlands of Scotland, the return of plant life in spring was traditionally symbolized on St. Bride’s Day, February 1st. In the Hebrides, the head of the household and their servants would take a sheaf of oats, dress it in women's clothing, place it in a large basket, and lay a wooden club beside it, referring to this as Briid’s bed. Then, they would call out three times, "Briid has come, Briid is welcome." They performed this ritual just before going to bed, and when they awoke in the morning, they would check the ashes for the impression of Briid’s club; finding it was believed to be a sign of a good harvest and a prosperous year, while not finding it was seen as a bad omen.[343] Another account describes a similar custom: “On the night before Candlemas, people would make a bed with corn and hay, covered with blankets, in a part of the house near the door. Once it's ready, someone would go outside and call out three times, 'Bridget, Bridget, come in; your bed is ready.' They would leave one or more candles burning near it all night.”[344] Similarly, in the Isle of Man, “on the eve of February 1st, a festival was once celebrated, known in the Manx language as Laa’l Breeshey, in honor of the Irish lady who came to the Isle of Man to receive the veil from St. Maughold. The custom involved gathering a bundle of green rushes and standing at the door with them to invite the holy Saint Bridget to stay over that night. In Manx, the invitation went:—‘Brede, Brede, tar gys my thie tar dyn thie ayms noght. Foshil jee yn dorrys da Brede, as lhig da Brede e heet staigh.’ In English: ‘Bridget, Bridget, come to my house, come to my house tonight. Open the door for Bridget, and let Bridget come in.’ After saying these words, they would scatter the rushes on the floor as a carpet or bed for St. Bridget. A very similar custom was seen in some of the Out-Isles of the ancient Kingdom of Man.”[345] In these Manx and Highland rituals, it’s clear that St. Bride, or St. Bridget, is an old pagan goddess of fertility, hidden under a worn-out Christian identity. She is likely the same as the Celtic goddess Brigit, who we will encounter again later.[346]
|May Bride or Whitsuntide Bride.| Often the marriage of the spirit of vegetation in spring, though not directly represented, is implied by naming the human representative of the spirit, “the Bride,” and dressing her in wedding attire. Thus in some villages of Altmark at Whitsuntide, while the boys go about carrying a May-tree or leading a boy enveloped in leaves and flowers, the girls lead about the May Bride, a girl dressed as a bride with a great nosegay in her hair. They go from house to house, the May Bride singing a song in which she asks for a present, and tells the inmates of each house that if they give her something they will themselves have something the 96whole year through; but if they give her nothing they will themselves have nothing.[347] In some parts of Westphalia two girls lead a flower-crowned girl called the Whitsuntide Bride from door to door, singing a song in which they ask for eggs.[348] At Waggum in Brunswick, when service is over on Whitsunday, the village girls assemble, dressed in white or bright colours, decked with flowers, and wearing chaplets of spring flowers in their hair. One of them represents the May Bride, and carries a crown of flowers on a staff as a sign of her dignity. As usual the children go about from cottage to cottage singing and begging for eggs, sausages, cakes, or money. In other parts of Brunswick it is a boy clothed all in birch leaves who personates the May Bride.[349] In Bresse in the month of May a girl called la Mariée is tricked out with ribbons and nosegays and is led about by a gallant. She is preceded by a lad carrying a green May-tree, and appropriate verses are sung.[350]
May Bride or Pentecost Bride. Often, the marriage of the spirit of vegetation in spring, although not directly shown, is suggested by calling the human representative of the spirit “the Bride” and dressing her in wedding clothes. In some villages of Altmark during Whitsuntide, while the boys walk around carrying a May-tree or leading a boy wrapped in leaves and flowers, the girls lead the May Bride, a girl dressed like a bride with a big bouquet in her hair. They go from house to house, with the May Bride singing a song asking for a gift, telling the people in each house that if they give her something, they will have good fortune throughout the year; but if they don’t give her anything, they will end up with nothing.96 In some areas of Westphalia, two girls lead a flower-crowned girl known as the Whitsuntide Bride from door to door, singing a song in which they ask for eggs. At Waggum in Brunswick, after the service on Whitsunday, the village girls gather, dressed in white or bright colors, adorned with flowers and wearing crowns of spring flowers in their hair. One of them represents the May Bride and carries a flower crown on a staff to show her status. As usual, the children go from cottage to cottage singing and asking for eggs, sausages, cakes, or money. In other parts of Brunswick, a boy dressed entirely in birch leaves portrays the May Bride. In Bresse, during May, a girl known as la Mariée is adorned with ribbons and flowers and is led around by a young man. She is followed by a boy carrying a green May-tree, and suitable verses are sung.
CHAPTER XI
THE INFLUENCE OF THE SEXES ON VEGETATION
|The marriage of the King and Queen of May intended to promote the growth of vegetation by homoeopathic magic.| From the preceding examination of the spring and summer festivals of Europe we may infer that our rude forefathers personified the powers of vegetation as male and female, and attempted, on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic, to quicken the growth of trees and plants by representing the marriage of the sylvan deities in the persons of a King and Queen of May, a Whitsun Bridegroom and Bride, and so forth. Such representations were accordingly no mere symbolic or allegorical dramas, pastoral plays designed to amuse or instruct a rustic audience. They were charms intended to make the woods to grow green, the fresh grass to sprout, the corn to shoot, and the flowers to blow. And it was natural to suppose that the more closely the mock marriage of the leaf-clad or flower-decked mummers aped the real marriage of the woodland sprites, the more effective would be the charm. Accordingly we may assume with a high degree of probability that the profligacy which notoriously attended these ceremonies[351] was at one time not an accidental excess but an essential part of the rites, and that in the opinion of those who performed them the marriage of trees and plants could not be fertile without the real union of the human sexes. At the present day it might perhaps be vain to look in civilised Europe for customs of this sort observed for the explicit purpose of promoting the growth of vegetation. But ruder races in other parts of the world have consciously employed the intercourse of the sexes as a means to ensure the fruitfulness 98of the earth; and some rites which are still, or were till lately, kept up in Europe can be reasonably explained only as stunted relics of a similar practice. The following facts will make this plain.
The marriage of the King and Queen of May was intended to promote plant growth through homeopathic magic. From the previous look at spring and summer festivals in Europe, we can infer that our early ancestors portrayed the forces of nature as male and female and tried, based on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic, to boost the growth of trees and plants by acting out the marriage of nature deities through a King and Queen of May, a Whitsun Bridegroom and Bride, and so on. These performances were not just symbolic or allegorical plays meant to entertain or educate a rural audience. They were charms intended to make the woods lush, the fresh grass grow, the crops sprout, and the flowers bloom. It was logical to think that the closer the mock marriage of the leaf-covered or flower-adorned performers mirrored the actual marriage of the woodland spirits, the more effective the charm would be. Thus, we can reasonably assume that the promiscuity often associated with these ceremonies was not merely an incidental excess but rather an essential part of the rites, and that those who participated believed the marriage of trees and plants could not be fruitful without the actual union of human sexes. Nowadays, it might be futile to search in civilized Europe for customs specifically aimed at promoting plant growth. However, more primitive cultures in other parts of the world have actively used sexual interactions as a way to ensure the earth's fertility; and some rituals that still exist, or existed recently, in Europe can only be reasonably explained as diminished remnants of a similar practice. The following facts will clarify this.
|Intercourse of the sexes practised in order to make the crops grow.| For four days before they committed the seed to the earth the Pipiles of Central America kept apart from their wives “in order that on the night before planting they might indulge their passions to the fullest extent; certain persons are even said to have been appointed to perform the sexual act at the very moment when the first seeds were deposited in the ground.” The use of their wives at that time was indeed enjoined upon the people by the priests as a religious duty, in default of which it was not lawful to sow the seed.[352] The only possible explanation of this custom seems to be that the Indians confused the process by which human beings reproduce their kind with the process by which plants discharge the same function, and fancied that by resorting to the former they were simultaneously forwarding the latter. In the month of December, when the alligator pears begin to ripen, the Indians of Peru used to hold a festival called Acatay mita in order to make the fruit grow mellow. The festival lasted five days and nights, and was preceded by a fast of five days during which they ate neither salt nor pepper and refrained from their wives. At the festival men and boys assembled stark naked in an open space among the orchards, and ran from there to a distant hill. Any woman whom they overtook on the way they violated.[353] In some parts of Java, at the season when the bloom will soon be on the rice, the husbandman and his wife visit their fields by night and there engage in sexual intercourse for the purpose of promoting the growth of the crop.[354] In the Leti, Sarmata, and some other groups of islands which lie between the western end of New Guinea and the northern part of Australia, the heathen population regard the sun as the male principle by whom 99the earth or female principle is fertilised. They call him Upu-lera or Mr. Sun, and represent him under the form of a lamp made of coco-nut leaves, which may be seen hanging everywhere in their houses and in the sacred fig-tree. Under the tree lies a large flat stone, which serves as a sacrificial table. On it the heads of slain foes were and are still placed in some of the islands. Once a year, at the beginning of the rainy season, Mr. Sun comes down into the holy fig-tree to fertilise the earth, and to facilitate his descent a ladder with seven rungs is considerately placed at his disposal. It is set up under the tree and is adorned with carved figures of the birds whose shrill clarion heralds the approach of the sun in the East. On this occasion pigs and dogs are sacrificed in profusion; men and women alike indulge in a saturnalia; and the mystic union of the sun and the earth is dramatically represented in public, amid song and dance, by the real union of the sexes under the tree. The object of the festival, we are told, is to procure rain, plenty of food and drink, abundance of cattle and children and riches from Grandfather Sun. They pray that he may make every she-goat to cast two or three young, the people to multiply, the dead pigs to be replaced by living pigs, the empty rice-baskets to be filled, and so on. And to induce him to grant their requests they offer him pork and rice and liquor, and invite him to fall to. In the Babar Islands a special flag is hoisted at this festival as a symbol of the creative energy of the sun; it is of white cotton, about nine feet high, and consists of the figure of a man in an appropriate attitude.[355] 100Among the Tangkhuls of Manipur, before the rice is sown and when it is reaped, the boys and girls have a tug-of-war with a tough rope of twisted creeper. Great jars of beer are set ready, and the strictness of their ordinary morality is broken by a night of unbridled licence.[356] It would be unjust to treat these orgies as a mere outburst of unbridled passion; no doubt they are deliberately and solemnly organised as essential to the fertility of the earth and the welfare of man.
|Sexual activities done to promote crop growth.| For four days before they planted the seeds, the Pipiles of Central America stayed away from their wives “so that on the night before planting, they could fully indulge their desires; some say that certain people were even designated to engage in sexual activity right when the first seeds were placed in the ground.” The priests insisted that the use of their wives during this time was a religious obligation, and without it, it was not permissible to sow the seeds.[352] The only explanation for this custom seems to be that the Indians confused human reproduction with plant reproduction and believed that by engaging in the former, they were supporting the latter. In December, when the alligator pears begin to ripen, the Indians of Peru would hold a festival called Acatay mita to make the fruit ripen. The festival lasted five days and nights and was preceded by a five-day fast during which they ate no salt or pepper and stayed away from their wives. During the festival, men and boys gathered completely naked in an open area among the orchards and ran to a distant hill. Any woman they encountered on the way was assaulted.[353] In some regions of Java, during the time when the rice is about to bloom, farmers and their wives visit their fields at night and engage in sexual intercourse to promote crop growth.[354] In the Leti, Sarmata, and some other islands between the western end of New Guinea and northern Australia, the local people view the sun as the male principle that fertilizes the earth, the female principle. They call him Upu-lera or Mr. Sun and depict him as a lamp made from coconut leaves, which can be seen hanging everywhere in their homes and in the sacred fig tree. Under the tree lies a large flat stone that serves as an altar. On it, the heads of slain enemies were placed and still are in some islands. Once a year, at the start of the rainy season, Mr. Sun comes down into the holy fig tree to fertilize the earth, and to help him descend, a ladder with seven rungs is kindly set up for him. It stands under the tree and is decorated with carved figures of the birds that announce the sun's arrival in the East. During this event, pigs and dogs are sacrificed in abundance; men and women alike partake in a raucous celebration; and the symbolic union of the sun and the earth is vividly displayed in public through the actual union of the sexes under the tree, complete with song and dance. The purpose of the festival, we are told, is to ask for rain, an abundance of food and drink, plenty of cattle and children, and wealth from Grandfather Sun. They pray for every she-goat to give birth to two or three kids, for the people to multiply, for dead pigs to be replaced with live ones, and for empty rice baskets to be filled, among other things. To persuade him to grant their wishes, they offer him pork, rice, and liquor, inviting him to partake. In the Babar Islands, a special flag representing the sun's creative energy is raised at this festival; it is made of white cotton, about nine feet tall, and features a figure of a man in a suitable pose.[355] 100Among the Tangkhuls of Manipur, before planting rice and during harvest, young men and women hold a tug-of-war with a sturdy rope made from twisted vines. Large jars of beer are prepared, and the usual strict moral code is relaxed for a night of uninhibited revelry.[356] It would be unfair to consider these festivities merely as bursts of uncontrolled passion; they are clearly organized with intent and seriousness, considered vital for the fertility of the earth and the well-being of people.
|Intercourse of the sexes practised in order to make trees bear fruit.| The same means which are thus adopted to stimulate the growth of the crops are naturally employed to ensure the fruitfulness of trees. The work known as The Agriculture of the Nabataeans contained apparently a direction that the grafting of a tree upon another tree of a different sort should be done by a damsel, who at the very moment of inserting the graft in the bough should herself be subjected to treatment which can only be regarded as a direct copy of the operation she was performing on the tree.[357] In some parts of Amboyna, when the state of the clove plantation indicates that the crop is likely to be scanty, the men go naked to the plantations by night, and there seek to fertilise the trees precisely as they would impregnate women, while at the same time they call out for “More cloves!” This is supposed to make the trees bear fruit more abundantly.[358] In Java when a palm tree is to be tapped for wine, the man who proposes to relieve the tree of its superfluous juices deems it necessary to approach the palm in the character of a lover and a husband, as well as of a son. When he comes upon a palm which he thinks suitable, he will not begin cutting at the trunk until he has intimated as delicately as he can the reasons which lead him to perform that surgical operation, and 101the ardent affection which he cherishes for the tree. For this purpose he holds a dialogue with the palm, in which he naturally speaks in the character of the tree as well as in his own. “O mother endang-reni!” he begins, “for the sake of you I have let myself be drenched by the rain and scorched by the sun; long have I sought you! Now at last have I found you. How ardently have I longed for you! Often before have you given me the breast. Yet I still thirst. Therefore now I ask for four potfuls more.” “Well, fair youth,” replies the tree, “I have always been here. What is the reason that you have sought me?” “The reason I have sought you is that I have heard you suffer from incontinentia urinae.” “So I do,” says the tree. “Will you marry me?” says the man. “That I will,” says the tree, “but first you must plight your troth and recite the usual confession of faith.” On that the man takes a rattan leaf and wraps it round the palm as a pledge of betrothal, after which he says the creed: “There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet.” The maidenly and orthodox scruples of the tree having thus been satisfied, he embraces it as his bride. At first he attaches only a small dish to the trunk to receive the juices which exude from the cut in the bark; a large dish might frighten the tree. In fastening the dish to the palm he says, “Bok-endang-reni! your child is languishing away for thirst. He asks you for a drink.” The tree replies, “Let him slake his thirst! Mother’s breasts are full to overflowing.”[359] We have already seen that in some parts of Northern India a mock marriage between two actors is performed in honour of a newly-planted orchard,[360] no doubt for the purpose of making it bear fruit. In the Nicobar Islands a pregnant woman is taken into the gardens in order to impart the blessing of fertility to the plants.[361]
Sexual activity done to help trees bear fruit. The same methods used to boost crop growth are also applied to promote the fruitfulness of trees. The work known as The Agriculture of the Nabataeans apparently included a guideline that the grafting of one tree onto another of a different species should be carried out by a young woman, who, at the very moment of placing the graft onto the branch, should undergo a process that can be seen as a direct imitation of what she was doing to the tree.[357] In some areas of Amboyna, when the clove plantation shows signs of a poor crop, men go to the fields naked at night and try to fertilize the trees just as they would attempt to impregnate women, all while shouting for “More cloves!” This is believed to help the trees produce more fruit.[358] In Java, when tapping a palm tree for wine, the man planning to extract the tree's excess sap feels it’s necessary to approach the palm as if he were a lover, a husband, and a son. When he finds a suitable palm, he won’t start cutting the trunk until he has gently expressed his reasons for performing that operation, and the deep affection he has for the tree. For this purpose, he engages in a dialogue with the palm, speaking both as himself and as the tree. “O mother endang-reni!” he begins, “for your sake, I’ve endured the rain and the heat of the sun; I have searched for you for so long! Now I’ve finally found you. How I long for you! You’ve nourished me before, yet I still thirst. So now I ask for four potfuls more.” “Well, dear young man,” the tree responds, “I have always been here. Why did you search for me?” “I sought you because I heard you suffer from incontinentia urinae.” “Indeed, I do,” replies the tree. “Will you marry me?” the man asks. “Yes, I will,” says the tree, “but first you must pledge your love and recite the usual confession of faith.” At that, the man takes a rattan leaf and wraps it around the palm as a sign of engagement, then he recites the creed: “There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet.” Having satisfied the maidenly and orthodox concerns of the tree, he embraces it as his bride. Initially, he attaches only a small dish to the trunk to catch the sap dripping from the cut in the bark; a larger dish might scare the tree. While fastening the dish to the palm, he says, “Bok-endang-reni! your child is dying of thirst. He asks you for a drink.” The tree answers, “Let him drink! Mother’s breasts are full to overflowing.”[359] We have already seen that in some regions of Northern India, a mock wedding between two performers is held to honor a newly-planted orchard,[360] likely intended to encourage fruit production. In the Nicobar Islands, a pregnant woman is brought into the gardens to bestow the blessing of fertility on the plants.[361]
|In Uganda parents of twins are supposed to fertilise the plantains.| The Baganda of Central Africa believe so strongly in 102the intimate relation between the intercourse of the sexes and the fertility of the ground that among them a barren wife is generally sent away because she is supposed to prevent her husband’s garden from bearing fruit. On the contrary, a couple who have given proof of extraordinary fertility by becoming the parents of twins are believed by the Baganda to be endowed with a corresponding power of increasing the fruitfulness of the plantain-trees, which furnish them with their staple food. Some little time after the birth of the twins a ceremony is performed, the object of which clearly is to transmit the reproductive virtue of the parents to the plantains. The mother lies down on her back in the thick grass near the house and places a flower of the plantain between her legs; then her husband comes and knocks the flower away with his genital member. Further, the parents go through the country, performing dances in the gardens of favoured friends, apparently for the purpose of causing the plantain-trees to bear fruit more abundantly. The same belief in the fertilising power of such parents probably explains why in Uganda the father of twins is inviolable and may go into anybody’s garden and take the produce at will. To distinguish him from the common herd his hair is cut in a special way, and he wears little bells at his ankles which tinkle as he walks. His sacred character is further manifested by a rule which he must observe after the round of visits has been paid, and the dances in the gardens are over. He has to remain at home until the next time that the army goes forth to battle, and in the interval he may neither dress his hair nor cut his finger-nails. When war has been proclaimed, his whole body is shaved and his nails cut. The clipped hair and nails he ties up in a ball, which he takes with him to the war, along with the bark cloth which he wore at the dances. When he has killed a foe, he crams the ball into the dead man’s mouth, ties the bark-cloth round his neck, and leaves them there on the battlefield.[362] Apparently the ceremony is intended to rid him of 103the peculiar sanctity or state of taboo which he contracted by the birth of twins, and to facilitate his return to ordinary life. For, to the mind of the savage, as we shall see later on, sanctity has its dangers and inconveniences, and the sacred man may often be glad to divest himself of it by stripping himself of those separable parts of his person—the hair and nails—to which the holy contagion is apt to cling.
In Uganda, parents of twins are expected to grow the plantains. The Baganda people of Central Africa strongly believe in the close connection between sexual intercourse and the fertility of the land. Because of this belief, a barren wife is often sent away since she is thought to hinder her husband's garden from bearing fruit. In contrast, a couple that has shown exceptional fertility by having twins is believed by the Baganda to possess a special ability to enhance the productivity of the plantain trees, which provide their main food source. Shortly after the twins are born, a ceremony is held to transfer the parents' reproductive power to the plantains. The mother lies on her back in the thick grass near the home and positions a flower from the plantain between her legs. Then her husband comes and knocks the flower away with his genitals. Additionally, the parents travel around the country, performing dances in the gardens of friends, seemingly to encourage the plantain trees to produce more fruit. The same belief in the fertility of such parents likely explains why, in Uganda, the father of twins holds a special status and can enter anyone's garden to take produce as he pleases. To distinguish him from others, his hair is styled in a unique way, and he wears small bells around his ankles that jingle as he walks. His sacred status is further shown by a rule he must follow after visiting and dancing in the gardens. He has to stay home until the next army has to go to battle, during which time he cannot cut his hair or nails. Once war is declared, his entire body is shaved, and his nails are trimmed. He ties the cut hair and nails together in a ball to take with him to war, along with the bark cloth he wore for the dances. After he has killed an enemy, he stuffs the ball into the dead man's mouth, ties the bark cloth around his neck, and leaves them on the battlefield.[362] The ceremony seems designed to rid him of the unique sanctity or taboo associated with the birth of twins and to help him return to regular life. To a primitive mind, as we will explore later, sanctity carries its own dangers and burdens, and the sacred individual may often desire to rid himself of it by removing those parts of his body—like hair and nails—where sacredness tends to cling.
|Relics of similar customs in Europe.| In various parts of Europe customs have prevailed both at spring and harvest which are clearly based on the same crude notion that the relation of the human sexes to each other can be so used as to quicken the growth of plants. For example, in the Ukraine on St. George’s Day (the twenty-third of April) the priest in his robes, attended by his acolytes, goes out to the fields of the village, where the crops are beginning to shew green above the ground, and blesses them. After that the young married people lie down in couples on the sown fields and roll several times over on them, in the belief that this will promote the growth of the crops. In some parts of Russia the priest himself is rolled by women over the sprouting crop, and that without regard to the mud and holes which he may encounter in his beneficent progress. If the shepherd resists or remonstrates, his flock murmurs, “Little Father, you do not really wish us well, you do not wish us to have corn, although you do wish to live on our corn.”[363] In England it seems to have been customary for young couples to roll down a slope together on May Day; on Greenwich-hill the custom was practised at Easter and Whitsuntide,[364] as it was till lately practised near Dublin on Whitmonday.[365] When we consider how closely these seasons, especially May Day and Whitsuntide, are associated with ceremonies for the revival of plant life in spring, we shall scarcely doubt that the custom of rolling in couples at such times had originally the same significance which it still has in Russia; 104and when further we compare this particular custom with the practice of representing the vernal powers of vegetation by a bridal pair, and remember the traditions which even in our own country attach to May Day,[366] we shall probably do no injustice to our forefathers if we conclude that they once celebrated the return of spring with grosser rites, of which the customs I have referred to are only a stunted survival. Indeed, these rites in their grossest form are said to be still observed in various parts of Holland at Whitsuntide.[367] In some parts of Germany at harvest the men and women, who have reaped the corn, roll together on the field.[368] This again is probably a mitigation of an older and ruder custom designed to impart fertility to the fields by methods like those resorted to by the Pipiles of Central America long ago and by the cultivators of rice in Java at the present time. In Poso, when the rice-crop is not thriving, the farmer’s wife sets bowls of rice and betel in various parts of the field; then she lies down, draws her petticoat over her head, and pretends to fall asleep. But one of her children thereupon mimics the crowing of a cock, and at the sound she gets up, “because a new day has dawned.” The intention of this ceremony, which the natives could not or would not explain to the Dutch missionary who reports it, may be to place the woman at the disposal of the god of the field. We are expressly told that there is a special god of the rice-fields named Puwe-wai, and that the ceremony in question is performed in his honour.[369]
|Remnants of similar traditions in Europe.| In different parts of Europe, customs have existed during spring and harvest that are clearly rooted in the basic belief that the relationship between men and women can somehow stimulate plant growth. For instance, in Ukraine on St. George’s Day (April 23rd), the priest, dressed in his robes and accompanied by his acolytes, goes to the village fields where the crops are just starting to show green, and blesses them. Afterwards, young married couples lie down together on the plowed fields and roll around several times, believing this will help the crops grow. In some areas of Russia, the priest himself is rolled over the new crop by women, regardless of the mud and ditches he might face in his beneficial journey. If the shepherd objects or protests, his flock murmurs, “Little Father, you don’t really want us to succeed; you don’t want us to have grain, although you do want to live off our grain.”[363] In England, it appears that it was common for young couples to roll down a hill together on May Day; on Greenwich Hill, this custom was practiced during Easter and Whitsuntide,[364] and it was still performed near Dublin on Whit Monday until recently.[365] When we think about how closely these seasons, particularly May Day and Whitsuntide, are tied to celebrations for the renewal of plant life in spring, it's hard to doubt that the practice of rolling together during these times originally had the same meaning as it does in Russia; 104 and when we compare this specific custom with the tradition of representing the spring powers of vegetation as a bridal couple, and remember the customs associated with May Day in our own country,[366] we likely do our ancestors no disservice by concluding that they once celebrated the arrival of spring with more primitive rites, of which the customs I mentioned are merely a reduced version. In fact, these rites in their most crude forms are said to still be performed in various parts of Holland during Whitsuntide.[367] In some regions of Germany during harvest, the men and women who have gathered the grain roll together in the field.[368] This is probably a toned-down version of an older and rougher custom aimed at boosting fertility in the fields, similar to methods used by the Pipiles of Central America long ago and by rice farmers in Java today. In Poso, when the rice crop isn’t doing well, the farmer’s wife sets bowls of rice and betel in different parts of the field; then she lays down, pulls her petticoat over her head, and pretends to fall asleep. However, one of her children then mimics the crowing of a rooster, and at the sound, she gets up “because a new day has dawned.” The purpose of this ceremony, which the locals couldn’t or wouldn’t explain to the Dutch missionary who reports it, could be to make the woman available to the god of the field. We are specifically told that there is a god of the rice fields named Puwe-wai, and that this ceremony is held in his honor.[369]
|Continence practised in order to make the crops grow.| To the student who cares to track the devious course of the human mind in its gropings after truth, it is of some interest to observe that the same theoretical belief in the sympathetic influence of the sexes on vegetation, which has 105led some peoples to indulge their passions as a means of fertilising the earth, has led others to seek the same end by directly opposite means. From the moment that they sowed the maize till the time that they reaped it, the Indians of Nicaragua lived chastely, keeping apart from their wives and sleeping in a separate place. They ate no salt, and drank neither cocoa nor chicha, the fermented liquor made from maize; in short the season was for them, as the Spanish historians observe, a time of abstinence.[370] To this day some of the Indian tribes of Central America practise continence for the purpose of thereby promoting the growth of the crops. Thus we are told that before sowing the maize the Kekchi Indians sleep apart from their wives, and eat no flesh for five days, while among the Lanquineros and Cajaboneros the period of abstinence from these carnal pleasures extends to thirteen days.[371] So amongst some of the Germans of Transylvania it is a rule that no man may sleep with his wife during the whole of the time that he is engaged in sowing his fields.[372] The same rule is observed at Kalotaszeg in Hungary; the people think that if the custom were not observed the corn would be mildewed.[373] Similarly a Central Australian headman of the Kaitish tribe strictly abstains from marital relations with his wife all the time that he is performing magical ceremonies to make the grass grow; for he believes that a breach of this rule would prevent the grass seed from sprouting properly.[374] In some of the Melanesian islands, when the yam vines are being trained, the men sleep near the gardens and never approach their wives; should they enter the garden after breaking this rule of continence the fruits of the garden would be 106spoilt.[375] In the Motu tribe of New Guinea, when rain has fallen plentifully and there is promise of a good crop of bananas, one of the chief men becomes holy or taboo, and must live apart from his wife and eat only certain kinds of food. He bids the young men beat the drum and dance, “in order that by so doing there may be a large harvest. If the dancing is not given, there will be an end to the good growth; but if it is continued, all will go well. People come in from other villages to assist, and will dance all night.”[376] In the Mekeo district of British New Guinea, when a taboo has been put on the coco-nuts and areca-nuts to promote their growth, some fourteen or fifteen men act as watchmen to enforce the taboo. Every evening they go round the village armed with clubs and wearing masks or so covered with leaves that nobody would know them. All the time they are in office they may not chew betel nor drink coco-nut water, lest the areca-nuts (which are eaten with betel) and the coco-nuts should fail. Moreover, they may not live with their wives; indeed, they may not even look at a woman, and if they pass one they must keep their eyes on the ground.[377] Among the Kabuis of Manipur, before the rice is sown and when it is reaped, the strictest chastity has to be observed, especially by the religious head of the village, who, besides always taking the omens on behalf of the villagers, is the first to sow and the first to reap.[378] Some of the tribes of Assam believe that so long as the crops remain ungarnered, the slightest incontinence might ruin all.[379] In the incense-growing region of Arabia in antiquity there were three families charged with the special care of the incense-trees. They were called sacred, and at the time when they cut the trees or gathered the incense they were forbidden to pollute themselves with women or with the contact of the dead; 107the observance of these rules of ceremonial purity was believed to increase the supply of incense.[380] Apparently the incense itself was deemed holy, for on being gathered it was deposited in the sanctuary of the Sun, where the merchants inspected and purchased it.[381] With ancient Greek husbandmen it was a maxim that olives should always be planted and gathered by pure boys and virgins; the uncommon fruitfulness of the olive-trees at Anazarbus in Cilicia was attributed to their being tended by young and innocent children. In default of such workers, the olive-gatherer had to swear that he had been faithful to his own wife; for his fidelity was believed to ensure an abundant crop of fruit the following year.[382]
|Abstinence practiced to encourage crop growth.| For a student interested in understanding the complex nature of the human mind in its quest for truth, it’s intriguing to see that the same belief in the mutual influence of men and women on plant growth has led some cultures to engage in passionate activities as a way to nourish the earth, while others have taken the opposite approach. From the time they plant maize until they harvest it, the indigenous people of Nicaragua live in chastity, separating from their wives and sleeping in different locations. They avoid salt, and do not drink cocoa or chicha, the fermented drink made from maize; in essence, this period is, as Spanish historians note, a time of restraint.[370] Even today, some Indigenous tribes in Central America practice abstinence to encourage crop growth. For example, before planting maize, the Kekchi people sleep away from their wives and refrain from eating meat for five days, while the Lanquineros and Cajaboneros extend their period of abstinence to thirteen days.[371] In Transylvania, some Germans have a tradition that forbids men from sleeping with their wives while they are planting their fields.[372] The same practice occurs in Kalotaszeg, Hungary; locals believe that failing to uphold this custom would result in moldy corn.[373] Similarly, a leader from the Kaitish tribe in Central Australia completely abstains from sexual relations while he performs rituals to promote grass growth, as he believes that violating this rule would hinder the grass seed from sprouting properly.[374] In some Melanesian islands, when tending to yam vines, men sleep near the gardens and refrain from approaching their wives; if they enter the garden after breaking this rule, the crops will spoil.[375] In the Motu tribe of New Guinea, when rain is abundant and a good banana harvest is expected, one of the leading men becomes sacred or taboo and must live apart from his wife while only eating specific foods. He instructs the young men to drum and dance, “so that this will ensure a large harvest. If the dancing ceases, the good growth will stop; but if it continues, everything will turn out well. People come from other villages to help and dance all night.”[376] In the Mekeo area of British New Guinea, when a taboo is placed on coconuts and areca nuts to foster their growth, around fourteen or fifteen men serve as watchmen to enforce this taboo. Every evening, they patrol the village armed with clubs and wearing masks or covered in leaves so no one can identify them. Throughout their watch, they cannot chew betel or drink coconut water, to prevent the areca nuts (which are eaten with betel) and coconuts from failing. Moreover, they cannot live with their wives; they shouldn’t even look at women, and if they pass one, they must keep their eyes on the ground.[377] Among the Kabuis people in Manipur, the strictest chastity is required before sowing and after harvesting rice, especially from the village’s religious leader, who not only interprets omens for the villagers but is also the first to plant and harvest.[378] Some tribes in Assam believe that if the crops remain unharvested, even the slightest act of indiscretion could ruin everything.[379] In the ancient incense-producing region of Arabia, three families were responsible for caring for the incense trees. They were considered sacred, and while cutting the trees and gathering the incense, they were forbidden from coming into contact with women or the dead; following these rules of ceremonial purity was believed to increase the incense supply.[380] The incense itself was regarded as holy, as it was placed in the sanctuary of the Sun after being harvested, where merchants would inspect and buy it.[381] Among ancient Greek farmers, it was a principle that olives should always be planted and harvested by pure boys and virgins; the exceptional fruitfulness of the olive trees at Anazarbus in Cilicia was credited to their care by innocent young children. If such workers were unavailable, the olive gatherer had to swear that he had been faithful to his wife, as his fidelity was believed to ensure a bountiful harvest the following year.[382]
|Illicit love supposed to blight the fruits of the earth.| Again, the sympathetic relation supposed to exist between the commerce of the sexes and the fertility of the earth manifests itself in the belief that illicit love tends, directly or indirectly, to mar that fertility and to blight the crops.[383] Such a belief prevails, for example, among the Karens of Burma. They imagine that adultery or fornication has a powerful influence to injure the harvest. Hence if the crops have been bad for a year or two, and no rain falls, the villagers set down the dearth to secret sins of this kind, and say that the God of heaven and earth is angry with them on that account; and they all unite in making an offering to appease him. Further, whenever adultery or fornication is detected, the elders decide that the sinners must buy a hog and kill it. Then the woman takes one foot of the hog, and the man takes another, and they scrape out furrows in the ground with each foot, and fill the furrows with the blood of the hog. Next they scratch the ground with their hands and pray: “God of heaven and earth, God of the mountains and hills, I have destroyed the productiveness of the country. Do not be angry with me, do not hate me; but have mercy on me, and compassionate me. Now I repair the mountains, now I heal the hills, and 108the streams and the lands. May there be no failure of crops, may there be no unsuccessful labours, or unfortunate efforts in my country. Let them be dissipated to the foot of the horizon. Make thy paddy fruitful, thy rice abundant. Make the vegetables to flourish. If we cultivate but little, still grant that we may obtain a little.” After each has prayed thus, they return to the house and say they have repaired the earth.[384] The Battas of Sumatra think that if an unmarried woman is big with child, it is necessary to give her in marriage at once, even to a man of lower rank; for otherwise the people will be infested by tigers, and the crops in the field will not yield an abundant return. The crime of incest, in their opinion, would blast the whole harvest if the wrong were not speedily repaired. Epidemics and other calamities that affect the whole people are almost always traced by them to incest, by which is to be understood any marriage that conflicts with their customs.[385]
|People believe that forbidden love ruins the earth’s harvests.| Once again, the expected connection between the relationships between the sexes and the earth's fertility shows itself in the belief that forbidden love tends, either directly or indirectly, to harm that fertility and ruin the crops.[383] This belief is common, for instance, among the Karens of Burma. They think that adultery or premarital sex has a strong ability to damage the harvest. So, if the crops have been poor for a year or two, and no rain comes, the villagers attribute the shortage to hidden sins of this nature, saying that the God of heaven and earth is angry with them because of this; and they all come together to make an offering to soothe him. Furthermore, whenever adultery or fornication is uncovered, the elders decide that the guilty people must buy a pig and slaughter it. Then the woman takes one leg of the pig, and the man takes another, and they carve furrows in the ground with each leg, filling the furrows with the pig's blood. Next, they scratch the ground with their hands and pray: “God of heaven and earth, God of the mountains and hills, I have harmed the fertility of the land. Please don’t be angry with me, do not hate me; but have mercy on me and show me compassion. Now I restore the mountains, now I heal the hills, and the streams and the land. May there be no crop failures, may there be no unproductive labor or unfortunate efforts in my land. Let them be swept away to the edge of the horizon. Make your rice fertile, your grains plentiful. Make the vegetables thrive. Even if we cultivate little, still grant that we may harvest a little.” After they each pray like this, they go back home and say they have restored the earth.[384] The Battas of Sumatra believe that if an unmarried woman is pregnant, she needs to be married off immediately, even to a man of lower status; otherwise, tigers will invade the area, and crops will not yield well. They believe that the crime of incest would ruin the entire harvest if the offense is not quickly corrected. Epidemics and other disasters affecting the whole community are almost always linked by them to incest, referring to any marriage that goes against their customs.[385]
|Dyak belief that lewdness may cause bad weather and spoil the crops.| Similar views are held by various tribes of Borneo. Thus when the rain pours down steadily day after day and week after week, and the crops are rotting in the fields, the Dyaks of Borneo come to the conclusion that some one has been indulging in fleshly lusts; so the elders lay their heads together and adjudicate on all cases of incest and bigamy, and purify the earth with the blood of pigs, which appears to possess in a high degree the valuable property of atoning for moral guilt. For three days the villages are tabooed and all labour discontinued; the inhabitants remain at home, and no strangers are admitted. Not long ago the offenders, whose lewdness had thus brought the whole country into danger, would have been punished with death or at least slavery. A Dyak may not marry his first cousin unless he first performs a special ceremony called bergaput to avert evil consequences from the land. The couple repair to 109the water-side, fill a small pitcher with their personal ornaments, and sink it in the river; or instead of a jar they fling a chopper and a plate into the water. A pig is then sacrificed on the bank, and its carcase, drained of blood, is thrown in after the jar. Next the pair are pushed into the water by their friends and ordered to bathe together. Lastly, a joint of bamboo is filled with pig’s blood, and the couple perambulate the country and the villages round about, sprinkling the blood on the ground. After that they are free to marry. This is done, we are told, for the sake of the whole country, in order that the rice may not be blasted.[386] The Bahaus or Kayans, a tribe in the interior of Borneo, |Kayan belief that adultery or fornication spoils the harvest.| believe that adultery is punished by the spirits, who visit the whole tribe with failure of the crops and other misfortunes. Hence in order to avert these calamities from the innocent members of the tribe, the two culprits, with all their possessions, are put in quarantine on a gravel bank in the middle of the river; then in order thoroughly to disinfect them, pigs and fowls are killed, and with the blood priestesses smear the property of the guilty pair. Finally the two are set on a raft, with sixteen eggs, and allowed to drift down the stream. They may save themselves by swimming ashore, but this is perhaps a mitigation of an older sentence of death by drowning. Young people shower long grass-stalks, which stand for spears, at the shamefaced and dripping couple.[387] The Blu-u Kayans of the same region similarly imagine that an intrigue between an unmarried pair is punished by the spirits with failure of the harvest, of the fishing, and of the hunt. Hence the delinquents 110have to appease the wrath of the spirits by sacrificing a pig and some rice.[388]
The Dyak believe that inappropriate behavior can lead to bad weather and damage crops. Similar beliefs exist among various tribes in Borneo. So, when it rains nonstop for days and weeks, and the crops start to rot in the fields, the Dyaks of Borneo conclude that someone has been engaging in sexual misconduct; thus, the elders gather to discuss all cases of incest and bigamy, and they purify the land with the blood of pigs, which is believed to have strong atoning properties for moral wrongs. For three days, the villages are off-limits and all work stops; the residents stay at home, and no visitors are allowed. Not long ago, the offenders, whose immoral acts brought danger to the entire area, would have faced death or at least slavery. A Dyak cannot marry his first cousin unless he first performs a special ceremony called bergaput to prevent negative effects on the land. The couple goes to the riverbank, fills a small pitcher with their personal belongings, and sinks it in the water; alternatively, they might throw a chopper and a plate into the river. A pig is then sacrificed on the shore, and its bloodless carcass is tossed in along with the jar. Next, friends push the couple into the water and urge them to bathe together. Finally, a bamboo joint filled with pig’s blood is carried around the villages, and the couple sprinkles the blood on the ground. After this, they are allowed to marry. This is done, it is said, for the benefit of the entire country, to ensure the rice isn’t ruined.[386] The Bahaus or Kayans, a tribe in the interior of Borneo, The Kayan belief is that cheating or premarital sex ruins the harvest.believe that adultery brings punishment from the spirits, which leads to crop failures and other misfortunes for the whole tribe. Therefore, to protect the innocent members from these disasters, the two offenders, along with all their belongings, are quarantined on a gravel bank in the middle of the river; then, to thoroughly cleanse them, pigs and chickens are killed, and their blood is used by priestesses to anoint the guilty couple's possessions. Finally, the two are placed on a raft with sixteen eggs and set adrift. They have the option to save themselves by swimming to shore, but this might be a less severe punishment compared to an earlier sentence of death by drowning. Young people throw long grass stems, symbolizing spears, at the embarrassed and soaked couple.[387] The Blu-u Kayans of the same area similarly believe that a romantic encounter between unmarried individuals is punished by the spirits, resulting in crop failures, poor fishing, and unsuccessful hunting. Thus, the offenders must appease the spirits by sacrificing a pig and some rice.[388]
|Incest and seduction supposed to be a cause of bad weather and failure of crops in Celebes.| Among the Macassars and Bugineese of Southern Celebes incest is a capital crime. “In the Bugineese language this misdeed is called sâpa-tâna, which, literally translated, signifies that the ground (tâna) which has been polluted with the blood of such a person must above all be shunned (sâpa). When we remember how afraid of evil spirits a native is in passing even a spot that has been stained with innocent blood, we can easily conceive what passes in his mind at the thought of the blood of one who has been guilty of such a crime. When the rivers dry up and the supply of fish runs short, when the harvest and the produce of the gardens miscarry, when edible fruits fail, and especially when sickness is rife among the cattle and horses, as well as when civil strife breaks out and the country suffers from any other widespread calamity, the native generally thinks that earth and air have been sullied with the blood of persons who have committed incest. The blood of such people should naturally not be shed. Hence the punishment usually inflicted on them is that of drowning. They are tied up in a sack and thrown into the sea. Yet they get with them on their journey to eternity the necessary provisions, consisting of a bag of rice, salt, dried fish, coco-nuts and so on, not forgetting three quids of betel.”[389] Among the Tomori of Central Celebes a person guilty of incest is throttled; no drop of his blood may fall on the ground, for if it did, the rice would never grow again. The union of uncle and niece is regarded by these people as incest, but it can be expiated by an offering. A garment of the man and one of the woman are laid on a copper vessel; the blood of a sacrificed animal, either a goat or a fowl, is allowed to drip on the garments, and then the vessel with its contents is suffered 111to float down the river.[390] Among the Tolalaki, another tribe of Central Celebes, persons who have defiled themselves with incest are shut up in a basket and drowned. No drop of their blood may be spilt on the ground, for that would hinder the earth from ever bearing fruit again.[391] When it rains in torrents, the Galelareese of Halmahera say that brother and sister, or father and daughter, or in short some near relations are having illicit relations with each other, and that every human being must be informed of it, for then only will the rain cease to descend. The superstition has repeatedly caused blood relations to be accused, rightfully or wrongfully, of incest. The people also regard other alarming natural phenomena, for instance a violent earthquake or the eruption of a volcano, as consequences of crimes of the same sort. Persons charged with such offences are brought to Ternate; it is said that formerly they were often drowned on the way or, on being haled thither, were condemned to be thrown into the volcano.[392]
Incest and seduction are thought to lead to bad weather and crop failures in Celebes. Among the Macassars and Bugineese of Southern Celebes, incest is treated as a serious crime. “In the Bugineese language, this offense is called sâpa-tâna, which literally means that the ground (tâna) exposed to the blood of such a person must be shunned (sâpa). Considering how terrified a native is of evil spirits when passing by even a place tainted with innocent blood, it's easy to understand the horror at the thought of the blood of someone guilty of such a crime. When rivers dry up, fish become scarce, harvests fail, edible fruits are lacking, and especially when livestock becomes sick or when civil unrest arises and the country faces other widespread disasters, the locals typically believe that the earth and air are contaminated by the blood of those who have committed incest. Naturally, the blood of these individuals should not be spilled. Consequently, the usual punishment is drowning. They are placed in a sack and thrown into the sea. However, they are provided with essentials for their journey to eternity, including a bag of rice, salt, dried fish, coconuts, and three pieces of betel.”[389] Among the Tomori of Central Celebes, a person guilty of incest is strangled; no drop of their blood may touch the ground, as doing so would prevent rice from ever growing again. The union between an uncle and niece is seen as incest, but it can be atoned for with an offering. A garment from both the man and woman is placed in a copper vessel; the blood of a sacrificed animal, either a goat or a bird, is dripped onto the garments, and then the vessel with its contents is allowed to float down the river.111[390] Among the Tolalaki, another tribe in Central Celebes, individuals who have engaged in incest are confined in a basket and drowned. Their blood must not be spilled on the ground, as that would impede the earth from producing fruit again.[391] When it rains heavily, the Galelareese of Halmahera claim that a brother and sister, or a father and daughter, or some other close relatives are engaging in illicit relations, and that everyone needs to know about it, as only then will the rain stop. This superstition has often led to accusations of incest among blood relatives, whether true or false. People also associate other alarming natural events, such as violent earthquakes or volcanic eruptions, with crimes of the same nature. Those accused of such offenses are brought to Ternate; it is said that in the past, they were often drowned en route or, upon being taken there, were condemned to be thrown into the volcano.[392]
|Breaches of sexual morality supposed to prevent rain and so to blight the fruits of the earth in Africa.| In some parts of Africa, also, it is believed that breaches of sexual morality disturb the course of nature, particularly by blighting the fruits of the earth. Thus the negroes of Loango suppose that the intercourse of a man with an immature girl is punished by God with drought and consequent famine, until the culprits atone for their sin by dancing naked before the king and an assembly of the people, who throw hot gravel and bits of glass at the pair. For example, in the year 1898, it was discovered that a long drought was caused by the misconduct of three girls, who were with child before they had passed through what is called the paint-house, that is, before they had been painted red and secluded for a time in token that they had attained to the age of puberty. The people were very angry and 112tried to punish or even kill the girls.[393] Amongst the Bavili of Loango, it is believed that if a man breaks the marriage law by marrying a woman of his mother’s clan, God will in like manner punish the crime by withholding the rains in their due season.[394] Similar notions of the blighting influence of sexual crime appear to be entertained by the Nandi of British East Africa, for amongst them a girl who has been gotten with child by a warrior, may never look inside of a granary for fear of spoiling the corn.[395] Among the Basutos likewise “while the corn is exposed to view, all defiled persons are carefully kept from it. If the aid of a man in this state is necessary for carrying home the harvest, he remains at some distance while the sacks are filled, and only approaches to place them upon the draught oxen. He withdraws as soon as the load is deposited at the dwelling, and under no pretext can he assist in pouring the corn into the baskets in which it is preserved.”[396] The nature of the defilement which thus disqualifies a man for handling the corn is not mentioned, but probably it would include unchastity. We may conjecture that it was for a similar reason that the Basoga of Central Africa used to punish severely the seduction of a virgin. “If a man was convicted of such a crime, and the woman’s guilt was discovered, he and she were sent at night time to Kaluba’s village, where they were tied to a tree. This tall spreading incense-tree was thought to be under the protection of a spirit called Kakua Kambuzi. Next morning the erring couple were discovered by people in the surrounding plantations, who released them. They were then allowed to settle near the tree of the protecting spirit.” This practice of tying the culprits to a sacred tree may have been thought to atone for their crime and so to ensure the fertility of the earth which they had imperilled. The notion perhaps was to deliver the criminals into the power of the offended tree-spirit; if they were found alive in the morning, it was a sign that he had pardoned them. “Curiously enough, the Basoga 113also held in great abhorrence anything like incest amongst domestic animals—that is to say, they greatly disapproved of intercourse between a bull calf and its mother-cow, or between a bull and a cow that were known to be brother and sister. If this occurred, the bull and cow were sent by night to a fetish tree and tied there. The next morning the chief of the district appropriated the animals and turned them to his own use.”[397] Following out the same train of thought, the Toradjas of Central Celebes ingeniously employ |Incest of animals employed as a rain-charm in Africa.| the incest of animals as a rain-charm. For they believe that the anger of the gods at incest or bestiality manifests itself in the form of violent storms, heavy rain, or long drought. Accordingly they think that it is always in their power to enrage the gods by committing incest and so to procure rain when it is needed. However, they abstain from perpetrating the crime among themselves, first, because it would be necessary to put the culprits to death, and second, because the storms thus raised would be so furious that they would do more harm than good. But they fancy that the incest, real or simulated, of animals is a lighter offence, which by discomposing, without exasperating, the higher powers will disturb the balance of nature just enough to improve the weather. A ceremony of this sort was witnessed by a missionary. Rain was wanted, and the headman of the village had to see that it fell. He took his measures accordingly. Attended by a crowd he carried a cock and a little sow to the river. Here the animals were killed, laid side by side in an intimate embrace, and wrapped tightly up in a piece of cotton. Then the headman engaged in prayer. “O gods above and gods below,” said he, “if you have pity on us, and will that we eat food this year, give rain. If you will not give rain, well we have here buried a cock and a sow in an intimate embrace.” By which he meant to say, “Be angry at this abomination which we have committed, and manifest your anger in storms.”[398]
Breaking sexual morality is thought to lead to drought and damage crops in Africa. In some regions of Africa, it's thought that breaking sexual morality disrupts nature, especially by damaging agriculture. For instance, the people of Loango believe that a man having sexual relations with an immature girl is punished by God with drought and famine until they atone for their sin by dancing naked in front of the king and the community, who pelt them with hot stones and shards of glass. For example, in 1898, it was revealed that a prolonged drought was due to the actions of three girls who were pregnant before undergoing what is called the paint-house ritual, which signals that they have reached puberty. The community was furious and attempted to punish or even kill the girls.112 The Bavili of Loango also believe that if a man violates marriage laws by marrying a woman from his mother’s clan, God will similarly punish the act by withholding rain during the growing season.[393] Among the Nandi of British East Africa, similar views on the damaging effects of sexual misconduct are held. A girl who becomes pregnant by a warrior is not allowed to enter a granary for fear of contaminating the grain.[394] Likewise, among the Basutos, “while the corn is visible, any tainted individuals are kept away from it. If a man in such a state needs to help carry the harvest home, he stays at a distance while the sacks are filled and only comes forward to load them onto the draft oxen. He leaves as soon as the load is delivered and for no reason can he help pour the corn into the storage baskets.”[395] The specific type of defilement that disqualifies a man from handling the corn isn't detailed, but it probably includes unchastity. It can be speculated that for similar reasons, the Basoga of Central Africa used to severely punish the seduction of a virgin. “If a man was found guilty of such an offense, and the woman’s involvement was revealed, they were taken at night to Kaluba’s village, where they were tied to a tree. This large, spreading incense tree was believed to be protected by a spirit named Kakua Kambuzi. The next morning, people from nearby plantations would find them and release them. They were then allowed to settle near the spirit-protecting tree.” It was thought that tying the offenders to a sacred tree would atone for their wrongdoing and help ensure the earth's fertility that they had endangered. The idea may have been to surrender the offenders to the offended tree spirit; if they were found alive in the morning, it indicated they had been forgiven. “Interestingly, the Basoga also held a strong aversion to anything resembling incest among domestic animals, meaning they disapproved of mating between a bull calf and its mother or between a bull and cow known to be siblings. If this occurred, the animals were sent at night to a fetish tree and tied there. The next morning, the local chief would claim the animals for his own use.”[396] Following the same reasoning, the Toradjas of Central Celebes cleverly use |Animal incest as a rain ritual in Africa.| animal incest as a way to bring rain. They believe that the gods’ anger at incest or bestiality shows itself through fierce storms, heavy rains, or extended droughts. Therefore, they think it's always possible to anger the gods by committing incest, thus prompting rain when needed. However, they avoid doing this among themselves because it would require executing the offenders and, also, the resulting storms would likely be so destructive that they would do more harm than good. Instead, they believe that committing incest, either real or simulated, among animals is a lesser offense that will upset the natural order just enough to improve the weather. A missionary observed one such ceremony. Rain was needed, and the village chief had to ensure it fell. He took action accordingly. Accompanied by a crowd, he brought a rooster and a small pig to the river. There, the animals were killed, placed side by side in a close embrace, and tightly wrapped in a piece of cotton. The chief then prayed, saying, “O gods above and gods below, if you have mercy on us and desire that we have food this year, please send rain. If you will not grant rain, well, we have buried here a rooster and a pig in an intimate embrace.” This implied, “Be angry at this wrongdoing we've committed and express your anger through storms.”[398]
These examples suffice to prove that among many savage races breaches of the marriage laws are thought to blast the 114fruits of the earth through excessive rain or excessive drought. Similar notions of the disastrous effects of sexual crimes may |Similar notions of the blighting effect of sexual crime may be detected among the civilised races of antiquity, for example, among the Jews.| be detected among some of the civilised races of antiquity, who seem not to have limited the supposed sterilising influence of such offences to the fruits of the earth, but to have extended it also to women and cattle.[399] Thus among the Hebrews we read how Job, passionately protesting his innocence before God, declares that he is no adulterer; “For that,” says he, “were an heinous crime; yea, it were an iniquity to be punished by the judges: for it is a fire that consumeth unto Destruction, and would root out all mine increase.”[400] In this passage the Hebrew word translated “increase” commonly means “the produce of the earth;”[401] and if we give the word its usual sense here, then Job affirms adultery to be destructive of the fruits of the ground, which is just what many savages still believe. This interpretation of his words is strongly confirmed by two narratives in Genesis, where we read how Sarah, Abraham’s wife, was taken into his harem by a king who did not know her to be the wife of the patriarch, and how thereafter God visited the king and his household with great plagues, especially by closing up the wombs of the king’s wives and his maid-servants, so that they bore no children. It was not till the king had discovered and confessed his sin, and Abraham had prayed God to forgive him, that the king’s women again became fruitful.[402] These narratives seem to imply that adultery, even when it is committed in ignorance, is a cause of plague and especially of sterility among women. Again, in Leviticus, after a long list of sexual crimes, we read:[403] “Defile not ye yourselves in any of these things: for in all these the nations are defiled which I cast out from before you: and the land is defiled: therefore I do visit the 115iniquity thereof upon it, and the land vomiteth out her inhabitants.” This passage appears to imply that the land itself was somehow physically tainted by sexual transgressions so that it could no longer support the inhabitants.
These examples are enough to show that among many primitive cultures, breaking marriage laws is believed to ruin the crops due to too much rain or too little. Similar beliefs about the harmful effects of sexual crimes can be found among some of the civilized cultures of ancient times, such as the Jews. They seemed to think that the supposed destructive impact of such offenses didn't just affect crops but also extended to women and livestock. For instance, among the Hebrews, we read how Job, desperately asserting his innocence before God, claims he is not an adulterer; “For that,” he says, “would be a serious crime; indeed, it would be a wrong that deserves punishment from the judges: for it is a fire that consumes to Destruction and would eliminate all my increase.” In this passage, the Hebrew word translated as “increase” usually refers to “the produce of the earth;” and if we take the word in its typical sense here, then Job is saying that adultery damages the land's yield, which is exactly what many primitive people still believe. This interpretation of his words is strongly supported by two accounts in Genesis, where we read how Sarah, Abraham’s wife, was brought into the harem of a king who didn’t know she was married to the patriarch, and how afterward God punished the king and his household with severe plagues, particularly by closing the wombs of the king’s wives and maidservants, so they could not have children. It wasn't until the king realized and confessed his wrongdoing, and Abraham prayed to God for forgiveness, that the king’s women became fruitful again. These accounts suggest that adultery, even when done unknowingly, causes plague and particularly sterility among women. Furthermore, in Leviticus, after a lengthy list of sexual offenses, we read: “Do not defile yourselves with any of these things; for in all these, the nations are defiled which I cast out from before you: and the land is defiled; therefore I visit the iniquity thereof upon it, and the land vomits out its inhabitants.” This passage seems to suggest that the land itself was somehow physically contaminated by sexual misconduct, making it unable to support those living on it.
|Blighting effect attributed to incest by the ancient Greeks and Irish.| It would seem that the ancient Greeks and Romans entertained similar notions as to the wasting effect of incest. According to Sophocles the land of Thebes suffered from blight, from pestilence, and from the sterility both of women and of cattle under the reign of Oedipus, who had unwittingly slain his father and wedded his mother, and the Delphic oracle declared that the only way to restore the prosperity of the country was to banish the sinner from it, as if his mere presence withered plants, animals, and women.[404] No doubt the poet and his hearers set down these public calamities in great part to the guilt of parricide, which rested on Oedipus; but they can hardly have failed to lay much also of the evil at the door of his incest with his mother. Again, in ancient Italy, under the Emperor Claudius, a Roman noble was accused of incest with his sister. He committed suicide, his sister was banished, and the emperor ordered that certain ancient ceremonies traditionally derived from the laws of King Servius Tullius should be performed, and that expiation should be made by the pontiffs at the sacred grove of Diana,[405] probably the famous Arician grove, which has furnished the starting-point of our enquiry. As Diana appears to have been a goddess of fertility in general and of the fruitfulness of women in particular, the atonement made at her sanctuary for incest may perhaps be accepted as evidence that the Romans, like other peoples, attributed to sexual immorality a tendency to blast the fruits both of the earth and of the womb. This inference is strengthened by a precept laid down by grave Roman writers that bakers, cooks, and butlers ought to be strictly chaste and continent, because it was most important that food and cups should be handled either by persons under the age of puberty, or at all events by persons who indulged very sparingly in sexual intercourse; for which reason if a baker, a cook, or a butler broke this rule of continence it was his bounden duty to wash in a river or other running water 116before he applied himself again to his professional duties. But for all such duties the services of a boy or of a virgin were preferred.[406] The Celts of ancient Ireland similarly believed that incest blighted the fruits of the earth. According to legend Munster was afflicted in the third century of our era with a failure of the crops and other misfortunes. When the nobles enquired into the matter, they were told that these calamities were the result of an incest which the king had committed with his sister. In order to put an end to the evil they demanded of the king his two sons, the fruit of his unholy union, that they might consume them with fire and cast their ashes into the running stream. However, one of the sons, Corc by name, is said to have been purged of his inherited taint by being sent out of Ireland to an island, where a Druid purified him every morning, by putting him on the back of a white cow with red ears, and pouring water over him, till one day the cow jumped into the sea and became a rock, no doubt taking the sin of Corc’s father away with her. After that the boy was brought back to Erin.[407]
|Negative consequences linked to incest by the ancient Greeks and Irish.| It seems that the ancient Greeks and Romans shared similar beliefs about the damaging effects of incest. According to Sophocles, the land of Thebes suffered from blight, disease, and the infertility of both women and livestock during the reign of Oedipus, who unknowingly killed his father and married his mother. The Delphic oracle declared that the only way to restore the land's prosperity was to banish the sinner, as if his mere presence caused the plants, animals, and women to wither.[404] No doubt the poet and his audience attributed these public disasters largely to Oedipus's guilt of killing his father; however, they likely also blamed much of the suffering on his incest with his mother. Similarly, in ancient Italy, under Emperor Claudius, a Roman noble was accused of incest with his sister. He committed suicide, his sister was exiled, and the emperor ordered the performance of certain ancient rituals traditionally derived from the laws of King Servius Tullius, requiring atonement by the priests at the sacred grove of Diana,[405] likely the famous Arician grove, which has been the focus of our inquiry. Since Diana was a goddess of fertility in general and particularly of women's fruitfulness, the atonement made at her sanctuary for incest may suggest that the Romans, like other cultures, believed that sexual immorality could harm both the land and the womb. This idea is further supported by a rule put forth by serious Roman writers stating that bakers, cooks, and butlers should be strictly chaste and abstinent. It was deemed crucial that food and drink were handled either by those under puberty or at least by those who engaged very sparingly in sexual activities; thus, if a baker, cook, or butler broke this rule of abstinence, he was required to wash in a river or other flowing water116 before resuming his professional responsibilities. For all such tasks, the services of a boy or a virgin were preferred.[406] The Celts of ancient Ireland similarly believed that incest blighted the harvest. According to legend, Munster faced crop failures and other misfortunes in the third century AD. When the nobles investigated, they were told that these calamities stemmed from incest committed by the king with his sister. To end the misfortunes, they demanded the king's two sons, born from this unholy union, so they could burn them and scatter their ashes into a flowing stream. However, one of the sons, named Corc, was said to be cleansed of his inherited guilt by being sent out of Ireland to an island, where a Druid purified him each morning by placing him on the back of a white cow with red ears and pouring water over him, until one day the cow jumped into the sea and turned into a rock, likely taking away Corc's father's sin with her. After that, the boy was brought back to Erin.[407]
|Belief in the blighting effect of incest may have helped to institute the forbidden degrees.| Thus the belief that incest or sexual crime in general has power to blast the fruits of the earth is widespread and probably goes back to a very remote antiquity; it may long have preceded the rise of agriculture. We may conjecture that in its origin the belief was magical rather than religious; in other words, that the blight was at first supposed to be a direct consequence of the act itself rather than a punishment inflicted on the criminal by gods or spirits. Conceived as an unnatural union of the sexes, incest might be thought to subvert the regular processes of reproduction, and so to prevent the earth from yielding its fruits and to hinder animals and men from propagating their kinds. At a later time the anger of spiritual beings would naturally be invoked in order to give a religious sanction to the old taboo. If this 117was so, it is possible that something of the horror which incest has excited among most, though by no means all, races of men, sprang from this ancient superstition and has been transmitted as an instinct in many nations long after the imaginary ground of it had been forgotten. Certainly a course of conduct which was supposed to endanger or destroy the general supply of food and therefore to strike a blow at the very life of the whole people, could not but present itself to the savage imagination as a crime of the blackest dye, fraught with the most fatal consequences to the public weal. How far such a superstition may in the beginning have operated to prevent the union of near kin, in other words, to institute the system of prohibited degrees which still prevails among the great majority of mankind, both savage and civilised, is a question which deserves to be considered by the historians of marriage.[408]
Believing that incest is harmful may have led to the creation of taboo relationships. This belief that incest or sexual crimes can ruin the earth's produce is widespread and likely dates back to ancient times; it may have existed long before agriculture emerged. We can speculate that the belief originated from magic rather than religion; in other words, the negative effects were initially thought to be a direct result of the act itself, rather than a punishment issued by gods or spirits. Viewed as an unnatural pairing, incest could be seen as disrupting normal reproductive processes, preventing the earth from bearing fruit and hindering both humans and animals from reproducing. Later on, the anger of spiritual beings would naturally be called upon to provide religious justification for the old taboo. If this was the case, it is possible that some of the horror associated with incest across many, though not all, cultures stemmed from this ancient superstition and has been passed down as an instinct long after the original reason for it was forgotten. Certainly, behavior believed to threaten or destroy the overall food supply, thereby impacting the very survival of the entire community, would naturally appear to a primitive mindset as a grave crime with dire consequences for the common good. The extent to which such a superstition may have initially acted to prevent close kin from marrying, leading to the system of prohibited degrees still prevalent among most people, both primitive and civilized, is a question that deserves the attention of marriage historians.[408]
|Explanation of the seeming contradiction in the foregoing customs.| If we ask why it is that similar beliefs should logically lead, among different peoples, to such opposite modes of conduct as strict chastity and more or less open debauchery, the reason, as it presents itself to the primitive mind, is perhaps not very far to seek. If rude man identifies himself, in a manner, with nature; if he fails to distinguish the impulses and processes in himself from the methods which nature adopts to ensure the reproduction of plants and animals, he may leap to one of two conclusions. Either he may infer that by yielding to his appetites he will thereby assist in the multiplication of plants and animals; or he may imagine that the vigour which he refuses to expend in reproducing his own kind, will form as it were a store of energy whereby other creatures, whether vegetable or animal, will somehow benefit in propagating their species. Thus from the same crude philosophy, the same primitive notions of nature and life, the savage may derive by different channels a rule either of profligacy or of asceticism.
|Clarification of the apparent contradiction in the earlier customs.| If we ask why similar beliefs lead different cultures to such opposing behaviors as strict chastity and varying degrees of indulgence, the explanation, as it seems to the primitive mind, might be relatively simple. If early humans see themselves as part of nature and don’t differentiate between their own urges and the natural processes that promote the reproduction of plants and animals, they might come to one of two conclusions. They might think that by giving in to their desires, they're helping plants and animals reproduce; or they might believe that the energy they hold back from reproducing their own kind will somehow serve as a resource that benefits other living things in successfully propagating their species. Thus, from the same basic understanding of nature and life, a primitive individual can arrive at either a principle of indulgence or one of self-denial.
|Indirect benefit of some of these superstitious customs.| To readers bred in a religion which is saturated with the ascetic idealism of the East, the explanation which I have given of the rule of continence observed under certain circumstances by rude or savage peoples may seem far-fetched 118|The ascetic view of chastity not understood by the savage.| and improbable. They may think that moral purity, which is so intimately associated in their minds with the observance of such a rule, furnishes a sufficient explanation of it; they may hold with Milton[409] that chastity in itself is a noble virtue, and that the restraint which it imposes on one of the strongest impulses of our animal nature marks out those who can submit to it as men raised above the common herd, and therefore worthy to receive the seal of the divine approbation. However natural this mode of thought may seem to us, it is utterly foreign and indeed incomprehensible to the savage. If he resists on occasion the sexual instinct, it is from no high idealism, no ethereal aspiration after moral purity, but for the sake of some ulterior yet perfectly definite and concrete object, to gain which he is prepared to sacrifice the immediate gratification of his senses. That this is or may be so, the examples I have cited are amply sufficient to prove. They shew that where the instinct of self-preservation, which manifests itself chiefly in the search for food, conflicts or appears to conflict with the instinct which conduces to the propagation of the species, the former instinct, as the primary and more fundamental, is capable of over-mastering the latter. In short, the savage is willing to restrain his sexual propensity for the sake of food. Another object for the sake of which he consents to exercise the same self-restraint is victory in war. Not only the warrior in the field but his friends at home will often bridle their sensual appetites from a belief that by so doing they will the more 119easily overcome their enemies.[410] The fallacy of such a belief, like the belief that the chastity of the sower conduces to the growth of the seed, is plain enough to us; yet perhaps the self-restraint which these and the like beliefs, vain and false as they are, have imposed on mankind, has not been without its utility in bracing and strengthening the breed. For strength of character in the race as in the individual consists mainly in the power of sacrificing the present to the future, of disregarding the immediate temptations of ephemeral pleasure for more distant and lasting sources of satisfaction. The more the power is exercised the higher and stronger becomes the character; till the height of heroism is reached in men who renounce the pleasures of life and even life itself for the sake of keeping or winning for others, perhaps in distant ages, the blessings of freedom and truth.
|Indirect benefits of some of these superstitious customs.| For readers raised in a religion infused with the ascetic ideals of the East, my explanation of the rule of sexual restraint practiced under certain circumstances by primitive or tribal societies might seem far-fetched and unlikely. They might believe that moral purity, which is closely linked in their minds to following such a rule, provides a sufficient reason for it; they may agree with Milton[409] that chastity is inherently a noble virtue, and that the discipline it demands over one of our strongest natural urges distinguishes those who can practice it as being above the average person, deserving of divine approval. However natural this way of thinking may seem to us, it is completely foreign and indeed incomprehensible to the primitive person. If they occasionally resist sexual urges, it isn't due to lofty idealism or a spiritual quest for moral purity, but rather for a specific, tangible goal, for which they are willing to give up immediate sensory pleasure. The examples I’ve provided clearly show that when the instinct for self-preservation, which primarily manifests in the pursuit of food, conflicts with the instinct for reproduction, the former instinct, being more essential and foundational, can overpower the latter. In essence, the primitive individual is willing to suppress their sexual desires for food. Another reason they might exercise similar self-restraint is for success in battle. Both the warrior in combat and their supporters back home often rein in their sexual desires with the belief that doing so will make it easier for them to defeat their enemies.[410] The errors in such beliefs, similar to the idea that the chastity of the sower promotes seed growth, seem obvious to us; yet, perhaps the self-discipline that these and similar beliefs—though misguided and false—have instilled in humanity has helped to toughen and strengthen the population. After all, the strength of character in both societies and individuals largely comes from the ability to sacrifice immediate gratification for future rewards, to ignore the fleeting temptations of momentary pleasure for more enduring and meaningful sources of satisfaction. The more this ability is practiced, the greater and stronger the character becomes, culminating in heroism where individuals forsake the pleasures of life and even their own lives to preserve or gain for others—perhaps in future generations—the blessings of freedom and truth.
CHAPTER XII
THE SACRED MARRIAGE
§ 1. Diana as a Goddess of Fertility
|Dramatic marriages of gods and goddesses as a charm to promote vegetation.| In the last chapter we saw that according to a widespread belief, which is not without a foundation in fact, plants reproduce their kinds through the sexual union of male and female elements, and that on the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic this reproduction can be stimulated by the real or mock marriage of men and women, who masquerade for the time being as spirits of vegetation. Such magical dramas have played a great part in the popular festivals of Europe, and based as they are on a very crude conception of natural law, it is clear that they must have been handed down from a remote antiquity. We shall hardly, therefore, err in assuming that they date from a time when the forefathers of the civilised nations of Europe were still barbarians, herding their cattle and cultivating patches of corn in the clearings of the vast forests, which then covered the greater part of the continent, from the Mediterranean to the Arctic Ocean. But if these old spells and enchantments for the growth of leaves and blossoms, of grass and flowers and fruit, have lingered down to our own time in the shape of pastoral plays and popular merry-makings, is it not reasonable to suppose that they survived in less attenuated forms some two thousand years ago among the civilised peoples of antiquity? Or, to put it otherwise, is it not likely that in certain festivals of the ancients we may be able to detect the equivalents of our May Day, Whitsuntide, and Midsummer celebrations, with this difference, 121that in those days the ceremonies had not yet dwindled into mere shows and pageants, but were still religious or magical rites, in which the actors consciously supported the high parts of gods and goddesses? Now in the first chapter of this book we found reason to believe that the priest who bore the title of King of the Wood at Nemi had for his mate the goddess of the grove, Diana herself. May not he and she, as King and Queen of the Wood, have been serious counterparts of the merry mummers who play the King and Queen of May, the Whitsuntide Bridegroom and Bride in modern Europe? and may not their union have been yearly celebrated in a theogamy or divine marriage? Such dramatic weddings of gods and goddesses, as we shall see presently, were carried out as solemn religious rites in many parts of the ancient world; hence there is no intrinsic improbability in the supposition that the sacred grove at Nemi may have been the scene of an annual ceremony of this sort. Direct evidence that it was so there is none, but analogy pleads in favour of the view, as I shall now endeavour to shew.
|Grand unions of gods and goddesses to promote the growth of plants.| In the last chapter, we saw that a widely held belief, which is based on some truth, claims that plants reproduce through the sexual union of male and female elements. Moreover, according to the principle of homoeopathic or imitative magic, this reproduction can be stimulated by the real or pretend marriage of men and women who temporarily take on the roles of spirits of vegetation. Such magical performances have played a significant role in the popular festivals of Europe, and given their very basic understanding of natural law, it’s clear that they must have been passed down from ancient times. Therefore, it’s reasonable to assume they date back to a time when the ancestors of Europe’s civilized nations were still living as barbarians, herding cattle and farming small plots of corn in the clearings of the vast forests that covered much of the continent, from the Mediterranean to the Arctic Ocean. However, if these old spells and rituals for the growth of leaves, flowers, grass, and fruit have persisted into our times as pastoral plays and festive celebrations, isn’t it reasonable to think that they were still practiced in more direct forms about two thousand years ago among the ancient civilized peoples? Or, to phrase it differently, is it not likely that certain ancient festivals may reflect our May Day, Whitsuntide, and Midsummer celebrations, with the difference that back then the ceremonies hadn’t yet faded into mere performances but were still religious or magical rites where the participants genuinely embodied the roles of gods and goddesses? In the first chapter of this book, we found reason to believe that the priest known as the King of the Wood at Nemi had as his counterpart the goddess of the grove, Diana herself. Could it be that he and she, as the King and Queen of the Wood, were serious counterparts to the merry performers who portray the King and Queen of May, or the Whitsuntide Bridegroom and Bride in modern Europe? And might their union have been annually celebrated in a theogamy or divine marriage? These dramatic weddings of gods and goddesses, as we will see shortly, were performed as solemn religious rites in many areas of the ancient world; thus, there is no fundamental unlikelihood in the idea that the sacred grove at Nemi could have been the site of an annual ceremony of this nature. While there’s no direct evidence that this was the case, analogy supports this perspective, as I will now attempt to demonstrate.
|Diana a goddess of the woodlands.| Diana was essentially a goddess of the woodlands, as Ceres was a goddess of the corn and Bacchus a god of the vine.[411] Her sanctuaries were commonly in groves, indeed every grove was sacred to her,[412] and she is often associated with the forest god Silvanus in dedications.[413] We must not |Sanctity of holy groves in antiquity.| forget that to the ancients the sanctity of a holy grove was very real and might not be violated with impunity. For example, in Attica there was a sanctuary of Erithasean Apollo, and it was enacted by law that any person caught in the act of cutting trees in it, or carrying away timber, firewood, or fallen leaves, should be punished with fifty stripes, if he was a slave, or with a fine of fifty drachms, if he was a freeman. The culprit was denounced by the priest to the king, that is, to the sacred official or minister of state who bore the 122royal title.[414] Similarly it was the duty of the sacred men at Andania, in Messenia, to scourge slaves and fine freemen who cut wood in the grove of the Great Goddesses.[415] In Crete it was forbidden, under pain of curses and fines, to fell timber, sow corn, and herd or fold flocks within the precinct of Dictaean Zeus.[416] In Italy like customs prevailed. Near Spoletium there was a sacred grove from which nothing might be taken, and in which no wood might be cut except just so much as was needed for the annual sacrifice. Any person who knowingly violated the sanctity of the grove had to expiate his offence by sacrificing an ox to Jupiter, and to pay besides a fine of three hundred pence.[417] In his treatise on farming Cato directs that before thinning a grove the Roman husbandman should offer a pig as an expiatory sacrifice to the god or goddess of the place, and should entreat his or her favour for himself, his children, and his household.[418] The Fratres Arvales or Brethren of the Tilled Fields were a Roman college of twelve priests, who performed public religious rites for the purpose of making the crops to grow, and they wore wreaths of ears of corn as a badge of their office.[419] Their sacrifices were offered in the grove of the goddess Dia, situated five miles down the Tiber from Rome. So hallowed was this grove, which is known to have included laurels and holly-oaks, that expiatory sacrifices of sows and lambs had to be offered when a rotten bough fell to the ground, or when an old tree was laid low by a storm or dragged down by a load of snow on its branches. And still more elaborate expiation had to be made with the slaughter of sows, sheep, and bulls when any of the sacred trees were struck by lightning and it was necessary to dig them up by the roots, split them, burn them, and plant others in their room.[420] At the annual 123festival of the Parilia, which was intended to ensure the welfare of the flocks and herds, Roman shepherds prayed to be forgiven if they had entered a hallowed grove, or sat down under a sacred tree, or lopped a holy bough in order to feed a sick sheep on the leaves.[421]
Diana, the goddess of the woods. Diana was essentially the goddess of the woodlands, just as Ceres was the goddess of the corn and Bacchus was the god of the vine.[411] Her sanctuaries were often in groves, and indeed, every grove was sacred to her,[412] and she is frequently associated with the forest god Silvanus in dedications.[413] We must not |The sacredness of holy groves in ancient times.| forget that to the ancients, the sanctity of a holy grove was very real and could not be violated without consequences. For example, in Attica, there was a sanctuary of Erithasean Apollo, and it was established by law that any person caught cutting trees or taking away timber, firewood, or fallen leaves there should be punished with fifty lashes, if they were a slave, or with a fine of fifty drachmas, if they were a freeman. The offender was reported by the priest to the king, that is, to the sacred official or minister of state who held the 122royal title.[414] Similarly, the sacred officials in Andania, Messenia, had the duty to whip slaves and fine free men who cut wood in the grove of the Great Goddesses.[415] In Crete, it was forbidden, under threat of curses and fines, to fell timber, sow corn, or herd flocks within the precinct of Dictaean Zeus.[416] Similar customs existed in Italy. Near Spoletium, there was a sacred grove from which nothing could be taken, and where no wood could be cut except for what was needed for the annual sacrifice. Anyone who knowingly violated the sanctity of the grove had to atone for their offense by sacrificing an ox to Jupiter and paying an additional fine of three hundred pence.[417] In his farming treatise, Cato instructs that before thinning a grove, the Roman farmer should offer a pig as an atoning sacrifice to the god or goddess of the place and should ask for their favor for himself, his children, and his household.[418] The Fratres Arvales, or Brethren of the Tilled Fields, were a Roman college of twelve priests who performed public religious rites to promote crop growth and wore wreaths of ears of corn as a sign of their office.[419] Their sacrifices were offered in the grove of the goddess Dia, located five miles down the Tiber from Rome. This grove was so sacred, known to include laurels and holly-oaks, that atoning sacrifices of sows and lambs had to be made whenever a rotten branch fell or an old tree was brought down by a storm or weighed down by snow on its branches. Even more elaborate atonement had to be performed with the slaughter of sows, sheep, and bulls when any of the sacred trees were struck by lightning, necessitating their roots to be dug up, split, burned, and replaced with new ones.[420] At the annual 123festival of the Parilia, which aimed to ensure the wellbeing of the flocks and herds, Roman shepherds prayed for forgiveness if they had entered a sacred grove, sat under a sacred tree, or trimmed a holy branch to feed a sick sheep.[421]
|Sense of the divinity of woods shared by polite Roman writers.| Nor was this sense of the indwelling divinity of the woods confined to the simple rustics who, tending their flocks in the chequered shade, felt the presence of spirits in the solemn stillness of the forest, heard their voices in the sough of the wind among the branches, and saw their handiwork in the fresh green of spring and the fading gold of autumn. The feeling was shared by the most cultivated minds in the greatest age of Roman civilisation. Pliny says that “the woods were formerly the temples of the deities, and even now simple country folk dedicate a tall tree to a god with the ritual of the olden time; and we adore sacred groves and the very silence that reigns in them not less devoutly than images that gleam with gold and ivory.”[422] Similarly Seneca writes: “If you come upon a grove of old trees that have shot up above the common height and shut out the sight of the sky by the gloom of their matted boughs, you feel there is a spirit in the place, so lofty is the wood, so lone the spot, so wondrous the thick unbroken shade.”[423]
A sense of the divine nature of forests expressed by refined Roman authors. This feeling of the divine presence in the woods wasn't limited to the simple rural folks who, while watching their flocks in the dappled shade, sensed the spirits in the deep stillness of the forest, heard their whispers in the wind through the branches, and saw their artistry in the fresh greenery of spring and the fading gold of autumn. It was a shared sentiment among the most educated minds in the peak of Roman civilization. Pliny says that “the woods were once the temples of the deities, and even now simple country people dedicate a tall tree to a god with ancient rituals; we honor sacred groves and the profound silence within them just as devotedly as we do images adorned with gold and ivory.”[422] Similarly, Seneca writes: “When you discover a grove of ancient trees that rise above the usual height and block the view of the sky with their dense branches, you feel a spirit in the place, so impressive is the wood, so secluded the spot, so remarkable the thick, uninterrupted shade.”[423]
|The breaking of the Golden Bough a rite of solemn significance, not a mere piece of bravado.| Thus the ancients, like many other people in various parts of the world, were deeply impressed with the sanctity of holy groves, and regarded even the cutting of a bough in them as a sacrilege which called for expiation. If therefore a candidate for the priesthood of Diana at Nemi had to break a branch of a certain tree in the sacred grove before he could fight the King of the Wood, we may be sure that the act was a rite of solemn significance, and that to treat it as a mere piece of bravado, a challenge to the priest to come on and defend his domain, would be to commit the commonest of all errors in dealing with the past, that, namely, of interpreting 124the customs of other races and other generations by reference to modern European standards. In order to understand an alien religion the first essential is to divest ourselves, as well as we can, of our own familiar prepossessions, and to place ourselves at the point of view of those whose faith and practice we are studying. To do this at all is difficult; to do it completely is perhaps impossible; yet the attempt must be made if the enquiry is to progress instead of returning on itself in a vicious circle.
Breaking the Golden Bough is a significant ritual, not just an act of courage. The ancients, like many other cultures around the world, held a profound respect for sacred groves and viewed the cutting of a branch from them as a sacrilege that required atonement. Therefore, if someone seeking the role of priest for Diana at Nemi needed to break a branch from a specific tree in the holy grove before confronting the King of the Wood, it’s clear that this act was a seriously significant rite. To dismiss it as mere bravado or a challenge to the priest to come forward and defend his territory would be to make one of the most common mistakes in understanding the past: interpreting the customs of different cultures and eras using modern European standards. To truly grasp an unfamiliar religion, we first need to shed our own preconceptions as much as we can and view things from the perspective of those whose beliefs and practices we’re examining. Achieving this is challenging; doing it completely may be impossible. Still, making the effort is essential if we want our inquiry to move forward instead of getting stuck in a loop.
|Diana not a mere goddess of trees, but, like Artemis, a personification of the teeming life of nature, both animal and vegetable.| But whatever her origin may have been, Diana was not always a mere goddess of trees. Like her Greek sister Artemis, she appears to have developed into a personification of the teeming life of nature, both animal and vegetable. As mistress of the greenwood she would naturally be thought to own the beasts, whether wild or tame, that ranged through it, lurking for their prey in its gloomy depths, munching the fresh leaves and shoots among the boughs, or cropping the herbage in the open glades and dells. Thus she might come |A deity of the woods is naturally the patron of the beasts in the woods, both game and cattle.| to be the patron goddess both of hunters and herdsmen,[424] just as Silvanus was the god not only of woods, but of cattle.[425] Similarly in Finland the wild beasts of the forest were regarded as the herds of the woodland God Tapio and of his stately and beautiful wife. No man might slay one of these animals without the gracious permission of their divine owners. Hence the hunter prayed to the sylvan deities, and vowed rich offerings to them if they would drive the game across his path. And cattle also seem to have enjoyed the protection of those spirits of the woods, both when they were in their stalls and while they strayed in the forest.[426] So in the belief of Russian peasants the spirit Leschiy rules both the wood and all the creatures in it. The bear is to him what the dog is to man; and the migrations of the squirrels, the field-mice, and other denizens of the woods are carried out in obedience to his behests. Success in the chase depends on his favour, and to assure himself of the spirit’s help the 125huntsman lays an offering, generally of bread and salt, on the trunk of a tree in the forest. In White Russia every herdsman must present a cow to Leschiy in summer, and in the Government of Archangel some herdsmen have won his favour so far that he even feeds and tends their herds for them.[427] Similarly the forest-god of the Lapps ruled over all the beasts of the forest; they were viewed as his herds, and good or bad luck in hunting depended on his will.[428] So, too, the Samagitians deemed the birds and beasts of the woods sacred, doubtless because they were under the protection of the sylvan god.[429] Before the Gayos of Sumatra hunt deer, wild goats, or wild pigs with hounds in the woods, they deem it necessary to obtain the leave of the unseen Lord of the forest. This is done according to a prescribed form by a man who has special skill in woodcraft. He lays down a quid of betel before a stake which is cut in a particular way to represent the Lord of the Wood, and having done so he prays to the spirit to signify his consent or refusal.[430]
Diana isn't just a goddess of trees; she, like Artemis, symbolizes the lively spirit of nature, including both animals and plants. Regardless of her origins, Diana was never simply a goddess of trees. Like her Greek counterpart Artemis, she seems to have evolved into a symbol of the rich life in nature, both animal and plant. As the queen of the forest, she would logically be considered the owner of the animals, both wild and domesticated, that roamed its depths, hunting for prey in its shadowy corners, nibbling on fresh leaves and shoots in the branches, or grazing in the clearings and valleys. Thus, she became the protective goddess of both hunters and shepherds,[424] just as Silvanus was the god of not only woods but also cattle.[425] In Finland, the wild animals of the forest were seen as the herds of the woodland god Tapio and his graceful and beautiful wife. No one could kill these animals without the permission of their divine owners. Therefore, hunters prayed to the woodland deities, promising rich offerings if they would guide the game into their path. Cattle also appeared to receive the protection of these forest spirits, both when they were in their barns and while wandering in the woods.[426] According to Russian peasants’ beliefs, the spirit Leschiy governs both the forest and all its creatures. To him, a bear is as important as a dog is to humans; the movements of squirrels, field mice, and other woodland creatures are directed by his commands. Success in hunting relies on his favor, and to ensure the spirit's assistance, the hunter places an offering, usually bread and salt, at the base of a tree in the forest. In White Russia, every herdsman must offer a cow to Leschiy during the summer, and in the Archangel region, some herdsmen have gained his favor to the point that he even cares for their herds himself.[427] Similarly, the forest god of the Lapps had dominion over all the forest animals; they were seen as his herds, and fortunes in hunting were dependent on his will.[428] Likewise, the Samagitians regarded the birds and animals of the woods as sacred, likely because they were under the protection of the woodland god.[429] Before the Gayos of Sumatra hunt deer, wild goats, or wild pigs with dogs in the woods, they believe it's essential to gain the permission of the unseen Lord of the forest. This is performed according to a specific ritual by someone skilled in woodcraft. He places a piece of betel in front of a stake carved in a particular way to represent the Lord of the Wood, and after doing so, he prays to the spirit for indication of his consent or refusal.[430]
|The crowning of hunting dogs on Diana’s day was probably a purificatory ceremony to cleanse them from the guilt of having killed game, the creatures of the goddess.| We have seen that at Diana’s festival it was customary to crown hunting dogs, to leave wild beasts in peace, and to perform a purificatory ceremony for the benefit of young people.[431] Some light is thrown on the meaning of these customs by a passage in Arrian’s treatise on hunting. He tells us that a good hound is a boon conferred by one of the gods upon the huntsman, who ought to testify his gratitude by sacrificing to the Huntress Artemis. Further, Arrian goes on to say: “It is right that after a successful chase a man should sacrifice and dedicate the first-fruits of his bag to the goddess, in order to purify both the hounds and the hunters, in accordance with old custom and usage.” He tells us that the Celts were wont to form a treasury for the goddess Artemis, into which they paid a fine of two obols for every hare they killed, a drachm for every fox, and four drachms for every roe. Once a year, on the birthday of Artemis, 126they opened the treasury, and with the accumulated fines purchased a sacrificial victim, it might be a sheep, a goat, or a calf. Having slain the animal and offered her share to the Huntress Artemis, they feasted, both men and dogs; and they crowned the dogs on that day “in order to signify,” says Arrian, “that the festival was for their benefit.”[432] The Celts to whom Arrian, a native of Bithynia, here refers were probably the Galatians of Asia Minor; but doubtless the custom he describes was imported by these barbarians, along with their native tongue[433] and the worship of the oak,[434] from their old home in Central or Northern Europe. The Celtic divinity whom Arrian identifies with Artemis may well have been really akin both to her and to the Italian Diana. We know from other sources that the Celts revered a woodland goddess of this type; thus Arduinna, goddess of the forest of the Ardennes, was represented, like Artemis and Diana, with a bow and quiver.[435] In any case the custom described by Arrian is good evidence of a belief that the wild beasts belong to the goddess of the wilds, who must be compensated for their destruction; and, taken with what he says of the need of purifying the hounds after a successful chase, the Celtic practice of crowning them at the annual festival of Artemis may have been meant to purge them of the stain they had contracted by killing the creatures of the goddess. The same explanation would naturally apply to the same custom observed by the Italians at the festival of Diana.
The crowning of hunting dogs on Diana’s day was probably a purification ritual to release them from the guilt of killing game, which are the creatures of the goddess. We know that at Diana’s festival, it was common to crown hunting dogs, to let wild animals be, and to perform a purification ceremony for the benefit of young people.[431] A passage in Arrian’s treatise on hunting sheds some light on the meaning of these customs. He explains that a good hunting dog is a gift from one of the gods to the huntsman, who should show his gratitude by sacrificing to the Huntress Artemis. Additionally, Arrian states: “It is proper that after a successful hunt, a man should sacrifice and dedicate the first fruits of his catch to the goddess, in order to purify both the dogs and the hunters, as per ancient customs.” He notes that the Celts used to create a treasury for the goddess Artemis, to which they paid two obols for every hare they killed, a drachm for each fox, and four drachms for each roe. Once a year, on Artemis's birthday, 126 they would open the treasury and use the accumulated fines to buy a sacrificial animal, which could be a sheep, goat, or calf. After slaughtering the animal and offering its share to the Huntress Artemis, they would celebrate with a feast for both men and dogs; they crowned the dogs on that day “to signify,” as Arrian says, “that the festival was for their benefit.”[432] The Celts that Arrian, a native of Bithynia, refers to were probably the Galatians of Asia Minor; however, it’s likely that the custom he describes was brought by these tribes, along with their language[433] and the worship of the oak,[434] from their former home in Central or Northern Europe. The Celtic deity that Arrian associates with Artemis may have been closely related to her and to the Italian Diana. Other sources confirm that the Celts worshiped a woodland goddess of this nature; for instance, Arduinna, the goddess of the Ardennes forest, was depicted alongside a bow and quiver, similar to Artemis and Diana.[435] In any case, the custom noted by Arrian strongly suggests a belief that the wild animals belong to the goddess of the wilderness, who must be compensated for their destruction; and, combined with his comments about purifying the dogs after a successful hunt, the Celtic custom of crowning them during the annual festival of Artemis may have aimed to cleanse them of the guilt incurred from killing the creatures of the goddess. This same reasoning would naturally apply to a similar custom practiced by the Italians at the festival of Diana.
|Cattle crowned to protect them from witchcraft.| But why, it may be asked, should crowns or garlands cleanse dogs from the taint of bloodshed? An answer to this question is indicated by the reason which the South Slavonian peasant assigns for crowning the horns of his cows with wreaths of flowers on St. George’s Day, the twenty-third of April. He does it in order to guard the cattle against witchcraft; cows that have no crowns are regarded 127as given over to the witches. In the evening the chaplets are fastened to the door of the cattle-stall, and remain there throughout the year. A herdsman who fails to crown his beasts is scolded and sometimes beaten by his master.[436] The German and French custom of crowning cattle on Midsummer Day[437] probably springs from the same motive. For on Midsummer Eve, just as on Walpurgis Night, witches are very busy holding their nocturnal assemblies and trying to steal the milk and butter from the cows. To guard against them some people at this season lay besoms crosswise before the doors of the stalls. Others make fast the doors and stop up the chinks, lest the witches should creep through them on their return from the revels. In Swabia all the church bells used to be kept ringing from nine at night till break of day on Midsummer morning to drive away the infernal rout from honest folk’s houses. South Slavonian peasants are up betimes that morning, gather the dew from the grass, and wash the cows with it; that saves their milk from the hellish charms of the witches.[438]
Cattle are given crowns to keep them safe from witchcraft. But why should crowns or garlands purify dogs from the stain of bloodshed? An answer to this question comes from the reason that South Slavonian farmers give for crowning their cows’ horns with flower wreaths on St. George’s Day, April 23rd. They do this to protect the cattle from witchcraft; cows without crowns are thought to be vulnerable to witches. In the evening, the wreaths are hung on the door of the cattle shed, where they stay for the entire year. A herdsman who forgets to crown his animals is scolded and sometimes punished by his owner.[436] The German and French tradition of crowning cattle on Midsummer Day[437] likely originates from the same belief. On Midsummer Eve, just like on Walpurgis Night, witches are extremely active in holding their nighttime gatherings and trying to steal milk and butter from the cows. To protect against them, some people place brooms across the doors of the stalls during this time. Others secure the doors and block the cracks to prevent witches from sneaking in after their festivities. In Swabia, all the church bells used to ring from nine at night until dawn on Midsummer morning to ward off the wicked spirits from honest people's homes. South Slavonian farmers rise early that morning, collect dew from the grass, and wash the cows with it; this protects their milk from the malevolent spells of the witches.[438]
|Similarly the crowning of hunting dogs may have been meant to protect them against the angry spirits of the beasts they had killed.| Now when we observe that garlands of flowers, like hawthorn and other green boughs,[439] avail to ward off the unseen powers of mischief, we may conjecture that the practice of crowning dogs at the festival of a huntress 128goddess was intended to preserve the hounds from the angry and dangerous spirits of the wild beasts which they had killed in the course of the year. Fantastical as this explanation may sound to us, it is perfectly in accordance with the ideas of the savage, who, as we shall see later on, resorts to a multitude of curious expedients for disarming the wrath of the animals whose life he has been obliged to take. Thus conceived, the custom in question might still be termed a purification; but its original purpose, like that of many other purificatory rites, would be not so much to cleanse moral guilt, as to raise a physical barrier against the assaults of malignant and mischievous spirits.[440]
|In the same way, the crowning of hunting dogs might have been intended to shield them from the vengeful spirits of the animals they hunted.| Now, when we notice that garlands of flowers, like hawthorn and other greenery,[439] are used to ward off unseen mischievous forces, we can guess that the practice of crowning dogs at the festival of a huntress goddess was aimed at shielding the hounds from the angry and dangerous spirits of the wild animals they had killed throughout the year. As wild as this explanation might sound to us, it aligns perfectly with the beliefs of primitive people, who, as we will see later, resort to a variety of unusual methods to calm the anger of the creatures whose lives they have taken. When considered this way, the custom could still be seen as a form of purification; however, its original purpose, like that of many other purification rituals, would be less about cleansing moral guilt and more about creating a physical barrier against the attacks of malevolent and mischievous spirits.[440]
|Conceived as the moon, Diana was also a goddess of crops and of childbirth.| But Diana was not merely a patroness of wild beasts, a mistress of woods and hills, of lonely glades and sounding rivers; conceived as the moon, and especially, it would seem, as the yellow harvest moon, she filled the farmer’s grange with goodly fruits, and heard the prayers of women in travail.[441] In her sacred grove at Nemi, as we have seen, she was especially worshipped as a goddess of childbirth, who bestowed offspring on men and women.[442] Thus Diana, like the Greek Artemis, with whom she was constantly identified, may be described as a goddess of nature in general and of fertility in particular.[443] We need not wonder, therefore, that in her sanctuary on the Aventine she was represented by an image copied from the many-breasted idol of the Ephesian Artemis, with all its crowded emblems of exuberant fecundity.[444] Hence too we can understand why an ancient 129Roman law, attributed to King Tullius Hostilius, prescribed that, when incest had been committed, an expiatory sacrifice should be offered by the pontiffs in the grove of Diana.[445] For we know that the crime of incest is commonly supposed to cause a dearth;[446] hence it would be meet that atonement for the offence should be made to the goddess of fertility.
|Created as the moon, Diana was also a goddess of agriculture and childbirth.| But Diana was not just a protector of wild animals, a ruler of forests and hills, of secluded clearings and flowing rivers; conceived as the moon, especially as the yellow harvest moon, she blessed the farmer’s fields with bountiful produce and listened to the prayers of women in labor.[441] In her sacred grove at Nemi, as we have seen, she was particularly honored as a goddess of childbirth, who granted children to men and women.[442] Thus Diana, like the Greek Artemis, with whom she was often equated, can be seen as a goddess of nature in general and of fertility in particular.[443] It's no surprise, therefore, that in her sanctuary on the Aventine, she was depicted by an image based on the many-breasted idol of the Ephesian Artemis, complete with all its symbols of abundant fertility.[444] This also helps explain why an ancient 129Roman law, attributed to King Tullius Hostilius, required that when incest occurred, an expiatory sacrifice be made by the priests in the grove of Diana.[445] For it is understood that the crime of incest is commonly believed to lead to scarcity;[446] so it would be appropriate for atonement for the offense to be made to the goddess of fertility.
|As a goddess of fertility Diana had herself to be fertile, and for that purpose needed a male partner.| Now on the principle that the goddess of fertility must herself be fertile, it behoved Diana to have a male partner. Her mate, if the testimony of Servius may be trusted, was that Virbius who had his representative, or perhaps rather his embodiment, in the King of the Wood at Nemi.[447] The aim of their union would be to promote the fruitfulness of the earth, of animals, and of mankind; and it might naturally be thought that this object would be more surely attained if the sacred nuptials were celebrated every year, the parts of the divine bride and bridegroom being played either by their images or by living persons. No ancient writer mentions that this was done in the grove at Nemi; but our knowledge of the Arician ritual is so scanty that the want of information on this head can hardly count as a fatal objection to the theory. That theory, in the absence of direct evidence, must necessarily be based on the analogy of similar customs practised elsewhere. Some modern examples of such customs, more or less degenerate, were described in the last chapter. Here we shall consider their ancient counterparts.
As a goddess of fertility, Diana had to be fertile herself, meaning she needed a male partner. Based on the idea that the goddess of fertility should herself be fertile, it was essential for Diana to have a male partner. According to Servius, her mate was Virbius, who was represented, or possibly embodied, by the King of the Wood at Nemi.[447] The purpose of their union was to enhance the fertility of the earth, animals, and humanity; and it seems logical that this goal would be more effectively achieved if the sacred wedding ceremonies were held every year, with the roles of the divine bride and groom performed either by their statues or by real people. No ancient text indicates that this was done in the grove at Nemi; however, our understanding of the Arician rituals is so limited that the lack of information on this point cannot be seen as a decisive argument against the theory. This theory, in the absence of direct evidence, must rely on the similarities to customs practiced elsewhere. Some modern examples of such customs, albeit more or less diluted, were discussed in the last chapter. Here, we will examine their ancient counterparts.
§ 2. The Marriage of the Gods
|Marriages of the gods in Babylonia and Assyria.| At Babylon the imposing sanctuary of Bel rose like a pyramid above the city in a series of eight towers or stories, planted one on the top of the other. On the highest tower, reached by an ascent which wound about all the rest, there stood a spacious temple, and in the temple a great bed, magnificently draped and cushioned, with a golden table beside it. In the temple no image was to be seen, and no human being passed the night there, save a single woman, whom, according to the Chaldean priests, the god chose 130from among all the women of Babylon. They said that the deity himself came into the temple at night and slept in the great bed; and the woman, as a consort of the god, might have no intercourse with mortal man.[448] As Bel at Babylon was identified with Marduk, the chief god of the city,[449] the woman who thus shared his bed was doubtless one of the “wives of Marduk” mentioned in the code of Hammurabi.[450] At Calah, which was for some time the capital of Assyria before it was displaced by Nineveh,[451] the marriage of the god Nabu appears to have been annually celebrated on the third of the month Iyyar or Airu, which corresponded to May. For on that day his bed was consecrated in the city, and the god entered his bedchamber, to return to his place on the following day. The ceremonies attending the consecration of the couch are minutely described in a liturgical text. After the appropriate offerings had been presented, the officiating priestess purified the feet of the divine image with a sprig of reed and a vessel of oil, approached the bed thrice, kissed the feet of the image, then retired and sat down. After that she burned cedar wood dipped in wine, set before the image the heart of a sheep wrapped in a cloth, and offered libations. Aromatic woods were consecrated and burnt, more libations and offerings were made, tables were spread for various divinities, and the ceremony ended with a prayer for the King. The god also went in procession to a grove, riding in a chariot beside his charioteer.[452]
|Gods' marriages in Babylonia and Assyria.| In Babylon, the grand sanctuary of Bel towered like a pyramid above the city, consisting of eight stacked towers. On the highest tower, which was reached by a winding staircase, there stood a spacious temple. Inside the temple was a great bed, beautifully draped and cushioned, with a golden table beside it. No images were found in the temple, and no one spent the night there except for one woman, who, according to the Chaldean priests, was chosen by the god from all the women of Babylon. They said that the deity himself entered the temple at night and slept in the great bed, and the woman, as the god's consort, was not allowed to have relations with any mortal man.[448] Since Bel in Babylon was identified with Marduk, the chief god of the city,[449] the woman who shared his bed was likely one of the “wives of Marduk” mentioned in the code of Hammurabi.[450] At Calah, which served as the capital of Assyria before Nineveh took over,[451] the marriage of the god Nabu seemed to be celebrated every year on the third day of the month Iyyar or Airu, which is in May. On that day, his bed was consecrated in the city, and the god entered his bedchamber, returning to his place the following day. The ceremonies for consecrating the couch are detailed in a liturgical text. After the necessary offerings were made, the priestess purified the feet of the divine image with a reed sprig and a vessel of oil, approached the bed three times, kissed the feet of the image, then retreated and sat down. After this, she burned cedar wood soaked in wine, placed the heart of a sheep wrapped in cloth before the image, and offered libations. Aromatic woods were consecrated and burned, more libations and offerings were made, tables were set for various deities, and the ceremony ended with a prayer for the King. The god also went in procession to a grove, riding in a chariot accompanied by his charioteer.[452]
|Marriage of the god Ammon to the Queen of Egypt.| At Thebes in Egypt a woman slept in the temple of Ammon as the consort of the god, and, like the human wife of Bel at Babylon, she was said to have no commerce with 131a man.[453] In Egyptian texts she is often mentioned as “the divine consort,” and usually she was no less a personage than the Queen of Egypt herself. For, according to the Egyptians, their monarchs were actually begotten by the god Ammon, who assumed for the time being the form of the reigning king, and in that disguise had intercourse with the queen. The divine procreation is carved and painted in great detail on the walls of two of the oldest temples in Egypt, those of Deir el Bahari and Luxor; and the inscriptions attached to the paintings leave no doubt as to the meaning of the scenes. The pictures at Deir el Bahari, which represent the begetting and birth of Queen Hatshopsitou, are the more ancient, and have been reproduced with but little change at Luxor, where they represent the begetting and birth of King Amenophis III. The nativity is depicted in about fifteen scenes, which may be grouped in three acts: first, the carnal union of the god with the queen; second, the birth; and third, the recognition of the infant by the gods. The marriage of Ammon with the queen is announced by a prologue in heaven; Ammon summons his assessors, the gods of Heliopolis, reveals to them the future birth of a new Pharaoh, a royal princess, and requests them to make ready the fluid of life and of strength, of which they are masters. Then the god is seen approaching the queen’s bedchamber; in front of him marches Thoth, with a roll of papyrus in his hand, who, to prevent mistakes, recites the official names of the queen, the spouse of the reigning king (Thothmes I. at Deir el Bahari, Thothmes IV. at Luxor), the fairest of women. Then Thoth withdraws behind Ammon, lifting his arm behind the god in order to renew his vital fluid at this critical moment. Next, according to the inscription, the mystery of incarnation takes place. Ammon lays aside his godhead and becomes flesh in the likeness of the king, the human spouse of the queen. The consummation of the divine union follows immediately. On a bed of state the god and the queen appear seated opposite each other, with their legs crossed. The queen receives from her husband the symbols of life and strength, while two goddesses, Neit and Selkit, the patronesses of matrimony, support the 132feet of the couple and guard them from harm. The text which encloses the scene sets forth clearly the reality of this mystic union of the human with the divine. “Thus saith Ammon-Ra, king of the gods, lord of Karnak, he who rules over Thebes, when he took the form of this male, the King of Upper and Nether Egypt, Thothmes I. (or Thothmes IV.), giver of life. He found the queen then when she lay in the glory of her palace. She awoke at the fragrance of the god, and marvelled at it. Straightway his Majesty went towards her, took possession of her, placed his heart in her, and shewed himself to her in his divine form. And upon his coming she was uplifted at the sight of his beauty, the love of the god ran through all her limbs, and the smell of the god and his breath were full of the perfumes of Pounit. And thus saith the royal spouse, the royal mother Ahmasi (or Moutemouaa), in presence of the majesty of this glorious god, Ammon, lord of Karnak, lord of Thebes, ‘Twice great are thy souls! It is noble to behold thy countenance when thou joinest thyself to my majesty in all grace! Thy dew impregnates all my limbs.’ Then, when the majesty of the god had accomplished all his desire with her, Ammon, the lord of the two lands, said to her: ‘She who is joined to Ammon, the first of the nobles, verily, such shall be the name of the daughter who shall open thy womb, since such is the course of the words that came forth from thy mouth. She shall reign in righteousness in all the earth, for my soul is hers, my heart is hers, my will is hers, my crown is hers, truly, that she may rule over the two lands, that she may guide the souls of all living.’”
|Marriage of the god Ammon to the Queen of Egypt.| In Thebes, Egypt, a woman slept in the temple of Ammon as the god's partner, and like the human wife of Bel in Babylon, it was said she had no contact with any man.131[453] In Egyptian texts, she is frequently referred to as “the divine consort,” and she was often none other than the Queen of Egypt herself. The Egyptians believed that their rulers were actually conceived by the god Ammon, who took the form of the reigning king to be intimate with the queen. This divine conception is intricately depicted on the walls of two of the oldest temples in Egypt, Deir el Bahari and Luxor; the inscriptions associated with the artwork leave no doubt about the scenes' significance. The images at Deir el Bahari, showing the conception and birth of Queen Hatshopsitou, are the oldest and have been almost unchanged at Luxor, where they depict the conception and birth of King Amenophis III. The nativity is illustrated in around fifteen scenes, which can be organized into three acts: first, the physical union of the god and queen; second, the birth; and third, the divine acknowledgment of the infant. The union of Ammon and the queen is announced in a heavenly prologue; Ammon calls together his advisors, the gods of Heliopolis, reveals the upcoming birth of a new Pharaoh, a royal princess, and asks them to prepare the essence of life and strength, which they control. Next, the god approaches the queen’s chambers; Thoth precedes him, holding a papyrus scroll, reciting the official names of the queen, the spouse of the current king (Thothmes I. at Deir el Bahari, Thothmes IV. at Luxor), the fairest of women, to prevent any errors. Then Thoth steps back behind Ammon, raising his arm behind the god to renew his life essence at this crucial moment. Following this, according to the inscription, the mystery of incarnation occurs. Ammon sets aside his divine form and becomes flesh, resembling the king, the human partner of the queen. The consummation of this divine union happens right after. On a throne, the god and the queen are seated facing each other, with their legs crossed. The queen receives symbols of life and power from her husband as two goddesses, Neit and Selkit, the goddesses of marriage, support the couple’s feet and keep them safe. The text surrounding the scene clearly articulates the reality of this mystical union between human and divine. “Thus says Ammon-Ra, king of the gods, lord of Karnak, ruler of Thebes, when he took on the form of this man, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Thothmes I. (or Thothmes IV.), giver of life. He found the queen as she lay in her glorious palace. She awoke to the fragrance of the god and was amazed by it. Immediately, he approached her, took possession of her, placed his heart in hers, and revealed himself in his divine form. Upon his arrival, she was uplifted by his beauty, the love of the god flowed through her body, and the scent of the god and his breath were filled with the perfumes of Pounit. And thus speaks the royal spouse, the royal mother Ahmasi (or Moutemouaa), in the presence of the majesty of the glorious god, Ammon, lord of Karnak, lord of Thebes, ‘Twice great are your souls! It is magnificent to behold your face when you unite with my majesty in all grace! Your dew fills all my limbs.’ Then, after the god fulfilled all his desires with her, Ammon, lord of the two lands, said to her: ‘She who is united with Ammon, the first of the nobles, indeed, that shall be the name of the daughter who will emerge from your womb, as this is the meaning behind the words you have spoken. She will reign justly over all the earth, for my soul belongs to her, my heart is hers, my will is hers, my crown is hers, truly, so that she may govern the two lands and guide the souls of all living beings.’”
|Nativity of the divine Egyptian kings represented on the monuments.| After the begetting of the divine child—for we must remember that the kings and queens of Egypt were regarded as divinities in their lifetime—another series of scenes represents the fashioning of its body and its birth. The god Khnoumou, who in the beginning of time moulded gods and men on his potter’s wheel, is seen seated at his wheel modelling the future king or queen and their doubles—those spiritual duplicates or external souls which were believed to hover invisible about both men and gods all through life. In front of Khnoumou kneels Hiqit, the frog-headed goddess, “the great magician”; she is holding out to the newly-created 133figures the symbol of life, the crux ansata ♀, in order that they may breathe and live. Another scene represents the birth. At Deir el Bahari the queen has already been delivered, and is presenting her daughter to several goddesses, who have acted the part of midwives. At Luxor the double of the royal infant is born first; the goddesses who serve as nurses have him in their arms, and the midwives are preparing to receive the real child. Behind the queen are the goddesses who watch over childbirth, led by Isis and Nephthys; and all around the spirits of the East, the West, the North, and the South are presenting the symbol of life or uttering acclamations. In a corner the grotesque god Bes and the female hippopotamus Api keep off all evil influence and every malignant spirit.
|The birth of the divine Egyptian kings shown on the monuments.| After the birth of the divine child—for we must remember that the kings and queens of Egypt were seen as gods during their lives—another series of scenes shows the creation of its body and its birth. The god Khnoumou, who in the beginning molded gods and humans on his potter’s wheel, is depicted seated at his wheel, shaping the future king or queen and their doubles—those spiritual counterparts or external souls believed to be always present and invisible around both gods and humans throughout life. In front of Khnoumou kneels Hiqit, the frog-headed goddess, “the great magician”; she is extending to the newly-created figures the symbol of life, the crux ansata ♀, so they may breathe and live. Another scene shows the birth. At Deir el Bahari, the queen has already given birth and is presenting her daughter to several goddesses, who acted as midwives. At Luxor, the double of the royal infant is born first; the goddesses who serve as nurses hold him in their arms, and the midwives are preparing to receive the real child. Behind the queen are the goddesses who protect childbirth, led by Isis and Nephthys; and all around, the spirits of the East, the West, the North, and the South are presenting the symbol of life or cheering. In one corner, the comical god Bes and the female hippopotamus Api ward off all evil and every harmful spirit.
|These representations probably copied from the life.| We shall probably not err in assuming, with some eminent authorities, that the ceremonies of the nativity of the Pharaohs, thus emblazoned on the walls of Egyptian temples, were copied from the life; in other words, that the carved and painted scenes represent a real drama, which was acted by masked men and women whenever a queen of Egypt was brought to bed. “Here, as everywhere else in Egypt,” says Professor Maspero, “sculptor and painter did nothing but faithfully imitate reality. Theory required that the assimilation of the kings to the gods should be complete, so that every act of the royal life was, as it were, a tracing of the corresponding act of the divine life. From the moment that the king was Ammon, he wore the costume and badges of Ammon—the tall hat with the long plumes, the cross of life, the greyhound-headed sceptre—and thus arrayed he presented himself in the queen’s bedchamber to consummate the marriage. The assistants also assumed the costume and appearance of the divinities whom they incarnated; the men put on masks of jackals, hawks, and crocodiles, while the women donned masks of cows or frogs, according as they played the parts of Anubis, Khnoumou, Sovkou, Hathor, or Hiqit; and I am disposed to believe that the doubles of the new-born child were represented by as many puppets as were required by the ceremonies. Some of the rites were complicated, and must have tired excessively the mother and child who underwent them; but 134they are nothing to those that have been observed in similar circumstances in other lands. In general, we are bound to hold that all the pictures traced on the walls of the temples, in which the person of the king is concerned, correspond to a real action in which disguised personages played the part of gods.”[454]
These images were probably based on real life. We probably won’t be wrong in assuming, along with some respected experts, that the ceremonies surrounding the childbirth of the Pharaohs, vividly illustrated on the walls of Egyptian temples, were drawn from actual events; in other words, the carved and painted scenes depict a real drama that was performed by masked men and women whenever a queen of Egypt gave birth. “Here, as everywhere else in Egypt,” says Professor Maspero, “the sculptor and painter did nothing but faithfully imitate reality. Theory demanded that the transformation of kings into gods be complete, so that every act of royal life mirrored the corresponding act of divine life. From the moment that the king embodied Ammon, he wore the clothing and symbols of Ammon—the tall hat with long feathers, the cross of life, and the greyhound-headed scepter—and in this attire he presented himself in the queen’s chamber to finalize the marriage. The attendants also took on the costumes and appearance of the deities they represented; the men wore masks of jackals, hawks, and crocodiles, while the women wore masks of cows or frogs, depending on whether they were portraying Anubis, Khnoumou, Sovkou, Hathor, or Hiqit; and I believe the doubles of the newborn child were represented by as many puppets as the ceremonies required. Some of the rites were elaborate and must have been exhausting for both the mother and child enduring them; but 134 they are nothing compared to those observed in similar situations in other cultures. In general, we must conclude that all the images carved on the walls of the temples, where the king is involved, correspond to a real action in which disguised individuals played the roles of gods.”[454]
|Human wives of Ammon in the decline of Egypt.| In the decline of Egypt from the eleventh century onward, the wives of Ammon at Thebes were called on to play a conspicuous part in the government of the country. The strong grip of the Pharaohs was relaxed and under their feeble successors the empire crumbled away into a number of petty independent states. In this dissolution of the central authority the crafty high priests of Ammon at Thebes contrived to usurp regal powers and to reign far and wide in the name of the deity, veiling their rescripts under the guise of oracles of the god, who, with the help of a little jugglery, complacently signified his assent to their wishes by nodding his head or even by speech. But curiously enough under this pretended theocracy the nominal ruler was not the priest himself, but his wife, the earthly consort of Ammon. Thus Thebes became for a time a ghostly principality governed ostensibly by a dynasty of female popes. Their office was hereditary, passing by rights from mother to daughter. But probably the entail was often broken by the policy or ambition of the men who stood behind the scenes and worked the religious puppet-show by hidden wires to the awe and astonishment of the gaping vulgar. Certainly we know that on one occasion King Psammetichus First foisted his own daughter into the Holy See by dedicating her to Ammon under a hypocritical profession of gratitude for favours bestowed on him by the deity. And the female pope had to submit to the dictation with the 135best grace she could assume, protesting her affection for the adopted daughter who had ousted her own daughter from the throne.[455]
|Human wives of Ammon during Egypt's decline.| In the decline of Egypt from the eleventh century onward, the wives of Ammon in Thebes took on a prominent role in governing the country. The Pharaohs' control weakened, and under their ineffective successors, the empire fragmented into several small independent states. During this breakdown of central authority, the cunning high priests of Ammon in Thebes managed to seize royal powers and ruled extensively in the name of the god, disguising their decrees as oracles from the deity, who, with a bit of theatrics, seemingly agreed with them by nodding or even speaking. Interestingly enough, under this supposed theocracy, the official ruler was not the priest himself, but his wife, the earthly partner of Ammon. Thus, for a time, Thebes functioned as an otherworldly principality run by a lineage of female popes. Their position was hereditary, passing down from mother to daughter. However, it’s likely that this inheritance was often disrupted by the ambitions or strategies of the men behind the scenes, orchestrating the religious spectacle with hidden controls to the awe and amazement of the ordinary people. Indeed, we know that at one point, King Psammetichus First installed his own daughter in the Holy See by dedicating her to Ammon under a false pretense of gratitude for favors granted to him by the deity. The female pope had to accept her situation as gracefully as she could, professing her support for the adopted daughter who had taken the throne from her own child.[455]
|Human concubines of Ammon in Roman times.| At a later period, when Egypt lay under the heel of Rome, the character of “the divine consort” of Ammon at Thebes had greatly changed. For at the beginning of our era the custom was to appoint a young and beautiful girl, the scion of one of the noblest houses, to serve Ammon as his concubine. The Greeks called these maidens Pallades, apparently after their own virgin goddess Pallas; but the conduct of the girls was by no means maidenly, for they led the loosest of lives till puberty. Then they were mourned over and given in marriage.[456] Their graves were shown near Thebes.[457] The reason why their services ended at puberty may have been that as concubines of the god they might not bear children to mortal fathers; hence it was deemed prudent to terminate their relations with the divinity before they were of an age to become mothers. It was an Egyptian doctrine that a mortal woman could conceive by a god, but that a goddess could not conceive by a mortal man.[458] The certainty of maternity and the uncertainty of paternity suggest an obvious and probably sufficient ground for this theological distinction.
|Human concubines of Ammon during Roman times.| Later on, when Egypt was under Roman control, the role of “the divine consort” of Ammon at Thebes had changed significantly. At the start of our era, it was customary to choose a young and beautiful girl from one of the noble families to serve Ammon as his concubine. The Greeks referred to these maidens as Pallades, likely named after their own virgin goddess Pallas; however, the behavior of these girls was far from chaste, as they lived quite freely until they reached puberty. After that, they were mourned and married off.[456] Their graves were located near Thebes.[457] The reason their service ended at puberty might have been that as concubines of the god, they were not allowed to have children with mortal men; therefore, it was considered wise to end their relationships with the deity before they could become mothers. Egyptians believed that a mortal woman could conceive with a god, but a goddess could not conceive with a mortal man.[458] The certainty of maternity and the unpredictability of paternity provide a clear and likely sufficient reason for this theological distinction.
|Apollo and his prophetess at Patara.| Apollo was said to spend the winter months at Patara in Lycia and the summer months in the island of Delos, and accordingly he gave oracles for one half of the year in the one place, and for the other half in the other.[459] So long as he tarried at Patara, his prophetess was shut up with him in the temple every night.[460] At Ephesus there was a college |The Essenes of Artemis at Ephesus.| of sacred men called Essenes or King Bees who held office for a year, during which they had to observe strict chastity and other rules of ceremonial purity.[461] How many of them 136there were at a time we do not know, but there must have been several, for in Ephesian inscriptions they are regularly referred to in the plural. They cannot have been bound to lifelong celibacy, for in one of the inscriptions an Essen mentions his wife.[462] Possibly they were deemed the annual husbands of Artemis, the great many-breasted goddess of fertility at Ephesus, whose association with the bee is vouched for by the figures of bees which appear commonly both on her statues and on the coins of Ephesus.[463] If this conjecture is right, the King Bees and their bee-goddess Artemis at Ephesus would be closely parallel to the King of the Wood and his woodland-goddess Diana at Nemi, as these latter are interpreted by me. The rule of chastity imposed on the King Bees during their year of office would be easily explicable on this hypothesis. As the temporary husbands of the goddess they would be expected for the time being to have no intercourse with mortal women, just as the human wives of Bel and Ammon were supposed to have no commerce with mortal men.
Apollo and his oracle at Patara. Apollo was said to spend the winter months at Patara in Lycia and the summer months on the island of Delos. He gave oracles for half of the year in one place and for the other half in the other.[459] While he was at Patara, his prophetess stayed with him in the temple every night.[460] In Ephesus, there was a group of sacred men known as Essenes or King Bees who held their position for a year. During this time, they had to follow strict rules of chastity and other ceremonial purity.[461] We don't know exactly how many of them there were at one time, but there must have been several, as they are commonly referred to in the plural in Ephesian inscriptions. They couldn't have been required to remain celibate for life, since one inscription mentions an Essen and his wife.[462] They might have been seen as the annual husbands of Artemis, the multi-breasted goddess of fertility in Ephesus, whose connection with the bee is supported by the images of bees that often appear on her statues and the coins of Ephesus.[463] If this theory is accurate, the King Bees and their bee-goddess Artemis in Ephesus would be similar to the King of the Wood and his woodland goddess Diana at Nemi, as I interpret them. The rule of chastity imposed on the King Bees during their term would make sense under this hypothesis. As the temporary husbands of the goddess, they would be expected to abstain from mortal women during that time, just as the human wives of Bel and Ammon were believed to have no relations with mortal men.
|Marriage of Dionysus to the Queen at Athens.| At Athens the god of the vine, Dionysus, was annually married to the Queen, and it appears that the consummation of the divine union, as well as the espousals, was enacted at the ceremony; but whether the part of the god was played by a man or an image we do not know. Attic law required that the Queen should be a burgess and should never have known any man but her husband. She had to offer certain 137secret sacrifices on behalf of the state, and was permitted to see what no foreign woman might ever behold, and to enter where no other Athenian might set foot. She was assisted in the discharge of her solemn functions by fourteen sacred women, one for each of the altars of Dionysus. The old Dionysiac festival was held on the twelfth day of the month Anthesterion, corresponding roughly to our February, at the ancient sanctuary of Dionysus in the Marshes, which was never opened throughout the year save on that one day. At this festival the Queen exacted an oath of purity and chastity from the fourteen sacred women at the altar. Possibly her marriage was celebrated on the same day, though of that we have no positive evidence, and we learn from Aristotle that the ceremony took place, not at the sanctuary in the marshes, but in the old official residence of the King, known as the Cattle-stall, which stood near the Prytaneum or Town-hall on the north-eastern slope of the Acropolis.[464] But whatever the date of the wedding, its object can hardly have been any other than that of ensuring the fertility of the vines and other fruit-trees, of which Dionysus was the god. Thus both in form and in meaning the ceremony would answer to the nuptials of the King and Queen of May. Again, the story, dear to poets 138and artists, of the forsaken and sleeping Ariadne, waked and wedded by Dionysus, resembles so closely the little drama acted by French peasants of the Alps on May Day,[465] that, considering the character of Dionysus as a god of vegetation, we can hardly help regarding it as the reflection of a spring ceremony like the French one. In point of fact the |Dionysus and Ariadne.| marriage of Dionysus and Ariadne was believed by Preller to have been acted every spring in Crete.[466] His evidence, indeed, is inconclusive, but the view itself is probable. If I am right in comparing the two, the chief difference between the French and the Greek ceremonies appears to have been that in the former the sleeper was a forsaken bridegroom, in the latter a forsaken bride; and the group of stars in the sky, in which fancy saw Ariadne’s wedding crown,[467] may have been only a translation to heaven of the garland worn by the Greek girl who played the Queen of May.
|Marriage of Dionysus to the Queen in Athens.| In Athens, the god of wine, Dionysus, was married every year to the Queen, and it seems that both the completion of this divine union and the wedding ceremony were performed at the event; however, it’s unclear whether the role of the god was portrayed by a man or a statue. Attic law required that the Queen be a citizen and have never been with any man other than her husband. She was tasked with making certain secret sacrifices for the state, was allowed to see things no foreign woman could ever see, and could enter places where no other Athenian was permitted. She was supported in her sacred duties by fourteen priestesses, one for each altar of Dionysus. The ancient Dionysian festival took place on the twelfth day of the month Anthesterion, which roughly aligns with our February, at the ancient sanctuary of Dionysus in the Marshes, a site that was only opened on that specific day of the year. At this festival, the Queen demanded an oath of purity and chastity from the fourteen priestesses at the altar. It’s possible her marriage was celebrated on the same day, though there’s no definitive evidence for that. Aristotle informs us that the ceremony happened not at the sanctuary in the marshes, but at the King’s old official residence, known as the Cattle-stall, which was located near the Prytaneum or Town-hall on the northeastern slope of the Acropolis.[464] Regardless of when the wedding took place, its purpose was likely to ensure the fertility of the vines and other fruit trees, over which Dionysus was the deity. Thus, both in form and significance, the ceremony was akin to the nuptials of the May King and Queen. Furthermore, the beloved story among poets and artists of the abandoned and sleeping Ariadne, who is awakened and married by Dionysus, closely resembles a small drama performed by French Alpine peasants on May Day,[465] suggesting that, given Dionysus's role as a god of vegetation, it should be seen as a reflection of a springtime ritual similar to the French one. In fact, theDionysus and Ariadne. marriage of Dionysus and Ariadne was thought by Preller to have been reenacted every spring in Crete.[466] His evidence isn't conclusive, but the idea itself is likely. If I am correct in drawing this comparison, the main difference between the French and Greek ceremonies appears to be that in the former, the sleeper was a rejected groom, while in the latter, it was a forsaken bride; and the constellation in the sky, which imagination saw as Ariadne’s wedding crown,[467] may have simply been a heavenly representation of the garland worn by the Greek girl portraying the Queen of May.
|Marriage of Zeus with Demeter at Eleusis.| If at Athens, and probably elsewhere, the vine-god was married to a queen in order that the vines might be loaded with clusters of grapes, there is reason to think that a marriage of a different kind, intended to make the fields wave with yellow corn, was annually celebrated not many miles off, beyond the low hills that bound the plain of Athens on the west. In the great mysteries solemnised at Eleusis in the month of September the union of the sky-god Zeus with the corn-goddess Demeter appears to have been represented by the union of the hierophant with the priestess of Demeter, who acted the parts of god and goddess. But their intercourse was only dramatic or symbolical, for the hierophant had temporarily deprived himself of his virility by an application of hemlock. The torches having been extinguished, the pair descended into a murky place, while the throng of worshippers awaited in anxious suspense the result of the mystic congress, on which they believed their own salvation to depend. After a time the hierophant reappeared, and in a blaze of light silently exhibited to the assembly a reaped ear of corn, the fruit of the divine marriage. Then in a loud voice he proclaimed, 139“Queen Brimo has brought forth a sacred boy Brimos,” by which he meant, “The Mighty One has brought forth the Mighty.” The corn-mother in fact had given birth to her child, the corn, and her travail-pangs were enacted in the sacred drama.[468] This revelation of the reaped corn appears to have been the crowning act of the mysteries. Thus through the glamour shed round these rites by the poetry and philosophy of later ages there still looms, like a distant landscape through a sunlit haze, a simple rustic festival 140designed to cover the wide Eleusinian plain with a plenteous harvest by wedding the goddess of the corn to the sky-god, who fertilised the bare earth with genial showers.
|Zeus's marriage to Demeter at Eleusis.| In Athens, and likely in other places as well, the vine god was said to marry a queen to ensure the vines would be filled with grapes. However, it's believed that a different kind of marriage, aimed at making the fields golden with corn, was celebrated annually not far away, beyond the low hills west of the Athens plain. During the significant mysteries held at Eleusis in September, the union of Zeus, the sky god, and Demeter, the corn goddess, was symbolized by the joining of the hierophant and the priestess of Demeter, who played the roles of the god and goddess. Yet, their interaction was purely theatrical or symbolic, as the hierophant had temporarily made himself incapable of performing sexually by using hemlock. After the torches were put out, the couple went down into a shadowy space, while the group of worshippers waited in nervous anticipation for the outcome of the mysterious coupling, which they believed affected their own salvation. Eventually, the hierophant returned, and amidst bright light, silently presented to the gathering a harvested ear of corn, signifying the fruit of the divine union. Then, in a loud voice, he declared, 139“Queen Brimo has brought forth a sacred boy Brimos,” meaning, “The Mighty One has given birth to the Mighty.” The corn mother had indeed birthed her child, the corn, and her labor pains were acted out in the sacred drama.[468] This unveiling of the harvested corn seems to have been the climax of the mysteries. Thus, behind the enchanting allure surrounding these rituals, created by later poetry and philosophy, there remains, like a distant landscape seen through a sunlit haze, a simple rural festival aimed at covering the vast Eleusinian plain with a bountiful harvest by uniting the corn goddess with the sky god, who fertilized the barren earth with nourishing rains.
|Marriage of Zeus and Hera at Plataea.| But Zeus was not always the sky-god, nor did he always marry the corn-goddess. If in antiquity a traveller, quitting Eleusis and passing through miles of olive-groves and corn-fields, had climbed the pine-clad mountains of Cithaeron and descended through the forest on their northern slope to Plataea, he might have chanced to find the people of that little Boeotian town celebrating a different marriage of the great god to a different goddess. The ceremony is described by a Greek antiquary whose note-book has fortunately preserved for us not a few rural customs of ancient Greece, of which the knowledge would otherwise have perished.
|Zeus and Hera's marriage in Plataea.| But Zeus wasn't always the god of the sky, and he didn't always marry the goddess of grain. If a traveler in ancient times had left Eleusis and walked through miles of olive groves and cornfields, climbed the pine-covered mountains of Cithaeron, and descended through the forest on the northern slope to Plataea, they might have stumbled upon the people of that small Boeotian town celebrating a different marriage of the great god to another goddess. This ceremony is described by a Greek historian whose notes have fortunately preserved many rural customs of ancient Greece that would otherwise have been lost.
Every few years the people of Plataea held a festival which they called the Little Daedala. On the day of the festival they went out into an ancient oak forest, the trees of which were of gigantic girth. There they set some boiled meat on the ground, and watched the birds that gathered round it. When a raven was observed to carry off a piece of the meat and perch on an oak, the people followed it and cut down the tree. With the wood of the tree they made an image, dressed it as a bride, and placed it on a bullock-cart with a bridesmaid beside it. It seems then to have been drawn to the banks of the river Asopus and back to the town, attended by a piping and dancing crowd. After the festival the image was put away and kept till the celebration of the Great Daedala, which fell only once in sixty years, and was held by all the people of Boeotia. On this occasion all the images, fourteen in number, that had accumulated from the celebrations of the Little Daedala were dragged on wains in procession to the river Asopus, and then to the top of Mount Cithaeron. There an altar had been constructed of square blocks of wood fitted together, with brushwood heaped over it. Animals were sacrificed by being burned on the altar, and the altar itself, together with the images, was consumed by the flames. The blaze, we are told, rose to a prodigious height and was seen for many miles. To explain the origin of the festival a story ran that once 141upon a time Hera had quarrelled with Zeus and left him in high dudgeon. To lure her back Zeus gave out that he was about to marry the nymph Plataea, daughter of the river Asopus. He had a fine oak cut down, shaped and dressed as a bride, and conveyed on a bullock-cart. Transported with rage and jealousy, Hera flew to the cart, and tearing off the veil of the pretended bride, discovered the deceit that had been practised on her. Her rage now turned to laughter, and she became reconciled to her husband Zeus.[469]
Every few years, the people of Plataea held a festival they called the Little Daedala. On the festival day, they went into an ancient oak forest filled with massive trees. There, they set some boiled meat on the ground and watched the birds gather around it. When they saw a raven carry off a piece of meat and land on an oak, the people followed it and cut down the tree. With the wood from the tree, they made an image, dressed it as a bride, and placed it on a bullock cart with a bridesmaid beside it. The cart was then drawn to the banks of the river Asopus and back to the town, accompanied by a crowd piping and dancing. After the festival, the image was stored away until the Great Daedala celebration, which happened only once every sixty years and was attended by everyone in Boeotia. For this occasion, all the images, totaling fourteen from the Little Daedala celebrations, were paraded on wagons to the river Asopus and then to the top of Mount Cithaeron. There, an altar was built from square blocks of wood, piled high with brushwood. Animals were sacrificed by being burned on the altar, and the altar along with the images was consumed by the flames. The fire was said to reach an incredible height and could be seen for many miles. To explain the festival's origins, a story went that once upon a time Hera had a falling out with Zeus and left him in a huff. To win her back, Zeus claimed he was going to marry the nymph Plataea, the daughter of the river Asopus. He had a fine oak cut down, shaped, and dressed like a bride, then transported on a bullock cart. Consumed with rage and jealousy, Hera flew to the cart, ripped off the veil of the fake bride, and uncovered the trick played on her. Her anger then turned to laughter, and she reconciled with her husband Zeus.[469]
|Resemblance of the Plataean ceremony to the spring and midsummer festivals of modern Europe.| The resemblance of this festival to some of the European spring and midsummer festivals is tolerably close. We have seen that in Russia at Whitsuntide the villagers go out into the wood, fell a birch-tree, dress it in woman’s clothes, and bring it back to the village with dance and song. On the third day it is thrown into the water.[470] Again, we have seen that in Bohemia on Midsummer Eve the village lads fell a tall fir or pine-tree in the wood and set it up on a height, where it is adorned with garlands, nosegays, and ribbons, and afterwards burnt.[471] The reason for burning the tree will appear afterwards; the custom itself is not uncommon in modern Europe. In some parts of the Pyrenees a tall and slender tree is cut down on May Day and kept till Midsummer Eve. It is then rolled to the top of a hill, set up, and burned.[472] In Angoulême on St. Peter’s Day, the twenty-ninth of June, a tall leafy poplar is set up in the market-place and burned.[473] Near Launceston in Cornwall there is a large tumulus known as Whiteborough, with a fosse round it. On this tumulus “there was formerly a great bonfire on Midsummer Eve; a large summer pole was fixed in the centre, round which the fuel was heaped up. It had a large bush on the top of it. Round this were parties of wrestlers contending for small prizes.” The rustics believed that giants were buried in such mounds, and nothing would tempt them to disturb their bones.[474] In Dublin on May-morning 142boys used to go out and cut a May-bush, bring it back to town, and then burn it.[475]
The similarity between the Plataean ceremony and the spring and midsummer festivals of modern Europe. The similarities between this festival and some of the spring and midsummer celebrations in Europe are quite noticeable. In Russia, during Whitsuntide, villagers head into the woods, chop down a birch tree, dress it in women’s clothing, and bring it back to the village while dancing and singing. On the third day, they throw it into the water.[470] Similarly, we see that in Bohemia on Midsummer Eve, young men cut down a tall fir or pine tree in the woods, set it up on a hill, decorate it with garlands, flowers, and ribbons, and then burn it.[471] The reason for burning the tree will be explained later; however, this custom is not rare in modern Europe. In some areas of the Pyrenees, a tall and slender tree is cut down on May Day and kept until Midsummer Eve. It is then rolled to the top of a hill, erected, and burned.[472] In Angoulême on St. Peter’s Day, June 29th, a tall leafy poplar is set up in the marketplace and burned.[473] Near Launceston in Cornwall, there is a large mound known as Whiteborough, surrounded by a ditch. On this mound, “there used to be a huge bonfire on Midsummer Eve; a large summer pole was placed in the center, around which the fuel was piled up. It had a big bush on top. Groups of wrestlers would contend around it for small prizes.” The locals believed that giants were buried in such mounds, and they would never be tempted to disturb the bones.[474] In Dublin on May morning, boys would go out, cut a May-bush, bring it back to town, and then burn it.[475]
|All such ceremonies were originally magical rites intended to bring about the effects which they dramatically represented.| Probably the Boeotian festival belonged to the same class of rites. It represented the marriage of the powers of vegetation—the union of the oak-god with the oak-goddess[476]—in spring or midsummer, just as the same event is represented in modern Europe by a King and Queen or a Lord and Lady of the May. In the Boeotian, as in the Russian, ceremony the tree dressed as a woman stands for the English May-pole and May-queen in one. All such ceremonies, it must be remembered, are not, or at least were not originally, mere spectacular or dramatic exhibitions. They are magical rites designed to produce the effect which they dramatically set forth. If the revival of vegetation in spring is mimicked by the awakening of a sleeper, the mimicry is intended actually to quicken the growth of leaves and blossoms; if the marriage of the powers of vegetation is simulated by a King and Queen of May, the idea is that the powers thus personated will really be rendered more productive by the ceremony. In short, all these spring and midsummer festivals fall under the head of homoeopathic or imitative magic. The thing which people wish to bring about they represent dramatically, and the very representation is believed to effect, or at least to contribute to, the production of the desired result. In the case of the Daedala the story of Hera’s quarrel with Zeus and her sullen retirement may perhaps without straining be interpreted as a mythical expression for a bad season and the failure of the crops. The same disastrous effects were attributed to the anger and seclusion of Demeter after the loss of her daughter Proserpine.[477] Now the institution of a festival is often explained by a mythical story, which relates how upon a particular occasion those very calamities occurred which it is the real 143object of the festival to avert; so that if we know the myth told to account for the historical origin of the festival, we can often infer from it the real intention with which the festival was celebrated. If, therefore, the origin of the Daedala was explained by a story of a failure of crops and consequent famine, we may infer that the real object of the festival was to prevent the occurrence of such disasters; and, if I am right in my interpretation of the festival, the object was supposed to be effected by dramatically representing the marriage of the divinities most concerned with the production of trees and plants. The marriage of Zeus and Hera was acted at annual festivals in various parts of Greece,[478] and it is at least a fair conjecture that the nature and intention of these ceremonies were such as I have assigned to the Plataean festival of the Daedala; in other words, that Zeus and Hera at these festivals were the Greek equivalents of the Lord and Lady of the May. Homer’s glowing picture of Zeus and Hera couched on fresh hyacinths and crocuses,[479] like Milton’s description of the dalliance of Zephyr with Aurora, “as he met her once a-Maying,” was perhaps painted from the life.
All these ceremonies were originally magical rituals intended to produce the effects they visibly portrayed. The Boeotian festival likely fell into the same category of rites. It symbolized the marriage of the powers of vegetation—the union of the oak-god with the oak-goddess[476]—in spring or midsummer, similar to how this event is represented in modern Europe by a King and Queen or a Lord and Lady of the May. In the Boeotian, as in the Russian, ceremony, the tree dressed as a woman stands for the English May-pole and May-queen combined. It’s important to remember that these ceremonies were not, or at least were not originally, merely spectacular or dramatic displays. They are magical rites intended to create the effect they represent dramatically. If the revival of vegetation in spring is mimicked by the awakening of a sleeper, the mimicry aims to actually stimulate the growth of leaves and blossoms; if the marriage of the powers of vegetation is simulated by a King and Queen of May, the belief is that those powers will truly be made more productive by the ceremony. In short, all these spring and midsummer festivals come under the category of homoeopathic or imitative magic. The outcomes that people wish to achieve are represented dramatically, and this representation is believed to either cause or at least assist in bringing about the desired result. In the case of the Daedala, the story of Hera’s argument with Zeus and her withdrawn state may, without much strain, be interpreted as a mythical expression of a bad season and crop failure. The same disastrous outcomes were attributed to Demeter’s anger and withdrawal after losing her daughter Proserpine.[477] Now, the establishment of a festival is often explained by a mythical story that recounts how certain calamities occurred, which the festival is actually meant to prevent; so if we know the myth explaining the historical origin of the festival, we can often deduce its true purpose. Therefore, if the origin of the Daedala was explained by a story about crop failure and famine, we can infer that the real objective of the festival was to avert such disasters; and, if my interpretation of the festival is correct, the goal was believed to be achieved by dramatically representing the marriage of the deities most linked to the growth of trees and plants. The marriage of Zeus and Hera was enacted at annual festivals in different parts of Greece,[478] and it’s a reasonable conjecture that the nature and intention of these ceremonies were similar to what I have assigned to the Plataean festival of the Daedala; in other words, that Zeus and Hera at these festivals represented the Greek equivalents of the Lord and Lady of the May. Homer’s vivid illustration of Zeus and Hera reclining on fresh hyacinths and crocuses,[479] like Milton’s depiction of the playful encounter between Zephyr and Aurora, “as he met her once a-Maying,” was perhaps based on real life.
|The god Frey and his human wife in Sweden.| The sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera had, as was natural, its counterpart among the northern kinsfolk of the Greeks. In Sweden every year a life-size image of Frey, the god of fertility, both animal and vegetable, was drawn about the country in a waggon attended by a beautiful girl who was called the god’s wife. She acted also as his 144priestess in his great temple at Upsala. Wherever the waggon came with the image of the god and his blooming young bride, the people crowded to meet them and offered sacrifices for a fruitful year. Once on a time a Norwegian exile named Gunnar Helming gave himself out to be Frey in person, and rode about on the sacred waggon dressed up in the god’s clothes. Everywhere the simple folk welcomed him as the deity, and observed with wonder and delight that a god walked about among men and ate and drank just like other people. And when the months went by, and the god’s fair young wife was seen to be with child, their joy waxed greatly, for they thought, “Surely this is an omen of a fruitful season.” It happened that the weather was then so mild, and the promise of a plenteous harvest so fair, that no man ever remembered such a year before. But one night the god departed in haste, with his wife and all the gold and silver and fine raiment which he had got together; and though the Swedes made after him, they could not catch him. He was over the hills and far away in Norway.[480] Similar ceremonies appear to have been observed by the |Similar customs in Gaul.| peasantry of Gaul in antiquity; for Gregory of Tours, writing in the sixth century of our era, says that at Autun the people used to carry about an image of a goddess in a waggon drawn by oxen. The intention of the ceremony was to ensure the safety of the crops and vines, and the rustics danced and sang in front of the image.[481] The old historian identifies the goddess with Cybele, the Great Mother goddess of Phrygia, and the identification would seem to be correct. For we learn from another source that men wrought up to a pitch of frenzy by the shrill music of flutes and the clash of cymbals, sacrificed their virility 145to the goddess, dashing the severed portions of themselves against her image.[482] Now this religious castration was a marked feature of the Phrygian worship of Cybele, but it is alien to Western modes of thought, although it still finds favour with a section of the barbarous, fanatical, semi-Oriental peasantry of Russia.[483] But whether of native or of Eastern origin the rites of the goddess of Autun closely conformed to those of the great Phrygian goddess and appear to have been, like them, a perverted form of the Sacred Marriage, which was designed to fertilise the earth, and in which eunuchs, strange as it may seem, personated the lovers of the goddess.[484]
The god Frey and his human wife in Sweden. The sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera had, as expected, a counterpart among the northern relatives of the Greeks. In Sweden, every year a life-size image of Frey, the god of fertility for both animals and plants, was paraded around the country in a wagon, attended by a beautiful girl known as the god’s wife. She also served as his 144priestess in his great temple at Upsala. Wherever the wagon with the image of the god and his blooming bride went, the people gathered to greet them and offered sacrifices for a bountiful year. At one time, a Norwegian exile named Gunnar Helming claimed to be Frey himself and rode around on the sacred wagon dressed in the god’s clothes. Everywhere the simple folk welcomed him as the deity, marveling and delighting in the idea that a god walked among them, eating and drinking just like anyone else. As the months passed and the god’s lovely young wife was seen to be pregnant, their joy increased immensely, for they thought, “This must be a sign of a fruitful season.” It happened that the weather was so mild, and the prospects for a plentiful harvest so bright, that no one could remember such a year before. But one night, the god left in a hurry, taking his wife and all the gold, silver, and fine clothing he had gathered; and although the Swedes pursued him, they couldn’t catch him. He had disappeared over the hills and far away in Norway.[480] Similar ceremonies appear to have been observed by the | Similar traditions in Gaul. | peasantry of Gaul in ancient times; for Gregory of Tours, writing in the sixth century of our era, mentions that in Autun the people used to carry an image of a goddess in a wagon pulled by oxen. The purpose of the ceremony was to ensure the safety of the crops and vines, and the farmers danced and sang in front of the image.[481] The old historian associates the goddess with Cybele, the Great Mother goddess of Phrygia, and this connection seems accurate. We learn from another source that men, worked up into a frenzy by the piercing music of flutes and the clash of cymbals, sacrificed their virility to the goddess, throwing the severed parts of themselves against her image.[482] This ritual castration was a notable aspect of the Phrygian worship of Cybele, but it is foreign to Western beliefs, though it is still practiced by a portion of the barbaric, fanatical, semi-Oriental peasantry in Russia.[483] Regardless of whether the rites originated locally or from the East, the rituals associated with the goddess of Autun closely mirrored those of the great Phrygian goddess and seem to have also been a distorted version of the Sacred Marriage, which aimed to fertilize the earth, and in which eunuchs, strangely enough, represented the goddess’s lovers.[484]
|The custom of marrying gods to images or to living persons is found also among uncivilised peoples.| Thus the custom of marrying gods either to images or to human beings was widespread among the nations of antiquity. The ideas on which such a custom is based are too crude to allow us to doubt that the civilised Babylonians, Egyptians, and Greeks inherited it from their barbarous or savage forefathers. This presumption is strengthened when we find rites of a similar kind in vogue among the lower races. Thus, for example, we are told that once upon a |Custom of the Wotyaks.| time the Wotyaks of the Malmyz district in Russia were distressed by a series of bad harvests. They did not know what to do, but at last concluded that their powerful but mischievous god Keremet must be angry at being unmarried. So a deputation of elders visited the Wotyaks of Cura and came to an understanding with them on the subject. Then they returned home, laid in a large stock of brandy, and having made ready a gaily decked waggon and horses, they drove in procession with bells ringing, as they do when they are fetching home a bride, to the sacred grove at Cura. There they ate and drank merrily all night, and next morning they cut a square piece of turf in the grove and took it home with them. After this, though it fared well with the people of Malmyz, it fared ill with the people of Cura; for in Malmyz the bread was good, but in Cura it was bad. 146Hence the men of Cura who had consented to the marriage were blamed and roughly handled by their indignant fellow-villagers. “What they meant by this marriage ceremony,” says the writer who reports it, “it is not easy to imagine. Perhaps, as Bechterew thinks, they meant to marry Keremet to the kindly and fruitful Mukylćin, the Earth-wife, in order that she might influence him for good.”[485] This carrying of turf, like a bride, in a waggon from a sacred grove resembles the Plataean custom of carting an oak log as a bride from an ancient oak forest; and we have seen ground for thinking that the Plataean ceremony, like its Wotyak counterpart, was intended as a charm to secure fertility. When wells are dug in Bengal, a wooden image of a god is made and married to the goddess of water.[486]
The custom of marrying gods to images or living beings is also observed in primitive societies. This practice of marrying gods to either images or people was common among ancient civilizations. The beliefs that underlie this practice are simple enough that we can confidently say that the civilized Babylonians, Egyptians, and Greeks inherited it from their primitive ancestors. This idea is supported when we see similar rituals among less developed cultures. For example, we learn that once upon a time, the Wotyaks of the Malmyz region in Russia faced a series of bad harvests. Unsure of what to do, they eventually concluded that their powerful yet troublesome god Keremet must be unhappy due to his unmarried status. So, a group of elders visited the Wotyaks of Cura and reached an agreement on the matter. They then returned home, stocked up on a large supply of brandy, and prepared a festively decorated wagon and horses. They paraded through the streets, ringing bells as if bringing home a bride, to the sacred grove at Cura. There, they celebrated all night with food and drink, and the following morning, they cut a square piece of turf from the grove to take back with them. After this, while the people of Malmyz enjoyed good fortune, the people of Cura suffered; in Malmyz, the bread was abundant, but in Cura, it was lacking. 146 Consequently, the men of Cura who agreed to the marriage were blamed and treated harshly by their upset fellow villagers. “What they meant by this marriage ceremony,” says the writer who recounts it, “is not easy to understand. Perhaps, as Bechterew suggests, they intended to marry Keremet to the nurturing and fertile Mukylćin, the Earth-wife, so that she might influence him positively.”[485] This act of transporting turf, like a bride, in a wagon from a sacred grove is similar to the Plataean custom of taking an oak log as a bride from an ancient oak forest; we have reason to believe that the Plataean ritual, like the Wotyak one, aimed to promote fertility. In Bengal, when wells are dug, a wooden image of a god is created and married to the goddess of water.[486]
|Custom of the Peruvian Indians.| Often the bride destined for the god is not a log or a clod, but a living woman of flesh and blood. The Indians of a village in Peru have been known to marry a beautiful girl, about fourteen years of age, to a stone shaped like a human being, which they regarded as a god (huaca). All the villagers took part in the marriage ceremony, which lasted three days, and was attended with much revelry. The girl thereafter remained a virgin and sacrificed to the idol for the people. They shewed her the utmost reverence and deemed her divine.[487] The Blackfoot Indians of North |Marriage of a woman to the Sun among the Blackfoot Indians.| America used to worship the Sun as their chief god, and they held a festival every year in his honour. Four days before the new moon of August the tribe halted on its march, and all hunting was suspended. Bodies of mounted men were on duty day and night to carry out the orders of the high priest of the Sun. He enjoined the people to fast and to take vapour baths during the four days before the new moon. Moreover, with the help of his council, he chose the Vestal who was to represent the Moon and to be married to the Sun at the festival. She might be either a virgin or a woman who had had but one husband. Any girl or woman found to have discharged the sacred duties without fulfilling the prescribed conditions was put to death. On the third 147day of preparation, after the last purification had been observed, they built a round temple of the Sun. Posts were driven into the ground in a circle; these were connected with cross-pieces, and the whole was covered with leaves. In the middle stood the sacred pole, supporting the roof. A bundle of many small branches of sacred wood, wrapped in a splendid buffalo robe, crowned the summit of the temple. The entrance was on the east, and within the sanctuary stood an altar on which rested the head of a buffalo. Beside the altar was the place reserved for the Vestal. Here, on a bed prepared for her, she slept “the sleep of war,” as it was called. Her other duties consisted in maintaining a sacred fire of fragrant herbs, in presenting a lighted pipe to her husband the Sun, and in telling the high priest the dream she dreamed during “the sleep of war.” On learning it the priest had it proclaimed to the whole nation to the beat of drum.[488] Every year about the middle of March, when the season for fishing with the drag-net began, the |Marriage of girls to fishing nets among the Hurons and Algonquins.| Algonquins and Hurons married their nets to two young girls, aged six or seven. At the wedding feast the net was placed between the two maidens, and was exhorted to take courage and catch many fish. The reason for choosing the brides so young was to make sure that they were virgins. The origin of the custom is said to have been this. One year, when the fishing season came round, the Algonquins cast their nets as usual, but took nothing. Surprised at their want of success, they did not know what to make of it, till the soul or genius (oki) of the net appeared to them in the likeness of a tall well-built man, who said to them in a great passion, “I have lost my wife and I cannot find one who has known no other man but me; that is why you do not succeed, and why you never will succeed till you give me satisfaction on this head.” So the Algonquins held a council and resolved to appease the spirit of the net by marrying him to two such very young girls that he could have no ground of complaint on that score for the future. They did so, and the fishing turned out all that could be wished. The thing got wind among their neighbours the Hurons, and they adopted the custom. A share of the 148catch was always given to the families of the two girls who acted as brides of the net for the year.[489]
Custom of the Peruvian Indigenous people. Often, the bride chosen for the god isn't just a log or a clod, but a living woman made of flesh and blood. In a village in Peru, the locals used to marry a beautiful girl, around fourteen years old, to a stone shaped like a human, which they considered a god (huaca). The entire village participated in the marriage ceremony, which lasted three days and was filled with festivities. Afterward, the girl remained a virgin and made sacrifices to the idol on behalf of the people. They treated her with the utmost respect and viewed her as divine.[487] The Blackfoot Indians of North Marriage of a woman to the Sun among the Blackfoot Indians. America used to worship the Sun as their chief god and celebrated a festival every year in his honor. Four days before the new moon in August, the tribe would stop their travels, and all hunting was paused. Groups of mounted men were on duty day and night to carry out the orders of the Sun's high priest. He instructed the people to fast and take steam baths during the four days leading up to the new moon. Additionally, with the help of his council, he selected the Vestal who would represent the Moon and marry the Sun at the festival. She could be either a virgin or a woman who had only had one husband. Any girl or woman who performed the sacred duties without meeting these requirements faced execution. On the third 147 day of preparation, after the final purification, they constructed a round temple for the Sun. Posts were driven into the ground in a circle, connected by cross-pieces and covered with leaves. In the center stood the sacred pole supporting the roof. A bundle of many small branches from sacred wood, wrapped in a beautiful buffalo robe, topped the temple. The entrance faced east, and inside the sanctuary was an altar with the head of a buffalo resting on it. Beside the altar was the designated spot for the Vestal. Here, on a bed made for her, she slept "the sleep of war," as it was called. Her responsibilities included maintaining a sacred fire of fragrant herbs, offering a lighted pipe to her husband the Sun, and sharing the dream she had during "the sleep of war" with the high priest. Upon learning her dream, the priest announced it to the entire nation accompanied by drumbeats.[488] Every year around mid-March, when the drag-net fishing season began, the |Marriage of girls to fishing nets among the Hurons and Algonquins.| Algonquins and Hurons married their nets to two young girls, aged six or seven. At the wedding feast, the net was placed between the two maidens, who were encouraged to be brave and catch lots of fish. The reason for choosing such young brides was to ensure they were virgins. The origin of this custom is said to be this: One year, when the fishing season arrived, the Algonquins cast their nets as usual but caught nothing. Confused about their bad luck, they soon realized that the spirit of the net, appearing as a tall, strong man, had come to them in anger, saying, "I have lost my wife, and I can't find another who has been with no other man but me; that's why you aren't succeeding, and you won't succeed until you make this right." So, the Algonquins held a meeting and decided to appease the spirit of the net by marrying him to two very young girls, ensuring that he wouldn't have any reason to complain in the future. They followed through with the plan, and the fishing turned out to be excellent. Word got around to their neighbors, the Hurons, who adopted the custom as well. A portion of the catch was always given to the families of the two girls who acted as the brides of the net for that year.[489]
|Sacred Marriage of the Sun-god and Earth-goddess among the Oraons.| The Oraons of Bengal worship the Earth as a goddess, and annually celebrate her marriage with the Sun-god Dharmē at the time when the sāl tree is in blossom. The ceremony is as follows. All bathe, then the men repair to the sacred grove (sarnā), while the women assemble at the house of the village priest. After sacrificing some fowls to the Sun-god and the demon of the grove, the men eat and drink. “The priest is then carried back to the village on the shoulders of a strong man. Near the village the women meet the men and wash their feet. With beating of drums and singing, dancing, and jumping, all proceed to the priest’s house, which has been decorated with leaves and flowers. Then the usual form of marriage is performed between the priest and his wife, symbolizing the supposed union between Sun and Earth. After the ceremony all eat and drink and make merry; they dance and sing obscene songs, and finally indulge in the vilest orgies. The object is to move the mother earth to become fruitful.”[490] Thus the Sacred Marriage of the Sun and Earth, personated by the priest and his wife, is celebrated as a charm to ensure the fertility of the ground; and for the same purpose, on the principle of homoeopathic magic, the people indulge in a licentious orgy. Among the Sulka of New Britain, at the village of Kolvagat, a certain man has charge of two stone figures which are called respectively “Our grandfather” (ngur es) and “Our grandmother” (ngur pei). They are said to be kept in a house built specially for the purpose. Fruits of the field are offered to them and left beside them to rot. When their guardian puts the two figures with their faces turned towards each other, the plantations are believed to flourish; but when he sets them back to back, there is dearth and the people suffer from eruptions on the skin.[491] 149This turning of the two images face to face may be regarded as a simple form of Sacred Marriage between the two divine powers represented by them, who are clearly supposed to control the fertility of the plantations.
|Sacred Marriage of the Sun God and Earth Goddess among the Oraons.| The Oraons of Bengal worship the Earth as a goddess and celebrate her marriage to the Sun-god Dharmē each year when the sāl tree is in bloom. The ceremony goes like this: Everyone bathes, then the men head to the sacred grove (sarnā), while the women gather at the village priest's house. After sacrificing some chickens to the Sun-god and the spirit of the grove, the men eat and drink. “Then the priest is carried back to the village on the shoulders of a strong man. Near the village, the women meet the men and wash their feet. With drums beating, singing, dancing, and jumping, everyone proceeds to the priest’s house, which has been decorated with leaves and flowers. Then the traditional marriage ceremony takes place between the priest and his wife, symbolizing the union of the Sun and the Earth. After the ceremony, everyone eats, drinks, and celebrates; they dance and sing raunchy songs, and finally, they engage in wild orgies. The goal is to encourage Mother Earth to be fruitful.”[490] So, the Sacred Marriage of the Sun and Earth, represented by the priest and his wife, is celebrated as a way to ensure the fertility of the land; and for the same reason, following the idea of magical homoeopathy, the people take part in a wild orgy. Among the Sulka of New Britain, in the village of Kolvagat, a man is responsible for two stone figures known as “Our grandfather” (ngur es) and “Our grandmother” (ngur pei). They are said to be kept in a house built specifically for them. Fruits from the field are offered to them and left to decay beside them. When their guardian faces the two figures toward each other, the crops are believed to thrive; but when he turns them back to back, there is famine, and the people suffer from skin eruptions.[491] 149This positioning of the two figures facing each other can be seen as a basic form of Sacred Marriage between the two divine powers represented by them, who are thought to have control over the fertility of the crops.
|Marriage of women to gods in India and Africa.| At the village of Bas Doda, in the Gurgaon district of North-Western India, a fair is held on the twenty-sixth of the month Chait and the two following days. We are told that formerly girls of the Dhinwar class used to be married to the god at these festivals, and that they always died soon afterwards. Of late years the practice is said to have been discontinued.[492] In Behar during the month of Sawan (August) crowds of women, calling themselves Nagin or “wives of the snake,” go about for two and a half days begging; during this time they may neither sleep under a roof nor eat salt. Half the proceeds of their begging is given to Brahmans, and the other half spent in salt and sweet-meats, which are eaten by all the villagers.[493] Amongst the Ewe-speaking peoples of the Slave Coast in West Africa human wives of gods are very common. In Dahomey they swarm, and it has even been estimated that every fourth woman is devoted to the service of some deity. The chief business of these female votaries is prostitution. In every town there is at least one seminary where the handsomest girls, between ten and twelve years of age, are trained. They stay for three years, learning the chants and dances peculiar to the worship of the gods, and prostituting themselves to the priests and the inmates of the male seminaries. At the end of their noviciate they become public harlots. But no disgrace attaches to their profession, for it is believed that they are married to the god, and that their excesses are caused and directed by him. Strictly speaking, they should confine their favours to the male worshippers at the temple, but in practice they bestow them indiscriminately. Children born of such unions belong to the deity. As the wives of a god, these sacred women may not marry. But they are not bound to the service of the divinity for life. Some only bear his name and 150sacrifice to him on their birthdays.[494] Amongst these polygamous West African gods the sacred python seems to be particularly associated with the fertility of the earth; for he is invoked in excessively wet, dry, and barren seasons, and the time of year when young girls are sought out to be his brides is when the millet is beginning to sprout.[495]
Marriage of women to gods in India and Africa. In the village of Bas Doda, located in the Gurgaon district of North-Western India, a fair takes place on the 26th of the month Chait and the two following days. It’s said that in the past, girls from the Dhinwar class were married to the god during these festivals, and they often died shortly after. Recently, this practice is reported to have stopped.[492] In Behar during the month of Sawan (August), groups of women, identifying themselves as Nagin or “wives of the snake,” spend two and a half days begging. During this time, they cannot sleep under a roof or eat salt. Half of what they collect goes to Brahmans, while the other half is used for salt and sweets that are shared with all the villagers.[493] Among the Ewe-speaking communities along the Slave Coast in West Africa, human wives of gods are quite common. In Dahomey, there are many, with estimates suggesting that one in four women serves some deity. The main function of these female devotees is prostitution. Each town has at least one establishment where the most attractive girls, aged between ten and twelve, receive training. They stay for three years, learning the songs and dances specific to the god's worship and engaging with the priests and male seminaries. After their training, they become public sex workers. However, there is no shame attached to their role, as it is believed that they are married to the god and that their actions are influenced and directed by him. Technically, they should limit their favors to the male worshippers at the temple, but in reality, they share them more freely. Children born from these unions belong to the deity. As wives of a god, these sacred women are not allowed to marry. However, they aren't obligated to serve the god for their entire lives. Some only take his name and make sacrifices on their birthdays.[494] Among these polygamous West African gods, the sacred python is particularly linked with the fertility of the earth. He is called upon during excessively wet, dry, and barren seasons, and the time of year when young girls are chosen to be his brides is when the millet begins to sprout.[495]
|Women married to water-gods.| It deserves to be remarked that the supernatural being to whom women are married is often a god or spirit of water. Thus Mukasa, the god of the Victoria Nyanza lake, who was propitiated by the Baganda every time they undertook a long voyage, had virgins provided for him to serve as his wives. Like the Vestals they were bound to chastity, but unlike the Vestals they seem to have been often unfaithful. The custom lasted until Mwanga was converted to Christianity.[496] The Akikuyu of British East Africa worship the snake of a certain river, and at intervals of several years they marry the snake-god to women, but especially to young girls. For this purpose huts are built by order of the medicine-men, who there consummate the sacred marriage with the credulous female devotees. If the girls do not repair to the huts of their own accord in sufficient numbers, they are seized and dragged thither to the embraces of the deity. The offspring of these mystic unions appears to be fathered on God (Ngai); certainly there are children among the Akikuyu who pass for children of God.[497] In Kengtung, one of the principal Shan states of Upper Burma, the spirit of the Nawng Tung lake is regarded as very powerful, and is propitiated with offerings in the eighth month (about July) of each year. A remarkable feature of the worship of this spirit consists in the dedication to him of four virgins in marriage. Custom requires that this should be done once in every three years. It was actually done by the late king or chief (Sawbwa) in 1893, but down to 1901 the rite had not been performed by his successor. The following are the chief features of the ceremony. The virgins who are to wed the spirit of the lake must be of pure Hkön race. Orders are sent out for all the Hkön of 151the valley to attend. From the unmarried women of suitable age, ten are selected. These are as beautiful as may be, and must be without spot or blemish. Four maidens out of the ten are chosen by lot, and carefully dressed in new garments. A festival is held, usually at the house of the Chief Minister, where the girls sit on a raised platform. Four old women, thought to be possessed by spirits, enter and remain as long as the feast lasts. During this time anything they may want, such as food, betel, or cheroots, is handed to them by the four girls. Apparently the old women pass for representatives of the spirit, and hence they are waited on by the maidens destined to be his wives. Dotage, blindness, or any great infirmity of age seems to be accounted possession by a spirit for the purposes of this function. When the feast is over, the maidens are formally presented to the spirit, along with the various sacrifices and offerings. They are next taken to the chief’s residence, where strings are tied round their wrists by the ministers and elders to guard them against ill-luck. Usually they sleep a night or two at the palace, after which they may return to their homes. There seems to be no objection to their marrying afterwards. If nothing happens to any of the four, it is believed that the spirit of the lake loves them but little; but if one of them dies soon after the ceremony, it shews that she has been accepted by him. The spirit is propitiated with the sacrifice of pigs, fowls, and sometimes a buffalo.[498]
Women married to water deities. It's worth noting that the supernatural beings to whom women are married are often water gods or spirits. For example, Mukasa, the god of Lake Victoria, was honored by the Baganda every time they went on a long journey, and virgins were offered to him to serve as his wives. Like the Vestals, they were expected to remain chaste, but unlike the Vestals, they often seemed to be unfaithful. This practice continued until Mwanga converted to Christianity.[496] The Akikuyu people of British East Africa worship a snake from a specific river and, every few years, marry the snake god to women, particularly young girls. For this, huts are built as instructed by medicine men, who then consummate the sacred marriage with the naive female followers. If enough girls don’t willingly come to the huts, they are captured and taken to be with the deity. The children born from these mystical unions are thought to be fathered by God (Ngai); indeed, there are children among the Akikuyu who are recognized as children of God.[497] In Kengtung, one of the main Shan states in Upper Burma, the spirit of Nawng Tung lake is considered very powerful and is honored with offerings in the eighth month (around July) each year. A unique aspect of the worship of this spirit involves dedicating four virgins in marriage to him. This must be done every three years. The last king or chief (Sawbwa) performed the rite in 1893, but by 1901, his successor had not done so. Here are the main features of the ceremony: the virgins who will marry the lake spirit must be of pure Hkön descent. Summons are sent out for all Hkön in the valley to attend. From the eligible unmarried women, ten are chosen, and they are as beautiful as possible, having no flaws. Four maidens from this group are selected by lot and dressed in new garments. A festival is held, usually at the Chief Minister's residence, where the girls sit on a raised platform. Four elderly women, thought to be possessed by spirits, enter and stay for the duration of the feast. During this time, anything they need, like food, betel, or cheroots, is given to them by the four girls. The old women are seen as representatives of the spirit, and thus they are served by the maidens chosen to be his wives. Being very old, blind, or having any significant disability is considered possession by a spirit for this event. Once the feast is over, the maidens are formally presented to the spirit, along with various sacrifices and offerings. They are taken to the chief’s residence, where strings are tied around their wrists by the ministers and elders to protect them from bad luck. Usually, they spend a night or two at the palace, after which they can return home. There doesn't seem to be any issue with them marrying afterwards. If none of the four experiences any misfortune, it's believed that the spirit of the lake doesn’t care for them much; however, if one of them dies shortly after the ceremony, it indicates she has been accepted by him. The spirit is honored with sacrifices of pigs, chickens, and sometimes a buffalo.[498]
|Egyptian custom of drowning a girl as a sacrifice to the Nile.| In this last custom the death of the woman is regarded as a sign that the god has taken her to himself. Sometimes, apparently, it has not been left to the discretion of the divine bridegroom to take or leave his human bride; she was made over to him once for all in death. When the Arabs conquered Egypt they learned that at the annual rise of the Nile the Egyptians were wont to deck a young virgin in gay apparel and throw her into the river as a sacrifice, in order to obtain a plentiful inundation. The Arab general abolished the barbarous custom.[499] It is 152said that under the Tang dynasty the Chinese used to marry a young girl to the Yellow River once a year by drowning her in the water. For this purpose the witches chose the fairest damsel they could find and themselves superintended the fatal marriage. At last the local mandarin, a man of sense and humanity, forbade the custom. But the witches disregarded his edicts and made their preparations for the usual murder. So when the day was come, the magistrate appeared on the scene with his soldiers and had all the witches bound and thrown into the river to drown, telling them that no doubt the god would be able to choose his bride for himself from among them.[500] The princes of Koepang, a state in the East Indian island of Timor, deemed themselves descended from crocodiles; and on |Girls sacrificed as brides of crocodiles.| the coronation of a new prince a solemn sacrifice was made to the crocodiles in presence of the people. The offerings consisted of a pig with red bristles and a young girl prettily dressed, perfumed, and decked with flowers. She was taken down to the bank of the river and set on a sacred stone in a cave. Then one of the prince’s guards summoned the crocodiles. Soon one of the beasts appeared and dragged the girl down into the water. The people thought that he married her, and that if he did not find her a maid he would bring her back.[501] On festal occasions in the same state a new-born girl was sometimes dedicated to a crocodile, and then, with certain ceremonies of consecration, brought up to be married to a priest.[502] It is said that once, when the inhabitants of Cayeli in Buru—another East Indian island—were threatened with destruction by a swarm of crocodiles, they ascribed the misfortune to a passion which the prince of the crocodiles had conceived for a certain girl. Accordingly, they compelled the damsel’s father to dress her in bridal array and deliver her over to the clutches of her crocodile lover.[503]
|The Egyptian tradition of sacrificing a girl by drowning her in the Nile.| In this final custom, the woman's death is seen as a sign that the god has taken her to himself. Sometimes, it seems, it wasn't up to the divine bridegroom to accept or reject his human bride; she was given to him permanently in death. When the Arabs took over Egypt, they discovered that during the annual rise of the Nile, the Egyptians would dress a young virgin in beautiful clothes and throw her into the river as a sacrifice to ensure a bountiful flood. The Arab general put an end to this cruel practice.[499] It is 152said that during the Tang dynasty, the Chinese would marry a young girl to the Yellow River once a year by drowning her. For this ceremony, the witches would select the prettiest girl they could find and oversee the tragic marriage themselves. Eventually, a local mandarin, who was sensible and compassionate, banned the practice. However, the witches ignored his orders and made arrangements for the usual murder. So, when the day arrived, the magistrate showed up with his soldiers and had all the witches tied up and thrown into the river to drown, telling them that the god could surely choose his bride from among them.[500] The princes of Koepang, a state on the East Indian island of Timor, believed they descended from crocodiles; and during the coronation of a new prince, a solemn sacrifice was made to the crocodiles in front of the people. The offerings included a pig with red bristles and a young girl elegantly dressed, perfumed, and adorned with flowers. She was taken to the riverbank and placed on a sacred stone in a cave. Then, one of the prince’s guards called for the crocodiles. Before long, one of the creatures emerged and pulled the girl into the water. The people believed that he married her, and if he found her unchaste, he would return her.[501] On festive occasions in the same state, a newborn girl was sometimes dedicated to a crocodile and then, with specific consecration rituals, raised to marry a priest.[502] It's said that once, when the people of Cayeli in Buru—another East Indian island—were threatened by a swarm of crocodiles, they blamed the disaster on the prince of the crocodiles having developed a crush on a particular girl. As a result, they forced the girl's father to dress her in bridal attire and hand her over to her crocodile suitor.[503]
|Virgin sacrificed as a bride to a jinnee of the sea in the Maldive Islands.| A usage of the same sort is reported to have prevailed 153in the Maldive Islands before the conversion of the inhabitants to Islam. The famous Arab traveller Ibn Batutah has described the custom and the manner in which it came to an end. He was assured by several trustworthy natives, whose names he gives, that when the people of the islands were idolaters there appeared to them every month an evil spirit among the jinn, who came from across the sea in the likeness of a ship full of burning lamps. The wont of the inhabitants, as soon as they perceived him, was to take a young virgin, and, having adorned her, to lead her to a heathen temple that stood on the shore, with a window looking out to sea. There they left the damsel for the night, and when they came back in the morning they found her a maid no more, and dead. Every month they drew lots, and he upon whom the lot fell gave up his daughter to the jinnee of the sea. In time there came to them a Berber named Abu ’lberecat, who knew the Coran by heart. He lodged in the house of an old woman of the isle of Mahal. One day, visiting his hostess, he found that she had gathered her family about her, and that the women were weeping as if there were a funeral. On enquiring into the cause of their distress, he learned that the lot had fallen on the old woman, and that she had an only daughter, who must be slain by the evil jinnee. Abu ’lberecat said to the old dame, “I will go this night instead of thy daughter.” Now he was quite beardless. So when the night was come they took him, and after he had performed his ablutions, they put him in the temple of idols. He set himself to recite the Coran; then the demon appeared at the window, but the man went on with his recitation. No sooner was the jinnee within hearing of the holy words than he dived into the sea. When morning broke, the old woman and her family and the people of the island came, according to their custom, to carry away the girl and burn her body. They found the stranger repeating the Coran, and took him to their king, whose name was Chenourazah, and made him relate his adventure. The king was astonished at it. The Berber proposed to the king that he should embrace Islam. Chenourazah said to him, “Tarry with us till next month; if thou shalt do what thou hast done, and shalt escape from the evil jinnee, I will 154be converted.” The stranger abode with the idolaters, and God disposed the king’s heart to receive the true faith. So before the month was out he became a Mussalman, he and his wives and his children and the people of his court. And when the next month began, the Berber was conducted to the temple of idols; but the demon did not appear, and the Berber set himself to recite the Coran till break of day. Then the Sultan and his subjects broke the idols and demolished the temple. The people of the island embraced Islam and sent messengers to the other isles, and their inhabitants were converted likewise. But by reason of the demon many of the Maldive Islands were depopulated before their conversion to Islam. When Ibn Batutah himself landed in the country he knew nothing of these things. One night, as he was going about his business, he heard of a sudden people saying in a loud voice, “There is no God but God,” and “God is great.” He saw children carrying copies of the Coran on their heads, and women beating on basins and vessels of copper. He was astonished at what they did, and he said, “What has happened?” They answered, “Dost thou not behold the sea?” He looked towards the sea, and beheld in the darkness, as it were, a great ship full of burning lamps and cressets. They said to him, “That is the demon. It is his wont to shew himself once a month; but after we have done that which thou hast seen, he returns to his place and does us no manner of harm.”[504]
A virgin was offered as a bride to a sea spirit in the Maldives. This practice reportedly existed in the Maldives before the locals converted to Islam. The famous Arab traveler Ibn Batutah described the custom and how it ended. He was informed by several reliable locals, whose names he mentioned, that when the islanders were idolaters, an evil spirit among the jinn appeared to them every month, coming from across the sea in the form of a ship filled with burning lamps. The people’s practice was to take a young virgin as soon as they saw him, dress her up, and lead her to a pagan temple on the shore, which had a window facing the sea. They left the girl there overnight, and when they returned in the morning, they found she was no longer alive and had lost her virginity. Every month, they drew lots, and whoever's lot was drawn had to give up his daughter to the sea spirit. Eventually, a Berber named Abu ‘lberecat arrived, who had memorized the Quran. He stayed with an old woman on the island of Mahal. One day, while visiting her, he found her family gathered around her, and the women were crying as if there had been a funeral. When he asked what was wrong, he learned that the lot had fallen on the old woman and that her only daughter had to be sacrificed to the evil spirit. Abu ‘lberecat said to her, “I will go in place of your daughter tonight.” He had no beard at all, so when night came, they took him, and after he prepared himself ritually, they placed him in the idol temple. He started to recite the Quran; then the demon appeared at the window, but he continued with his recitation. As soon as the jinn heard the holy words, he dove into the sea. When morning came, the old woman and her family and the people of the island came, as per their custom, to retrieve the girl’s body to burn it. Instead, they found the stranger reciting the Quran and took him to their king, named Chenourazah, who was amazed by his story. The Berber suggested that the king embrace Islam. Chenourazah replied, “Stay with us until next month; if you can do what you did again and escape the evil spirit, I will convert.” The stranger stayed with the idolaters, and God opened the king’s heart to accept the true faith. Before the month was over, he, along with his wives, children, and court members, all became Muslims. When the next month arrived, the Berber was taken to the idol temple, but the demon did not show up, so the Berber recited the Quran until dawn. Then the Sultan and his subjects smashed the idols and tore down the temple. The islanders converted to Islam and sent messengers to the other islands, leading to their conversions as well. However, due to the demon, many of the Maldives were depopulated before they embraced Islam. When Ibn Batutah arrived in the country, he knew nothing of these events. One night, while he was out, he suddenly heard people shouting, “There is no God but God,” and “God is great.” He saw children carrying copies of the Quran on their heads and women banging on copper basins and vessels. He was astonished by their actions and asked, “What has happened?” They replied, “Don’t you see the sea?” He looked towards the sea and saw, in the darkness, what looked like a large ship full of burning lamps and torches. They told him, “That is the demon. He usually reveals himself once a month; but after we do what you see us doing, he goes back and doesn’t harm us.”[504]
|The story based on the phosphorescence of the sea.| It occurred to me that this myth of the demon lover may have been based on some physical phenomenon, electrical, lunar, or otherwise, which is periodically seen at night in the Maldive Islands. Accordingly I consulted Professor J. Stanley Gardiner, our foremost authority on the archipelago. His answer, which confirms my conjecture, runs thus: “A peculiar phosphorescence, like the glow of a lamp hidden by a roughened glass shade, is occasionally visible on lagoon shoals in the Maldives. I imagine it to have been due to some single animal with a greater phosphorescence than any at present known to us. A periodical appearance at some 155phase of the moon due to reproduction is not improbable and has parallels. The myth still exists in the Maldives, but in a rather different form.” He adds that “a number of these animals might of course appear on some shoal near Male,” the principal island of the group. To the eyes of the ignorant and superstitious such a mysterious glow, suddenly lighting up the sea in the dusk of the evening, might well appear a phantom ship, hung with burning lamps, bearing down on the devoted islands, and in the stillness of night the roar of the surf on the barrier reef might sound in their ears like the voice of the demon calling for his prey.[505]
The tale explores the glowing light of the ocean. I realized that this myth of the demon lover might have been inspired by some physical phenomenon, whether electrical, lunar, or something else, that occasionally appears at night in the Maldives. So, I spoke with Professor J. Stanley Gardiner, the leading expert on the archipelago. His response, which supports my idea, goes like this: “A strange phosphorescence, resembling the glow of a lamp obscured by a roughened glass shade, can sometimes be seen on lagoon shoals in the Maldives. I suspect it might have been caused by a particular animal that glows more than any currently known to us. A regular appearance during a certain phase of the moon due to reproduction isn’t unlikely and has similar examples. The myth still persists in the Maldives, but in a different form.” He also mentions that “a number of these animals could certainly show up on some shoal near Male,” the main island of the group. To the eyes of the uneducated and superstitious, such a mysterious light suddenly illuminating the sea at dusk could easily seem like a ghost ship, adorned with blazing lamps, approaching the devoted islands. And in the stillness of night, the roar of the surf on the barrier reef might echo in their ears like the voice of the demon calling for his prey.[505]
§ 3. Sacrifices to Water-spirits
|Stories of the Perseus and Andromeda type.| Ibn Batutah’s narrative of the demon lover and his mortal brides closely resembles a well-known type of folk-tale, of which versions have been found from Japan and Annam in the East to Senegambia, Scandinavia, and Scotland in the West. The story varies in details from people to people, but as commonly told it runs thus. A certain country is infested by a many-headed serpent, dragon, or other monster, which would destroy the whole people if a human victim, generally a virgin, were not delivered up to him periodically. Many victims have perished, and at last it has fallen to the lot of the king’s own daughter to be sacrificed. She is exposed to the monster, but the hero of the tale, generally a young man of humble birth, interposes in her behalf, slays the monster, and receives the hand of the princess as his reward. In many of the tales the monster, who is sometimes described as a serpent, inhabits the water of a sea, a lake, or a fountain. In other versions he is a serpent or dragon who takes possession of the springs of water, and only allows the water to flow or the people to make use of it on condition of receiving a human victim.[506]
|Stories like those of Perseus and Andromeda.| Ibn Batutah’s story about the demon lover and his mortal brides is really similar to a famous type of folk tale, with versions found everywhere from Japan and Annam in the East to Senegambia, Scandinavia, and Scotland in the West. The details change from culture to culture, but the basic story goes like this. In a certain land, there’s a many-headed serpent, dragon, or other monster that threatens to wipe out the entire population unless a human sacrifice, usually a virgin, is given to it regularly. Many victims have been lost, and eventually, it becomes the king’s own daughter who must be sacrificed. She is left exposed to the monster, but a hero, often a young man of humble background, steps in to save her, kills the monster, and is rewarded with the princess’s hand in marriage. In many of these tales, the monster, which is sometimes depicted as a serpent, lives in the waters of a sea, lake, or spring. In other versions, it’s a serpent or dragon that controls the water sources and allows them to be used only if given a human sacrifice.[506]
156|Water-spirits conceived as serpents or dragons.| It would probably be a mistake to dismiss all these tales as pure inventions of the story-teller. Rather we may suppose that they reflect a real custom of sacrificing girls or women to be the wives of water-spirits, who are very often conceived as great serpents or dragons. Elsewhere I have cited many instances of this belief in serpent-shaped spirits of water;[507] here it may be worth while to add a few more. Thus the Warramunga of Central Australia perform elaborate ceremonies to appease or coerce a gigantic, but purely mythical water-snake who is said to have destroyed a number of people.[508] Some of the natives of western Australia fear to approach large pools, supposing them to be inhabited by a great serpent, who would kill them if they dared to drink or draw water there by night.[509] The Indians of New Granada believed that when the mother of all mankind, named Bachue, was grown old, she and her husband plunged into the Lake of Iguague, where they were changed into two enormous serpents, which still live in the lake and sometimes shew themselves.[510] The Oyampi Indians of French Guiana imagine that each waterfall has a guardian in the shape of a monstrous snake, who lies hidden under the eddy of the cascade, but has sometimes been seen to lift up its huge head. To see it is fatal. Canoe and Indians are then dragged down to the bottom, where the monster swallows all the men, and sometimes the canoe also. Hence the Oyampis never name a waterfall till they have passed it, for fear that the snake at the bottom of the water might hear its name and attack the rash intruders.[511] The Huichol Indians of Mexico adore water. Springs are sacred, and the gods in them are mothers or serpents, that rise with the clouds and descend as fructifying rain.[512] The Tarahumares, another Indian tribe of Mexico, think 157that every river, pool, and spring has its serpent, who causes the water to come up out of the earth. All these water-serpents are easily offended; hence the Tarahumares place their houses some little way from the water, and will not sleep near it when they are on a journey. Whenever they construct weirs to catch fish, they take care to offer fish to the water-serpent of the river; and when they are away from home and are making pinole, that is, toasted maize-meal, they drop the first of the pinole into the water as an offering to the serpents, who would otherwise try to seize them and chase them back to their own land.[513] In Basutoland the rivers Ketane and Maletsunyane tumble, with a roar of waters and a cloud of iridescent spray, into vast chasms hundreds of feet deep. The Basutos fear to approach the foot of these huge falls, for they think that a spirit in the shape of a gigantic snake haunts the seething cauldron which receives the falling waters.[514]
156Water spirits are depicted as serpents or dragons. It would likely be a mistake to view all these stories as mere inventions of the storyteller. Instead, we could assume that they reflect an actual practice of sacrificing girls or women to become the wives of water spirits, who are often imagined as large serpents or dragons. In other contexts, I have mentioned many examples of this belief in serpentine water spirits;[507] and here it might be useful to add a few more. For example, the Warramunga people of Central Australia carry out elaborate rituals to appease or control a gigantic, though entirely mythical, water snake said to have killed several people.[508] Some indigenous people of Western Australia are reluctant to approach large ponds, believing them to be inhabited by a great serpent that would attack if they tried to drink or draw water at night.[509] The indigenous people of New Granada believed that when the mother of all humanity, named Bachue, grew old, she and her husband plunged into the Lake of Iguague, where they transformed into two enormous serpents that still inhabit the lake and occasionally make appearances.[510] The Oyampi Indians of French Guiana think each waterfall has a guardian in the form of a gigantic snake, which hides beneath the swirling waters but has sometimes been seen lifting its massive head. Seeing it is considered fatal. Canoes and their occupants are pulled down to the depths, where the monster devours all the men and sometimes the canoe as well. Thus, the Oyampis never name a waterfall until they have passed it, fearing that the snake at the bottom may hear its name and attack the daring intruders.[511] The Huichol Indians of Mexico hold a reverence for water. Springs are sacred, and the gods within them are either mothers or serpents that rise with the clouds and come down as nourishing rain.[512] The Tarahumares, another indigenous tribe of Mexico, believe that every river, pond, and spring has its own serpent that brings water up from the earth. These water serpents are easily offended; therefore, the Tarahumares build their houses a short distance from the water and avoid sleeping near it while traveling. Whenever they construct weirs to catch fish, they always offer fish to the river's water serpent, and when they are away from home and making pinole, which is toasted maize meal, they sprinkle the first of the pinole into the water as an offering to the serpents, who might otherwise try to seize them and drive them back to their homeland.[513] In Basutoland, the Ketane and Maletsunyane rivers crash down with a roaring sound and a cloud of iridescent spray into vast chasms hundreds of feet deep. The Basutos are afraid to approach the base of these enormous waterfalls, believing that a spirit in the form of a huge snake haunts the turbulent pool collecting the falling waters.[514]
|Sacrifices of human beings to water-spirits.| The perils of the sea, of floods, of rapid rivers, of deep pools and lakes, naturally account for the belief that water-spirits are fickle and dangerous beings, who need to be appeased by sacrifices. Sometimes these sacrifices consist of animals, such as horses and bulls,[515] but often the victims are human beings. Thus at the mouth of the Bonny River there is a dangerous bar on which vessels trading to the river have been lost. This is bad for business, and accordingly the negroes used to sacrifice a young man annually to the spirit of the bar. The handsomest youth was chosen for the purpose, and for many months before the ceremony he lodged with the king. The people regarded him as sacred or ju-ju, and whatever he touched, even when he passed casually through the streets, shared his sanctity and 158belonged to him. Hence whenever he appeared in public the inhabitants fled before him, lest he should touch their garments or anything they might be carrying. He was kept in ignorance of the fate in store for him, and no one might inform him of it under pain of death. On an appointed day he was taken out to the bar in a canoe and induced to jump into the water. Then the rowers plied their paddles and left him to drown. A similar ceremony used to be performed at the New Calabar River, but the victim was a culprit. He was thrown into the water to be devoured by the sharks, which are there the principal fetish or ju-ju.[516] The chiefs of Duke Town, on the same coast of Guinea, were wont to make an annual offering to the river. A young woman of a light colour, or an albino, was chosen as the victim. On a set day they decked her with finery, took her down to Parrot Island, and with much ceremony plunged her in the stream. The fishermen of Efiat, at the mouth of the river, are said still to observe the rite in order to ensure a good catch of fish.[517] The King of Dahomey used to send from time to time a man, dressed out with the insignia of office, to Whydah to be drowned at the mouth of the river. The intention of the sacrifice was to attract merchant ships.[518] When a fisherman has been carried off by a crocodile, some of the natives on the banks of Lake Tanganyika take this for a sign that the spirit deems himself slighted, since he is obliged to come and find victims for himself instead of having them presented to him. Hence the sorcerers generally decide that a second victim is wanted; so, having chosen one, they bind him hand and foot and fling him into the lake to feed the crocodiles.[519] The crater of the volcano Tolucan in Mexico encloses two lakes of clear cold water, surrounded by gloomy forests of pine. Here, in the eighteenth month of the Toltec year, answering to February, children beautifully dressed and decked with flowers and gay feathers used to be drowned as 159an offering to Tlaloc, the god of the waters, who had a fine temple on the spot.[520] The Chams of Annam have traditions of a time when living men were thrown into the sea every year in order to propitiate the deities who looked after the fishing, and when children of good family were drowned in the water-channels in order that the rice-fields might be duly irrigated.[521]
|Human sacrifices to water spirits.| The dangers of the sea, floods, fast rivers, and deep pools and lakes naturally explain the belief that water spirits are unpredictable and dangerous beings who must be appeased with sacrifices. Sometimes these sacrifices involved animals, like horses and bulls,[515] but often the victims were humans. For example, at the mouth of the Bonny River, there is a hazardous bar where trading vessels have been lost. This has negative consequences for business, so the locals used to sacrifice a young man every year to the spirit of the bar. The most handsome youth was selected for this purpose and lived with the king for many months before the ceremony. The community viewed him as sacred or ju-ju, and anything he touched, even casually while walking through the streets, became blessed and belonged to him. Therefore, whenever he appeared in public, people would flee to avoid him touching their clothing or belongings. He was kept unaware of his impending fate, and anyone who informed him would face death. On the designated day, he was taken to the bar in a canoe and urged to jump into the water. Then the rowers paddled away, leaving him to drown. A similar ceremony was held at the New Calabar River, but the victim in that case was a wrongdoer, thrown into the water to be eaten by sharks, which were considered the main fetish or ju-ju.[516] The leaders of Duke Town, also on the coast of Guinea, traditionally made an annual offering to the river. A young woman of light skin or an albino was chosen as the sacrifice. On a specific day, they adorned her with fine clothes, took her to Parrot Island, and ceremoniously plunged her into the river. The fishermen of Efiat, at the river's mouth, are said to still perform this rite to ensure a good fish catch.[517] The King of Dahomey occasionally sent a man dressed in official insignia to Whydah to be drowned at the river's mouth. The purpose of the sacrifice was to attract merchant ships.[518] When a fisherman is taken by a crocodile, some locals along Lake Tanganyika view this as a sign that the spirit feels offended, since he has to find his own victims instead of having them offered to him. As a result, sorcerers typically decide that another victim is needed; they select one, bind him hand and foot, and toss him into the lake to feed the crocodiles.[519] The crater of the Tolucan volcano in Mexico contains two clear, cold lakes surrounded by dark pine forests. In the eighteenth month of the Toltec calendar, corresponding to February, beautifully dressed children adorned with flowers and colorful feathers were drowned as an offering to Tlaloc, the water god, who had a magnificent temple there.[520] The Chams of Annam have stories of a time when living people were thrown into the sea every year to appease the deities that protected fishing, and when children from good families were drowned in irrigation canals to ensure proper watering of the rice fields.[521]
|Water-spirits conceived as beneficent beings who dispense fertility.| This last instance brings out a more kindly aspect of the water-spirits. If these beings are dreaded by the fisherman and the mariner who tempt the angry sea, and by the huntsman who has to swim or ford the rushing rivers, they are viewed in a different light by the shepherd and the husbandman in hot and arid lands, where the pasture for the cattle and the produce of the fields alike depend on the supply of water, and where prolonged drought means starvation and death for man and beast. To men in such circumstances the spirits of the waters are beneficent beings, the dispensers of life and fertility, whether their blessings descend as rain from heaven or well up as springs of bubbling water in the parched desert. In the Semitic East, for example, where the rainfall is precarious or confined to certain seasons, the face of the earth is bare and withered for most of the year, except where it is kept fresh by irrigation or by the percolation of underground water. Here, accordingly, the local gods or Baalim had their seats originally in spots of natural fertility, by fountains and the banks of rivers, in groves and tangled thickets and green glades of mountain hollows and deep watercourses. As lords of the springs and subterranean waters they were supposed to be the sources of all the gifts of the land, the corn, the wine and the oil, the wool and the flax, the vines and the fig-trees.[522]
Water spirits are seen as benevolent beings that provide fertility. This last example highlights a more benevolent side of the water spirits. While these beings are feared by fishermen and sailors who challenge the furious ocean, and by hunters who must cross swift rivers, they are seen differently by shepherds and farmers in hot, dry areas where the well-being of livestock and crops relies on water supply, and where extended drought leads to starvation and death for both humans and animals. For people in such situations, the spirits of the waters are helpful beings, providing life and fertility, whether their blessings come down as rain from the sky or spring up as bubbling water in the parched desert. In the Semitic East, for instance, where rain is unreliable or limited to certain seasons, the land remains bare and dry for most of the year, except where it's kept alive through irrigation or underground water sources. Consequently, the local gods or Baalim originally inhabited places of natural fertility, like springs and riverbanks, groves, dense thickets, and green clearings in mountain valleys and deep water ravines. As rulers of the springs and underground waters, they were believed to be the origin of all the gifts of the land: grain, wine, oil, wool, flax, vines, and fig trees.[522]
|Water-spirits conceived as bestowing offspring on women.| Where water-spirits are thus conceived as the authors of fertility in general, it is natural that they should be held to extend the sphere of their operations to men and animals; in other words, that the power of bestowing offspring on barren women and cattle should be ascribed to them. This ascription comes out clearly in a custom observed by Syrian 160women at the present day. Some of the channels of the Orontes are used for irrigation, but at a certain season of the year the streams are turned off and the dry bed of the channels is cleared of mud and any other matter that might clog the flow of the water. The first night that the water is turned on again, it is said to have the power of procreation. Accordingly barren women take their places in the channel, waiting for the embrace of the water-spirit in the rush of the stream.[523] Again, a pool of water in a cave at Juneh enjoys the same reputation. The people think a childless couple who bathe in the water will have offspring.[524] In India many wells are supposed to cure sterility, which is universally attributed to the agency of evil spirits. The water of seven wells is collected on the night of the Diwali or feast of lamps, and barren women bathe in it in order to remove their reproach. There is a well in Orissa where the priests throw betel-nuts into the mud. Childless women scramble for the nuts, and she who finds them will be a happy mother before long. For the same reason, after childbirth an Indian mother is taken to worship the village well. She walks round it in the course of the sun and smears the platform with red lead, which may be a substitute for blood. A Khandh priest will take a childless woman to the meeting of two streams, where he makes an offering to the god of births and sprinkles the woman with water in order to rid her of the influence of the spirit who hinders conception.[525] In the Punjaub a barren woman who desires to become a mother will sometimes be let down into a well on a Sunday or Tuesday night during the Diwali festival. After stripping herself of her clothes and bathing in the water, she is drawn up again and performs the chaukpurna ceremony with incantations taught by a wizard. When this ceremony has been performed, the well is supposed to run dry; its quickening and fertilising virtue has been abstracted by the woman.[526] The Indian sect of the Vallabhacharyas or Maharajas believe that bathing in a sacred well is a remedy for 161barrenness in women.[527] In antiquity the waters of Sinuessa in Campania were thought to bless childless wives with offspring.[528] To this day Syrian women resort to hot springs in order to obtain children from the saint or jinnee of the waters.[529] In Scotland the same fertilising virtue used to be, and probably still is, ascribed to certain springs. Wives who wished to become mothers formerly resorted to the well of St. Fillan at Comrie, and to the wells of St. Mary at Whitekirk and in the Isle of May.[530] In the Aran Islands, off the coast of Galway, women desirous of children pray at St. Eany’s Well, by the Angels’ Walk, and the men pray at the rag well by the church of the Four Comely Ones at Onaght.[531] Child’s Well in Oxford was supposed to have the virtue of making barren women to bring forth.[532] Near Bingfield in Northumberland there is a copious sulphur spring known as the Borewell. On the Sunday following the fourth day of July, that is about Midsummer Day, according to the old style, great crowds of people used to assemble at the well from all the surrounding hamlets and villages. The scene was like a fair, stalls for the sale of refreshments being brought and set up for the occasion. The neighbouring slopes were terraced, and seats formed for the convenience of pilgrims and visitors. Barren women prayed at the well that they might become mothers. If their faith was strong enough, their prayers were heard within the year.[533]
Water spirits are thought to give children to women. Where water spirits are seen as the source of fertility in general, it makes sense that their influence would extend to men and animals as well; in other words, the ability to give offspring to barren women and livestock is often attributed to them. This belief is highlighted in a practice followed by Syrian women today. Some channels of the Orontes River are used for irrigation, but at a certain time of year, the streams are diverted, and the dry riverbeds are cleared of mud and debris that could block the water. On the first night that the water flows again, it is said to have the power of procreation. Consequently, barren women position themselves in the channel, waiting for the water spirit to embrace them in the rush of the stream.[523] Similarly, a pool of water in a cave at Juneh holds the same reputation. People believe that a childless couple who bathes in the water will conceive.[524] In India, many wells are believed to cure infertility, which is commonly attributed to evil spirits. On the night of Diwali, or the festival of lights, water from seven wells is gathered, and barren women bathe in it to lift their shame. There is a well in Orissa where priests toss betel nuts into the mud. Childless women scramble for the nuts, and whoever finds them is said to soon become a happy mother. For the same reason, after childbirth, an Indian mother is taken to worship the village well. She walks around it in the direction of the sun and smears the platform with red lead, which may symbolize blood. A Khandh priest will take a childless woman to the junction of two streams, where he offers gifts to the god of births and sprinkles her with water to rid her of the spirit that prevents conception.[525] In Punjab, a barren woman wanting to become a mother may be lowered into a well on a Sunday or Tuesday night during the Diwali festival. After removing her clothes and bathing in the water, she is pulled up and performs the chaukpurna ceremony with incantations taught by a wizard. Once this ceremony is done, the well is believed to run dry; its life-giving and fertility-giving properties having been taken by the woman.[526] The Indian sect of the Vallabhacharyas or Maharajas believes that bathing in a sacred well is a remedy for infertility in women.[527] In ancient times, the waters of Sinuessa in Campania were thought to bless childless wives with children.[528] Even today, Syrian women visit hot springs to seek children from the saint or jinnee of the waters.[529] In Scotland, certain springs have been (and likely still are) credited with similar fertility powers. Wives wishing to become mothers used to visit the well of St. Fillan at Comrie, and the wells of St. Mary at Whitekirk and on the Isle of May.[530] In the Aran Islands, off the coast of Galway, women hoping for children pray at St. Eany’s Well, while men pray at the rag well near the church of the Four Comely Ones at Onaght.[531] Child’s Well in Oxford was believed to have the ability to help barren women conceive.[532] Near Bingfield in Northumberland, there is a abundant sulphur spring known as the Borewell. On the Sunday following the fourth of July, around Midsummer Day according to the old calendar, large crowds would gather at the well from all the nearby villages and hamlets. The scene resembled a fair, with stalls for refreshments set up for the occasion. The surrounding slopes were terraced, providing seating for pilgrims and visitors. Barren women would pray at the well to become mothers, and if their faith was strong enough, their prayers would be answered within the year.[533]
|Love of river-spirits for women in Greek mythology.| In Greek mythology similar ideas of the procreative power of water meet us in the stories of the loves of rivers for women and in the legends which traced the descent of heroes and heroines from river-gods.[534] In Sophocles’s play of The Trachinian Women Dejanira tells how she was 162wooed by the river Achelous, who came to her father and claimed her hand, appearing in the likeness now of a bull, now of a serpent, and now of a being with the body of a man and the front of an ox, while streams of water flowed from his shaggy beard. She relates, too, how glad she was when Hercules presented himself and vanquished the river-god in single combat and took her to wife.[535] The legend perhaps preserves a reminiscence of that custom of providing a water-god with a human wife which has been practised elsewhere. The motive of such a custom may have varied with the particular conception which happened to prevail of the character of the water-god. Where he was supposed to be a cruel and destructive being, who drowned men and laid waste the country, a wife would be offered simply to keep him in good humour, and so prevent him from doing mischief. But where he was viewed as the procreative power on whom the fertility of the earth and the fecundity of men and animals depended, his marriage would be deemed necessary for the purpose of enabling him to discharge his beneficent functions. This belief in the amorous character of rivers comes out plainly in a custom which was observed at Troy down to classical times. Maidens about to marry were wont to bathe in the Scamander, saying as they did so, “Scamander, take my virginity.” A similar custom appears to have been observed at the river Maeander, and perhaps in other parts of the Greek world. Occasionally, it would seem, young men took advantage of the practice to ravish the girls, and the offspring of such a union was fathered on the river-god.[536] The bath which a Greek bride and bridegroom regularly took before marriage appears to have been intended to bless their union with offspring through the fertilising influence of the water-nymphs.[537]
|In Greek mythology, river spirits love women.| In Greek mythology, we find similar ideas about the creative power of water in the tales of rivers falling in love with women and in legends that traced the lineage of heroes and heroines back to river gods.[534] In Sophocles’s play The Trachinian Women, Dejanira shares how she was pursued by the river Achelous, who came to her father to ask for her hand, appearing alternately as a bull, a serpent, and a creature with a human body and an ox's head, while streams of water flowed from his shaggy beard. She also recounts her joy when Hercules showed up, defeated the river-god in a duel, and took her as his wife.[535] The legend might reflect a memory of the practice of giving a water-god a human wife, which was observed in different cultures. The purpose behind such customs might have varied depending on how the water-god was viewed. If he was seen as a cruel and destructive force, responsible for drowning people and devastating the land, a wife would be offered simply to keep him happy and prevent harm. However, if he was seen as a source of life responsible for the earth's fertility and the reproduction of people and animals, marriage would be considered essential for him to fulfill his nurturing role. This belief in the romantic aspect of rivers is evident in a custom practiced in Troy even in classical times. Maidens about to get married were known to bathe in the Scamander river, saying, “Scamander, take my virginity.” A similar practice seems to have occurred at the Maeander river and possibly other parts of the Greek world. Occasionally, young men would exploit the situation to assault the girls, and the resulting children were attributed to the river-god.[536] The bath that a Greek bride and groom took before marriage seems to have been aimed at blessing their union with children through the fertilizing influence of water nymphs.[537]
Thus it would appear that in many parts of the world a 163custom has prevailed of sacrificing human beings to water-spirits, and that in not a few cases the ceremony has taken the form of making over a woman to the spirit to be his wife, in order either to pacify his fury or to give play to his generative powers. Where the water-spirit was regarded as female, young men might be presented to her for a similar purpose, and this may be the reason why the victims sacrificed to water-spirits are sometimes males. Among civilised peoples these customs survive for the most part only in popular tales, of which the legend of Perseus and Andromeda, with its mediaeval counterpart of St. George and the Dragon, is the most familiar example. But occasionally they appear to have left traces of themselves in ceremonies and pageants. Thus at Furth in Bavaria a |Midsummer custom of slaying the dragon at Furth in Bavaria.| drama called the Slaying of the Dragon used to be acted every year about Midsummer, on the Sunday after Corpus Christi Day. Crowds of spectators flocked from the neighbourhood to witness it. The scene of the performance was the public square. On a platform stood or sat a princess wearing a golden crown on her head, and as many silver ornaments on her body as could be borrowed for the purpose. She was attended by a maid of honour. Opposite her was stationed the dragon, a dreadful monster of painted canvas stretched on a wooden skeleton and moved by two men inside. From time to time the creature would rush with gaping jaws into the dense crowd of spectators, who retreated hastily, tumbling over each other in their anxiety to escape. Then a knight in armour, attended by his men-at-arms, rode forth and asked the princess what she did “on this hard stone,” and why she looked so sad. She told him that the dragon was coming to eat her up. On that the knight bade her be of good cheer, for that with his sword he would rid the country of the monster. With that he charged the dragon, thrusting his spear into its maw and taking care to stab a bladder of bullock’s blood which was there concealed. The gush of blood which followed was an indispensable part of the show, and if the knight missed his stroke he was unmercifully jeered and taunted by the crowd. Having despatched the monster with sword and pistol, the knight then hastened to the princess and told her that he 164had slain the dragon who had so long oppressed the town. In return she tied a wreath round his arm, and announced that her noble father and mother would soon come to give them half the kingdom. The men-at-arms then escorted the knight and the princess to the tavern, there to end the day with dance and revelry. Bohemians and Bavarians came from many miles to witness this play of the Slaying of the Dragon, and when the monster’s blood streamed forth they eagerly mopped it up, along with the blood-soaked earth, in white cloths, which they afterwards laid on the flax-fields, in order that the flax might thrive and grow tall. For the “dragon’s blood” was thought to be a sure protection against witchcraft.[538] This use of the blood suffices to prove that the Slaying of the Dragon at Furth was not a mere popular spectacle, but a magical rite designed to fertilise the fields. As such it probably descended from a very remote antiquity, and may well have been invested with a character of solemnity, if not of tragedy, long before it degenerated into a farce.
Thus, it seems that in many parts of the world, a custom has developed of sacrificing humans to water spirits, and in many cases, this ritual has involved dedicating a woman to the spirit as his wife, either to appease his anger or to allow him to exert his generative powers. When the water spirit was considered female, young men could be offered to her for a similar purpose, which might explain why the victims sacrificed to water spirits are sometimes male. Among more advanced societies, these customs mainly persist in folklore, with the well-known stories of Perseus and Andromeda and the medieval tale of St. George and the Dragon being the most familiar examples. However, they occasionally seem to manifest in ceremonies and festivals. For instance, in Furth, Bavaria, a Midsummer tradition of entertaining the local populace involved a drama called the Slaying of the Dragon, performed annually around Midsummer on the Sunday after Corpus Christi. Large crowds gathered from the surrounding area to watch. The performance took place in the public square, where a princess adorned with a golden crown and as many borrowed silver ornaments as possible would sit or stand on a platform, attended by a lady-in-waiting. Opposite her stood the dragon, a fearsome creature made of painted canvas draped over a wooden frame, operated by two men inside. At times, the dragon would charge into the crowd, prompting spectators to scramble away in a panic, tripping over one another in their haste to escape. Then, a knight in armor, accompanied by his soldiers, would ride in and ask the princess what she was doing “on this hard stone” and why she looked so forlorn. She would inform him that the dragon was about to devour her. The knight would then reassure her, saying that with his sword, he would rid the land of the beast. He would then charge at the dragon, thrusting his spear into its mouth while ensuring to pierce a hidden bladder of bull's blood inside. The resulting spray of blood was a crucial part of the show, and if the knight missed his mark, the crowd would mercilessly mock and jeer at him. After defeating the creature with sword and pistol, the knight would hurry to the princess and announce that he had slain the dragon that had troubled the town for so long. In gratitude, she would place a wreath around his arm and proclaim that her noble parents would soon arrive to give them half the kingdom. The soldiers would then escort the knight and the princess to a tavern to celebrate with dancing and festivities. People from Bohemia and Bavaria traveled from afar to witness the Slaying of the Dragon, and when the dragon’s blood flowed, they eagerly soaked it up with white cloths, along with the blood-stained earth, which they later spread across flax fields, believing that the “dragon’s blood” would protect them from witchcraft. This use of the blood demonstrates that the Slaying of the Dragon in Furth was not just a simple show, but a magical ritual aimed at fertilizing the fields. It likely has roots in very ancient traditions and may have once held a sense of solemnity, if not tragedy, long before it devolved into a farce.
|St. Romain delivers Rouen from a dragon.| More famous was the dragon from which, according to legend, St. Romain delivered Rouen, and far more impressive was the ceremony with which, down to the French Revolution, the city commemorated its deliverance. The stately and beautiful edifices of the Middle Ages, which still adorn Rouen, formed a fitting background for a pageant which carried the mind back to the days when Henry II. of England and Richard Cœur-de-Lion, Dukes of Normandy, still had their palace in this ancient capital of their ancestral domains. Legend ran that about the year 520 A.D. a forest or marsh near the city was infested by a 165monstrous beast in the shape of a serpent or dragon, which every day wrought great harm to Rouen and its neighbourhood, devouring man and beast, causing boats and mariners on the river Seine to perish, and inflicting other woes innumerable on the commonwealth. At last the archbishop, St. Romain, resolved to beard the monster in his den. He could get none to accompany him but a prisoner condemned to death for murder. On their approach the dragon made as though he would swallow them up; but the archbishop, relying on the divine help, made the sign of the cross, and at once the monster became so gentle that he suffered the saint to bind him with his stole and the murderer to lead him like a lamb to the slaughter. Thus they went in procession to a public place in Rouen, where the dragon was burnt in the presence of the people and its ashes cast into the river. The murderer was pardoned for his services; and the fame of the deed having gone abroad, St. Romain, or his successor St. Ouen, whose memory is enshrined in a church of dreamlike beauty at Rouen, obtained from King Dagobert in perpetuity a privilege for the archbishop, dean, and canons of the cathedral, to wit, that every year on Ascension Day, the anniversary of the miracle, they should |In memory of this deliverance the archbishop and chapter of Rouen were annually allowed to pardon a malefactor on Ascension Day.| pardon and release from prison a malefactor, whomsoever they chose, and whatever the crime of which he had been guilty. This privilege, unique in France, was claimed by the chapter of the cathedral as early as the beginning of the thirteenth century; for in 1210, the governor of the castle of Rouen having boggled at giving up a prisoner, the chapter appealed to King Philip Augustus, who caused an enquiry to be made into the claim. At this enquiry nine witnesses swore that never in the reigns of Henry II. and Richard Cœur-de-Lion, Dukes of Normandy, had there been any difficulty raised on the point in question. Henceforward the chapter seems to have enjoyed the right without opposition down to 1790, when it exercised its privilege of mercy for the last time. Next year the face of things had changed; there was neither archbishop nor chapter at Rouen. A register of the names of the prisoners who were pardoned, together with an account of their crimes, was kept and still exists. Only a few of the names in the thirteenth century 166are known, and there are many gaps in the first half of the fourteenth century; but from that time onward the register is nearly complete. Most of the crimes appear to have been murder or homicide.
St. Romain rescues Rouen from a dragon. The dragon from which St. Romain, according to legend, saved Rouen is well-known, and the ceremony with which the city celebrated its deliverance, right up until the French Revolution, was far more impressive. The grand and beautiful buildings from the Middle Ages that still decorate Rouen provided a perfect backdrop for a celebration that reminded people of the days when Henry II of England and Richard the Lionheart, Dukes of Normandy, had their palace in this ancient capital of their family lands. The legend goes that around the year 520 A.D., a forest or marsh near the city was plagued by a monstrous creature resembling a serpent or dragon, which terrorized Rouen and its surroundings, devouring people and animals, causing boats and sailors on the Seine River to perish, among countless other misfortunes for the community. Finally, the archbishop, St. Romain, decided to confront the beast in its lair. He could find no one to accompany him except a prisoner sentenced to death for murder. As they approached, the dragon appeared ready to swallow them whole; however, the archbishop, relying on divine support, made the sign of the cross, and immediately the monster became so docile that it allowed the saint to tie it with his stole while the murderer led it like a lamb to slaughter. They marched in procession to a public area in Rouen, where the dragon was burned in front of the people, with its ashes cast into the river. The murderer was pardoned for his efforts; and after news of the event spread, St. Romain, or his successor St. Ouen, honored in a church of stunning beauty in Rouen, secured from King Dagobert a permanent privilege for the archbishop, dean, and canons of the cathedral: that every year on Ascension Day, the anniversary of the miracle, they should To commemorate this deliverance, the archbishop and chapter of Rouen were given the right to pardon a criminal every year on Ascension Day. pardon and release a prisoner of their choosing, regardless of the crime they had committed. This unique privilege in France was claimed by the cathedral chapter as early as the beginning of the thirteenth century; in 1210, when the governor of the Rouen castle hesitated to release a prisoner, the chapter appealed to King Philip Augustus, who ordered an investigation into the claim. During this inquiry, nine witnesses testified that there had never been any dispute about this matter during the reigns of Henry II and Richard the Lionheart, Dukes of Normandy. After that, it seems the chapter enjoyed this right without challenge until 1790, when they exercised their mercy privilege for the last time. The following year, everything had changed; there was no longer an archbishop or chapter in Rouen. A register of the names of pardoned prisoners, along with a record of their crimes, was kept and still exists today. Only a few names from the thirteenth century are known, with many gaps in the first half of the fourteenth century; but from that point on, the register is mostly complete. Most offenses seem to have been murder or homicide.
|Ceremony of the annual pardon and release of a prisoner at Rouen.| The proceedings, on the great day of pardon, varied somewhat in different ages. The following account is based in great part on a description written in the reign of Henry III. and published at Rouen in 1587. Fifteen days before Ascension Day the canons of the cathedral summoned the king’s officers to stop all proceedings against criminals detained in prison. Afterwards, on the Monday of Rogations, two canons examined the prisoners and took their confessions, going from prison to prison till Ascension Day. On that day, about seven o’clock in the morning, all the canons assembled in the chapter-house and invoked the grace of the Holy Spirit by the hymn Veni creator Spiritus, and other prayers. Also they made oath to reveal none of the depositions of the criminals, but to hold them sacred under the seal of confession. The depositions having been taken and the commissioners heard, the chapter, after due deliberation, named him or her among the prisoners who was to receive the benefit of the privilege. A card bearing the prisoner’s name and sealed with the seal of the chapter was then sent to the members of parliament, who were sitting in full assembly, clad in their red robes, in the great hall of the palace to receive the nomination of the prisoner and to give it legal effect. The criminal was then released and pardoned. Immediately the minster bells began to ring, the doors of the cathedral were flung open, the organ pealed, hymns were sung, candles lit, and every solemnity observed in token of joy and gladness. Further, in presence of the conclave all the depositions of the other prisoners were burnt on the altar of the chapter-house. Then the archbishop and the whole of the clergy of the cathedral went in procession to the great square known as the Old Tower near the river, carrying the shrines and reliquaries of the minster, and accompanied by the joyous music of hautboys and clarions. Apparently the Old Tower occupies the site of the ancient castle of the Dukes of Normandy, and the custom of going thither in procession 167came down from a time when the prisoners were detained in the castle-dungeons. In the square there stood, and still stands, a platform of stone raised high above the ground and approached by flights of steps. Thither they brought the shrine (fierte) of St. Romain, and thither too was led the pardoned prisoner. He ascended the platform, and after confessing his sins and receiving absolution he thrice lifted the shrine of St. Romain, while the innumerable multitude assembled in the square cried aloud, each time the shrine was lifted, “Noel! Noel! Noel!” which was understood to mean “God be with us!” That done, the procession re-formed and returned to the cathedral. At the head walked a beadle clad in violet, who bore on a pole the wicker effigy of the winged dragon of Notre Dame, holding a large fish in its mouth. The whispers and cries excited by the appearance of the monster were drowned in the loud fanfares of cornets, clarions, and trumpets. Behind the musicians, who wore the liveries of the Master of the Brotherhood of Notre Dame with his arms emblazoned on an ensign of taffeta, came the carved silver-gilt shrine of Notre Dame. After it followed the clergy of the cathedral to the number of two hundred, clad in robes of violet or crimson silk, bearing banners, crosses, and shrines, and chanting the hymn De resurrectione Domini. Then came the archbishop, giving his blessing to the great multitude who thronged the streets. The prisoner himself walked behind, bareheaded, crowned with flowers, carrying one end of the litter which supported the shrine of St. Romain; the fetters he had worn hung from the litter; and with him paced, with lighted torches in their hands, the men or women who, for the last seven years, had in like manner received their pardon. Another beadle, in a violet livery, marched behind bearing aloft on a pole the wicker effigy of the dragon (Gargouille) destroyed by St. Romain; in its mouth the dragon sometimes held a live animal, such as a young fox, a rabbit, or a sucking pig, and it was attended by the Brotherhood of the Gargouillards. The clergy of the thirty-two parishes of Rouen also took part in the procession, which moved from the Old Tower to the cathedral amid the acclamations of the crowd, while from every 168church tower in the city the bells rang out a joyous peal, the great Georges d’Amboise thundering above them all. After mass had been performed in the cathedral, the prisoner was taken to the house of the Master of the Brotherhood of St. Romain, where he was magnificently feasted, lodged, and served, however humble his rank. Next morning he again presented himself to the chapter, where, kneeling in the presence of a great assembly, he was severely reproved for his sins and admonished to give thanks to God, to St. Romain, and to the canons for the pardon he had received in virtue of the privilege.
Ceremony for the annual pardon and release of a prisoner in Rouen. The events on the big day of pardon varied a bit over the years. This account is largely based on a description from the reign of Henry III, published in Rouen in 1587. Fifteen days before Ascension Day, the canons of the cathedral called on the king’s officers to halt all actions against the prisoners. Then, on the Monday of Rogations, two canons visited each prison to examine the prisoners and take their confessions up until Ascension Day. On that day, around seven in the morning, all the canons gathered in the chapter-house and invoked the Holy Spirit’s blessing with the hymn Veni creator Spiritus and other prayers. They also vowed not to disclose any of the criminals' confessions, keeping them confidential under the seal of confession. After collecting the depositions and hearing from the officials, the chapter deliberated and selected a prisoner to receive the privilege. A card with the prisoner’s name, sealed by the chapter, was sent to the members of parliament, who were gathered in full assembly in their red robes in the great hall of the palace to legalize the nomination. The prisoner was then released and pardoned. Immediately, the cathedral bells rang out, the cathedral doors swung open, the organ played, hymns were sung, candles were lit, and joy was celebrated with all solemnity. Additionally, in front of the conclave, the depositions of the other prisoners were burned on the altar of the chapter-house. The archbishop and all the clergy from the cathedral then processed to the great square known as the Old Tower near the river, carrying the shrines and relics of the cathedral, accompanied by joyful music from hautboys and clarions. The Old Tower seems to be on the site of the former castle of the Dukes of Normandy, and the tradition of this procession dates back to when prisoners were held in the castle dungeons. In the square, there stood, and still stands, a stone platform elevated above the ground with stairs leading up to it. They brought the shrine (fierte) of St. Romain there, along with the pardoned prisoner. He climbed the platform, confessed his sins, received absolution, and three times lifted the shrine of St. Romain while the crowd shouted, “Noel! Noel! Noel!”, meaning “God be with us!” After this, the procession reformed and returned to the cathedral. Leading the way was a beadle in violet, carrying on a pole the wicker effigy of Notre Dame’s winged dragon, which held a large fish in its mouth. The shouts and cheers sparked by the dragon's appearance were drowned out by the loud fanfares of cornets, clarions, and trumpets. Behind the musicians, who wore the livery of the Master of the Brotherhood of Notre Dame with his coat of arms on a taffeta banner, came the carved silver-gilt shrine of Notre Dame. Following it were about two hundred clergy from the cathedral, dressed in violet or crimson silk robes, carrying banners, crosses, and shrines while chanting the hymn De resurrectione Domini. The archbishop then followed, blessing the large crowd that filled the streets. The prisoner himself walked behind, bareheaded, crowned with flowers, carrying one end of the litter that supported the shrine of St. Romain; his worn shackles hung from the litter, and with him walked those who had also received their pardon in the past seven years, holding lit torches. Another beadle, in violet livery, marched behind, holding high the wicker effigy of the dragon (Gargouille) that St. Romain defeated; at times, the dragon would hold a live animal like a young fox, rabbit, or sucking pig in its mouth, accompanied by the Brotherhood of the Gargouillards. The clergy from the thirty-two parishes of Rouen also participated in the procession moving from the Old Tower to the cathedral amidst the crowd's cheers, while bells from every church tower in the city rang out joyfully, with the prominent Georges d’Amboise booming above all. After mass in the cathedral, the prisoner was taken to the home of the Master of the Brotherhood of St. Romain, where he was grandly feasted, accommodated, and served, regardless of his humble status. The next morning, he presented himself again to the chapter, kneeling before a large assembly, where he was sternly reminded of his sins and urged to thank God, St. Romain, and the canons for the pardon he had received as part of the privilege.
|History and meaning of the privilege of the Fierte or shrine of St. Romain at Rouen.| What was the origin and meaning of this remarkable privilege of the Fierte, as the shrine of St. Romain was called? Its history has been carefully investigated by A. Floquet, Chief Registrar of the Royal Court of Rouen, with the aid of all the documentary evidence, including the archives both at Rouen and Paris. He appears to have shewn conclusively that the association of St. Romain with the custom is comparatively late. We possess a life of the saint in Latin verse, dating from the eighth century, in which the miracles said to have been wrought by him are set forth in a strain of pompous eulogy. Yet neither in it nor in any of the other early lives of St. Romain and St. Ouen, nor in any of the older chronicles and martyrologies, is a single word said about the destruction of the dragon and the deliverance of the prisoner. It is not till 1394 that we meet for the first time with a mention of the miracle. Moreover, the deliverance of the prisoner can hardly have been instituted in honour of St. Romain, else it would have taken place on the twenty-third of October, the day on which the Church of Rouen celebrates the translation of the saint’s bones to the cathedral. St. Romain died in 638, and his bones were transferred to the cathedral of Rouen at the end of the eleventh or the beginning of the twelfth century. Further, Floquet has adduced strong grounds for believing that the privilege claimed by the chapter of Rouen of annually pardoning a condemned criminal on Ascension Day was unknown in the early years of the twelfth century, and that it originated in the reign of Henry I. or Stephen, if not in that of Henry II. He supposes the ceremony to 169have been in its origin a scenic representation of the triumph of Christ over sin and death, the deliverance of the condemned prisoner symbolising the deliverance of man from the yoke of corruption, and bringing home to the people in a visible form the great mystery which the festival of the Ascension was instituted to commemorate. Such dramatic expositions of Christian doctrine, he points out, were common in the Middle Ages.
|History and significance of the privilege of the Fierte or shrine of St. Romain in Rouen.| What is the origin and significance of this remarkable privilege of the Fierte, as the shrine of St. Romain was known? Its history has been thoroughly examined by A. Floquet, Chief Registrar of the Royal Court of Rouen, using all available documents, including the archives in Rouen and Paris. He seems to have demonstrated conclusively that the connection of St. Romain with the custom is relatively recent. We have a life of the saint in Latin verse, dating back to the eighth century, in which the miracles attributed to him are detailed in a grandiloquent style. Yet neither this nor any of the other early biographies of St. Romain and St. Ouen, nor any of the older chronicles and martyrologies, mention the slaying of the dragon and the rescue of the prisoner. It’s not until 1394 that we first see a mention of the miracle. Moreover, the rescue of the prisoner likely wasn’t established in honor of St. Romain; otherwise, it would have occurred on the twenty-third of October, the day that the Church of Rouen celebrates the translation of the saint’s bones to the cathedral. St. Romain died in 638, and his bones were moved to the cathedral of Rouen at the end of the eleventh or the beginning of the twelfth century. Additionally, Floquet has provided compelling evidence to suggest that the privilege claimed by the chapter of Rouen to annually pardon a condemned criminal on Ascension Day was not known in the early years of the twelfth century and that it originated during the reign of Henry I. or Stephen, if not during that of Henry II. He believes the ceremony might 169have originally served as a dramatic representation of Christ's triumph over sin and death, with the release of the condemned prisoner symbolizing humanity's liberation from corruption and vividly illustrating the great mystery the Ascension festival was created to commemorate. He notes that such dramatic expressions of Christian doctrine were common in the Middle Ages.
|Suggested origin of the custom.| Plausible as is this solution of the problem, it can scarcely be regarded as satisfactory. Had this been the real origin of the privilege, we should expect to find the Ascension of Christ either plainly enacted, or at least distinctly alluded to in the ceremony; but this, so far as we can learn, was not so. Again, would it not savour of blasphemy to represent the sinless and glorified Redeemer by a ruffian stained with the blackest crimes? Moreover, the part played by the dragon in the legend and in the spectacle seems too important to allow us to explain it away, with Floquet, as a mere symbol of the suppression of paganism by St. Romain. The tale of the conquest of the dragon is older than Christianity, and cannot be explained by it. At Rouen the connexion of St. Romain with the story seems certainly to be late, but that does not prove the story itself to be late also. Judging from the analogy of similar tales elsewhere, we may conjecture that in the Rouen version the criminal represents a victim annually sacrificed to a water-spirit or other fabulous being, while the Christian saint has displaced a pagan hero, who was said to have delivered the victim from death and put an end to the sacrifice by slaying the monster. Thus it seems possible that the custom of annually pardoning a condemned malefactor may have superseded an older practice of treating him as a public scapegoat, who died to save the rest of the people. In the sequel we shall see that such customs have been observed in many lands. It is not incredible that at Rouen a usage of this sort should have survived in a modified shape from pagan times down to the twelfth century, and that the Church should at last have intervened to save the wretch and turn a relic of heathendom to the glory of God and St. Romain. But 170this explanation of the famous privilege of the Fierte is put forward with a full sense of the difficulties attending it, and with no wish to dogmatise on so obscure a subject.[539]
Suggested origin of the tradition. While this explanation of the problem is plausible, it hardly seems satisfactory. If this had truly been the original source of the privilege, we would expect the Ascension of Christ to be either clearly depicted or at least explicitly referenced in the ceremony; however, as far as we can tell, that is not the case. Furthermore, wouldn’t it be considered blasphemous to portray the sinless and glorified Redeemer as a thug stained with heinous crimes? Additionally, the role of the dragon in the legend and the spectacle appears too significant to dismiss, as Floquet does, simply as a symbol of the suppression of paganism by St. Romain. The story of the dragon's defeat predates Christianity and cannot solely be explained by it. In Rouen, the connection of St. Romain with the tale seems relatively recent, but that doesn't mean the story itself is also recent. Based on similar tales from other places, we might speculate that in the Rouen version, the criminal symbolizes a victim who was annually sacrificed to a water spirit or another mythical being, while the Christian saint has replaced a pagan hero who was said to have saved the victim from death and ended the sacrifices by killing the monster. Thus, it's possible that the annual pardon of a condemned criminal has replaced an older practice of treating him as a public scapegoat who died to save the rest of the community. Later on, we will see that such customs have been practiced in many regions. It’s not hard to believe that in Rouen, a tradition of this nature could have survived in a modified form from pagan times all the way to the twelfth century, and that the Church eventually intervened to save the condemned and turn a remnant of paganism into a celebration for the glory of God and St. Romain. However, 170 this interpretation of the famous privilege of the Fierte is presented with a full understanding of the challenges it entails and without any intention to assert dogma on such an obscure topic.[539]
CHAPTER XIII
THE KINGS OF ROME AND ALBA
§ 1. Numa and Egeria
|Egeria at Nemi a nymph of water and of the oak, perhaps a form of Diana.| From the foregoing survey of custom and legend we may infer that the sacred marriage of the powers both of vegetation and of water has been celebrated by many peoples for the sake of promoting the fertility of the earth, on which the life of animals and men ultimately depends, and that in such rites the part of the divine bridegroom or bride is often sustained by a man or woman. The evidence may, therefore, lend some countenance to the conjecture that in the sacred grove at Nemi, where the powers of vegetation and of water manifested themselves in the fair forms of shady woods, tumbling cascades, and glassy lake, a marriage like that of our King and Queen of May was annually celebrated between the mortal King of the Wood and the immortal Queen of the Wood, Diana. In this connexion an important figure in the grove was the water-nymph Egeria, who was worshipped by pregnant women because she, like Diana, could grant them an easy delivery.[540] From this it seems fairly safe to conclude that, like many other springs, the water of Egeria was credited with a power of facilitating conception as well as delivery. The votive offerings found on the spot, which clearly refer to the begetting of children,[541] may possibly have been dedicated to Egeria rather than to Diana, or perhaps we should rather say that the water-nymph Egeria is only another form of the great nature-goddess Diana herself, the mistress of sounding 172rivers as well as of umbrageous woods,[542] who had her home by the lake and her mirror in its calm waters, and whose Greek counterpart Artemis loved to haunt meres and springs.[543] The identification of Egeria with Diana is confirmed by a statement of Plutarch that Egeria was one of the oak-nymphs[544] whom the Romans believed to preside over every green oak-grove;[545] for while Diana was a goddess of the woodlands in general she appears to have been intimately associated with oaks in particular, especially at her sacred grove of Nemi.[546] Perhaps, then, Egeria was the fairy of a spring that flowed from the roots of a sacred oak. Such a spring is said to have gushed from the foot of the great oak at Dodona, and from its murmurous flow the priestess drew oracles.[547] Among the Greeks a draught of water from certain sacred springs or wells was supposed to confer prophetic powers.[548] This would explain the more than mortal wisdom with which, according to tradition, Egeria inspired her royal husband or lover Numa.[549] When we remember how very often in early society the king is held responsible for the fall of rain and the fruitfulness of the earth, it seems hardly rash to conjecture that in the legend of the nuptials of Numa and |The legend of the nuptials of Numa and Egeria may be a reminiscence of a sacred marriage which the kings of Rome contracted with a goddess of water and of vegetation.| Egeria we have a reminiscence of a sacred marriage which the old Roman kings regularly contracted with a goddess of vegetation and water for the purpose of enabling him to discharge his divine or magical functions. In such a rite the part of the goddess might be played either by an image or a woman, and if by a woman, probably by the Queen. If there is any truth in this conjecture, we may 173suppose that the King and Queen of Rome masqueraded as god and goddess at their marriage, exactly as the King and Queen of Egypt appear to have done.[550] The legend of Numa and Egeria points to a sacred grove rather than to a house as the scene of the nuptial union, which, like the marriage of the King and Queen of May, or of the vine-god and the Queen of Athens, may have been annually celebrated as a charm to ensure the fertility not only of the earth but of man and beast. Now, according to some accounts, the scene of the marriage was no other than the sacred grove of Nemi, and on quite independent grounds we have been led to suppose that in that same grove the King of the Wood was wedded to Diana. The convergence of the two distinct lines of enquiry suggests that the legendary union of the Roman king with Egeria may have been a reflection or duplicate of the union of the King of the Wood with Egeria or her double Diana. This does not imply that the Roman kings ever served as Kings of the Wood in the Arician grove, but only that they may originally have been invested with a sacred character of the same general kind, and may have held office on similar terms. To be more explicit, it is possible that they reigned, not by right of birth, but in virtue of their supposed divinity as representatives or embodiments of a god, and that as such they mated with a goddess, and had to prove their fitness from time to time to discharge their divine functions by engaging in a severe bodily struggle, which may often have proved fatal to them, leaving the crown to their victorious adversary. Our knowledge of the Roman kingship is far too scanty to allow us to affirm any one of these propositions with confidence; but at least there are some scattered hints or indications of a similarity in all these respects between the priests of Nemi and the kings of Rome, or perhaps rather between their remote predecessors in the dark ages which preceded the dawn of legend.[551]
Egeria at Nemi, a water nymph linked to the oak, might be a version of Diana. From the previous overview of customs and legends, we can deduce that many cultures celebrated a sacred marriage between the powers of vegetation and water to promote the earth's fertility, which is vital for the existence of both animals and humans. In these rituals, the roles of the divine bridegroom or bride are often embodied by a man or a woman. This evidence lends some support to the idea that in the sacred grove at Nemi, where the powers of vegetation and water were represented through beautiful woods, cascading waterfalls, and a serene lake, an annual marriage took place, similar to our King and Queen of May, between the mortal King of the Wood and the immortal Queen of the Wood, Diana. An important figure in this grove was the water-nymph Egeria, who was revered by pregnant women because, like Diana, she could grant them an easy delivery.[540] From this, it's reasonable to conclude that, like many other springs, Egeria's water was believed to facilitate both conception and delivery. The votive offerings found at the site, which clearly concern childbearing,[541] may have been dedicated to Egeria rather than to Diana. Alternatively, we might say that the water-nymph Egeria is simply another aspect of the great nature goddess Diana herself, the mistress of loud rivers and shady woods,[542] who had her home by the lake and saw her reflection in its calm waters, and whose Greek counterpart Artemis enjoyed frequenting lakes and springs.[543] Plutarch confirms the connection of Egeria with Diana, stating that Egeria was one of the oak-nymphs[544] believed by the Romans to oversee every green oak grove;[545] for while Diana was a goddess of the woodlands overall, she was particularly associated with oaks, especially at her sacred grove of Nemi.[546] Egeria may then have been the spirit of a spring that flowed from the roots of a sacred oak. Such a spring is said to have erupted from the base of the great oak at Dodona, from whose murmuring waters the priestess would receive oracles.[547] In Greek culture, drinking from certain sacred springs or wells was believed to bestow prophetic abilities.[548] This might explain the extraordinary wisdom with which, according to tradition, Egeria inspired her royal husband or lover Numa.[549] Considering how often in early societies kings were held accountable for rainfall and the earth's productivity, it seems reasonable to speculate that the legend of the marriage between Numa andThe story of Numa and Egeria's marriage could be a remembrance of a sacred union that Roman kings had with a goddess of water and vegetation. Egeria reflects a sacred marriage that the early Roman kings regularly underwent with a goddess of vegetation and water to enable them to fulfill their divine or magical roles. In such a rite, the goddess's part could be represented either by an image or a woman, and if played by a woman, likely by the Queen. If this conjecture holds any truth, we might assume that the King and Queen of Rome played the roles of god and goddess during their marriage, much like the King and Queen of Egypt seem to have done.[550] The legend of Numa and Egeria suggests that a sacred grove, rather than a house, served as the setting for their nuptial union, which, akin to the marriage of the King and Queen of May or the vine-god and the Queen of Athens, may have been celebrated annually to ensure fertility for both the land and its people and animals. According to some accounts, the marriage took place in the sacred grove of Nemi, and independent observations lead us to believe that in the same grove, the King of the Wood was married to Diana. The overlap of these two different lines of inquiry implies that the legendary union of the Roman king with Egeria may have mirrored the union of the King of the Wood with Egeria or her counterpart Diana. This does not mean that the Roman kings ever served as Kings of the Wood in the Arician grove, but only that they might have initially held a sacred role of a similar nature and may have held office under comparable conditions. To clarify, it is possible that they ruled not by birthright, but by virtue of their perceived divinity as representatives or embodiments of a god, mating with a goddess, and had to demonstrate their qualifications through physical contests, which could often be fatal, leaving their crown to the victor. Our understanding of Roman kingship is too limited for us to assert any of these ideas with confidence; however, there are some hints or indications pointing to similarities between the priests of Nemi and the kings of Rome, or rather their distant predecessors in the dark ages preceding the rise of legend.[551]
174§ 2. The King as Jupiter
174§ 2. The King as Jupiter
|The Roman king seems to have personated Jupiter and worn his costume.| In the first place, then, it would seem that the Roman king personated no less a deity than Jupiter himself. For down to imperial times victorious generals celebrating a triumph, and magistrates presiding at the games in the Circus, wore the costume of Jupiter, which was borrowed for the occasion from his great temple on the Capitol; and it has been held with a high degree of probability both by ancients and moderns that in so doing they copied the traditionary attire and insignia of the Roman kings.[552] They rode a chariot drawn by four laurel-crowned horses through the city, where every one else went on foot;[553] they wore 175purple robes embroidered or spangled with gold; in the right hand they bore a branch of laurel and in the left hand an ivory sceptre topped with an eagle; a wreath of laurel crowned their brows; their face was reddened with vermilion; and over their head a slave held a heavy crown of massy gold fashioned in the likeness of oak leaves.[554] In this attire the assimilation of the man to the god comes out above all in the eagle-topped sceptre, the oaken crown, and the reddened face. For the eagle was the bird of Jove, the oak was his sacred tree, and the face of his image standing in his four-horse chariot on the Capitol was in like manner regularly dyed red on festivals; indeed, so important was it deemed to keep the divine features properly rouged that one of the first duties of the censors was to contract for having this done.[555] The Greeks sometimes painted red the face or the whole body of the wine-god Dionysus.[556] These customs may have been a substitute for an older practice of feeding a god by smearing the face, and especially the lips, 176of his idol with the blood of a sacrificial victim. Many examples of such a practice might be adduced from the religion of barbarous peoples.[557] As the triumphal procession always ended in the temple of Jupiter on the Capitol, it was peculiarly appropriate that the head of the victor should be graced by a crown of oak leaves, for not only was every oak consecrated to Jupiter,[558] but the Capitoline temple of the god was said to have been built by Romulus beside a sacred oak, venerated by shepherds, to which the king attached the spoils won by him from the enemy’s general in battle.[559] We are expressly told that the oak crown was |The oak crown as an emblem of Jupiter and of the Roman emperors.| sacred to Capitoline Jupiter;[560] a passage of Ovid proves that it was regarded as the god’s special emblem. Writing in exile on the shores of the Black Sea, the poet sends the book which he has just composed to Rome to be published there; he personifies the volume and imagines it passing along the Sacred Way and up to the door of the emperor’s stately palace on the Palatine hill. Above the portal hung shining arms and a crown of oak leaves. At the sight the poet starts: “Is this, quoth I, the house of Jove? For sure to my prophetic soul the oaken crown was reason good to think it so.”[561] The senate had granted Augustus the right 177to have the wreath of oak always suspended over his door;[562] and elsewhere Ovid counts this among the more than mortal honours bestowed on the emperor.[563] On the Capitol at Cirta there stood a silver image of Jupiter wearing a silver crown of oak leaves and acorns.[564] Similarly at Dodona, the most famous sanctuary of the oak in Greece, the image of Zeus appears to have worn a chaplet of oak leaves; for the god is constantly thus portrayed on coins of Epirus.[565] And just as Roman kings appear to have personated the oak-god Jupiter, so Greek kings appear to have personated the oak-god Zeus. The legendary Salmoneus of Elis is certainly reported to have done so;[566] Periphas, an ancient king of Athens, is said to have been styled Zeus by his people, and to have been changed into an eagle by his jealous name-sake.[567] In Homer kings are often spoken of as nurtured by Zeus and divine.[568] Indeed we are told that in ancient days every Greek king was called Zeus.[569]
The Roman king appears to have dressed up as Jupiter and worn his outfit. First of all, it appears that the Roman king embodied no less a deity than Jupiter himself. Throughout imperial times, victorious generals celebrating a triumph and magistrates presiding over the games in the Circus wore Jupiter's costume, which they borrowed for the occasion from his grand temple on the Capitol. It has been strongly suggested, both by ancient and modern scholars, that in doing so they were emulating the traditional attire and symbols of the Roman kings.[552] They rode a chariot drawn by four laurel-crowned horses through the city, while everyone else walked;[553] they wore 175purple robes with gold embroidery or embellishments; in their right hand, they held a branch of laurel and in their left hand, an ivory scepter topped with an eagle; a laurel wreath adorned their heads; their faces were painted red with vermilion; and over their heads, a slave held a heavy crown of solid gold shaped like oak leaves.[554] In this outfit, the association of the man with the god is most apparent in the eagle-topped scepter, the oak crown, and the red face. The eagle was the bird of Jupiter, the oak was his sacred tree, and the face of his statue sitting in his four-horse chariot on the Capitol was regularly dyed red during festivals; indeed, maintaining the divine features properly painted was considered so important that one of the first duties of the censors was to arrange for this.[555] The Greeks sometimes painted the face or entire body of the wine-god Dionysus red.[556] These customs may have been a replacement for an older practice of feeding a god by smearing the face, particularly the lips, of his idol with the blood of a sacrificial victim. Many examples of such a practice can be found in the religions of primitive peoples.[557] Since the triumphal procession always concluded at the temple of Jupiter on the Capitol, it was particularly fitting that the victor's head be adorned with a crown of oak leaves, as every oak was sacred to Jupiter,[558] and the Capitoline temple of the god was said to have been built by Romulus next to a sacred oak revered by shepherds, to which the king attached the spoils he won from the enemy’s general in battle.[559] We are explicitly told that the oak crown was The oak crown symbolizes Jupiter and the Roman emperors. sacred to Capitoline Jupiter;[560] a passage from Ovid confirms that it was viewed as the god’s special emblem. While in exile on the shores of the Black Sea, the poet sends the book he has just written to Rome to be published there; he personifies the volume and imagines it making its way along the Sacred Way and up to the door of the emperor’s grand palace on the Palatine hill. Above the entrance hung shining arms and a crown of oak leaves. At the sight, the poet exclaims: “Is this, I wonder, the house of Jupiter? For it surely seems to my prophetic soul that the oak crown is a good reason to think so.”[561] The senate had granted Augustus the right 177to have the wreath of oak always displayed over his door;[562] and elsewhere, Ovid lists this among the more-than-mortal honors awarded to the emperor.[563] On the Capitol at Cirta, a silver statue of Jupiter stood wearing a silver crown of oak leaves and acorns.[564] Similarly, at Dodona, the most famous oak sanctuary in Greece, the image of Zeus appears to have worn a garland of oak leaves; for the god is often depicted this way on coins from Epirus.[565] Just as Roman kings seemed to have represented the oak-god Jupiter, Greek kings appeared to have represented the oak-god Zeus. The legendary Salmoneus of Elis is certainly noted to have done so;[566] Periphas, an ancient king of Athens, is said to have been called Zeus by his people and was transformed into an eagle by his jealous namesake.[567] In Homer, kings are often described as being raised by Zeus and divine.[568] Indeed, we are told that in ancient times, every Greek king was referred to as Zeus.[569]
|To the Romans the breach between the human and the divine was not so wide as it seems to us.| Thus we may fairly assume that on certain solemn occasions Roman generals and magistrates personated the supreme god, and that in so doing they revived the practice of the early kings. To us moderns, for whom the breach which divides the human and the divine has deepened into an impassable gulf, such mimicry may appear impious, but it was otherwise with the ancients. To their thinking gods and men were akin, for many families traced their descent from a divinity, and the deification of a man 178probably seemed as little extraordinary to them as the canonisation of a saint seems to a modern Catholic. The Romans in particular were quite familiar with the spectacle of men masquerading as spirits; for at the funerals of great houses all the illustrious dead of the family were personated by men specially chosen for their resemblance to the departed. These representatives wore |Roman custom of representing dead ancestors by masked men.| masks fashioned and painted in the likeness of the originals: they were dressed in rich robes of office, resplendent with purple and gold, such as the dead nobles had worn in their lifetime: like them, they rode in chariots through the city preceded by the rods and axes, and attended by all the pomp and heraldry of high station; and when at last the funeral procession, after threading its way through the crowded streets, defiled into the Forum, the maskers solemnly took their seats on ivory chairs placed for them on the platform of the Rostra, in the sight of the people, recalling no doubt to the old, by their silent presence, the memories of an illustrious past, and firing the young with the ambition of a glorious future.[570]
To the Romans, the distance between humans and gods wasn't as great as it seems to us now. So, it’s fair to assume that during certain important events, Roman generals and officials acted as the supreme god, reviving a practice from the early kings. For us modern people, who view the divide between the human and the divine as an insurmountable chasm, such behavior might seem disrespectful, but it was different for the ancients. They believed that gods and humans were related, as many families traced their lineage back to a deity, and the idea of a human becoming a god probably seemed as normal to them as a modern Catholic seeing a saint recognized. The Romans, in particular, were quite accustomed to seeing men dressed as spirits; during the funerals of prominent families, all the famous deceased members were represented by men especially chosen for their resemblance to the deceased. These figures wore masks designed and painted to look like the originals: they were dressed in elaborate ceremonial robes, adorned with purple and gold, just like the late nobles had in their lives. They rode in chariots through the city, accompanied by official symbols like rods and axes, and all the grandeur associated with high rank; and when the funeral procession finally made its way through the busy streets and arrived at the Forum, the maskers took their places on ivory chairs set up for them on the platform of the Rostra, visible to the crowd, undoubtedly reminding the older generation of an impressive past and inspiring the youth with dreams of a glorious future.[570]
|The kings of Alba seem also to have claimed to represent Jupiter.| According to a tradition which we have no reason to reject, Rome was founded by settlers from Alba Longa, a city situated on the slope of the Alban hills, overlooking the lake and the Campagna.[571] Hence if the Roman kings claimed to be representatives or embodiments of Jupiter, the god of the sky, of the thunder, and of the oak, it is natural to suppose that the kings of Alba, from whom the founder of Rome traced his descent, may have set up the same claim before them. Now the Alban dynasty bore the name of Silvii or Wood, and it can hardly be without significance that in the vision of the historic glories of Rome revealed to Aeneas in the underworld, Virgil, an antiquary as well as a poet, should represent all the line of Silvii as crowned |The Silvii and the Julii.| with oak.[572] A chaplet of oak leaves would thus seem to 179have been part of the insignia of the old kings of Alba Longa as of their successors the kings of Rome; in both cases it marked the monarch as the human representative of the oak-god. With regard to Silvius, the first king of the Alban dynasty, we are told that he got his name because he had been born or brought up in the forest, and that when he came to man’s estate he contested the kingdom with his kinsman Julus, whose name, as some of the ancients themselves |Julus, the little Jupiter.| perceived, means the Little Jupiter. The people decided in favour of Silvius, but his rival Julus was consoled for the loss of the crown by being invested with religious authority and the office of chief pontiff, or perhaps rather of Flamen Dialis, the highest dignity after the kingship. From this Julus or Little Jupiter, the noble house of the Julii, and hence the first emperors of Rome, believed themselves to be sprung.[573] The legend of the dispute between Silvius and Julus may preserve a reminiscence of such a partition of spiritual and temporal powers in Alba Longa as afterwards took place in Rome, when the old regal office was divided between the Consuls and the King of the Sacred Rites.[574] Many more instances of such a schism will meet us later on. That the Julian house worshipped Vejovis, the Little Jupiter, according to the ancient rites of Alba Longa, is proved by the inscription on an altar which they dedicated to him at their ancestral home of Bovillae, a colony of Alba Longa, situated at the foot of the Alban hills.[575] The 180Caesars, the most illustrious family of the Julian house, took their name from their long hair (caesaries),[576] which was probably in those early days, as it was among the Franks long afterwards, a symbol of royalty.[577]
The kings of Alba also appear to have claimed to represent Jupiter. According to a tradition we have no reason to doubt, Rome was founded by settlers from Alba Longa, a city located on the slope of the Alban hills, overlooking the lake and the Campagna.[571] So, if the Roman kings claimed to be representatives or embodiments of Jupiter, the god of the sky, thunder, and oak, it makes sense to think that the kings of Alba, from whom the founder of Rome traced his ancestry, might have made the same claim. The Alban dynasty was known as the Silvii, or Wood, and it seems significant that in the vision of the historic glories of Rome shown to Aeneas in the underworld, Virgil, who was both an antiquarian and a poet, portrays the entire line of Silvii as crowned The Silvii and the Julii. with oak.[572] A garland of oak leaves would thus appear to have been part of the insignia of the old kings of Alba Longa as well as their successors, the kings of Rome; in both instances, it marked the monarch as the human representative of the oak-god. Regarding Silvius, the first king of the Alban dynasty, we are told he got his name because he was born or raised in the forest, and that when he grew up, he contended for the kingdom against his relative, Julus, whose name, as some of the ancients observed, means the Little Jupiter. The people favored Silvius, but his rival Julus was consoled for losing the crown by being granted religious authority and the position of chief pontiff, or possibly rather of Flamen Dialis, the highest rank after kingship. From this Julus, or Little Jupiter, the noble house of the Julii, and subsequently the first emperors of Rome, believed they were descended.[573] The legend of the disagreement between Silvius and Julus may hold a memory of such a division of spiritual and temporal powers in Alba Longa as later occurred in Rome, when the old royal office was split between the Consuls and the King of the Sacred Rites.[574] We will encounter many more examples of such a division later. That the Julian house worshipped Vejovis, the Little Jupiter, according to the ancient practices of Alba Longa, is evidenced by the inscription on an altar dedicated to him at their ancestral home of Bovillae, a colony of Alba Longa, located at the foot of the Alban hills.[575] The 180Caesars, the most prominent family of the Julian house, derived their name from their long hair (caesaries),[576] which was likely a symbol of royalty in those early days, just as it was among the Franks long afterward.[577]
|The Alban kings seem to have been expected to make thunder and rain for the good of their subjects.| But in ceding the pontificate to their rivals, it would seem that the reigning dynasty of the Silvii or Woods by no means renounced their own claim to personate the god of the oak and the thunder; for the Roman annals record that one of them, Romulus, Remulus, or Amulius Silvius by name, set up for being a god in his own person, the equal or superior of Jupiter. To support his pretensions and overawe his subjects, he constructed machines whereby he mimicked the clap of thunder and the flash of lightning. Diodorus relates that in the season of fruitage, when thunder is loud and frequent, the king commanded his soldiers to drown the roar of heaven’s artillery by clashing their swords against their shields. But he paid the penalty of his impiety, for he perished, he and his house, struck by a thunderbolt in the midst of a dreadful storm. Swollen by the rain, the Alban lake rose in flood and drowned his palace. But still, says an ancient historian, when the water is low and the surface unruffled by a breeze, you may see the ruins of the palace at the bottom of the clear lake.[578] Taken along with 181the similar story of Salmoneus, king of Elis,[579] this legend points to a real custom observed by the early kings of Greece and Italy, who like their fellows in Africa down to modern times may have been expected to produce rain and thunder for the good of the crops.[580] The priestly king Numa passed for an adept in the art of drawing down lightning from the sky.[581] Mock thunder, we know, has been made by various peoples as a rain-charm in modern times;[582] why should it not have been made by kings in antiquity?
The Alban kings were supposed to bring thunder and rain for the good of their people. However, by handing over the priestly role to their rivals, the ruling line of the Silvii or Woods didn’t give up their claim to embody the god of the oak and thunder; for Roman records show that one of them, Romulus, Remulus, or Amulius Silvius, claimed to be a god himself, equal to or greater than Jupiter. To bolster his claims and intimidate his subjects, he built devices that imitated the sound of thunder and the flash of lightning. Diodorus recounts that during the fruit season, when thunder is loud and frequent, the king ordered his soldiers to drown out the sound of heaven’s thunder by banging their swords against their shields. But he faced the consequences of his arrogance, as he and his family were struck down by a lightning bolt in a horrific storm. The Alban lake, swollen with rain, flooded and submerged his palace. Yet, as an ancient historian notes, when the water is low and the surface calm, you can still see the ruins of the palace beneath the clear lake.[578] Along with 181the similar tale of Salmoneus, king of Elis,[579] this myth highlights a real tradition followed by the early kings of Greece and Italy, who, like their counterparts in Africa even today, may have been expected to summon rain and thunder for the sake of their crops.[580] The priest-king Numa was believed to be skilled in the art of calling down lightning from the sky.[581] We know that mock thunder has been used by various cultures as a rain charm in modern times;[582] so why couldn’t it have been created by kings in ancient times?
|The legends of the deaths of Roman kings point to a close connexion between the king and the thunder-god.| In this connexion it deserves to be noted that, according to the legend, Salmoneus, like his Alban counterpart, was killed by a thunderbolt; and that one of the Roman kings, Tullus Hostilius, is reported to have met with the same end in an attempt to draw down Jupiter in the form of lightning from the sky.[583] Aeneas himself, the legendary ancestor both of the Alban and the Roman kings, vanished from the world in a violent thunderstorm, and was afterwards worshipped as Jupiter Indiges. A mound of earth, encircled with fine trees, on the bank of the little river Numicius was pointed out as his grave.[584] Romulus, too, the first king of Rome, |Death and deification of Romulus.| disappeared in like manner. It was the seventh of July, and the king was reviewing his army at the Goat’s Marsh, outside the walls of the city. Suddenly the sky lowered and a tempest burst, accompanied by peals of thunder. Soon the storm had swept by, leaving the brightness and 182serenity of the summer day behind. But Romulus was never seen again. Those who had stood by him said they saw him caught up to heaven in a whirlwind; and not long afterwards a certain Proculus Julius, a patrician of Alban birth and descent, declared on oath that Romulus had appeared to him clad in bright armour, and announced that the Romans were to worship him as a god under the name of Quirinus, and to build him a temple on the spot. The temple was built and the place was henceforth known as the Quirinal hill.[585] In this legend it is significant that the annunciation of the king’s divinity should be put in the mouth of a member of the Julian house, a native of Alba; for we have seen reason to believe that at Alba the Julii had competed with the Silvii, from whom Romulus was descended, for the kingship, and with it for the honour of personating Jupiter. If, as seems to be philologically possible, the word Quirinus is derived from the same root as quercus, “an oak,” the name of the deified Romulus would mean no more than “the oak-god,” that is, Jupiter.[586] Thus the tradition would square perfectly with the other indications of custom and legend which have led us to conclude that the kings both of Rome and of Alba claimed to embody in their own persons the god of the sky, of thunder, and of the oak. Certainly the stories which associated the deaths of so many of them with thunderstorms point to a close 183connexion with the god of thunder and lightning. A king who had been wont to fulminate in his lifetime might naturally be supposed at death to be carried up in a thunderstorm to heaven, there to discharge above the clouds the same duties which he had performed on earth. Such a tale would be all the more likely to attach itself to the twin Romulus, if the early Romans shared the widespread superstition that twins have power over the weather in general and over rain and wind in particular.[587] That tempests are caused by the spirits of the dead is a belief of the Araucanians of Chili. Not a storm bursts upon the Andes or the ocean which these Indians do not ascribe to a battle between the souls of their fellow-countrymen and the dead Spaniards. In the roaring of the wind they hear the trampling of the ghostly horses, in the peal of the thunder the roll of the drums, and in the flashes of lightning the fire of the artillery.[588]
The tales of the deaths of Roman kings emphasize a strong link between the king and the thunder god. It's interesting to note that, according to legend, Salmoneus, like his counterpart from Alba, was struck down by a thunderbolt; and one of the Roman kings, Tullus Hostilius, is said to have met the same fate while trying to summon Jupiter as lightning from the sky.[583] Aeneas himself, the legendary ancestor of both the Alban and Roman kings, disappeared during a violent thunderstorm and was later worshipped as Jupiter Indiges. A mound of earth, surrounded by beautiful trees, along the bank of the small river Numicius was identified as his grave.[584] Romulus, too, the first king of Rome, Death and worship of Romulus.vanished in a similar way. It was July 7th, and the king was reviewing his army at the Goat’s Marsh, outside the city walls. Suddenly, the sky turned dark and a storm erupted, accompanied by loud thunder. Soon, the storm passed, leaving behind a bright and calm summer day. But Romulus was never seen again. Those who were with him claimed they saw him taken up to heaven in a whirlwind; and shortly after, a man named Proculus Julius, a patrician of Alban birth, swore that Romulus had appeared to him in shining armor and told him that the Romans should worship him as a god named Quirinus, and build a temple in that place. The temple was constructed, and the area became known as the Quirinal hill.[585] It is significant in this legend that the announcement of the king’s divinity comes from someone in the Julian family, a native of Alba; as we have reason to believe that in Alba, the Julii competed with the Silvii, from whom Romulus was descended, for the kingship and the honor of representing Jupiter. If, as seems to be linguistically possible, the name Quirinus comes from the same root as quercus, meaning “an oak,” then the name of the deified Romulus would simply mean “the oak god,” which would refer to Jupiter.[586] Thus, the tradition fits neatly with other customs and legends that suggest the kings of both Rome and Alba claimed to embody the sky god, the god of thunder, and the oak. Certainly, the stories that link the deaths of so many of them with thunderstorms indicate a strong connection with the god of thunder and lightning. A king who had been known to issue thunderous proclamations in his lifetime might naturally be thought to ascend to heaven in a thunderstorm at his death, continuing to fulfill his duties above the clouds as he did on earth. Such a story would be even more likely to be associated with the twin Romulus, especially if the early Romans believed in the widespread superstition that twins have influence over the weather in general and particularly over rain and wind.[587] The belief that tempests are caused by the spirits of the dead is held by the Araucanians of Chile. No storm strikes the Andes or the ocean without these Indians attributing it to a battle between the souls of their countrymen and the dead Spaniards. In the howling wind, they hear the pounding of ghostly horses, in the thunderclaps, the sound of drums, and in the lightning flashes, the fire of cannons.[588]
|Every Latin town probably had its local Jupiter.| Thus, if the kings of Alba and Rome imitated Jupiter as god of the oak by wearing a crown of oak leaves, they seem also to have copied him in his character of a weather-god by pretending to make thunder and lightning. And if they did so, it is probable that, like Jupiter in heaven and many kings on earth, they also acted as public rain-makers, wringing showers from the dark sky by their enchantments whenever the parched earth cried out for the refreshing moisture. At Rome the sluices of heaven were opened by means of a sacred stone, and the ceremony appears to have formed part of the ritual of Jupiter Elicius, the god who elicits from the clouds the flashing lightning and the dripping rain.[589] 184And who so well fitted to perform the ceremony as the king, the living representative of the sky-god?
Every Latin town likely had its own local Jupiter. So, if the kings of Alba and Rome imitated Jupiter as the god of the oak by wearing crowns made of oak leaves, they also seemed to have mimicked him as a weather god by pretending to control thunder and lightning. If that’s the case, it’s likely that, like Jupiter in the sky and many kings on earth, they also acted as public rain-makers, drawing showers from the dark clouds through their rituals whenever the dry earth cried out for refreshing rain. In Rome, the gates of heaven were opened using a sacred stone, and this ceremony seems to have been part of the worship of Jupiter Elicius, the god who brings forth flashing lightning and pouring rain from the clouds.[589] 184And who better to perform the ceremony than the king, the earthly representative of the sky-god?
|Many local Jupiters in Latium.| The conclusion which we have reached as to the kings of Rome and Alba probably holds good of all the kings of ancient Latium: each of them, we may suppose, represented or embodied the local Jupiter. For we can hardly doubt that of old every Latin town or settlement had its own Jupiter, as every town and almost every church in modern Italy has its own Madonna; and like the Baal of the Semites the local Jupiter was commonly worshipped on high places. Wooded heights, round which the rain-clouds gather, were indeed the natural sanctuaries for a god of the sky, the rain, and the oak. At Rome he occupied one summit of the Capitoline hill, while the other summit was assigned to his wife Juno, whose temple, with the long flight |Capitoline Jupiter and Juno.| of stairs leading up to it, has for ages been appropriately replaced by the church of St. Mary “in the altar of the sky” (in Araceli).[590] That both heights were originally wooded seems certain, for down to imperial times the saddle which joins them was known as the place “between the two groves.”[591] Virgil tells us that the hilltop where gilded temples glittered in his day had been covered of old by shaggy thickets, the haunt of woodland elves and savage men, “born of the tree-trunks and the heart of oak.”[592] These thickets were probably composed of oaks, for the oak crown |The hills of Rome once wooded with oaks.| was sacred to Capitoline Juno as well as to Jupiter;[593] it was to a sacred oak on the Capitol that Romulus fastened the spoils,[594] and there is evidence that in early times oak-woods clothed other of the hills on which Rome was afterwards built. Thus 185the Caelian hill went originally by the name of the Mountain of the Oak Grove on account of the thickets of oak by which it was overgrown,[595] and Jupiter was here worshipped in his character of the oak-god;[596] one of the old gates of Rome, apparently between the Caelian and the Esquiline hills, was called the Gate of the Oak Grove for a similar reason;[597] and within the walls hard by was a Chapel of the Oak Grove dedicated to the worship of the oak-nymphs.[598] These nymphs appear on coins of the Accoleian family as three women supporting on their shoulders a pole from which rise leafy branches.[599] The Esquiline hill seems also to have derived its name from its oaks. After mentioning the Chapel of the Oak and other hallowed groves which still dotted the hill in his time, the antiquary Varro tells us that their bounds were now much curtailed, adding with a sigh that it was no wonder the sacred old trees should give way to the modern worship of Mammon.[600] Apparently the Roman nobles of those days sold the ancient woods, as their descendants sell their beautiful gardens, for building-land. To this list of oak-clad hills on the left bank of the Tiber must be added the Quirinal, if Quirinus, who had a very ancient shrine on the hill, was the oak-god.[601] Under the Aventine was a grove of evergreen oaks,[602] which appears to have been no other than the grove of Egeria outside the Porta Capena.[603] The old grove of Vesta, which once skirted the foot of the Palatine hill on the side of the Forum,[604] must surely have been a grove of oaks; for not only 186does an oak appear growing beside the temple of Vesta on a fine relief preserved in the gallery of the Uffizi at Florence, but |The sacred Vestal fire fed with oak-wood.| charred embers of the sacred Vestal fire have in recent years been discovered at the temple of Vesta in the Forum, and a microscopic analysis of them has proved that they consist of the pith or heart of trunks or great branches of oak (quercus).[605] The full significance of this discovery will appear later on. When the plebeians seceded to the Janiculum in the third century before Christ, the dictator Q. Hortensius summoned a meeting of the people and passed a law in an oak grove, which perhaps grew on the hill.[606] In this neighbourhood there was a street called the Street of the Oak Grove; it is mentioned in an inscription found in its original position near the modern Garibaldi bridge.[607] On the Vatican hill there stood an evergreen oak which was believed to be older than Rome; an inscription in Etruscan letters on a bronze tablet proclaimed the sanctity of the tree.[608] Finally, that oak woods existed at or near Rome in the earliest times has lately been demonstrated by the discovery in the Forum itself of a prehistoric cemetery, which contains amongst other sepultures the bones of several young children deposited in rudely hollowed trunks of oak.[609] With all this evidence before us we need not wonder that Virgil should speak of the primitive inhabitants of Rome as “born of the tree-trunks and the heart of oak,” and that the Roman kings 187should have worn crowns of oak leaves in imitation of the oak-god Jupiter, who dwelt in his sacred grove on the Capitol.
Many local Jupiters in Latium. The conclusion we've reached about the kings of Rome and Alba likely applies to all the kings of ancient Latium: each one probably represented or embodied the local Jupiter. We can’t doubt that in ancient times, every Latin town or settlement had its own Jupiter, similar to how every town and almost every church in modern Italy has its own Madonna; and like the Baal of the Semites, the local Jupiter was often worshipped on high places. Wooded heights, where rain clouds gathered, were naturally regarded as sanctuaries for a god of the sky, rain, and oak. In Rome, he occupied one peak of the Capitoline hill, while the other peak was dedicated to his wife Juno, whose temple, with the long flight Capitoline Jupiter and Juno. of stairs leading to it, has long been replaced by the church of St. Mary “in the altar of the sky” (in Araceli).[590] It's certain that both heights were originally wooded, as until imperial times, the saddle connecting them was known as the place “between the two groves.”[591] Virgil tells us that the hilltop where gilded temples glittered in his time had once been covered with shaggy thickets, which were the haunts of woodland elves and wild men, “born of the tree-trunks and the heart of oak.”[592] These thickets were probably made up of oaks, as the oak crown The hills of Rome were once covered with oak trees. was sacred to both Capitoline Juno and Jupiter;[593] it was at a sacred oak on the Capitol that Romulus fastened the spoils,[594] and there’s evidence that in earlier times, oak woods covered other hills where Rome would be built. Thus, 185the Caelian hill was originally called the Mountain of the Oak Grove due to the thickets of oak that overgrew it,[595] and Jupiter was worshipped here as the oak-god;[596] one of the old gates of Rome, likely between the Caelian and the Esquiline hills, was called the Gate of the Oak Grove for a similar reason;[597] and within the walls nearby was a Chapel of the Oak Grove dedicated to the worship of the oak-nymphs.[598] These nymphs appear on coins of the Accoleian family as three women supporting a pole from which leafy branches rise.[599] The Esquiline hill seems to have gotten its name from its oaks. After mentioning the Chapel of the Oak and other sacred groves that still dotted the hill in his time, the antiquarian Varro notes that their boundaries had been greatly reduced, adding with a sigh that it was no wonder the sacred old trees were replaced by the modern worship of Mammon.[600] Apparently, the Roman nobles of those days sold the ancient woods, just as their descendants sell their beautiful gardens for building land. To this list of oak-covered hills on the left bank of the Tiber, we must add the Quirinal, if Quirinus, who had a very ancient shrine on the hill, was the oak-god.[601] Below the Aventine was a grove of evergreen oaks,[602] which seems to have been the grove of Egeria outside the Porta Capena.[603] The old grove of Vesta, which once bordered the base of the Palatine hill on the side of the Forum,[604] must have been a grove of oaks; for not only does an oak appear growing beside the temple of Vesta on a fine relief preserved in the gallery of the Uffizi at Florence, but The sacred Vestal fire fueled by oak wood. charred remains of the sacred Vestal fire have recently been found at the temple of Vesta in the Forum, and a microscopic analysis showed they were from the pith or heart of oak trunks or large branches (quercus).[605] The full significance of this discovery will be explained later. When the plebeians moved to the Janiculum in the third century before Christ, the dictator Q. Hortensius called a meeting of the people and passed a law in an oak grove, which may have been located on the hill.[606] Nearby, there was a street called the Street of the Oak Grove; it is mentioned in an inscription found in its original location near the modern Garibaldi bridge.[607] On the Vatican hill, there stood an evergreen oak believed to be older than Rome; an inscription in Etruscan letters on a bronze tablet declared the tree's sanctity.[608] Finally, that oak woods existed at or around Rome in ancient times has recently been proven by the discovery in the Forum of a prehistoric cemetery, which contains among other burials the remains of several young children placed in roughly hollowed trunks of oak.[609] Given all this evidence, we shouldn’t be surprised that Virgil referred to the early inhabitants of Rome as “born of the tree-trunks and the heart of oak,” and that the Roman kings 187wore crowns of oak leaves in imitation of the oak-god Jupiter, who resided in his sacred grove on the Capitol.
|The Alban kings may have imitated Latian Jupiter, who dwelt on the top of the Alban Mount.| If the kings of Rome aped Capitoline Jove, their predecessors the kings of Alba probably laid themselves out to mimic the great Latian Jupiter, who had his seat above the city on the summit of the Alban Mountain. Latinus, the legendary ancestor of the dynasty, was said to have been changed into Latian Jupiter after vanishing from the world in the mysterious fashion characteristic of the old Latin kings.[610] The sanctuary of the god on the top of the mountain was the religious centre of the Latin League, as Alba was its political capital till Rome wrested the supremacy from its ancient rival. Apparently no temple, in our sense of the word, was ever erected to Jupiter on this his holy mountain; as god of the sky and thunder he appropriately received the homage of his worshippers in the open air. The massive wall, of which some remains still enclose the old garden of the Passionist monastery, seems to have been part of the sacred precinct which Tarquin the Proud, the last king of Rome, marked out for the solemn annual assembly of the Latin League.[611] The god’s oldest sanctuary on this airy mountain-top was a grove;[612] and bearing in mind not merely the special consecration of the oak to Jupiter, but also the traditional oak crown of the Alban kings and the analogy of the Capitoline Jupiter at Rome, we may suppose that the trees in the grove were oaks.[613] We know that in antiquity Mount Algidus, an outlying group of the Alban hills, was covered with dark forests of oak;[614] and among the 188tribes who belonged to the Latin League in the earliest days, and were entitled to share the flesh of the white bull sacrificed on the Alban Mount, there was one whose members styled themselves the Men of the Oak,[615] doubtless on account of the woods among which they dwelt.
The Alban kings may have modeled their version of Jupiter after the one from Latium, who resided at the summit of Alban Mount. If the kings of Rome imitated Capitoline Jove, their predecessors, the kings of Alba, probably aimed to imitate the great Latian Jupiter, who had his throne above the city on the peak of Alban Mountain. Latinus, the legendary ancestor of the dynasty, was said to have transformed into Latian Jupiter after disappearing from the world in the mysterious way typical of the old Latin kings.[610] The god's sanctuary on the mountaintop was the spiritual center of the Latin League, as Alba was its political capital until Rome took over dominance from its ancient rival. It seems that no temple, as we understand it today, was ever built for Jupiter on this holy mountain; as the god of the sky and thunder, he fittingly received the respect of his worshippers outdoors. The massive wall, of which some remains still surround the old garden of the Passionist monastery, appears to have been part of the sacred area that Tarquin the Proud, the last king of Rome, designated for the formal annual gathering of the Latin League.[611] The god's oldest sanctuary on this lofty mountain was a grove;[612] and considering not only the special dedication of the oak to Jupiter, but also the traditional oak crown of the Alban kings and the similarity of the Capitoline Jupiter in Rome, we can assume that the trees in the grove were oaks.[613] We know that in ancient times Mount Algidus, a remote part of the Alban hills, was covered with dark oak forests;[614] and among the tribes that were part of the Latin League in its earliest days, entitled to share the meat of the white bull sacrificed on Alban Mount, there was one group whose members called themselves the Men of the Oak,[615] likely because of the woods they inhabited.
|Theophrastus’s description of the woods of Latium.| But we should err if we pictured to ourselves the country as covered in historical times with an unbroken forest of oaks. Theophrastus has left us a description of the woods of Latium as they were in the fourth century before Christ. He says: “The land of the Latins is all moist. The plains produce laurels, myrtles, and wonderful beeches; for they fell trees of such a size that a single stem suffices for the keel of a Tyrrhenian ship. Pines and firs grow in the mountains. What they call the land of Circe is a lofty headland thickly wooded with oak, myrtle, and luxuriant laurels. The natives say that Circe dwelt there, and they shew the grave of Elpenor, from which grow myrtles such as wreaths are made of, whereas the other myrtle-trees are tall.”[616] Thus the prospect from the top |The prospect from the Alban Mount in antiquity.| of the Alban Mount in the early days of Rome must have been very different in some respects from what it is to-day. The purple Apennines, indeed, in their eternal calm on the one hand, and the shining Mediterranean in its eternal unrest on the other, no doubt looked then much as they look now, whether bathed in sunshine, or chequered by the fleeting shadows of clouds; but instead of the desolate brown expanse of the fever-stricken Campagna, spanned by its long lines of ruined aqueducts, like the broken arches of the bridge in the vision of Mirza, the eye must have ranged over woodlands that stretched away, mile after mile, on all sides, till their varied hues of green or autumnal scarlet and gold melted insensibly into the blue of the distant mountains and sea.
Theophrastus's description of the forests of Latium. But we would be mistaken if we imagined that the area was covered in an unbroken forest of oaks during historical times. Theophrastus left us a description of the woods of Latium as they were in the fourth century BC. He says: “The land of the Latins is quite moist. The plains produce laurels, myrtles, and beautiful beeches; they fell trees so large that a single trunk is enough for the keel of a Tyrrhenian ship. Pines and firs grow in the mountains. What they call Circe's land is a tall headland thickly forested with oak, myrtle, and lush laurels. The locals say that Circe lived there, and they show the grave of Elpenor, from which grow myrtles used for making wreaths, while the other myrtle trees are tall.”[616] Thus, the view from the top The view from Alban Mount in ancient times. of the Alban Mount in the early days of Rome must have looked very different in some ways from what it is today. The purple Apennines, in their eternal stillness on one side, and the sparkling Mediterranean in its constant motion on the other, probably looked much like they do now, whether bathed in sunlight or dotted with the fleeting shadows of clouds; but instead of the barren brown stretch of the fever-ridden Campagna, marked by long lines of crumbling aqueducts, like the broken arches of the bridge in Mirza's vision, the view must have extended over woodlands that spread, mile after mile, in all directions, until their varied shades of green or autumnal reds and golds blended seamlessly into the blue of the distant mountains and sea.
Thus the Alban Mount was to the Latins what Olympus was to the Greeks, the lofty abode of the sky-god, who hurled his thunderbolts from above the clouds. The white 189steers which were here sacrificed to him in his sacred grove, as in the Capitol at Rome,[617] remind us of the white bulls which the Druids of Gaul sacrificed under the holy oak when |Resemblance between the Latin worship of Jupiter and the Druidical worship of the oak.| they cut the mistletoe;[618] and the parallel would be all the closer if, as we have seen reason to think, the Latins worshipped Jupiter originally in groves of oak. Other resemblances between ancient Gaul and Latium will meet us later on. When we remember that the ancient Italian and Celtic peoples spoke languages which are nearly related to each other,[619] we shall not be surprised at discovering traces of community in their religion, especially in what concerns the worship of the god of the oak and the thunder. For that worship, as we shall see presently, belongs to the oldest stratum of Aryan civilisation in Europe.
Thus, the Alban Mount was to the Latins what Olympus was to the Greeks, the high home of the sky god, who threw his thunderbolts from above the clouds. The white 189steers that were sacrificed to him in his sacred grove, just like in the Capitol at Rome,[617] remind us of the white bulls that the Druids of Gaul sacrificed under the holy oak when |Similarity between the Roman worship of Jupiter and the Druidic worship of the oak.| they cut the mistletoe;[618] and the comparison would be even stronger if, as we have reason to believe, the Latins originally worshipped Jupiter in oak groves. Other similarities between ancient Gaul and Latium will come up later. When we remember that the ancient Italian and Celtic peoples spoke languages that are closely related to each other,[619] we shouldn't be surprised to find traces of commonality in their religion, especially regarding the worship of the oak and thunder god. That worship, as we will see soon, belongs to the oldest layer of Aryan civilization in Europe.
|Sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno.| But Jupiter did not reign alone on the top of his holy mountain. He had his consort with him, the goddess Juno, who was worshipped here under the same title, Moneta, as on the Capitol at Rome.[620] As the oak crown was sacred to Jupiter and Juno on the Capitol,[621] so we may suppose it was on the Alban Mount, from which the Capitoline worship was derived. Thus the oak-god would have his oak-goddess in the sacred oak grove. So at Dodona the oak-god Zeus was coupled with Dione, whose very name is only a dialectically different form of Juno;[622] and so on the top of Mount Cithaeron he was periodically wedded to an oaken 190image of Hera.[623] It is probable, though it cannot be positively proved, that the sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno was annually celebrated by all the peoples of the Latin stock in the month which they named after the goddess, the midsummer month of June.[624] Now on the first of June the Roman pontiffs performed certain rites in the grove of Helernus beside the Tiber, and on the same day, and perhaps in the same place, a nymph of the grove, by name Carna, received offerings of lard and bean-porridge. She was said to be a huntress, chaste and coy, who gave |Janus and Carna.| the slip to her lovers in the depths of the wood, but was caught by Janus. Some took her to be Diana herself.[625] If she were indeed a form of that goddess, her union with Janus, that is, Dianus, would be appropriate; and as she had a chapel on the Caelian hill, which was once covered with oak-woods,[626] she may have been, like Egeria, an oak-nymph. Further, Janus, or Dianus, and Diana, as we shall see later on, were originally mere doubles of Jupiter and Juno, with whom they coincide in name and to some extent in function. Hence it appears to be not impossible that the rite celebrated by the pontiffs on the first of June in the 191sacred grove of Helernus was the marriage of Jupiter and Juno under the forms of Janus and Diana. It would be some confirmation of this view if we could be sure that, as Ovid seems to imply, the Romans were in the habit of placing branches of white thorn or buckthorn in their |Ancient use of white thorn or buckthorn to ward off witchcraft.| windows on the first of June to keep out the witches;[627] for in some parts of Europe precisely the same custom is observed, for the same reason, a month earlier, on the marriage day of the King and Queen of May.[628] The Greeks certainly believed that branches of white thorn or buckthorn fastened to a door or outside the house had power to disarm the malignant arts of sorcerers[629] and to exclude spirits. Hence they hung up branches of it before the door when sacrifices were being offered to the dead, lest any of the prowling ghosts should be tempted to revisit their old homes or to invade those of other people.[630] When the atheist Bion lay adying, he not only caused sacrifices to be offered on his behalf to the gods whose existence he had denied, but got an old hag to mumble incantations over him and to bind magical thongs about his arms, and he had boughs of buckthorn and laurel attached to the lintel to keep out death.[631] However, the evidence as to the rites observed by the Romans on the first of June is too slight and dubious to allow us to press the parallel with May Day.
Sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno. But Jupiter didn't rule alone atop his sacred mountain. He had his partner with him, the goddess Juno, who was honored here with the same title, Moneta, as on the Capitol in Rome.[620] Just like the oak crown was sacred to Jupiter and Juno on the Capitol,[621] we can assume it was also sacred on the Alban Mount, from where the Capitoline worship originated. Thus, the oak god would have his oak goddess in the sacred oak grove. Similarly, at Dodona, the oak god Zeus was paired with Dione, whose name is just a dialectically altered version of Juno;[622] and on the summit of Mount Cithaeron, he was periodically married to an oak representation of Hera.[623] It's likely, though not definitively proven, that the sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno was celebrated annually by all the Latin people in the month named after the goddess, the midsummer month of June.[624] Now, on June 1st, the Roman priests performed certain rites in the grove of Helernus by the Tiber, and on the same day, possibly in the same place, a nymph of the grove named Carna received offerings of lard and bean porridge. She was said to be a huntress, chaste and modest, who eluded her suitors in the depths of the woods, but was caught by Janus. Some believed her to be Diana herself.[625] If she was indeed a form of that goddess, her union with Janus, or Dianus, would be fitting; and since she had a chapel on the Caelian hill, which was once covered with oak forests,[626] she might have been, like Egeria, an oak nymph. Furthermore, Janus, or Dianus, and Diana, as will be discussed later, were originally just doubles of Jupiter and Juno, sharing names and some functions. Thus, it seems possible that the rite performed by the priests on June 1st in the sacred grove of Helernus was the marriage of Jupiter and Juno under the forms of Janus and Diana. It would support this idea if we could confirm that, as Ovid suggests, the Romans typically placed branches of white thorn or buckthorn in their |Ancient use of white thorn or buckthorn to protect against witchcraft.| windows on June 1st to keep out witches;[627] since in some parts of Europe, the same custom is observed for the same reason a month earlier, on the marriage day of the King and Queen of May.[628] The Greeks certainly believed that branches of white thorn or buckthorn placed on a door or outside the house could thwart the harmful magic of sorcerers[629] and keep out spirits. Thus, they hung branches of it before the door when making sacrifices to the dead, to prevent any wandering ghosts from being tempted to return to their old homes or invade others.[630] When the atheist Bion was dying, he not only had sacrifices made on his behalf to the gods whose existence he had denied, but also got an old woman to chant incantations over him and bound magical thongs around his arms, attaching boughs of buckthorn and laurel to the doorframe to keep death out.[631] However, the evidence regarding the rites performed by the Romans on June 1st is too limited and uncertain to strongly equate it with May Day.
|At the sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno in later times the parts of the deities may have been acted by the Flamen Dialis and the Flaminica.| If at any time of the year the Romans celebrated the sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno, as the Greeks commonly celebrated the corresponding marriage of Zeus and Hera,[632] we may suppose that under the Republic the ceremony was either performed over images of the divine pair or acted by the Flamen Dialis and his wife the Flaminica. For the Flamen Dialis was the priest of Jove; indeed, ancient and modern writers have regarded him, with much 192probability, as a living image of Jupiter, a human embodiment of the sky-god.[633] In earlier times the Roman king, as representative of Jupiter, would naturally play the part of the heavenly bridegroom at the sacred marriage, while his queen would figure as the heavenly bride, just as in Egypt |The Flamen and Flaminica may have been the deputies of the king and queen.| the king and queen masqueraded in the character of deities, and as at Athens the queen annually wedded the vine-god Dionysus. That the Roman king and queen should act the parts of Jupiter and Juno would seem all the more natural because these deities themselves bore the title of King and Queen.[634] Even if the office of Flamen Dialis existed under the kings, as it appears to have done, the double representation of Jupiter by the king and the flamen need not have seemed extraordinary to the Romans of the time. The same sort of duplication, as we saw, appears to have taken place at Alba, when the Julii were allowed to represent the supreme god in the character of Little Jupiters, while the royal dynasty of the Silvii continued to wield the divine thunder and lightning.[635] And long ages afterwards, history repeating itself, another member of the Julian house, the first emperor of Rome, was deified in his lifetime under the title of Jupiter, while a flamen was appointed to do for him what the Flamen Dialis did for the heavenly Jove.[636] It is said that Numa, the typical priestly king, at first himself discharged the functions of Flamen Dialis, but afterwards appointed a separate priest of Jupiter with that title, in order that the kings, untrammeled by the burdensome religious observances attached to the priesthood, might be free to lead their armies to battle.[637] The tradition may be substantially correct; for analogy shews that the functions 193of a priestly king are too harassing and too incongruous to be permanently united in the same hands, and that sooner or later the holder of the office seeks to rid himself of part of his burden by deputing to others, according to his temper and tastes, either his civil or his religious duties. Hence we may take it as probable that the fighting kings of Rome, tired of parading as Jupiter and of observing all the elaborate ritual, all the tedious restrictions which the character of godhead entailed on them, were glad to relegate these pious mummeries to a substitute, in whose hands they left the crosier at home while they went forth to wield the sharp Roman sword abroad. This would explain why the traditions of the later kings, from Tullus Hostilius onwards, exhibit so few traces of sacred or priestly functions adhering to their office. Among the ceremonies which they henceforward performed by deputy may have been the rite of the sacred marriage.
In later times, during the sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno, the roles of the gods may have been performed by the Flamen Dialis and the Flaminica. If there were times when the Romans celebrated the sacred marriage of Jupiter and Juno, similar to the way the Greeks celebrated the marriage of Zeus and Hera,[632] we can assume that during the Republic, the ceremony was either performed over images of the divine couple or enacted by the Flamen Dialis and his wife, the Flaminica. The Flamen Dialis served as the priest of Jove; in fact, ancient and modern writers have viewed him, quite plausibly, as a living representation of Jupiter, a human embodiment of the sky-god.[633] In earlier times, the Roman king, as the representative of Jupiter, would naturally have played the role of the heavenly bridegroom at the sacred marriage, while his queen would act as the heavenly bride, just as in Egypt the king and queen took on the roles of deities, and as in Athens, the queen annually married the vine-god Dionysus. It would seem natural for the Roman king and queen to represent Jupiter and Juno, especially since these deities themselves were known as King and Queen.[634] Even if the office of Flamen Dialis existed during the reign of kings, as it appears to have, the dual representation of Jupiter by both the king and the flamen wouldn’t have seemed unusual to the Romans at the time. A similar duplication, as we noted, happened at Alba, where the Julii were allowed to represent the supreme god as Little Jupiters, while the royal dynasty of the Silvii continued to wield the divine thunder and lightning.[635] Many ages later, history repeated itself when another member of the Julian house, the first emperor of Rome, was deified during his lifetime as Jupiter, while a flamen was appointed to perform for him what the Flamen Dialis did for the heavenly Jove.[636] It is said that Numa, the quintessential priestly king, initially took on the roles of Flamen Dialis himself but later appointed a separate priest of Jupiter with that title so that the kings, unburdened by the demanding religious obligations associated with the priesthood, could lead their armies into battle.[637] This tradition may be largely accurate; for analogies suggest that the responsibilities of a priestly king are too burdensome and too mismatched to remain permanently united in the same individual, leading the officeholder to eventually seek to delegate part of their load, whether civil or religious, to others based on their preferences. Therefore, it is plausible that the warrior kings of Rome, weary of acting as Jupiter and fulfilling all the intricate rituals and restrictions tied to divinity, were eager to delegate these pious performances to a substitute, allowing them to leave the ceremonial staff behind while they took up the sharp Roman sword in battle. This would clarify why the traditions of the later kings, from Tullus Hostilius onward, show minimal traces of sacred or priestly duties tied to their position. Among the rituals they likely continued to perform through a proxy was the rite of the sacred marriage.
|At the sacred marriage the King and Queen of Rome probably personated the god and goddess of the oak.| Whether that was so or not, the legend of Numa and Egeria appears to embody a reminiscence of a time when the priestly king himself played the part of the divine bridegroom; and as we have seen reason to suppose that the Roman kings personated the oak-god, while Egeria is expressly said to have been an oak-nymph, the story of their union in the sacred grove raises a presumption that at Rome in the regal period a ceremony was periodically performed exactly analogous to that which was annually celebrated at Athens down to the time of Aristotle.[638] The marriage of the King of Rome to the oak-goddess, like the wedding of the vine-god to the Queen of Athens, must have been intended 194to quicken the growth of vegetation by homoeopathic magic. Of the two forms of the rite we can hardly doubt that the Roman was the older, and that long before the northern invaders met with the vine on the shores of the Mediterranean their forefathers had married the tree-god to the tree-goddess in the vast oak forests of Central and Northern Europe. In the England of our day the forests have mostly disappeared, yet still on many a village green and in many a country lane a faded image of the sacred marriage lingers in the rustic pageantry of May Day.
At the sacred marriage, the King and Queen of Rome probably represented the god and goddess of the oak. Whether that was the case or not, the story of Numa and Egeria seems to reflect a time when the priest-king himself took on the role of the divine bridegroom; and as we have reason to believe that the Roman kings represented the oak-god, while Egeria is specifically described as an oak-nymph, the tale of their union in the sacred grove suggests that in Rome, during the regal period, a ceremony was regularly held that was very similar to the one celebrated annually in Athens up to Aristotle's time.[638] The marriage of the King of Rome to the oak-goddess, like the wedding of the vine-god to the Queen of Athens, must have aimed 194to stimulate plant growth through homeopathic magic. Of the two forms of the rite, we can hardly doubt that the Roman one was the older, and that long before the northern invaders encountered the vine on the shores of the Mediterranean, their ancestors had united the tree-god with the tree-goddess in the vast oak forests of Central and Northern Europe. In present-day England, the forests have mostly vanished, yet still on many village greens and in numerous country lanes, a faded reflection of the sacred marriage remains in the rustic celebrations of May Day.
CHAPTER XIV
THE KING’S FIRE
|Sacred Marriage of the Fire-god with a woman.| Thus far we have dealt mainly with those instances of the Sacred Marriage in which a human being is wedded to the divine powers of vegetation or water. Now we pass to the consideration of a different class of cases, in which the divine bridegroom is the fire and his bride a human virgin. And these cases are particularly important for our present enquiry into the early Latin kingship, since it appears that the old Latin kings were commonly supposed to be the offspring of the fire-god by mortal mothers. The evidence which points to this conclusion is as follows.
|Divine Union of the Fire God and a Woman.| So far, we've mostly looked at examples of the Sacred Marriage where a human is united with the divine forces of plants or water. Now, we’ll focus on a different situation, where the divine groom is the fire and his bride is a human virgin. These examples are especially significant for our current investigation into the early Latin kingship, as it's believed that the ancient Latin kings were often regarded as the children of the fire-god and mortal women. The evidence supporting this conclusion is as follows.
|Legend of the birth of King Servius Tullius from the fire.| First, let us take the legend of the birth of King Servius Tullius. It is said that one day the virgin Ocrisia, a slave-woman of Queen Tanaquil, the wife of King Tarquin the elder, was offering as usual cakes and libations of wine on the royal hearth, when a flame in the shape of the male member shot out from the fire. Taking this for a sign that her handmaiden was to be the mother of a more than mortal son, the wise Queen Tanaquil bade the girl array herself as a bride and lie down beside the hearth. Her orders were obeyed; Ocrisia conceived by the god or spirit of the fire, and in due time brought forth Servius Tullius, who was thus born a slave, being the reputed son of a slave mother and a divine father, the fire-god. His birth from the fire was attested in his childhood by a lambent flame which played about his head as he slept at noon in the king’s palace.[639] This story, as others have pointed 196out before,[640] seems clearly to imply that the mother of Servius was a Vestal Virgin charged with the care and worship of the sacred fire in the king’s house. Now, in Promathion’s History of Italy, cited by Plutarch, a similar tale was told of the birth of Romulus himself. It is |Legend of the birth of Romulus from the fire.| said that in the house of the King of Alba a flame like to the male organ of generation hung over the hearth for many days. Learning from an oracle that a virgin should conceive by this phantom and bear a son of great valour and renown, the king bade one of his daughters submit to its embraces, but she disdained to do so, and sent her handmaid instead. Angry at her disobedience, her father ordered both the maidens to be put to death. But Vesta appeared to him in a dream, forbade the execution, and commanded that both the girls should be imprisoned until they had woven a certain web, after which they were to be given in marriage. But the web was never finished, for as fast as they wove it by day, other maidens, in obedience to the king’s orders, unwove it at night. Meantime the handmaiden conceived by the flame of fire, and gave birth to Romulus and Remus.[641] In this legend, as in the story of the birth of Servius Tullius, it is plain that the mother of the future King of Rome was both a slave and a priestess of Vesta. Orthodox Roman tradition always admitted that she was a Vestal, but naturally enough represented her as the king’s daughter rather than his slave. 197The god Mars, it was said, got her with child as she drew water in his sacred grove.[642] However, when we compare this legend with the similar story of the birth of Servius, we may suspect that Promathion has preserved, though perhaps in a perverted form, an old feature of the Latin kingship, namely, that one of the king’s parents might be, and sometimes was, a slave. Whether that was so or not, such tales at least bear witness to an old belief that the early Roman kings were born of virgins and of the fire. Similarly Caeculus, the founder of Praeneste, passed for a |Legend of the birth of Caeculus from the fire.| son of Vulcan. It was said that his mother conceived him through a spark, which leapt from the fire and struck her as she sat by the hearth. She exposed the child near a temple of Jupiter, and he was found there beside a fire by some maidens who were going to draw water. In after-life he proved his divine birth by working an appropriate miracle. When an infidel crowd refused to believe that he was the son of a god, he prayed to his father, and immediately the unbelievers were surrounded with a flame of fire.[643] More than this, the whole of the Alban dynasty appear to have traced their descent from a Vestal, for the wife of King Latinus, their legendary ancestor, was named Amata[644] or Beloved, and this was the regular title bestowed on a Vestal after her election,[645] a title which cannot be fully understood except in the light of the foregoing traditions, which seem to shew that the Vestals were regularly supposed to be beloved by the fire-god. Moreover, fire is said to have played round the head of Amata’s daughter Lavinia,[646] just as it played round the head of the fire-born Servius Tullius. As the same prodigy was reported of Julus or Ascanius, the son of Aeneas,[647] we may suspect that a similar legend was told of his miraculous conception at the hearth.
|Legend of how King Servius Tullius was born from fire.| First, let’s look at the legend of the birth of King Servius Tullius. It’s said that one day Ocrisia, a virgin and slave of Queen Tanaquil, the wife of King Tarquin the Elder, was offering cakes and wine on the royal hearth when a flame shaped like a male member shot out from the fire. Believing this was a sign that her handmaid was destined to be the mother of a superhuman son, the wise Queen Tanaquil instructed the girl to dress like a bride and lie down by the hearth. Ocrisia followed her orders; she conceived by the god or spirit of the fire, and in time gave birth to Servius Tullius, who was born a slave, thought to be the son of a slave mother and a divine father, the fire-god. His fiery birth was confirmed in his childhood by a flickering flame that danced around his head while he slept at noon in the king’s palace.[639] This narrative, as others have pointed out,196[640] seems to clearly imply that Servius's mother was a Vestal Virgin tasked with caring for and worshiping the sacred fire in the king's household. In Promathion’s History of Italy, referenced by Plutarch, a similar story is told about the birth of Romulus himself. It is|Story of Romulus's birth from the flames.| said that in the house of the King of Alba, a flame resembling the male organ of generation lingered over the hearth for many days. After hearing from an oracle that a virgin would conceive from this apparition and bear a son of great courage and fame, the king ordered one of his daughters to comply with its desires, but she refused and sent her handmaid instead. Angered by her disobedience, her father commanded that both maidens be executed. But Vesta appeared to him in a dream, forbade the execution, and ordered that both girls be imprisoned until they wove a certain web, after which they would be married. However, the web was never completed, for while they wove it by day, other maidens, following the king’s orders, unwove it at night. Meanwhile, the handmaiden conceived from the flame and gave birth to Romulus and Remus.[641] In this legend, as in the story of Servius Tullius's birth, it’s clear that the mother of the future King of Rome was both a slave and a priestess of Vesta. Traditional Roman belief always accepted that she was a Vestal, yet naturally presented her as the king’s daughter rather than his slave.197 The god Mars was said to have fathered her child while she was drawing water in his sacred grove.[642] However, when we compare this legend to Servius's similar story, we might suspect that Promathion has preserved, though perhaps in an altered form, an old aspect of Latin kingship, namely, that one of the king’s parents could be, and sometimes was, a slave. Whether this was truly the case or not, these stories do indicate an enduring belief that early Roman kings were born of virgins and from fire. Likewise, Caeculus, the founder of Praeneste, was believed to be a|Legend of how Caeculus was born from fire.| son of Vulcan. It was said that his mother conceived him through a spark that jumped from the fire and struck her while she sat by the hearth. She left the child near a temple of Jupiter, where some maidens gathering water found him beside a fire. Later in life, he proved his divine parentage by performing a fitting miracle. When an unfaithful crowd refused to believe he was the son of a god, he prayed to his father, and immediately, the skeptics were surrounded by flames.[643] Moreover, the entire Alban dynasty seems to trace its lineage back to a Vestal, for King Latinus, their legendary ancestor, had a wife named Amata[644] or Beloved, which was the usual title given to a Vestal after her selection,[645] a title that can only be fully understood in light of the aforementioned traditions, suggesting that Vestals were regularly thought to be cherished by the fire-god. Additionally, fire is said to have surrounded the head of Amata’s daughter, Lavinia,[646] just as it did for the fire-born Servius Tullius. Since the same phenomenon was reported about Julus or Ascanius, the son of Aeneas,[647] we may suspect that a similar story was told about his miraculous conception at the hearth.
198|The Vestal Virgins seem to have been regarded as the wives of the fire-god.| Now we may take it as certain that the Romans and Latins would never have traced the descent of their kings from Vestal Virgins unless they had thought that such a descent, far from being a stain, was, under certain circumstances, highly honourable. What the circumstances were that permitted a Vestal to become a mother, not only with impunity but with honour and glory, appear plainly from the stories of the birth of Caeculus, Romulus, and Servius Tullius. If she might not know a mortal man, she was quite free, and indeed was encouraged, to conceive and bear a son to the fire-god. In fact the legends suggest that the Vestals were regularly regarded as the fire-god’s wives. This would explain why they were bound to chastity during their term of service: the bride must be true to her divine bridegroom. And the theory of chastity could be easily reconciled with the practice of maternity by allowing a man to masquerade as the fire-god at a sacred marriage, just as in Egypt the king disguised himself as the god Ammon when he wedded the queen,[648] or as among the Ewe tribes the priest poses as the python-god when he goes in to the human brides of the serpent.[649] Thus the doctrine of the divine birth of kings presents no serious difficulty to people who believe that a god may be made flesh in a man, and that a virgin may conceive and bear him a son. Of course the theory of the divine motherhood of the Vestals applies only to the early regal and therefore prehistoric period. Under the Republic the demand for kings had ceased, and with it, therefore, the supply. Yet a trace of the old view of the Vestals as virgin mothers lingered down to the latest times in the character of Vesta herself, their patroness and type; for Vesta always bore the official title of Mother, never that of Virgin.[650] We may surmise that a similar belief and practice once obtained in Attica. For 199Erichthonius, king of Athens, is said to have been a son of the fire-god Hephaestus by the virgin goddess Athena: the story told of his miraculous birth from the ground, which had been impregnated by the seed of the fire-god, is clearly a later version devised to save the virginity of his mother.[651] The perpetual lamp of Athena, which burned in the Erechtheum or house of Erechtheus (who was identical with Erichthonius) on the acropolis of Athens,[652] may have answered to the perpetual fire of Vesta at Rome; and it is possible that the maidens called Arrephoroi or Errephoroi, who dwelt close to the Erechtheum,[653] may at one time have personated Athena and passed, like the Vestals, for wives of the fire-god.
198The Vestal Virgins were seen as the wives of the fire god. It's clear that the Romans and Latins would never have claimed their kings descended from Vestal Virgins unless they considered such lineage to be a mark of honor rather than a disgrace, especially under certain circumstances. The stories of Caeculus, Romulus, and Servius Tullius illustrate when a Vestal could become a mother, and in these cases, it was seen as both honorable and glorious. While she was forbidden to engage with a mortal man, she was encouraged to conceive and bear a son for the fire-god. In fact, legends suggest that the Vestals were regularly seen as the wives of the fire-god. This explains their vow of chastity during their service: a bride must remain faithful to her divine husband. The idea of chastity could be easily reconciled with motherhood by allowing a man to play the role of the fire-god during a sacred marriage, much like in Egypt where the king pretended to be the god Ammon when marrying the queen,[648] or in the Ewe tribes where a priest impersonates the python-god during the union with the human brides of the serpent.[649] Therefore, the belief in the divine lineage of kings poses no significant challenge to those who think a god can become embodied in a man, and that a virgin can conceive and give birth to a son. Of course, the idea of the divine motherhood of the Vestals pertains only to the early regal, and thus prehistoric, times. By the Republic, the demand for kings had ended, and so had their supply. Still, a remnant of the old notion of the Vestals as virgin mothers persisted into later times in the character of Vesta herself, their patroness and archetype; Vesta was always officially referred to as Mother, never as Virgin.[650] We can also speculate that a similar belief and practice existed in Attica. For Erichthonius, the king of Athens, is said to be the son of the fire-god Hephaestus and the virgin goddess Athena: the story of his miraculous birth from the ground, which had been impregnated by the fire-god’s seed, is clearly a later adaptation created to preserve the virginity of his mother.[651] The eternal flame of Athena, which burned in the Erechtheum or house of Erechtheus (who was identical with Erichthonius) on the acropolis of Athens,[652] may have corresponded to the eternal fire of Vesta in Rome; and it’s possible that the maidens called Arrephoroi or Errephoroi, who lived near the Erechtheum,[653] may have once impersonated Athena and been viewed, like the Vestals, as wives of the fire-god.
|Rationalistic theory of the duties of the Vestals rejected.| It has, indeed, been held that the Vestals were of old the king’s daughters, who were kept at home and forbidden to marry for no other reason than that they might devote themselves to the domestic duties of drawing water, mopping the house, tending the fire, and baking cakes.[654] But this rationalistic theory could hardly explain the superstitious horror which the infidelity of a Vestal always excited in the Roman mind. Customs which begin in reason seldom end in superstition. It is likely, therefore, that the rule of chastity imposed on the Vestals was based from the first on a superstition rather than on a mere consideration of practical convenience. The belief that the Vestals were the spouses of the fire-god would explain the rule.[655] We have seen that the practice of marrying women to gods has been by no means uncommon. If the spirit of the water has his human wife, why not the spirit of the fire? Indeed, primitive man has a special reason for thinking that the fire-god should always be married. What that reason is, I will now try to explain.
The rationalistic theory regarding the duties of the Vestals has been rejected. It has been said that the Vestals were once the king’s daughters, who were kept at home and not allowed to marry solely so they could focus on household tasks like drawing water, cleaning the house, keeping the fire going, and baking cakes.[654] However, this rationalistic idea doesn't really account for the intense superstitious fear that the infidelity of a Vestal always sparked in the Roman mind. Customs that start out based on reason rarely end in superstition. Therefore, it seems likely that the rule of chastity enforced on the Vestals was originally rooted in superstition rather than just practical convenience. The belief that the Vestals were the wives of the fire-god could explain this rule.[655] We've seen that the practice of marrying women to gods isn't uncommon. If the spirit of water has his human wife, why shouldn’t the spirit of fire? In fact, early humans had a strong reason to believe that the fire-god should always be married. I will now attempt to explain what that reason is.
200|The Vestal fire of later times was a continuation of the fire on the king’s hearth.| But first it is necessary to apprehend clearly that the Vestal fire of republican and imperial Rome was strictly the successor or continuation of the fire which in the regal period had burned on the king’s hearth. That it was so appears plainly from the stories of the birth of Romulus and Servius Tullius, which shew that Vesta was believed to be worshipped at the royal fireside by maidens who were either the king’s daughters or his slaves. This conclusion is amply confirmed by a study of the temple of Vesta and the adjoining edifices in the Roman Forum. For the so-called temple of the goddess never was, strictly speaking, a temple at all. This fact we have on the authority of Varro himself, the greatest of Roman antiquaries.[656] The little round building in which the sacred fire always burned was merely a copy of the round hut in which the king, like his |The round temple of Vesta a copy of the ancient Italian hut.| subjects, had dwelt in days of old. Tradition preserved a memory of the time when its walls were made of wattled osiers and the roof was of thatch;[657] indeed, with that peculiar clinging to the forms of the past which is characteristic of royalty and religion, the inmost shrine continued down even to late times to be fashioned of the same simple materials.[658] The hut of Romulus, or what passed for it, constructed of wood, reeds, and straw, was always preserved and carefully repaired in the original style. It stood on the side of the Palatine hill facing the Circus Maximus.[659] A similar hut, roofed with thatch, was in like manner maintained on the Capitoline hill, and traditionally associated with Romulus.[660] The so-called temple of Vesta in historical times stood not on any of the hills, but in the Forum, at the northern foot of the Palatine. Its situation in the flat ground is quite consistent with the view that the building represents the king’s house of early, though not of the very earliest, times; for, according to tradition, it was 201built by Numa in this position between the Palatine and the Capitol, at the time when he united the two separate towns on these hills and turned the low swampy ground between them into their common place of assembly. Here, too, beside the temple of Vesta, the king built himself a house, which was ever afterwards known as the Regia or palace; formerly he had dwelt on the Quirinal.[661] In after-times this old palace of the kings was perhaps the official residence of their successor, the King of the Sacred Rites.[662] Adjoining it was the house of the Vestals,[663] at first, no doubt, a simple and unpretentious edifice, but afterwards a stately pile gathered round a spacious open court which must have resembled the cloister of a mediaeval monastery. We may assume that the kernel of this group of buildings was the round temple of Vesta, and that the hearth in it, on which burned the sacred fire, was originally the hearth of the king’s house. That the so-called temple was built on the model of the round huts of the old Latins is proved by the discoveries made at an ancient necropolis near Albano. The ashes of the dead were here deposited in urns, which are shaped like |Hut-urns found at Albano and Rome.| little round huts with conical roofs, obviously in order that the souls of the dead might live in houses such as they had inhabited during life. The roofs of these miniature dwellings are raised on cross-beams, sometimes with one or more holes to let out the smoke. The door is fastened by a crossbar, which is passed through a ring on the outside and tied to the two side-posts. In some of these hut-urns the side-posts are duplicated, or even triplicated, for the sake of 202ornament; and it is probable that the ring of columns which encircled the little temple of Vesta in historical times was merely an extension of the door-posts of the prehistoric hut. The necropolis in which these urns were found must be very ancient, since it was buried under the streams of lava vomited by the Alban Mountain in eruption. But the mountain has not been an active volcano within historical times, unless, indeed, the showers of stones and the rain of blood often recorded as ominous prodigies by Roman writers may be explained as jets of pumice and red volcanic dust discharged by one of the craters.[664] The prehistoric burial-ground lately discovered in the Roman Forum has yielded several hut-urns of precisely the same shape as those of the Alban cemetery. Hence we may infer with tolerable certainty that the earliest Latin settlers both on the Alban hills and at Rome dwelt in round huts built of wattle and dab, with peaked roofs of thatch.[665]
200The Vestal fire in later times was a continuation of the fire that burned on the king's hearth. But first, it's important to understand that the Vestal fire in republican and imperial Rome was a direct successor to the fire that had burned in the regal period on the king’s hearth. This is evident from the stories of the births of Romulus and Servius Tullius, which show that Vesta was believed to be worshiped at the royal fireside by young women who were either the king’s daughters or his slaves. This conclusion is further supported by examining the temple of Vesta and the nearby buildings in the Roman Forum. The so-called temple of the goddess was not, strictly speaking, a temple at all. This fact comes from Varro himself, the greatest of Roman historians. [656] The small round building where the sacred fire always burned was simply a replica of the round hut where the king, like his subjects, had lived in ancient times. Tradition has preserved a memory of the time when its walls were made of woven branches and the roof was thatched; [657] indeed, with the tendency to hold onto traditions that is typical of both royalty and religion, the innermost shrine continued to be made of the same simple materials even in later times. [658] The hut of Romulus, or what was said to be it, made of wood, reeds, and straw, was always maintained and carefully repaired in its original style. It was located on the side of the Palatine hill facing the Circus Maximus. [659] A similar hut, thatched with straw, was also kept on the Capitoline hill and was traditionally linked to Romulus. [660] The so-called temple of Vesta in historical times was not situated on any of the hills but in the Forum, at the northern base of the Palatine. Its location on flat ground aligns with the view that the building represents the king’s house of early, although not the earliest, times; according to tradition, it was built by Numa in this spot between the Palatine and the Capitol when he united the two separate towns on these hills and transformed the low, swampy area in between into their common gathering place. Here, too, next to the temple of Vesta, the king built himself a house, which became known as the Regia or palace; previously, he had lived on the Quirinal. [661] In later times, this old palace of the kings possibly became the official residence of their successor, the King of the Sacred Rites. [662] Adjacent to it was the house of the Vestals, [663] initially a simple and unpretentious structure, but later evolving into an impressive complex surrounding a spacious open court that likely resembled the cloister of a medieval monastery. We can assume that the core of this group of buildings was the round temple of Vesta and that the hearth inside, where the sacred fire burned, was originally the hearth of the king’s house. The idea that the so-called temple was built in the style of the round huts of the ancient Latins is supported by findings at an ancient burial site near Albano. Here, the ashes of the deceased were placed in urns shaped like |Hut urns discovered in Albano and Rome.| small round huts with conical roofs, clearly intended so that the souls of the dead could inhabit homes similar to those they lived in while alive. The roofs of these miniature dwellings are supported by cross-beams, sometimes with one or more holes to let out the smoke. The door is secured with a crossbar, which goes through a ring on the outside and is tied to the two side-posts. In some of these hut-urns, the side-posts are duplicated or even triplicated for decoration; it’s likely that the ring of columns surrounding the little temple of Vesta in historical times was simply an extension of the door-posts of the prehistoric hut. The burial site where these urns were discovered must be very ancient, as it was buried under streams of lava from an eruption of the Alban Mountain. However, the mountain has not been an active volcano in historical times, unless, perhaps, the showers of stones and rains of blood commonly noted as ominous signs by Roman writers could be explained as jets of pumice and red volcanic ash expelled by one of its craters. [664] The prehistoric burial site recently discovered in the Roman Forum has revealed several hut-urns with the same shape as those from the Alban cemetery. Therefore, we can reasonably conclude that the earliest Latin settlers, both on the Alban hills and at Rome, lived in round huts made of woven materials with thatched roofs. [665]
|“Numa’s crockery,” the primitive earthenware vessels used by the Vestals.| If further evidence were needed to convince us that the round temple of Vesta merely reproduced a Roman house of the olden time, it might be supplied by the primitive vessels of coarse earthenware in which the Vestals always presented their offerings, and which, in memory of the artlessness of an earlier age, went by the name of “Numa’s crockery.”[666] A Greek historian, writing when Rome was at the height of her power and glory under Augustus, praises the Romans for the austere simplicity with which, in an age of vulgar wealth and ostentation, they continued to honour the gods of their fathers. “I have seen,” said he, “meals set before the gods on old-fashioned wooden tables, in mats and earthenware dishes, the food consisting of barley loaves and cakes and spelt and firstfruits and such-like things, all plain and 203inexpensive and free from any touch of vulgarity. And I have seen libations offered, not in vessels of silver and gold, but in little earthen cups and jugs; and I heartily admired a people which thus walked in the ways of their fathers, not deviating from the ancient rites into extravagance and display.”[667] Specimens of this antique pottery have come to light of late years at the house of the Vestals, the temple of Vesta, and other religious centres in the Forum;[668] others had been found previously on the Esquiline hill and in the necropolis of Alba Longa.[669] We may conjecture that if the Romans continued to serve the gods their meals in simple earthenware dishes long after they themselves quaffed their wine from goblets of crystal and gold or from murrhine cups with their cloudy iridescent hues of purple and white,[670] they did so, not from any principle of severe good taste, but rather from that superstitious fear of innovation which has embalmed in religious ritual, as in amber, so many curious relics of the past. The old forms and materials of the vessels were consecrated by immemorial usage and might not be changed with impunity. Indeed, in the ritual of the Arval Brothers the holy pots themselves appear to have been an object of worship.[671] Specimens of these pots have been found on the site of the sacred grove where the Brothers performed their quaint service, and they shed an interesting light on the conservatism of the Roman religion. Some of them are moulded in the most primitive fashion by |Rude pottery used by the Arval Brothers.| the hand without any mechanical appliance. But most of them belong to a stage of art, later indeed than this rude beginning, yet earlier than the invention of the potter’s wheel. In order to give the vessels their proper shape and prevent the sides from collapsing, wooden hoops were 204inserted in them, and the marks made by these hoops in the soft clay may still be seen on the inside of most of the pots found in the grove. We may suppose that when the potter’s wheel came into universal use, the old art of making pottery by the hand was lost; but as religion would have nothing to do with pots made in the new-fangled way, the pious workman had to imitate the ancient ware as well as he could, eking out his imperfect skill with the aid of wooden hoops.[672] Perhaps the fictores Vestalium and the fictores Pontificum, of whom we read in inscriptions,[673] were those potters who, combining a retrograde art with sound religious principles, provided the Vestals and Pontiffs with the coarse crockery so dear to gods and to antiquaries. If that was so, they may have had in the exercise of their craft to observe some such curious rules as are still |Savage superstitions as to the making of pottery.| observed in similar circumstances by the savage Yuracares, a tribe of Indians living dispersed in the depths of beautiful tropical forests, at the eastern foot of the Bolivian Andes. We are told by an explorer that “the manufacture of pottery is not an everyday affair with this superstitious people, and accordingly they surround it with singular precautions. The women, who alone are entrusted with the duty, go away very solemnly to look for the clay, but they do so only when there is no crop to be gathered. In the fear of thunder they betake themselves to the most sequestered spots of the forest in order not to be seen. There they build a hut. While they are at work they observe certain ceremonies and never open their mouth, speaking to each other by signs, being persuaded that one word spoken would infallibly cause all their pots to break in the firing; and they do not go near their husbands, for if they did, all the sick people would die.”[674] Among the 205Ba-Ronga of South Africa pottery is made by women only, and they prefer to employ a child under puberty to light the fire in which the pots are to be baked, because the child has pure hands and the pots are therefore less likely to crack in the furnace than if the woman lit the fire herself.[675] If the reader objects that Roman potters cannot have been trammelled by superstitions like those which hamper the savage potters of America and Africa, I would remind him of the rules laid down by grave Roman writers for the moral guidance of cooks, bakers, and butlers. After mentioning a number of these writers by name, Columella informs us that “all of them are of opinion that he who engages in any one of these occupations is bound to be |Chastity required in persons who handle dishes and food.| chaste and continent, since everything depends on taking care that neither the dishes nor the food should be handled by any one above the age of puberty, or at least by any one who is not exceedingly abstemious in sexual matters. Therefore a man or woman who is sexually unclean ought to wash in a river or running water before he touches the contents of the storeroom. That is why there should be a boy or a maid to fetch from the storeroom the things that are needed.”[676] When Roman cooks, bakers, and butlers were expected to be so strict in the service of their human masters, it might naturally be thought that the potters should be not less so whose business it was to fashion the rude yet precious vessels meet for the worship of the gods.
“Numa’s crockery,” the basic earthenware used by the Vestals. If we needed more proof that the round temple of Vesta was just a replica of an ancient Roman home, it can be found in the primitive vessels of rough clay that the Vestals always used for their offerings, which were called “Numa’s crockery” to recall the simplicity of an earlier time.[666] A Greek historian, writing when Rome was at the peak of its power and glory under Augustus, praised the Romans for the austere simplicity with which they honored the gods of their ancestors, even during a time of vulgar wealth and extravagance. “I have seen,” he said, “offerings laid before the gods on old-fashioned wooden tables, on mats and in earthenware dishes, with the food being barley loaves, cakes, spelt, and firstfruits—everything plain and inexpensive, without any hint of vulgarity. I have seen libations offered not in silver and gold vessels, but in small clay cups and jugs; and I greatly admired a people who remained true to their ancestors, not straying into extravagance and display.”[667] Recently, examples of this ancient pottery have been discovered at the Vestals’ home, the temple of Vesta, and other religious sites in the Forum;[668] others were previously found on the Esquiline hill and in the necropolis of Alba Longa.[669] We can conjecture that while the Romans chose to serve their gods with meals in plain earthenware long after they were drinking wine from crystal and gold goblets or murrhine cups with their cloudy iridescent shades of purple and white,[670] they did so not out of a strict sense of good taste, but rather from a superstitious fear of change that preserved many odd relics of the past in religious rituals. The old shapes and materials of the vessels were sanctified by long-standing tradition and could not be changed lightly. Indeed, in the rituals of the Arval Brothers, the sacred pots themselves seemed to be objects of worship.[671] Examples of these pots have been unearthed at the site of the sacred grove where the Brothers performed their unique ceremonies, shedding interesting light on the conservatism of Roman religion. Some of them were shaped in the most primitive way by hand without any machinery. However, most belong to a later stage of craftsmanship, still before the invention of the potter’s wheel. To give the vessels their shapes and prevent them from collapsing, wooden hoops were placed around them, and the impressions from these hoops can still be seen on the insides of many pots found in the grove. We can assume that when the potter’s wheel became widely used, the old art of handcrafting pottery faded; but since religion rejected any pots made with modern methods, the skilled potter had to do his best to imitate the ancient vessels, compensating for his imperfect craftsmanship with wooden hoops.[672] Perhaps the fictores Vestalium and the fictores Pontificum, mentioned in inscriptions,[673] were those potters who adhered to both ancient art and sound religious principles, supplying the Vestals and Pontiffs with the coarse pottery cherished by both gods and antiquarians. If that was the case, they may have followed some curious rules that are stillPrimitive pottery superstitions. practiced today by the Yuracares, a tribe of Indians living in the lush tropical forests at the eastern foothills of the Bolivian Andes. An explorer noted, “The making of pottery is not an everyday event for this superstitious people, and as a result, they surround the process with unusual rituals. The women, who alone are responsible for this task, solemnly go to gather the clay, only doing so when there’s no crop to harvest. In fear of thunder, they retreat to hidden areas of the forest to avoid being seen. There, they build a hut. While they work, they perform certain ceremonies and communicate silently to each other, believing that even one word spoken could cause all their pots to break in the firing; and they avoid getting near their husbands, for if they do, all the sick individuals would perish.”[674] Among the Ba-Ronga of South Africa, only women make pottery, and they prefer to have a child under puberty light the fire for baking the pots, believing that the child's pure hands mean the pots are less likely to crack in the furnace than if the woman did it herself.[675] If a reader argues that Roman potters couldn’t have been hindered by superstitions like those of the primitive potters in America and Africa, I would remind them of the guidelines set by serious Roman authors for the moral conduct of cooks, bakers, and butlers. After listing several of these writers, Columella tells us that “all of them agree that anyone engaged in these professions must be|Maintaining chastity is essential for those who handle dishes and food.| chaste and self-controlled, since everything depends on ensuring that neither the dishes nor the food is handled by anyone beyond puberty, or at least by someone who is not extremely abstinent in sexual matters. Therefore, an individual who is sexually impure must wash in a river or flowing water before touching anything in the storeroom. That’s why a boy or a maid should fetch the necessary items from the storeroom.”[676] When Roman cooks, bakers, and butlers were held to such strict standards for serving their human masters, it is only natural to assume that potters would have similar standards in crafting the rough yet cherished vessels suitable for honoring the gods.
|Sanctity of the storeroom (penus) and of the Penates in a Roman house.| If the storeroom (penus) of a Roman house was deemed so holy that its contents could only be handled by persons ceremonially clean, the reason was that the Penates or gods of the storeroom dwelt in it.[677] The domestic hearth, where the household meals were cooked in the simple days of old, 206was the natural altar of the Penates;[678] their images, together with those of the Lares, stood by it and shone in the cheerful glow of the fire, when the family gathered round it in the evening.[679] Thus in every house Vesta, the goddess of the hearth, was intimately bound up with the Penates or gods of the storeroom; indeed, she was reckoned one of them.[680] Now the temple of Vesta, being nothing more than a type of the oldest form of Roman house, naturally had, like an ordinary house, its sacred storeroom, and its Penates or gods of the storeroom.[681] Hence if in every common house strict chastity was, theoretically at least, expected of all who entered the storeroom, we can well understand why such an obligation should have been laid on the Vestals, who had in their charge the holiest of all storerooms, the chamber in which were popularly supposed to be preserved the talismans on which the safety of the state depended.[682]
| The sacredness of the storeroom (penus) and the Penates in a Roman home. | The storeroom (penus) of a Roman house was considered so sacred that only people who were ceremonially clean could touch its contents, because the Penates, or the gods of the storeroom, resided there.[677] The domestic hearth, where meals were cooked in simpler times, 206was the natural altar for the Penates;[678] their images, along with those of the Lares, stood nearby and gleamed in the warm glow of the fire as the family gathered around it in the evening.[679] Thus, in every home, Vesta, the goddess of the hearth, was closely connected with the Penates, or the gods of the storeroom; in fact, she was considered one of them.[680] The temple of Vesta, being essentially a model of the oldest type of Roman house, naturally had, like a regular house, its own sacred storeroom and its Penates, or gods of the storeroom.[681] So if strict chastity was expected in every ordinary home from everyone who entered the storeroom, it’s easy to see why such a requirement was placed on the Vestals, who were responsible for the most sacred of all storerooms, the chamber believed to hold the talismans that ensured the state’s safety.[682]
|Thus the temple of Vesta, with its perpetual fire and its sacred storeroom, was merely a copy of the Roman king’s house.| Thus on the whole we may regard it as highly probable that the round temple of Vesta in the Forum, with its sacred storeroom and perpetual fire, was merely a survival, under changed conditions, of the old house of the Roman kings, which again may have been a copy of the still older house of the kings of Alba. Both were modelled on the round huts of wattled osiers in which the early Latins dwelt among the woods and hills of Latium in the days when the Alban Mountain was still an active volcano. Hence it is legitimate to compare the old legends of the royal hearth with the later practice in regard to the hearth of Vesta, and from the comparison to explain, if we can, the meaning both of the legends and of the practice.
So, the temple of Vesta, with its eternal flame and its holy storage area, was just a copy of the Roman king’s house. Overall, we can consider it very likely that the round temple of Vesta in the Forum, with its sacred storage area and eternal fire, was simply a remnant, adapted to new circumstances, of the ancient house of the Roman kings, which might have also been modeled after the even older house of the kings of Alba. Both were inspired by the round huts made of woven branches where the early Latins lived in the woods and hills of Latium during the time when the Alban Mountain was still an active volcano. Therefore, it makes sense to compare the ancient stories of the royal hearth with the later traditions surrounding the hearth of Vesta, and from this comparison, to try to clarify the significance of both the stories and the traditions.
CHAPTER XV
THE FIRE-DRILL
|Mode of rekindling the Vestal fire at Rome by means of the fire-drill.| In historical times, whenever the Vestal fire at Rome happened to be extinguished, the virgins were beaten by the pontiff; after which it was their custom, apparently with the aid of the pontiff, to rekindle the fire by drilling a hole in a board of lucky wood till a flame was elicited by friction. The new fire thus obtained was carried into the temple of Vesta by one of the virgins in a bronze sieve.[683] As this mode of producing fire is one of the most primitive known to man, and has been commonly employed by many savage |Use of the fire-drill by savages.| tribes down to modern times,[684] we need have no difficulty in 208believing that its use in the worship of Vesta was a survival from prehistoric ages, and that whenever the fire on the hearth of the Latin kings went out it was regularly relit in the same fashion. In its simplest form the fire-drill, as the apparatus has been appropriately named by Professor E. B. Tylor, consists of two sticks, the one furnished with a point and the other with a hole. The point of the one stick is inserted into the hole of the other, which is laid flat on the ground, while the operator holds the pointed stick upright in position and twirls it rapidly between his hands till the rubbing of the two sticks against each other produces sparks and at last a flame.
|How the Vestal fire in Rome was reignited using a fire drill.| In ancient times, whenever the Vestal fire in Rome went out, the Vestal virgins were punished by the pontiff. After that, it was customary for them, likely with the pontiff's help, to reignite the fire by drilling a hole in a piece of sacred wood until a flame was created through friction. The newly ignited fire was then carried into the temple of Vesta by one of the virgins in a bronze sieve.[683] This method of producing fire is one of the most basic known to humanity and has been used by many primitive tribes into modern times,[684] so it’s easy to believe that its use in the worship of Vesta has roots in prehistoric times, and that whenever the fire on the hearth of the Latin kings went out, it was routinely rekindled the same way. In its simplest form, the fire-drill, a term coined by Professor E. B. Tylor, consists of two sticks—one with a pointed end and the other with a hole. The pointed end of one stick is placed into the hole of the other stick, which lies flat on the ground. The operator then holds the pointed stick upright and spins it quickly between their hands until the friction creates sparks, and eventually, a flame.
|Many savages regard the two sticks of the fire-drill as male and female, and the rubbing of the two together as a sexual union.| Many savages see in this operation a resemblance to the union of the sexes, and have accordingly named the pointed stick the man and the holed stick the woman. Thus we are told that among the Thompson Indians of British Columbia “fire was obtained by means of the fire-drill, which consisted of two dried sticks, each over a foot in length, and rounded off to less than an inch in diameter. One stick was sharpened at one end; while the other was marked with a couple of notches close to each other—one on the side, and the other on top. The sharpened end of the first stick was placed in the top notch of the other stick, and turned rapidly between the straightened palms of both hands. The heat thus produced by the friction of the sticks caused sparks to fall down the side notch upon tinder placed underneath, which, when it commenced to smoke, was taken in the hands, and blown upon until fanned into a flame. The tinder was dry grass, the shredded dry bark of the sagebrush, or cedar-bark. The sharpened stick was called the ‘man,’ and was made of black-pine root, tops of young yellow pine, heart of yellow-pine cones, service-berry wood, etc. The notched stick was called the ‘woman,’ and was generally made of poplar-root. However, many kinds of wood were used for this purpose. When hot ashes or a spark fell upon the tinder, they said, ‘The woman has given birth.’”[685] The Hopi Indians kindle fire ceremonially by the friction of two sticks, which are 209regarded respectively as male and female. The female stick has a notch in it and is laid flat on the floor; the point of the male stick is inserted in the notch of the female stick and is made to revolve rapidly by twirling the stick between the hands. Pollen is added as a male symbol, and the spark is caught in a tinder of shredded cedar bark.[686] The Urabunna tribe of Central Australia, who also make fire by means of the fire-drill, call the upright piece “the child-stick,” while they give to the horizontal or notched piece the name of “the mother-stick” or “the mother of the fire.”[687] So in the Murray Islands, Torres Straits, the upright stick is called the child (werem), and the horizontal stick the mother (apu). In Mabuiag, Torres Straits, on the other hand, the vertical stick is known as the male organ (ini), and the horizontal stick as the hole (sakai).[688]
Many Indigenous people see the two sticks used in a fire drill as symbols of male and female, with the act of rubbing them together resembling a sexual union. Many tribes see this process as reflective of the union between genders, leading them to name the pointed stick "the man" and the holed stick "the woman." For instance, among the Thompson Indians in British Columbia, “fire was created using the fire drill, which consisted of two dried sticks, each over a foot long and tapered to under an inch in diameter. One stick had a sharpened end, while the other had two notches spaced closely together—one on the side and one on top. The sharpened end of the first stick was placed in the top notch of the second and rotated quickly between the palms of both hands. The friction generated heat and created sparks that fell into the side notch onto tinder placed below. Once the tinder started to smoke, it was picked up and blown upon until it ignited into flames. The tinder consisted of dry grass, shredded sagebrush bark, or cedar bark. The sharpened stick was referred to as the ‘man’ and made from black pine root, tops of young yellow pine, heart of yellow pine cones, serviceberry wood, etc. The notched stick was called the ‘woman’ and was usually crafted from poplar root. Various types of wood were utilized for this purpose. When hot ashes or a spark landed on the tinder, they would say, ‘The woman has given birth.’”[685] The Hopi Indians light fires in a ceremonial manner by using two sticks, which they view as male and female. The female stick has a notch and is placed flat on the ground; the point of the male stick is inserted into the notch and spun quickly between the hands. Pollen is added as a male symbol, and the spark is collected in a tinder made of shredded cedar bark.[686] The Urabunna tribe of Central Australia, who also create fire using the fire drill, refer to the upright piece as “the child-stick,” while the horizontal or notched piece is called “the mother-stick” or “the mother of the fire.”[687] In the Murray Islands, Torres Straits, the upright stick is known as the child (werem), and the horizontal stick is called the mother (apu). In Mabuiag, Torres Straits, however, the vertical stick is identified as the male organ (ini), and the horizontal stick is known as the hole (sakai).[688]
|The fire-drill among the Arabs.| “The ancient Bedouins kindled fire by means of the fire-drill, which was composed of a horizontal stick, the zenda, and an upright stick, the zend. The science of language furnishes us with many parallels for this mode of regarding the two parts as male and female; the two parts of the lock are distinguished in like manner; the spark is then the child, tifl; compare also our German Schraubenmutter, Muttergewinde. The sticks for making fire by friction are not taken from the same tree; on the contrary, they choose one as hard and tough as possible, and the other soft, which allows the hard one to fit into it more easily and catches fire the quicker on account of its loose texture. The soft wood was naturally the horizontal stick, the zenda, which the Arabs made out of Calotropis procera (’oshar), while for the upright stick they used a hard branch of markh.”[689]
The fire drill among the Arabs. “The ancient Bedouins used a fire-drill made up of a horizontal stick, called the zenda, and a vertical stick, known as the zend. Language offers many parallels for viewing these two parts as male and female; similarly, the two components of a lock are identified in the same way; the spark that results is then referred to as the child, tifl; this can also be compared to the German terms Schraubenmutter and Muttergewinde. The sticks for creating fire through friction are not taken from the same tree; instead, they select one that is as hard and durable as possible, and the other that is softer, which allows the hard stick to fit into it more easily and ignite faster due to its loose texture. Naturally, the soft wood served as the horizontal stick, the zenda, which the Arabs crafted from Calotropis procera (’oshar), while the upright stick was made from a hard branch of markh.”[689]
210|The fire-drill in Africa.| The Ngumbu of South Cameroons, in West Africa, formerly made fire by rubbing two sticks against each other. Of the sticks the one, called the male nschio, was put into a hole of the other, which was called the female nschio.[690] In East Africa the Masai men make fire by drilling a hole in a flat piece of wood with a hard pointed stick. They say that the hard pointed stick is a man and that the flat piece of wood is his wife. The former is cut from Ficus sycomorus and Ekebergia sp., the latter from any fibrous tree, such as Kigelia africana, Cordia ovalis, or Acacia albida. The women get their fire from the one which has thus been kindled by the men.[691] The Nandi similarly produce fire by rapidly drilling a hard pointed stick into a small hole in a flat piece of soft wood. The hard stick is called the male (kirkit) and the piece of soft wood the female (kôket). Among the Nandi, as apparently among the Masai, fire-making is an exclusive privilege of the men of the tribe.[692] The Baganda of Central Africa also made fire by means of the fire-drill; they called the upright stick the male, and the horizontal stick the female.[693] Among the Bantu tribes of south-eastern Africa, “when the native Africans use special fire, either in connection with sacrifice or the festival of first-fruits, it is produced by a doctor, and in the following manner:—Two sticks, made of the Uzwati tree, and called the ‘husband and wife,’ are given to him by the chief. These sticks are prepared by the magicians, and are the exclusive property of the chief, the ‘wife’ being the shorter of the two. The doctor cuts a piece off each stick, and proceeds to kindle fire in the usual manner, by revolving the one rapidly between the palms of his hands, while its end rests in a small hollow dug in the side of the other. After he has 211obtained fire, he gives it to his attendant, who gets the pots in order, and everything ready for cooking the newly-reaped fruits. The sticks are handed back to the chief by the doctor—no other hand must touch them—and put away till they are required next season. They are regarded as in a measure sacred, and no one, except the chief’s personal servant, may go to the side of the hut where they are kept. After being repeatedly used for fire-making, the doctor disposes of what remains, and new ones are made and consecrated by the magician. A special pot is used for the preparation of the feast, and no other than it may be set on a fire produced from the ‘husband and wife.’ When the feast is over, the fire is carefully extinguished, and the pot placed along with the sticks, where it remains untouched for another year.”[694] But even for the purposes of daily life these tribes still kindle fire in this manner, if they happen to be without matches. “A native takes two special sticks, made of a light wood. One of these he points: this is called the male stick. He then makes a conical hole in the centre of the other stick, which is called the female. Placing the female stick on the ground, he holds it firmly by his feet—a native finds no difficulty in this, as he can easily pick things off the ground with his toes if his hands are full. He then places the pointed stick into the conical hole, and slowly twirls the male stick between his hands. He does this while using a good deal of pressure, and the wood becomes powdered, lying round the revolving point in a little heap of dust. When he thinks he has made sufficient of the wood dust, he twirls the stick very fast, and in a moment the powder bursts into flame, which he uses to set fire to some dried grass.”[695]
210The fire drill in Africa. The Ngumbu people of South Cameroon, in West Africa, used to start fires by rubbing two sticks together. One of the sticks, known as the male nschio, was placed into a hole in the other stick, called the female nschio.[690] In East Africa, the Masai men create fire by drilling a hole in a flat piece of wood with a hard pointed stick. They consider the hard pointed stick to be a man and the flat piece of wood as his wife. The hard stick is cut from Ficus sycomorus and Ekebergia sp., while the flat wood comes from any fibrous tree, such as Kigelia africana, Cordia ovalis, or Acacia albida. The women take their fire from the flame started by the men.[691] The Nandi also produce fire by rapidly drilling a hard pointed stick into a small hole in a flat piece of soft wood. The hard stick is termed the male (kirkit) and the soft wood the female (kôket). Among the Nandi, as with the Masai, fire-making is a privilege reserved for the men of the tribe.[692] The Baganda of Central Africa also used the fire-drill; they referred to the upright stick as the male and the horizontal stick as the female.[693] Among the Bantu tribes of southeastern Africa, “when local Africans use special fire, whether for sacrifice or the first-fruit festival, it is created by a doctor in this way:—Two sticks made from the Uzwati tree, called 'husband' and 'wife,' are given to him by the chief. These sticks are prepared by magicians and are the chief’s exclusive property, with the 'wife' being the shorter of the two. The doctor cuts a piece off each stick, then proceeds to start a fire in the usual way, rotating one rapidly between the palms of his hands while its tip rests in a small hollow carved into the other. After he has created fire, he gives it to his attendant, who prepares the pots and gets everything ready for cooking the newly-harvested fruits. The sticks are returned to the chief by the doctor—no one else can touch them—and are stored away until they are needed again next season. They are somewhat sacred, and no one except the chief’s personal servant may approach the hut where they are kept. After being used multiple times for fire-making, the doctor disposes of the remnants, and new ones are made and consecrated by the magician. A specific pot is designated for preparing the feast, and no other pot may be used over a fire started from the 'husband and wife.' When the feast concludes, the fire is carefully extinguished, and the pot is placed along with the sticks, remaining untouched for another year.”[694] Yet for everyday life, these tribes still light fires this way if they have no matches. “A person takes two special sticks made of lightweight wood. One stick is pointed and is called the male stick. Then, a conical hole is made in the center of the other stick, referred to as the female. The person sets the female stick on the ground and holds it securely with their feet—this is easy for a native, as they can easily pick things up off the ground with their toes if their hands are full. Next, the pointed stick is placed into the conical hole, and the male stick is slowly twirled between their hands. They apply a good amount of pressure, causing the wood to become powdered, which gathers in a small heap of dust around the rotating point. When they believe they have generated enough wood dust, they twirl the stick very quickly, and in a moment, the powder ignites into flames, which they use to light some dried grass.”[695]
|Fire-customs of the Herero.| The Damaras or Herero of Damaraland, in south-western Africa, maintain sacred fires in their villages, and their customs and beliefs in this respect present a close resemblance to the Roman worship of Vesta. Fortunately the Herero fire-worship has been described by a number of independent witnesses, and as their accounts agree substantially with each other, we may assume that they are 212correct. The people are a tall, finely-built race of nomadic herdsmen belonging to the Bantu stock, who seem to have migrated into their present country from the north and east about a hundred and fifty or two hundred years ago. The desert character of the country and its seclusion from the outer world long combined to preserve the primitive manners of the inhabitants.[696] In their native state the Herero are a purely pastoral people, possessing |The Herero a pastoral people.| immense herds of cattle and flocks of sheep and goats, which are the pride and joy of their hearts, almost their idols. They subsist chiefly on the milk of their herds, which they commonly drink sour. Of the flesh they make but little use, for they seldom kill any of their cattle, and never a cow, a calf, or a lamb. Even oxen and weathers are only slaughtered on solemn and festal occasions, such as visits, burials, and the like. Such slaughter is a great event in a village, and young and old flock from far and near to partake of the meat.[697] Their huts are of a round |Huts and villages of the Herero.| beehive shape, about ten feet in diameter. The framework consists of stout branches, of which the lower ends are rammed into the ground, while the upper ends are bent together and tied with bark. A village is composed of a number of these round huts arranged in a circle about the calves’ pen as a centre and surrounded by an artificial hedge of thorn-bushes.[698] At night the cattle are driven in through 213the hedge and take up their quarters in the open space round the calves’ pen.[699]
Herero fire customs. The Damaras or Herero of Damaraland, in southwestern Africa, keep sacred fires in their villages, and their customs and beliefs about this are quite similar to the Roman worship of Vesta. Luckily, several independent observers have described Herero fire-worship, and since their accounts largely agree, we can assume they are 212accurate. The people are a tall, well-built group of nomadic herdsmen who belong to the Bantu ethnic group, believed to have migrated to their current region from the north and east about one hundred and fifty to two hundred years ago. The desert nature of the land and its isolation from the outside world have helped to preserve the simple ways of life of the inhabitants.[696] In their traditional state, the Herero are a fully pastoral society, owning The Herero are a farming community. large herds of cattle and flocks of sheep and goats, which they cherish deeply, almost as idols. They mainly survive on the milk from their herds, which they typically drink sour. They seldom eat meat, as they rarely kill any of their cattle, and never a cow, calf, or lamb. Even oxen and rams are only slaughtered during important and festive occasions, such as visits, funerals, and similar events. Such slaughter is a major event in a village, drawing both young and old from far and wide to share the meat.[697] Their huts are round and Huts and villages of the Herero. beehive-shaped, about ten feet in diameter. The structure is made of strong branches, with the lower ends placed into the ground, while the upper ends are bent together and tied with bark. A village consists of several of these round huts arranged in a circle around the calves’ pen at the center, all surrounded by an artificial hedge made of thorn bushes.[698] At night, the cattle are brought in through 213the hedge and are housed in the open area around the calves’ pen.[699]
|Sacred fire of the Herero village maintained in or before the hut of the chief’s principal wife.| The hut of the great or principal wife of the chief, built and furnished in a more elaborate style than the rest, regularly stands to the east of the calves’ pen, in the direction of sunrise, so that from its position we can always learn approximately the season of the year when the village was founded. The chief or headman of the village has no special hut of his own; he passes the day in the hut of the great wife, and the night commonly in one of the huts of his other wives in the northern semicircle. Between the house of the great wife and the calves’ pen, but somewhat nearer to the pen, is a large heap of ashes on which, in good weather, a small, faintly glimmering fire may be seen to burn at any time of the day. The heap of ashes is the sacred hearth (okuruo); the fire is the holy fire (omurangere or omurangerero) of the village. The open space between the sacred hearth and the house of the great wife is known as the holy ground or the holy house (otyizero).[700] Betwixt the hearth and the calves’ fold stands a great withered branch of the omumborombonga (Combretum primigenum), the sacred tree of the Herero, from which they believe that both they and their cattle 214are descended. When a branch of this tree cannot be obtained its place is taken by a bough of the omwapu tree (Grevia spec.)[701] At night and in rainy weather the fire is transferred to the hut of the great wife, where it is carefully kept alight.[702] According to another account, the fire is regularly preserved in the house, and a brand is only brought out into the open air when the cattle are being milked at morning and evening in order that in presence of the fire the cow may be healthy and give much milk.[703] The custom in this respect perhaps varies in different villages, and may be determined in some measure by the climate. The sacred fire is regarded as the centre of the village; from it at evening the people fetch a light to kindle the fire on their own hearths, for every householder has his own private hearth in front of his hut. At the holy hearth are kept the most sacred possessions of the tribe, to wit, the bundle of sticks which represent their ancestors; here sacrifices are offered and enchantments performed; here the flesh of the victims is cooked; here is the proper place of the chief; here the elders assemble in council, and judgment is given; here strangers are received and ambassadors entertained. At the banquets held on solemn occasions all may partake of the flesh, whether they be friends or foes; the stranger’s curse would rest on the churl who should refuse him his just share; and this curse the Herero dreads above everything because he believes its effect to be infallible. So great is the veneration felt by the natives for the sacred hearth, with its hallowed bough, that they dare not approach it without testifying the deepest respect. They take off their sandals, throw themselves on the ground, and pray their great ancestor (Tate Mukuru) to be gracious to them. The horns of the oxen slaughtered at festivals lie beside the hearth; the chief sits on the largest pair when he is engaged in performing his magical rites. Near the fire, too, is a stone on which none but the chief has the right to sit.[704]
The sacred fire of the Herero village is maintained in or near the hut of the chief’s primary wife. The hut of the chief's main wife, built and decorated more elaborately than the others, is typically located to the east of the calves' pen, facing the sunrise. This position allows us to estimate the season when the village was established. The chief or headman doesn't have a separate hut; he spends the day in the main wife's hut and often sleeps in one of the huts of his other wives in the northern semicircle. Between the main wife's house and the calves' pen, but closer to the pen, is a large pile of ashes where a small, softly glowing fire can be seen burning at any time during good weather. This pile of ashes is the sacred hearth (okuruo), and the fire is the holy fire (omurangere or omurangerero) of the village. The space between the sacred hearth and the main wife’s house is known as the holy ground or the holy house (otyizero).[700] Between the hearth and the calves' pen stands a large dead branch of the omumborombonga (Combretum primigenum), the sacred tree of the Herero, from which they believe both they and their cattle are descended. If a branch from this tree isn't available, a bough from the omwapu tree (Grevia spec.) is used instead.[701] At night and during rainy weather, the fire is moved to the main wife's hut, where it is carefully kept burning.[702] According to another version, the fire is usually kept in the house, and a brand is only brought outside during morning and evening milking so that the cow can be healthy and give lots of milk in the presence of the fire.[703] This custom may vary in different villages and could be influenced by the climate. The sacred fire is seen as the center of the village; in the evening, people gather fire from it to light their own hearths, as every household has its own private hearth in front of their hut. The most sacred belongings of the tribe, such as the bundle of sticks representing their ancestors, are kept at the holy hearth; here, sacrifices are made, and enchantments are performed; the flesh of the sacrificial animals is cooked here; this is where the chief sits; where the elders gather for council and make judgments; where strangers are welcomed and ambassadors entertained. At banquets held for special occasions, everyone shares in the meat, regardless of whether they are friends or enemies; to deny a guest their rightful portion would bring a stranger's curse upon the one who refuses, a curse the Herero fear above all else because they believe it to be absolutely effective. The native people show immense respect for the sacred hearth and its revered branch; they approach it only after demonstrating their utmost respect. They remove their sandals, throw themselves on the ground, and pray to their great ancestor (Tate Mukuru) for favor. The horns of the oxen slaughtered at festivals are placed beside the hearth; the chief sits on the biggest pair when performing his magical rituals. Next to the fire is also a stone that only the chief is allowed to sit on.[704]
215|The sacred fire among the Herero is watched and fed by the chief’s eldest unmarried daughter, who performs other priestly duties.| The duty of maintaining the sacred fire and preserving it from extinction is entrusted to the eldest unmarried daughter of the chief by his great wife; if he has no daughter, the task devolves on the unmarried girl who is next of kin to him. She bears the title of ondangere, derived from the name of the sacred fire (omurangere).[705] Besides keeping up the fire she has other priestly functions to discharge. Before the men start on a dangerous expedition, she rubs the holy ashes on their foreheads.[706] When a woman brings her new-born infant to the sacred hearth to receive its name, the maiden priestess or Vestal, as we may call her, sprinkles water on both mother and child.[707] Every morning, when the cattle walk out of the fold, she besprinkles the fattest of them with a brush dipped in water.[708] When an ox dies by accident at the village, she lays a piece of wood on its back, praying at the same time for long life, plenty of cattle, and so forth. Moreover, she ties a double knot in her apron for the dead beast, for a curse would follow if she neglected to do so.[709] Lastly, when the site of the village is changed, the priestess walks at the head of the people and of the herds, carrying a firebrand from the old sacred hearth and taking the utmost care to keep it alight.[710]
215|The sacred fire among the Herero is overseen and kept alive by the chief’s oldest unmarried daughter, who also performs other religious responsibilities.| The responsibility of keeping the sacred fire alive and protecting it from going out is given to the eldest unmarried daughter of the chief by his primary wife; if he has no daughter, the responsibility falls to the next unmarried girl who is related to him. She is known as ondangere, which comes from the name of the sacred fire (omurangere[705] In addition to maintaining the fire, she has other religious responsibilities. Before the men embark on a dangerous journey, she applies holy ashes to their foreheads.[706] When a woman brings her newborn baby to the sacred hearth for naming, the maiden priestess, or Vestal, as we might refer to her, sprinkles water on both the mother and the child.[707] Every morning, as the cattle leave the fold, she sprinkles the fattest one with a brush dipped in water.[708] When an ox accidentally dies in the village, she places a piece of wood on its back while praying for long life, abundant cattle, and more. Additionally, she ties a double knot in her apron for the deceased animal, as failing to do so would bring a curse.[709] Finally, when the village is relocated, the priestess leads the people and the herds, carrying a firebrand from the old sacred hearth and being very careful to keep it burning.[710]
The chief or headman of the village is also the priest; |The Herero chief acts as a priest.| he alone may perform religious ceremonies except such as 216fall within the province of the Vestal priestess, his daughter. In his capacity of priest he keeps the sacred bundle of sticks which represent the ancestors, and at sacrifices he offers meat to them that they may consecrate it. When the old village is abandoned, it is his duty to carry, like Aeneas quitting the ruins of Troy,[711] these rude penates to the new home. However, it is deemed enough if he merely places the holy bundle on his back, and then hands it to a servant, who carries it for him. As a priest he introduces the newborn children to the spirits of the ancestors at the sacred hearth, and gives the infants their names; and as a priest he has a cow to himself, whose milk no one else may drink. This milk is kept in vessels which differ from the ordinary milk vessels, not only in shape and size, but also in being marked with the badge of his paternal clan. When a man goes forth from the village with his family and servants to herd the cattle on a distant pasture, or to found another village, he takes with him a burning brand from the sacred hearth wherewith to kindle the holy fire in his new home. By |Fire taken from the chief’s hearth by the founder of a new village.| doing so he acknowledges himself the vassal of the chief from whose hearth he took the fire. In this way a single village may give out swarm after swarm, till it has become the metropolis or capital of a whole group of villages, the inhabitants of which recognise the supremacy of the parent community, and regard themselves as all sitting round its sacred fire. It is thus that a village may grow into a tribe and its headman into a powerful chief, who, by means of marriage alliances and the adhesion of weaker rivals, may extend his sway over alien communities, and so gradually acquire the rank and authority of a king.[712] The political evolution of the Herero has indeed stopped short of this final stage; but among the more advanced branches of the Bantu race, such as the Zulus and the Matabeles, it is possible that the kingship has developed along these lines.
The village leader, who is also the priest, is the only one allowed to perform religious ceremonies, except for those that fall under the authority of the Vestal priestess, his daughter. As a priest, he oversees the sacred bundle of sticks that symbolize their ancestors, and during sacrifices, he offers meat to them for their blessing. When the old village is left behind, it's his responsibility to carry these sacred household gods to the new location, similar to Aeneas leaving the ruins of Troy. However, it's considered sufficient if he just places the holy bundle on his back and hands it over to a servant to carry it for him. As a priest, he introduces newborn children to the ancestor spirits at the sacred hearth and names them; he also has a cow that only he can milk, and its milk is kept in special vessels that are not only different in shape and size from ordinary milk containers but also carry the mark of his family clan. When a man leaves the village with his family and servants to take care of cattle in a faraway pasture or to start a new village, he takes a burning brand from the sacred hearth to light the holy fire in his new home. By doing this, he acknowledges that he is a vassal of the chief from whose hearth he took the fire. This way, one village can keep splitting off until it becomes the center or capital of many villages, and the people living there recognize the authority of the original community, seeing themselves as all gathered around its sacred fire. That's how a village can evolve into a tribe and its leader into a powerful chief, who can expand his influence over other communities through marriage alliances and by winning over weaker rivals, gradually gaining the status and power of a king. The political development of the Herero has indeed not reached this final stage, but among the more advanced groups of the Bantu people, like the Zulus and the Matabeles, it’s possible that the concept of kingship has evolved in this way.
217|The combined office of chief and priest among the Herero descends in the male line.| The possession of the sacred fire and of the ancestral sticks, carrying with it both political authority and priestly dignity, descends in the male line, and hence generally passes from father to son. In any case, whether the deceased had a son or not, the double office of chief and priest must always remain in his paternal clan (oruzo). If it should happen that the clan becomes extinct by his death, the |A chief’s sacred hearth abandoned for some time after his death.| sacred fire is put out, the hearth destroyed, no brand is taken from it, and the sticks representing the ancestors are laid with the dead man in the grave. But should there be an heir, as usually happens, he takes a fire-brand from the sacred hearth and departs with all the people to seek a new home, abandoning the old village for years. In time, however, they return to the spot, rebuild the huts on the same sites, and inhabit them again. But in the interval none of the kinsmen of the deceased may approach the deserted village under pain of incurring the wrath of the ghost. When the return at last takes place, and the people have announced their arrival to the dead chief at his grave, which is generally in the cattle-pen, they make a new fire by the friction of the two sacred fire-sticks on the old hearth; for it is not lawful to bring with them a brand from their last settlement.[713]
217The dual role of chief and priest among the Herero is inherited through the male lineage. The sacred fire and ancestral sticks, which come with both political power and priestly respect, are also passed down through the male line, usually from father to son. Regardless of whether the deceased has a son, the dual role of chief and priest must always remain within his paternal clan (oruzo). If the clan becomes extinct upon his death, the sacred fire is extinguished, the hearth is destroyed, no brand is taken from it, and the sticks representing the ancestors are buried with the deceased. However, if there is an heir, which is typically the case, he takes a fire-brand from the sacred hearth and, along with the people, goes in search of a new home, leaving the old village for many years. Eventually, they return to the original location, rebuild the huts on the same sites, and move back in. During this time, none of the deceased's relatives can approach the abandoned village, as doing so would provoke the wrath of the ghost. When they finally return and inform the dead chief of their arrival at his grave, usually located in the cattle-pen, they create a new fire by rubbing the two sacred fire-sticks on the old hearth; it is not permitted to bring a brand from their previous settlement.[713]
|The sacred Herero fire rekindled by the fire-drill.| If the sacred fire should go out through the neglect of the priestess, a sudden shower of rain, or any other accident, the Herero deem it a very evil omen. The whole tribe is immediately summoned and large offerings of cattle are made as an expiation. Then the fire is relit by means of the friction of two sacred fire-sticks, which have been handed down from father to son. Every chief possesses such fire-sticks, and keeps them tied up with the bundle of holy sticks that represent the ancestors. One of the fire-sticks is pointed, the other has a hole in the middle, and sometimes also a notch cut round it. In the notch some fungus or rotten wood is placed as tinder. The holed stick is held 218fast on the ground by the knees of the operator, who inserts the point of the other stick in the hole and twirls it rapidly between the palms of his hands in the usual way. As soon as a spark is emitted it catches the tinder, which can then easily be blown up into a flame. Thus it is from the tinder, we are told, and not from the sticks, that the flame is elicited. In this fashion, if everything is very dry, as it generally is in Hereroland, the native gets fire in about a minute. The names applied to the two sticks indicate that the pointed stick (ondume) is regarded as male and the holed stick (otyiya) as female, and that the process of making fire by the friction of the two is compared to the intercourse of the sexes. As to the wood of which the fire-sticks are made accounts differ. According to Dr. H. Schinz the holed or female stick is of a soft wood, the pointed or male stick of a hard wood, generally of the |The male fire-stick made of the sacred omumborombonga tree.| sacred omumborombonga tree (Combretum primigenum). According to Mr. C. G. Büttner, neither of the sticks need be of a special tree, and any wood that happens to be at hand may be employed for the purpose; only the wood of the thorny acacias, which abound in the country, appears to be unsuitable.[714] Probably the rule mentioned by Dr. Schinz is the original one, and if in some places the wood of the 219sacred tree has ceased to be used to light the holy fire, the reason may be simply that the tree does not grow there, and that accordingly the people are obliged to use such wood as they can find. We have seen that a branch of the sacred omumborombonga tree is regularly planted beside the village hearth, but that in default of it the people have to put up with a bough of another kind of tree, the omuwapu (Grevia spec).[715] Such substitutions were especially apt to be forced on the Herero in the southern part of the country, where the omumborombonga tree is very rare and forests do not exist, the larger trees growing singly or in clumps. In the north, on the other hand, vegetation is much richer, and regular woods are to be found. Here, in particular, the omumborombonga tree is one of the ornaments of the landscape. It grows only beside water-courses, and generally stands solitary, surpassing a tall oak in height, and rivalling it in girth; indeed, so thick is the trunk that were it hollowed out a family could lodge in it. Unlike most trees in the country it is thornless. Whole forests of it grow to the eastward of Hereroland, in the direction of Lake Ngami. So close is the grain and so heavy the wood that some of the early explorers gave it the name of the “iron tree.”[716] Hence it is well adapted to form the upright stick of the fire-drill, for which a hard wood is required.
The sacred Herero fire reignited by the fire-drill. If the sacred fire goes out because the priestess neglects it, due to a sudden rain shower, or any other mishap, the Herero consider it a very bad omen. The entire tribe is called together, and large offerings of cattle are made as atonement. The fire is then relit using the friction from two sacred fire-sticks that have been passed down from generation to generation. Every chief has their own set of fire-sticks, which they keep tied with a bundle of holy sticks representing their ancestors. One of the fire-sticks is pointed, while the other has a hole in the middle, and sometimes there is also a notch cut into it. Inside the notch, some fungus or rotten wood is placed as tinder. The stick with the hole is held firmly on the ground by the operator's knees, who inserts the pointed stick into the hole and twirls it quickly between their palms in the usual manner. As soon as a spark is created, it ignites the tinder, which can then easily be blown into a flame. Thus, it is said that the flame comes from the tinder and not from the sticks. If everything is very dry, which it usually is in Hereroland, the native can obtain fire in about a minute. The names for the two sticks suggest that the pointed stick (ondume) is viewed as male, while the holed stick (otyiya) is seen as female, and the process of creating fire through friction is compared to sexual intercourse. There are differing accounts regarding the type of wood used for the fire-sticks. According to Dr. H. Schinz, the female stick is made of soft wood, while the male stick is made of hard wood, usually from the sacred omumborombonga tree (Combretum primigenum). Mr. C. G. Büttner suggests that neither stick needs to be from a special tree, and any available wood can be used; only the wood from the thorny acacias, which are abundant in the area, seems to be unsuitable.[714] It’s likely that Dr. Schinz's rule is the original one, and if some places no longer use the wood from the sacred tree for lighting the holy fire, it may simply be because the tree doesn’t grow there, forcing people to use whatever wood they can find. We have seen that a branch of the sacred omumborombonga tree is often planted by the village hearth, but when that is unavailable, people must settle for a branch from another type of tree, the omuwapu (Grevia spec).[715] Such substitutions particularly occurred for the Herero in the southern part of the country, where the omumborombonga tree is very rare, and forests don't exist, with larger trees growing either alone or in small clusters. In contrast, the north has much richer vegetation, with regular forests. Here, the omumborombonga tree is a prominent feature of the landscape. It grows only near water, generally stands alone, towers above a tall oak in height, and rivals it in trunk thickness; so sturdy is the trunk that if hollowed out, a family could live inside. Unlike most trees in the area, it has no thorns. Vast forests of it grow eastward towards Lake Ngami. The grain is so dense and the wood so heavy that some early explorers called it the “iron tree.”[716] Therefore, it is well suited to be used as the upright stick of the fire-drill, which requires hard wood.
|Herero tradition of the origin of men and cattle from the sacred omumborombonga tree.| The Herero have a tradition that in the beginning they and their cattle and all four-footed beasts came forth from the omumborombonga tree in a single day, whereas birds, fish, and creeping things sprang from the rain. However, slightly different versions of the Herero genesis appear to be current. As to the origin of men and cattle from the tree, public opinion is unanimous; but some dissenters hold that sheep and perhaps goats, but certainly sheep, issued from a flat rock in the north of the country. For some time past, unfortunately, the tree has ceased to be prolific; it is of no 220use waiting beside it in the hope of capturing such oxen and sheep as it might bear. Yet still the Herero testify great respect for the tree which they regard as their ancestor (omukuru). To injure it is deemed a sacrilege which the ancestor will punish sooner or later. In passing it they bow reverently and stick a bunch of green twigs or grass into the trunk or throw it down at the foot. They address the tree, saying, “U-zera tate mukururume, Thou art holy, grandfather!” and they even enter into conversation with it, giving the answers themselves in a changed voice. They hardly dare to sit down in its shadow. All this reverence they display for every tree of the species.[717]
The Herero belief about the origin of humans and cattle from the sacred omumborombonga tree. The Herero believe that originally, they, their cattle, and all four-legged animals emerged from the omumborombonga tree in just one day, while birds, fish, and insects came from the rain. However, there seem to be slightly different versions of the Herero creation story. When it comes to the origin of humans and cattle from the tree, everyone generally agrees; however, some dissenters claim that sheep, and maybe goats—definitely sheep—came from a flat rock in the northern part of the country. For some time now, unfortunately, the tree has stopped producing; it’s no use waiting by it in hopes of getting any cattle or sheep it might bear. Still, the Herero show immense respect for the tree, which they consider their ancestor (omukuru). Hurting it is seen as a sacrilege that their ancestor will punish eventually. When passing by, they bow respectfully and stick a bunch of green twigs or grass into the trunk or place it down at the base of the tree. They speak to the tree, saying, “U-zera tate mukururume, You are holy, grandfather!” and even have conversations with it, answering themselves in a different voice. They hardly dare to sit in its shade. This reverence is shown for every tree of that kind.[717]
|Migration from one country to another sometimes involves a change of sacred tree.| On the whole, then, we may infer that so long as the Herero dwelt in a land where their ancestral tree abounded, they made the male fire-stick from its wood; but that as they gradually migrated from a region of tropical rains and luxuriant forests to the arid mountains, open grass lands, and dry torrid climate of their present country,[718] they had in some places to forgo its use and to take another tree in its stead. Similarly the Aryan invaders of Greece and Italy were obliged, under a southern sky, to seek substitutes for the sacred oak of their old northern home; and more and more, as time went on and the deciduous woods retreated up the mountain slopes, they found what they sought in the laurel, the olive, and the vine. Zeus himself had to put up with the white poplar at his great sanctuary of Olympia in the hot lowlands of Elis;[719] and on summer days, when the light leaves of the poplar hardly stirred in the languid air and the buzz of the flies was more than usually exasperating, 221he perhaps looked wistfully away to the Arcadian mountains, looming blue in the distance through a haze of heat, and sighed for the shadow and the coolness of their oak woods.
|Changing countries sometimes involves adapting to a different sacred tree.| Overall, we can conclude that as long as the Herero lived in a place rich with their ancestral tree, they made the male fire-stick from its wood. However, as they slowly migrated from a region with tropical rains and lush forests to the dry mountains, open grasslands, and hot climate of their current country,[718] they had to sometimes give up using it and find another tree instead. Similarly, the Aryan invaders of Greece and Italy had to seek substitutes for the sacred oak from their old northern homeland under the southern sun. Over time, as the deciduous forests retreated up the mountains, they discovered what they needed in the laurel, the olive, and the vine. Even Zeus had to settle for the white poplar at his great sanctuary of Olympia in the hot lowlands of Elis;[719] and on summer days, when the light leaves of the poplar barely moved in the still air and the buzz of the flies was particularly annoying, 221 he might have gazed longingly towards the Arcadian mountains, fading blue in the distance through the heat haze, and sighed for the shade and coolness of their oak forests.
|The worship of the chief’s fire a form of ancestor-worship.| Thus it appears that the sanctity ascribed by the Herero to the chief’s fire springs from a custom of kindling it with the wood of their ancestral tree; in fact, the cult of the fire resolves itself into a form of ancestor-worship. For the religion of the Herero, like that of all Bantu peoples, is first and foremost a propitiation of the spirits of their forefathers conceived as powerful beings able and willing to harm them. From youth to death the Herero live in constant dread of their ancestors (ovakuru, plural of omukuru), who, sometimes seen and sometimes unseen, return to earth and play their descendants many a spiteful trick. They glide into the village, steal the milk, drive the cattle from the fold, and waylay women. More than that, they can inflict disease and death, decide the issue of war, and send or withhold rain at pleasure. They are the cause of every vexation and misfortune, and the whole aim of the living is by frequent sacrifices to mollify and appease the dead.[720]
The worship of the chief's fire is a type of ancestor worship. It seems that the reverence the Herero have for the chief’s fire comes from a tradition of lighting it with wood from their ancestral tree; in fact, the worship of the fire ultimately becomes a type of ancestor-worship. For the Herero, like all Bantu peoples, their religion primarily involves honoring the spirits of their ancestors, whom they see as powerful beings that can cause harm. From childhood to old age, Herero people fear their ancestors (ovakuru, plural of omukuru), who sometimes make their presence known and other times are invisible, returning to earth to play nasty tricks on their descendants. They sneak into the village, steal milk, drive off cattle, and harass women. Moreover, they can bring illness and death, influence the outcome of battles, and control the rain. They are the root of all troubles and misfortunes, and the primary goal of the living is to frequently make sacrifices to soothe and appease the dead.[720]
|The sacred hearth a special seat of the ancestral spirits.| Now the sacred hearth seems to be in a special sense the seat of the worship paid to the ancestral spirits. Here the head of the family sits and communes with his forefather, giving himself the answers he thinks fit.[721] Hither the newborn child is brought with its mother to be introduced to the spirits and to receive its name, and the chief, addressing his ancestors, announces, “To you a child is born in your village; may this village never come to an end!”[722] Hither the bride is conducted at her marriage, and a sheep having been sacrificed, its flesh is placed on the holy bushes at the 222hearth.[723] Hither the sick are carried to be commended to the care of their ghostly kinsmen, and as the sufferer is borne round and round the fire his friends chant:—
The sacred hearth is a special place for the ancestral spirits. Now the sacred hearth serves as the primary location for honoring the ancestral spirits. Here, the family head sits and connects with their forefathers, finding the answers he believes are appropriate.[721] The newborn child is brought here with its mother to be introduced to the spirits and to receive its name. The leader, speaking to his ancestors, announces, “A child is born in your village; may this village last forever!”[722] The bride is also brought here during her marriage ceremony, and after sacrificing a sheep, its meat is placed on the sacred bushes at the 222hearth.[723] The sick are carried here to be entrusted to the care of their ancestral spirits, and as the suffering person is carried around the fire, their friends chant:—
|Sacred sticks representing the deceased ancestors of the Herero.| But the most tangible link between the worship of the fire and the worship of the dead is furnished by the sacred sticks representing the ancestors, which are kept in a bundle together with the two sticks used for kindling the fire by friction. Each of these rude idols or Lares, as we may call them, “symbolises a definite ancestor of the paternal clan, and, taken together, they may be regarded as the most sacred possession of a family. They stand in the closest relation to the holy hearth, or rather to the priestly dignity, and must therefore always remain in the same paternal clan.”[725] These sticks “are cut from trees or bushes which are dedicated to the ancestors, and they represent the ancestors at the sacrificial meals, for the cooked flesh of the victims is always set before them first. Many people always keep these sticks, tied up in a bundle with straps and hung with amulets, in the branches of the sacrificial bushes which stand on the sacred hearth (okuruo). The sacrificial bush serves to support the severed pieces of the victim, and thus in a measure represents an altar or table of sacrifice.”[726] When after an absence of years the people return to a village where a chief died and was buried, a new fire is kindled by friction on the old hearth, the flesh of the first animal slaughtered here is cooked in a particular vessel, and the chief hands a portion of it to every person present. “An image, consisting of two pieces of wood, supposed to represent the household deity, or rather the deified parent, is then produced, and moistened in the platter of each individual. The chief then takes the image, and, after affixing a piece of meat to the upper end of it, he plants it in the ground, on the identical spot where his parent 223was accustomed to sacrifice. The first pail of milk produced from the cattle is also taken to the grave; a small quantity is poured on the ground, and a blessing asked on the remainder.” Each clan, the writer adds, has a particular tree or shrub consecrated to it, and of this tree or shrub the two sticks representing the deceased are made.[727]
|Holy sticks symbolizing the deceased ancestors of the Herero.| But the strongest connection between fire worship and ancestor worship comes from the sacred sticks that represent the ancestors, which are kept in a bundle along with the two sticks used to start the fire through friction. Each of these simple figures, or Lares, as we can call them, symbolizes a specific ancestor from the paternal clan and, together, they could be seen as the most treasured possession of a family. They are closely tied to the holy hearth, or more specifically to the priestly role, and must therefore always stay within the same paternal clan.[725] These sticks are cut from trees or bushes that are dedicated to the ancestors, and they represent the ancestors during sacrificial meals, where the cooked flesh of the animals is always served to them first. Many people keep these sticks bundled together with straps and adorned with amulets, hanging them from the branches of the sacrificial bushes that stand on the sacred hearth (okuruo). The sacrificial bush serves to hold the severed parts of the victim, effectively acting as an altar or table for the sacrifice.[726] When the people return to a village after many years where a chief has died and been buried, a new fire is started by friction on the old hearth, the flesh of the first animal slaughtered there is cooked in a specific pot, and the chief gives a portion of it to everyone present. An image made of two pieces of wood, meant to represent the household deity, or rather the deified parent, is then presented, and is dipped in the dish of each person. The chief then takes the image, attaches a piece of meat to the top of it, and plants it in the ground at the exact spot where his parent used to make sacrifices. The first pail of milk from the cattle is also taken to the grave; a small amount is poured on the ground, and a blessing is requested for the rest. Each clan, the writer notes, has a specific tree or bush that is sacred to it, and from this tree or bush, the two sticks representing the deceased are made.[727]
|The sacred sticks representing the ancestors are probably the fire-sticks which were used to kindle fresh fire in the village after a death.| In these accounts the sacred sticks which stand for the ancestors, and to which the meat of sacrifices is first offered, are distinguished, expressly or implicitly, from the sacred sticks which are used to make the holy fire.[728] Other writers, however, identify the two sets of sticks. Thus we are told that the Herero “make images of their ancestors as follows. They take the two sticks with which they make fire and tie them together with a fresh wisp of corn. Then they worship this object as their ancestor. They may approach it only on their knees. For hours together they sit before it and talk with it. If you ask them where they imagine their ancestors to be, since they cannot surely be these sticks, they answer that they do not know. The sticks are kept in the house of the great wife.”[729] Again, another writer defines the ondume or male fire-stick as a “stick representing an omukuru, i.e. ancestor, deity, with which and the otyiza the holy fire is made.”[730] Again, the Rev. G. Viehe, in describing the ceremonies observed at the return to a deserted village where an ancestor (omukuru) is buried, tells us that they bring no fire with them, “but holy fire must now be obtained from the omukuru. This is done with the ondume and the 224otyiza. The meaning of these two words plainly shows that the first represents the omukuru, and the other his wife.”[731] The same excellent authority defines the ozondume as “sticks which represent the ovakuru, i.e. ancestors, deities”;[732] and ozondume is simply the plural of ondume, the male fire-stick.[733] Hence it appears highly probable that the sticks representing the ancestors are, in fact, nothing but the male fire-sticks, each of which was cut to make a new fire on the return to the old village after a chiefs death. The stick would be an appropriate emblem of the deceased, who had been in his lifetime the owner of the sacred fire, and who now after his death bestowed it on his descendants by means of the friction of his wooden image. And the symbolism will appear all the more natural when we remember that the male fire-stick is generally made from the ancestral tree, that the process of fire-making is regarded by the Herero as the begetting of a child, and that their name for the stick, according to the most probable etymology, signifies “the begetter.” Such sticks would be far too sacred to be thrown away when they had served their immediate purpose of kindling a new fire, and thus in time a whole bundle of them would accumulate, each of them recalling, and in a sense representing, one of the great forefathers of the tribe. When the old sticks had ceased to be used as fire-lighters, and were preserved merely as memorials of the dead, it is not surprising that their original function should be overlooked by some European observers, who have thus been led to distinguish them from the sticks by which the fire is actually produced at the present day.[734] Amongst the 225|Sacred fire-boards among the Koryaks and Chuckchees of north-eastern Asia.| Koryaks of north-eastern Asia, when the sacred fire-boards, roughly carved in human form, are so full of holes that they can no longer be used for the purpose of kindling fire, they are still kept as holy relics in a shrine near the door of the house; and a stranger who observed the respect with which they are treated, but who did not know their history, might well mistake them for figures of worshipful ancestors and never guess the practical purpose which they once served as fire-lighters. A Koryak family regards its sacred fire-board not only as the deity of the household fire, the guardian of the family hearth, but also as the guardian of the reindeer, and they call it the “master of the herd.” It is supposed to protect the reindeer from wolves and from sickness and to prevent the animals from straying away and being lost. When a reindeer is slaughtered, the sacred fire-board is taken out and smeared with the blood. The maritime Koryaks, who do not live by reindeer, regard the sacred fire-board as the master of the underground house and the helper in the hunt of sea-mammals. They call it “father” and feed it from time to time with fat, which they smear on its mouth.[735] Among the neighbouring Chuckchees in the north-eastern extremity of Asia similar ideas and customs obtain in respect of the fire-boards. These are roughly carved in human form and personified, almost deified, as the supernatural guardians of the reindeer. The holes made by drilling in the board are deemed the eyes of the figure and the squeaking noise produced by the friction of the fire-drill in the hole is thought to be its voice. At every sacrifice the mouth of the figure is greased with tallow or with the marrow of bones. When a new fire-board is made, it is consecrated by being smeared with the blood of a slaughtered reindeer, and the owner says, “Enough! Take up your abode here!” Then the other fire-boards are brought to the same place and set side by side on the ground. The owner says, “Ho! these are your companions. See that I always find easily every kind of game!” Next he slaughters another reindeer and says, 226“Hi! Since you are one of my young men, go and drive the herd hither!” Then after a pause he asks the fire-board, “Have you brought it?” to which in the name of the fire-board he answers, “I have.” Thereupon, speaking in his own person, he says, “Then catch some reindeer! It seems that you will keep a good watch over the herd. There, from the actual chief of the fire-boards, you may learn wisdom.” These sacred fire-boards are often handed down from generation to generation as family heir-looms. During the calving-season they are taken from their bag and placed behind the frame in the outer tent in order that they may protect the dams.[736]
The sacred sticks that symbolize the ancestors are probably the fire sticks used to ignite a new fire in the village after someone passes away. In these descriptions, the sacred sticks that symbolize the ancestors, to which the meat from sacrifices is first offered, are clearly distinguished, either directly or indirectly, from the sacred sticks that are used to create the holy fire.[728] Other authors, however, merge the two types of sticks. They explain that the Herero “create images of their ancestors in this way. They take the two sticks they use to make fire and tie them together with a fresh bundle of corn. Then they worship this object as their ancestor. They must approach it only on their knees. For hours, they sit in front of it and converse with it. If you ask them where they believe their ancestors are, since they can't possibly think these sticks are them, they reply that they do not know. The sticks are kept in the great wife's house.”[729] Similarly, another author describes the ondume or male fire-stick as a “stick representing an omukuru, i.e. ancestor, deity, with which and the otyiza the holy fire is made.”[730] Again, Rev. G. Viehe notes the ceremonies held when returning to a deserted village where an ancestor (omukuru) is buried, explaining that they bring no fire with them, “but holy fire must now be obtained from the omukuru. This is done with the ondume and the 224otyiza. The meaning of these two words clearly indicates that the first represents the omukuru and the second represents his wife.”[731] The same key source identifies the ozondume as “sticks that represent the ovakuru, i.e. ancestors, deities”;[732] and ozondume is simply the plural of ondume, the male fire-stick.[733] Therefore, it seems highly likely that the sticks representing the ancestors are actually just the male fire-sticks, each of which was cut to create a new fire upon returning to the old village after the death of a chief. The stick would serve as an appropriate symbol of the deceased, who was the keeper of the sacred fire in life, and who now, after death, passes it on to his descendants through the friction of his wooden likeness. This symbolism becomes even clearer when we remember that the male fire-stick is usually made from the ancestral tree, that the act of making fire is seen by the Herero as like the birth of a child, and that their term for the stick, based on likely origins, means “the begetter.” Such sticks would be too sacred to discard after they served their purpose of lighting a new fire, leading to a collection of them over time, each recalling and representing one of the tribe's great ancestors. As the old sticks stopped being used to start fires and became mere memorials for the dead, it’s not surprising some European observers have overlooked their original function, mistakenly separating them from the sticks currently used to produce fire.[734] Among the 225|Sacred fire-boards used by the Koryaks and Chukchees of northeastern Asia.| Koryaks of north-eastern Asia, when the sacred fire-boards, roughly carved to resemble human forms, are so worn and full of holes that they can’t be used to start a fire anymore, they are still kept as holy relics in a shrine near the house entrance; and a stranger who sees the respect they receive, without knowing their history, might easily mistake them for statues of revered ancestors, unaware of their previous practical role as fire starters. A Koryak family views its sacred fire-board not just as the deity of their household fire, the protector of their home, but also as the guardian of the reindeer, calling it the “master of the herd.” It is believed to shield the reindeer from wolves and diseases and prevent them from wandering off and getting lost. When they slaughter a reindeer, they take the sacred fire-board out and smear it with the blood. The maritime Koryaks, who don’t rely on reindeer, see the sacred fire-board as the master of their underground dwellings and an aid in hunting sea mammals. They refer to it as “father” and occasionally feed it with fat, which they rub on its mouth.[735] Among the neighboring Chuckchees in the northeastern corner of Asia, similar beliefs and practices exist regarding the fire-boards. These are also roughly carved in human form and are personified, almost deified, as supernatural protectors of the reindeer. The holes drilled into the board are regarded as the eyes of the figure, and the squeaking sound created by the friction of the fire-drill in the hole is thought to be its voice. At each sacrifice, the figure's mouth is greased with tallow or bone marrow. When a new fire-board is created, it is consecrated with the blood of a sacrificed reindeer, and the owner declares, “Enough! Take up residence here!” Then the other fire-boards are brought over to the same spot and placed together on the ground. The owner says, “Ho! these are your companions. Ensure that I always find an abundance of game!” After that, they kill another reindeer and say, “Hi! Since you are one of my young men, go and drive the herd over here!” Then after a moment, the owner asks the fire-board, “Have you brought it?” responding in the name of the fire-board, “I have.” Then, speaking in his own voice, he says, “Then catch some reindeer! It seems that you will watch over the herd well. There, from the actual chief of the fire-boards, you can learn wisdom.” These sacred fire-boards are often passed down through generations as family heirlooms. During the calving season, they are taken from their pouch and placed behind the frame in the outer tent to protect the mothers.[736]
|The evolution of a fire-god or fire-goddess.| These Koryak and Chuckchee customs illustrate the evolution of a fire-god into the patron deity of a family and his representation in human form by the board which is used in fire-making. As the fire-board is that part of the kindling apparatus which is commonly regarded as female in contradistinction to the drill, which is regarded as male, we can easily understand why the deity of the fire should sometimes, as at Rome, be conceived as a goddess rather than as a god; whereas if the drill itself were viewed as the essential part of the apparatus we should expect to find a fire-god and not a fire-goddess.
|The development of a fire god or fire goddess.| The customs of the Koryak and Chuckchee show how a fire-god transformed into the guardian deity of a family and how he is represented in human form by the fire-making board. Since the fire-board is seen as the female part of the fire-starting tools, in contrast to the drill, which is seen as male, it’s easy to see why the deity of fire is sometimes thought of as a goddess, like in Rome, instead of a god. On the other hand, if the drill were considered the main part of the tool, we would expect to find a fire-god instead of a fire-goddess.
CHAPTER XVI
FATHER JOVE AND MOTHER VESTA
|Similarity between the fire-customs of the Herero and the ancient Latins.| The reader may remember that the preceding account of the fire-customs of the Herero was introduced for the sake of comparison with the Latin worship of Vesta. The points of similarity between the two will now be indicated. In the first place we have seen reason to hold that the ever-burning Vestal fire at Rome was merely a survival of the fire on the king’s hearth. So among the Herero the sacred fire of the village is the chief’s fire, which is kept burning or smouldering in his house by day and by night. In Rome, as in Hereroland, the extinction of the fire was regarded as an evil omen, which had to be expiated by sacrifices,[737] and new fire was procured in primitive fashion by twirling the point of one stick in the hole of another. The Roman fire was fed with the wood of the sacred oak tree, just as the African fire is kindled with the wood of the sacred omumborombonga tree. Beside both were kept the images of the ancestors, the Lares at Rome, the ozondume in Hereroland. The king’s house which sheltered the fire and the images was originally in Italy what the chief’s hut still is in Hereroland, a circular hut of osiers, not as ancient dreamers thought, because the earth is round,[738] nor yet because a circle is the symbol of rest, but simply because it is both easier and cheaper to build a round hut than a square.[739]
|Comparison of the fire traditions of the Herero and the ancient Romans.| The reader may recall that the previous discussion of the fire customs of the Herero was presented to compare them with the Latin worship of Vesta. Now, the similarities between the two will be highlighted. First, we have reason to believe that the ever-burning Vestal fire in Rome was merely a continuation of the fire on the king’s hearth. Similarly, among the Herero, the sacred fire of the village is the chief’s fire, which is maintained and smoldering in his house both day and night. In Rome, as in Hereroland, the extinguishing of the fire was seen as a bad omen that required sacrifices for atonement,[737] and new fire was obtained in a primitive way by spinning the tip of one stick into a hole in another. The Roman fire was fueled with wood from the sacred oak tree, just as the African fire is ignited with wood from the sacred omumborombonga tree. Next to both fires were kept the figures of the ancestors, the Lares in Rome and the ozondume in Hereroland. The king’s house that housed the fire and the figures was originally in Italy what the chief’s hut still is in Hereroland: a circular hut made of woven branches, not as ancient theorists thought, because the earth is round,[738] nor because a circle symbolizes rest, but simply because it is both easier and cheaper to construct a round hut than a square one.[739]
228|The Roman Vestals, or some of them, appear to have been originally the king’s daughters.| Further, in Rome the sacred fire was tended, as it still is in Hereroland, by unmarried women, and as the Herero priestesses are the chiefs daughters, so, we may conjecture, it was with some at least of the Vestals among the ancient Latins. The Roman Vestals appear to have been under the patria potestas of the king, and, in republican times, of the Pontifex Maximus, who succeeded to some of the king’s functions.[740] But if they were under the patria potestas of the king, they must have been either his wives or daughters; as virgins they cannot have been his wives; it remains, therefore, that they were his daughters. Various circumstances confirm this view. Their house at Rome, as we saw, always adjoined the Regia, the old palace of the kings; they were treated with marks of respect usually accorded to royalty;[741] and the most famous of all the Vestals, the mother of Romulus, was said to be a daughter of the King of Alba.[742] The custom of putting an unfaithful Vestal to death by immuring her in a subterranean chamber[743] may have been adopted in order to avoid the necessity of taking the life of a princess by violence;[744] for, as we shall learn later on, there is a very widespread reluctance to spill royal blood.
228The Roman Vestals, or at least some of them, appear to have originally been the daughters of the king. Additionally, in Rome, the sacred fire was maintained, just as it is today in Hereroland, by unmarried women. And just like the Herero priestesses, who are the daughters of chiefs, it’s reasonable to assume that some of the Vestals among the ancient Latins were also of noble birth. The Roman Vestals were likely under the patria potestas of the king and, during republican times, of the Pontifex Maximus, who took on some of the king’s responsibilities.[740] If they were indeed under the patria potestas of the king, they must have been his wives or daughters; since they were virgins, they could not have been his wives; thus, it stands to reason that they were his daughters. Various factors support this idea. Their residence in Rome, as we observed, was always next to the Regia, the ancient palace of the kings; they were given the respect typically reserved for royalty;[741] and the most famous of all the Vestals, the mother of Romulus, was said to be a daughter of the King of Alba.[742] The custom of punishing an unfaithful Vestal by sealing her in a hidden chamber[743] may have been adopted to avoid the need to kill a princess openly;[744] for, as we will see later, there is a strong hesitation to shed royal blood.
229|Rites performed by the Vestals for the fertility of the earth and the fecundity of cattle.| Amongst the Herero the chief’s daughter who tends the holy fire has also to perform certain priestly rites, which have for their object the prosperity and multiplication of the cattle.[745] So, too, it was with the Roman Vestals. On the fifteenth of April every year pregnant cows were sacrificed to the Earth goddess; the unborn calves were torn from their mothers’ wombs, the chief Vestal burned them and kept their ashes for use at the shepherds’ festival of the Parilia. This sacrifice of pregnant cows was a fertility charm designed, by a curious application of homoeopathic magic, to quicken both the seed in the ground and the wombs of the cows and the ewes.[746] At the Parilia, held on the twenty-first of April, the Vestals mixed the ashes of the unborn calves with the blood of a horse which had been sacrificed in October, and this mixture they distributed to shepherds, who fumigated their flocks with it as a means of ensuring their fecundity and a plentiful supply of milk.[747]
229Rituals carried out by the Vestals for the fertility of the land and the productivity of livestock. Among the Herero, the chief’s daughter who takes care of the sacred fire also has to perform certain priestly rituals aimed at ensuring the prosperity and growth of the cattle.[745] Similarly, the Roman Vestals had their own rites. Every year on April 15th, pregnant cows were sacrificed to the Earth goddess; the unborn calves were cut from their mothers’ wombs, and the chief Vestal burned them and kept their ashes for the shepherds’ festival of the Parilia. This sacrifice of pregnant cows served as a fertility charm meant to magically encourage both the seeds in the soil and the wombs of the cows and ewes.[746] At the Parilia, which took place on April 21st, the Vestals mixed the ashes of the unborn calves with the blood of a horse that had been sacrificed in October, and this mixture was given to shepherds, who used it to fumigate their flocks in order to ensure their fertility and abundant milk production.[747]
|The Vestals were probably regarded as embodiments of Vesta, who was a mother-goddess, the bestower of offspring on cattle and women.| Strange as at first it may seem to find holy virgins assisting in operations intended to promote the fertility of the earth and of cattle, this reproductive function accords perfectly with the view that they were of old the wives of the fire-god and the mothers of kings. On that view, also, we can understand why down to imperial times the Vestals adored the male emblem of generation,[748] and why Vesta herself, the goddess of whom they were the priestesses and probably the embodiments, was worshipped by the Romans not as a virgin but as a mother.[749] She was sometimes identified with Venus.[750] Like Diana, with whom she was identified at Nemi, she appears to have been a goddess of fecundity, who bestowed offspring both on cattle and on women. That she was supposed to multiply cattle is 230indicated by the ceremonies which the Vestals performed in April; that she made women to be mothers is hinted at not obscurely by the legends of the birth of the old Latin kings.[751] The ancient Aryan practice of leading a bride thrice round the hearth of her new home[752] may have been intended not merely to introduce her to the ancestral spirits who had their seats there, but also to promote conception, perhaps by allowing one of these very spirits to enter into her and be born again. When the ancient Hindoo bridegroom led his bride round the fire, he addressed the fire-god |Custom of leading a bride round the fire perhaps a fertility charm.| Agni with the words, “Mayst thou give back, Agni, to the husband the wife together with offspring.”[753] When a Slavonian bride enters her husband’s house after marriage she is led thrice round the hearth; then she must stir the fire with the poker, saying, “As many sparks spring up, so many cattle, so many male children shall enliven the new home.”[754] At Mostar, in Herzegovina, the bride seats herself on a bag of fruit beside the hearth in her new home and pokes the fire thrice. While she does so, they bring her a small 231boy and set him on her lap. She turns the child thrice round in order that she may give birth to male children.[755] Still more clearly does belief in the impregnation of a woman by fire come out in another South Slavonian custom. When a wife wishes to have a child, she will hold a vessel full of water beside the fire on the hearth, while her husband knocks two burning brands together so that the sparks fly out. When some of them have fallen into the vessel, the woman drinks the water which has thus been fertilised by the fire.[756] The same belief seems still to linger in England; for there is a Lincolnshire saying that if a woman’s apron is burned above the knee by a spark or red-hot cinder flying out of a fire, she will become a mother.[757] Thus the superstition which gave rise to the stories of the birth of the old Roman kings holds its ground to this day in Europe, even in our own country. So indestructible are the crude fancies of our savage forefathers. Thus we may safely infer that the old practice of leading a bride formally to or round the hearth was designed to make her fruitful through the generative virtue ascribed to the fire. The custom is not confined to peoples of the Aryan stock, for it is observed also by the Esthonians and the Wotyaks of Russia[758] and, as we have seen, by the Herero of South Africa.[759] It expresses in daily life the same idea which is embodied in the myths of the birth of Servius Tullius and the other Latin kings, whose virgin mothers conceived through contact with a spark or tongue of fire.[760]
The Vestals were probably viewed as symbols of Vesta, the mother goddess who provided fertility to both cattle and women. Although it may seem odd for holy virgins to assist in rituals meant to enhance the fertility of the land and livestock, this reproductive role fits well with the idea that they were once the wives of the fire god and the mothers of kings. That perspective also explains why, even during imperial times, the Vestals worshipped the male symbol of creation,[748] and why Vesta herself, the goddess they served and possibly embodied, was honored by the Romans as a mother rather than as a virgin.[749] She was sometimes equated with Venus.[750] Similar to Diana, whom she was associated with at Nemi, she seemed to be a goddess of fertility, granting children to both cattle and women. Her role in increasing livestock is shown by the rituals the Vestals carried out in April; her influence on women becoming mothers is hinted at in the legends surrounding the birth of the ancient Latin kings.[751] The old Aryan tradition of leading a bride three times around the hearth of her new home[752] may have served not just to introduce her to the ancestor spirits present there but also to encourage conception, perhaps by allowing one of these spirits to unite with her and be reborn. When the ancient Hindu bridegroom took his bride around the fire, he spoke to the fire god Agni, saying, “May you return to the husband his wife, along with children.”[753] In Slavonian culture, when a bride enters her husband’s house, she is led three times around the hearth; she must then stir the fire with a poker, saying, “As many sparks leap up, so may there be many cattle, many sons in this new home.”[754] In Mostar, Herzegovina, the bride sits on a bag of fruit next to the hearth and pokes the fire three times. While doing this, a small boy is brought to her, and she turns him three times to hope for male children.[755] An even clearer example of the belief in fire’s role in making a woman pregnant appears in another South Slavonian practice. When a wife wishes to have a child, she holds a vessel of water by the fire while her husband strikes together two burning logs to cause sparks to fly. When some of the sparks fall into the vessel, she drinks the water, believing it has been "fertilized" by the fire.[756] This belief seems to persist in England; there's a saying in Lincolnshire that if a woman’s apron is burned above the knee by a spark or ember from a fire, she will become a mother.[757] Hence, the old superstition that inspired tales of the birth of ancient Roman kings still exists in Europe today, even in our own country. The fanciful ideas of our primitive ancestors have proven remarkably resilient. We can conclude that the traditional practice of physically leading a bride to or around the hearth was meant to ensure her fertility through the generative power attributed to fire. This custom is not limited to Aryan peoples; it's also observed among the Estonians and the Wotyaks of Russia[758] and, as noted, among the Herero of South Africa.[759] It reflects a concept found in the daily lives that echoes the myths surrounding the births of Servius Tullius and other Latin kings, whose virgin mothers conceived through contact with a spark or flame.[760]
|New-born children brought to the hearth as a mode of introducing them to the ancestral spirits.| Accordingly, where beliefs and customs of this sort have 232prevailed, it is easy to understand why new-born children should be brought to the hearth, and why their birth should there be solemnly announced to the ancestors. This is done by the Herero,[761] and in like manner on the fifth or seventh day after a birth the ancient Greeks used to run naked round the hearth with the new-born babe in their arms.[762] This Greek ceremony may perhaps be regarded as merely a purification, in other words as a means of keeping at bay the demons who lie in wait for infants. Certainly in other parts of the world a custom has prevailed of passing a newly born child backwards and forwards through the smoke of the fire for the express purpose of warding off evil spirits or other baleful influences.[763] Yet on the analogy of the preceding customs we may conjecture that a practice of solemnly bringing infants to the domestic hearth has also been resorted to as a mode of introducing them to the spirits of their fathers.[764] In Russia the old belief that the souls of the ancestors were somehow in the fire on the hearth has left traces of itself down to the present time. Thus in the Nijegorod Government it is still forbidden to break up the smouldering faggots in a stove, because to do so might cause the ancestors to fall through into hell. And when a Russian family moves from one house to another, the fire is raked out of the old stove into a jar and solemnly 233conveyed to the new one, where it is received with the words, “Welcome, grandfather, to the new home!”[765]
|Newborns are brought to the fireplace to introduce them to the ancestral spirits.| So, in places where such beliefs and customs exist, it's easy to see why newborns should be brought to the hearth and why their birth should be officially announced to the ancestors. The Herero do this,[761] and similarly, on the fifth or seventh day after a birth, the ancient Greeks would run naked around the hearth with the newborn in their arms.[762] This Greek ritual could be seen as simply a purification, a way to keep demons that lurk around infants at bay. Certainly, in other parts of the world, it has been customary to pass a newborn back and forth through the smoke of fire specifically to ward off evil spirits or harmful influences.[763] However, based on the customs mentioned earlier, we might guess that there has been a practice of formally bringing infants to the family hearth as a way of introducing them to their ancestors' spirits.[764] In Russia, the old belief that the souls of ancestors reside in the hearth's fire still lingers today. In the Nijegorod Government, for example, it remains prohibited to break up the smoldering logs in a stove, as doing so could cause the ancestors to fall into hell. When a Russian family moves from one home to another, they carefully scoop the fire from the old stove into a jar and ceremoniously carry it to the new place, where they are welcomed with, “Welcome, grandfather, to the new home!”[765]
|Reasons why a procreative virtue was ascribed to fire.| But why, it may be asked, should a procreative virtue be attributed to the fire, which at first sight appears to be a purely destructive agent? and why in particular should the ancestral spirits be conceived as present in it? Two different reasons perhaps led savage philosophers to these conclusions. In the first place the common mode of making fire by means of the fire-drill has suggested, as we have seen, to many savages the notion that fire is the child of the fire-sticks, in other words that the rubbing of the fire-sticks together is a sexual union which begets offspring in the shape of a flame. This of itself suffices to impress on the mind of a savage the idea that a capacity of reproduction is innate in the fire, and consequently that a woman may conceive by contact with it. Strictly speaking, he ought perhaps to refer this power of reproduction not to the fire but to the fire-sticks; but savage thought is in general too vague to distinguish clearly between cause and effect. If he thinks the matter out, as he may do if he is more than usually reflective, the savage will probably conclude that fire |The process of making fire by friction seems to the savage an act of generation.| exists unseen in all wood, and is only elicited from it by friction,[766] so that the spark or flame is the child, not so much of the fire-sticks, as of the parent fires in them. But this refinement of thought may well be above the reach even of a savage philosopher. The second reason which seems to have led early man to associate the fire with the souls of his ancestors was a superstitious veneration for the ancestral tree which furnished either the fuel for the sacred fire or the material out of which he carved one or both of the fire-sticks. Among the Herero, as we |Again, the fire was associated with the ancestors through the sacred ancestral tree which furnished either the fuel or the fire-sticks.| saw, the male fire-stick commonly is, or used to be, made out of the holy omumborombonga tree, from which they believe that they and their cattle sprang in days of old. Hence nothing could be more natural than that they should regard the fire produced by the friction of a 234piece of the ancestral tree, as akin to themselves, the offspring of the same mighty forefather, to wit, the sacred tree. Similarly, the Vestal fire at Rome was fed with the wood of the oak, the sacred tree of Jupiter, and the first Romans are described as “born of the tree trunks and the heart of oak.”[767] No wonder, then, that the Latin kings, who claimed to represent Jupiter, and in that capacity masqueraded in his costume and made mock thunder, should have prided themselves on being sprung from a fire which was fed with the wood of the god’s holy tree; such an origin was only another form of descent from the oak and from the god of the oak, Jupiter himself.
|Reasons why fire was considered to have a procreative virtue.| But why should we attribute a procreative quality to fire, which seems to be nothing but a destructive force? And why are ancestral spirits associated with it? Two different reasons likely influenced early thinkers to come to these conclusions. First, the common method of creating fire using fire-drills has led many early humans to believe that fire is the offspring of the fire-sticks. In other words, the act of rubbing the fire-sticks together resembles a sexual union that produces a flame. This alone convinces a primitive person that fire has an inherent ability to reproduce and that a woman could conceive through contact with it. Strictly speaking, he should attribute this reproductive power to the fire-sticks rather than the fire itself, but early thought is generally too vague to clearly differentiate between cause and effect. If he reflects on it, he might conclude that fire exists unseen in all wood and is brought forth only by friction,[766] making the spark or flame more like the child of the parent fires within them. However, this level of reasoning may be beyond even a primitive philosopher. The second reason that led early humans to link fire with their ancestors was a superstitious reverence for the ancestral tree, which provided either the fuel for the sacred fire or the material for one or both of the fire-sticks. Among the Herero, as we|Once again, the fire was linked to the ancestors through the sacred ancestral tree, which provided either the fuel or the fire-sticks.| noted, the male fire-stick is or was commonly made from the holy omumborombonga tree, which they believe to be their ancestral source, along with their cattle, from ancient times. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that they would see the fire created by the friction of a piece from this ancestral tree as being related to them, as descendants of the same great forefather, the sacred tree. Similarly, the Vestal fire in Rome was kept alive with wood from the oak, the sacred tree of Jupiter, and the early Romans were said to be “born of the tree trunks and the heart of oak.”[767] It’s no surprise then that the Latin kings, who claimed to represent Jupiter and dressed in his guise while creating mock thunder, took pride in being descended from a fire that was fed with wood from the god’s sacred tree; such a lineage was just another way of claiming descent from the oak and the god of the oak, Jupiter himself.
|Esthonian marriage custom.| The theory that impregnation by fire is really impregnation by the wood of the tree with which the fire is kindled, derives some confirmation from a custom which is observed at marriage by some of the Esthonians in the neighbourhood of Oberpahlen. The bride is escorted to a tree, which is thereupon cut down and burned. When the fire blazes up, she is led thrice round it and placed between three armed men, who clash their swords over her head, while the women sing a song. Then some coins are thrown into the fire, and when it has died out they are recovered and knocked into the stump of the tree, which was cut down to serve as fuel.[768] This is clearly a mode of rewarding, first the fire, and next the tree, for some benefit they have conferred on the bride. But in early society husband and wife desire nothing so much as offspring; this therefore may very well be the benefit for which the Esthonian bride repays the tree.
Estonian wedding tradition. The idea that getting pregnant by fire actually comes from the wood of the tree used to create that fire is supported by a custom observed during marriage by some Estonians near Oberpahlen. The bride is taken to a tree, which is then cut down and burned. When the fire starts blazing, she walks around it three times and is placed between three armed men, who clash their swords over her head while the women sing a song. After that, some coins are tossed into the fire, and once it goes out, they are retrieved and hammered into the stump of the tree that was cut down for fuel.[768] This clearly is a way of rewarding first the fire and then the tree for the benefits they have provided to the bride. In early societies, husband and wife mainly want one thing: children; so this might indeed be the benefit that the Estonian bride is repaying to the tree.
|The conception of the Fire-mother intimately bound up with that of the female fire-stick in the fire-drill.| Thus far we have regarded mainly the paternal aspect of the fire, which the Latins mythically embodied in Jupiter, that is literally Father Jove, the god of the oak. The maternal aspect of the fire was for them represented by Mother Vesta, as they called her; and as the Roman king stood for Father Jove, so his wife or daughter—the practice on this point appears to have varied—stood for Mother Vesta. Sometimes, as we have seen, the Vestal virgins, the priestesses or rather incarnations of Vesta, appear to have been the daughters, not the wives, of the king. But, on the other 235hand, there are grounds for thinking that the wife of King Latinus, the legendary ancestor of the Latins, was traditionally regarded as a Vestal,[769] and the analogy of the Flamen Dialis with his wife the Flaminica, as I shall shew presently, points also to a married pair of priestly functionaries concerned with the kindling and maintenance of the sacred fire. However that may have been, we may take it as probable that the notion of the fire-mother was intimately associated with, if it did not spring directly from, the female fire-stick of the fire-drill, just as the conception of the fire-father was similarly bound up with the male fire-stick.
The concept of the Fire-mother is closely associated with the female fire-stick used in the fire-drill. Up to this point, we have mainly looked at the fatherly aspect of fire, which the Latins represented mythically as Jupiter, literally meaning Father Jove, the god of the oak. The motherly aspect of fire was represented by Mother Vesta, as they referred to her; and just as the Roman king symbolized Father Jove, his wife or daughter—this practice seems to have varied—symbolized Mother Vesta. Sometimes, as we have seen, the Vestal virgins, who were priestesses or rather embodiments of Vesta, appeared to be the daughters, not the wives, of the king. However, there are also indications that the wife of King Latinus, the legendary ancestor of the Latins, was traditionally viewed as a Vestal,[769] and the comparison of the Flamen Dialis and his wife the Flaminica, as I will explain shortly, also suggests a married couple of priestly roles involved in the lighting and upkeep of the sacred fire. Regardless of the details, it seems likely that the idea of the fire-mother was deeply connected to, if not directly derived from, the female fire-stick of the fire-drill, just as the idea of the fire-father was similarly associated with the male fire-stick.
|The Fire-father and the Fire-mother represented by a priest and priestess who together made the sacred fire by means of the fire-drill.| Further, it seems that these mythical beings, the fire-father and the fire-mother, were represented in real life by a priest and a priestess, who together made the sacred fire, the priest appropriately twirling the pointed male stick, while the priestess held fast on the ground the holed female stick, ready to blow up into a flame the spark which fell on the tinder. In the composite religion of Rome, formed like the Roman state by the fusion of several tribes, each with its own gods and priests, such pairs of fire-priests may at first have been duplicated. In one or more of the tribes which afterwards made up the Roman commonwealth the function of kindling the holy fire of oak was perhaps assigned to the Flamen Dialis and his wife the Flaminica, the living representatives of Jupiter and Juno; and if, as some scholars think, the name flamen comes from flare, “to blow up,”[770] the derivation would fit well with this theory. But in historical Rome the duty of making the sacred fire lay with the Vestal virgins and the chief pontiff.[771] The mode in which they shared the work between them is not described by ancient writers, but we may suppose that one of the virgins held the board of lucky wood on the ground while the pontiff inserted the point of a peg into the hole of the board and made the peg revolve rapidly between the palms of his hands. When the likeness of this mode of producing fire to the intercourse of the sexes had once struck people, 236they would deem it unnatural, and even indecent, for a woman to usurp the man’s function of twirling the pointed male stick. But the Vestals certainly helped to make fire by friction; it would seem, therefore, that the part they took in the process can only have been the one I have conjecturally assigned to them. At all events, the conjecture is supported by the following analogies.
The Fire-father and the Fire-mother were symbolized by a priest and priestess who worked together to create the sacred fire with a fire drill. Additionally, it appears that these mythical figures, the Fire-father and the Fire-mother, were symbolized in reality by a priest and a priestess, who together created the sacred fire— the priest skillfully twirling the pointed male stick, while the priestess firmly held the holed female stick on the ground, ready to ignite the spark that landed on the tinder. In the blended religion of Rome, shaped like the Roman state through the merging of several tribes, each with its own gods and priests, such pairs of fire-priests might have initially been common. In one or more of the tribes that later formed the Roman commonwealth, the duty of lighting the holy fire of oak was perhaps given to the Flamen Dialis and his wife, the Flaminica, the living representatives of Jupiter and Juno; and if, as some scholars believe, the term flamen comes from flare, “to blow,”[770] this origin would align well with this theory. However, in historical Rome, the responsibility for creating the sacred fire fell to the Vestal virgins and the chief pontiff.[771] The way they shared this task isn't detailed by ancient writers, but we can assume that one of the virgins held the board made of lucky wood on the ground while the pontiff placed the point of a peg into the hole of the board and quickly spun the peg between his palms. Once people noticed the similarity between this method of starting a fire and sexual intercourse, they likely considered it unnatural, and even inappropriate, for a woman to take on the man's role of spinning the pointed male stick. But it's clear that the Vestals did help create fire by friction; thus, it seems their role in the process must have been the one I have tentatively assigned to them. In any case, this speculation is backed by the following analogies.
|Among the Djakuns fire is made by the leader and his unmarried daughter.| The Djakuns, a wild tribe of the Malay Peninsula, are in the habit of making fire by friction. A traveller has described the custom as follows: “When a troop was on a journey and intended either to pitch a temporary camp, or to make a longer settlement, the first camp fire was kindled for good luck by an unmarried girl with the help of the fire-drill. Generally this girl was the daughter of the man who served the troop as leader. It was deemed of special importance that on the first night of a settlement the fire of every band should be lit by the unmarried daughter of a leader. But she might only discharge this duty if she had not her monthly sickness on her at the time. This custom is all the more remarkable inasmuch as the Djakuns in their migrations always carried a smouldering rope of bark with them.” “When the fire was to be kindled, the girl took the piece of soft wood and held it on the ground, while her father, or any other married man, twirled the vertical borer upon it. She waited for the spark to spring from the wood, and fanned it into a flame either by blowing on it or by waving the piece of wood quickly about in her hand. For this purpose she caught the spark in a bundle of teased bark and exposed it to a draught of air.” “Fire so produced was employed to kindle the other fires for that night. They ascribed to it good luck in cooking and a greater power of keeping off tigers and so forth, than if the first fire had been kindled by a spark from the smouldering bark rope.”[772] This 237account suggests a reason why a holy fire should be tended by a number of virgins: one or more of them might at any time be incapacitated by a natural infirmity for the discharge of the sacred duty.
Among the Djakuns, fire is created by the leader and his single daughter. The Djakuns, a wild tribe from the Malay Peninsula, traditionally start fires by friction. A traveler described the custom like this: “When a group was traveling and planned to set up either a temporary camp or a longer settlement, the first campfire was started for good luck by an unmarried girl using a fire-drill. Normally, this girl was the daughter of the leader of the group. It was considered very important that on the first night of any settlement, the fire for each band should be lit by an unmarried daughter of a leader. However, she could only perform this duty if she was not on her monthly period. This custom is particularly interesting because the Djakuns always carried a smoldering rope made of bark during their travels.” “When it was time to make the fire, the girl would place a piece of soft wood on the ground, while her father or another married man twirled a vertical borer on it. She waited for a spark to fly from the wood and then fanned it into a flame either by blowing on it or by waving the piece of wood quickly in her hand. To catch the spark, she used a bundle of teased bark and exposed it to a breeze.” “The fire created this way was then used to start the other fires for the night. They believed it brought good luck for cooking and was more effective at keeping away tigers and other dangers than if the first fire had been sparked from the smoldering bark rope.”[772] This 237account suggests a reason why a sacred fire should be maintained by several virgins: one or more of them could become unable to perform the sacred duty due to natural issues at any time.
|Among the Slavs of the Balkans fire is made by a young girl and boy.| Again, the Slavs of the Balkan Peninsula ascribe a healing or protective power to “living fire,” and when an epidemic is raging in a village they will sometimes extinguish all the fires on the hearths and procure a “living fire” by the friction of wood. At the present day this is done by various mechanical devices, but the oldest method, now almost obsolete, is said to be as follows:—A girl and a boy between the ages of eleven and fourteen, having been chosen to make the fire, are led into a dark room, where they must strip themselves of all their clothes without speaking a word. Then two perfectly dry cylindrical pieces of lime-wood are given them, which they must rub rapidly against each other, turn about, till they take fire. Tinder is then lit at the flame and used for the purpose of healing. This mode of kindling the “living fire” is still practised in the Schar Mountains of Old Servia. The writer who describes it witnessed some years ago the use of the sacred fire at the village of Setonje, at the foot of the Homolye Mountains, in the heart of the great Servian forest. But on that occasion the fire was made in the manner described, not by a boy and girl, but by an old woman and an old man. Every fire in the village had previously been extinguished, and was afterwards relit with the new fire.[773]
In the Balkans, a girl and a boy start a fire. The Slavs in this region believe that “living fire” has healing or protective powers. When an epidemic occurs in a village, they sometimes put out all the hearth fires and create a “living fire” through the friction of wood. Nowadays, this is often done with various mechanical devices, but the traditional method, which is nearly forgotten, goes like this: A girl and a boy aged between eleven and fourteen, chosen to make the fire, enter a dark room where they must remove all their clothes without speaking. They are given two perfectly dry cylindrical pieces of lime-wood that they must rub together quickly until they ignite. The tinder is then lit from this flame and used for healing purposes. This way of creating “living fire” is still practiced in the Schar Mountains of Old Servia. The author who recounts this witnessed the sacred fire being used a few years ago in the village of Setonje, located at the foot of the Homolye Mountains in the heart of the great Servian forest. However, on that occasion, the fire was made by an old woman and an old man instead of a boy and a girl. Every fire in the village had been extinguished prior to this and was later reignited with the new fire.[773]
|Among the Kachins fire is made by a man and woman jointly.| Among the Kachins of Burma, when people take solemn possession of a new house, a new fire is made in front of it by a man and woman jointly. A dry piece of bamboo is pegged down on the ground; the two fire-makers sit down 238facing each other at either end of it, and together rub another piece of bamboo on the horizontal piece, one of them holding the wrists of the other and both pressing down firmly till fire is elicited.[774]
Among the Kachins, a man and a woman create fire together. Among the Kachins of Burma, when people officially move into a new house, a new fire is started in front of it by a man and a woman together. A dry piece of bamboo is secured to the ground; the two fire-makers sit facing each other at each end of it, and together they rub another piece of bamboo against the horizontal piece, with one holding the wrists of the other and both pressing down firmly until they start a fire.[774]
|Thus the conception of the fire-sticks as male and female is carried out by requiring the male stick to be worked by a man and the female stick to be worked by a woman.| In the first at least of these customs, it is plain, the conception of the fire-sticks as male and female has been logically carried out by requiring the male fire-stick to be worked by a man and the female fire-stick to be held by a woman. But opinions seem to differ on the question whether the fire-makers |But opinions differ as to whether the fire-makers should be married or single.| should be wedded or single. The Djakuns prefer that the man should be married and the woman unmarried; on the other hand, the Slavs of the Schar Mountains clearly think it better that both should be single, since they entrust the duty of making the fire to a boy and girl. In so far as the man’s part in the work is concerned, some of our Scottish Highlanders agree with the Djakuns at the other end of the world; for the natives of Lewis “did also make use of a fire called Tin-egin, i.e. a forced fire, or fire of necessity, which they used as an antidote against the plague or murrain in cattle; and it was performed thus: all the fires in the parish were extinguished, and then eighty-one married men, being thought the necessary number for effecting this design, took two great planks of wood, and nine of them were employed by turns, who by their repeated efforts rubbed one of the planks against the other until the heat thereof produced fire; and from this forced fire each family is supplied with new fire, which is no sooner kindled than a pot full of water is quickly set on it, and afterwards sprinkled upon the people infected with the plague, or upon the cattle that have the murrain. And this they all say they find successful by experiment: it was practised in the main land, opposite to the south of Skie, within these thirty years.”[775] On the other hand, the Germans of Halberstadt sided with the South Slavs on this point, for they caused the forced fire, or need fire, as it is commonly called, to be made by two chaste boys, who pulled at a rope which ran round a wooden 239cylinder.[776] The theory and practice of the Basutos in South Africa were similar. After a birth had taken place they used to kindle the fire of the hut afresh, and “for this purpose it was necessary that a young man of chaste habits should rub two pieces of wood quickly one against another, until a flame sprung up, pure as himself. It was firmly believed that a premature death awaited him who should dare to take upon himself this office, after having lost his innocence. As soon, therefore, as a birth was proclaimed in the village, the fathers took their sons to undergo the ordeal. Those who felt themselves guilty confessed their crime, and submitted to be scourged rather than expose themselves to the consequences of a fatal temerity.”[777]
|So, the concept of fire-sticks representing male and female is expressed by having a man handle the male stick and a woman handle the female stick.| In the first of these customs, it's clear that the concept of the fire-sticks as male and female has been consistently applied by requiring the male fire-stick to be worked by a man and the female fire-stick to be held by a woman. However, opinions seem to vary on whether the fire-makers should be married or single.|People have different opinions on whether the fire-makers should be married or single.| The Djakuns prefer that the man be married and the woman be unmarried; on the other hand, the Slavs of the Schar Mountains clearly think it’s better that both should be single, as they assign the task of making the fire to a boy and girl. When it comes to the man's role in the work, some Scottish Highlanders agree with the Djakuns on the other side of the world; the people of Lewis “also used a fire called Tin-egin, meaning a forced fire or necessary fire, which they used as a remedy against the plague or disease in cattle. This was done as follows: all the fires in the parish were put out, and then eighty-one married men, believed to be the necessary number for this task, took two large planks of wood, with nine of them working in shifts, rubbing one plank against the other until the heat produced fire; from this forced fire, each family received new fire, and as soon as it was lit, a pot full of water was quickly placed on it and then sprinkled on those infected with the plague or on the cattle suffering from disease. They all claim to find this effective based on experience; it was practiced on the mainland, to the south of Skye, within the last thirty years.”[775] Meanwhile, the Germans of Halberstadt agreed with the South Slavs on this issue, as they required the forced fire, or need fire, as it’s commonly known, to be created by two chaste boys who pulled on a rope that ran around a wooden 239cylinder.[776] The theory and practice of the Basutos in South Africa were similar. After a birth occurred, they would relight the fire in the hut, and “for this purpose it was necessary for a young man of chaste habits to rub two pieces of wood quickly against each other until a flame arose, pure as he was. It was firmly believed that anyone who dared take on this duty after losing their innocence would meet a premature death. Therefore, as soon as a birth was announced in the village, the fathers would take their sons to undergo the ordeal. Those who felt guilty confessed their sins and submitted to be whipped rather than expose themselves to the consequences of such a fatal act.”[777]
|Reasons for entrusting the making of fire to unmarried boys and girls.| It is not hard to divine why the task of twirling the male fire-stick in the hole of the female fire-stick should by some people be assigned to married men. The analogy of the process to the intercourse of the sexes furnishes an obvious reason. It is less easy to understand why other people should prefer to entrust the duty to unmarried boys. But probably the preference is based on a belief that chastity leaves the boys with a stock of reproductive energy which they may expend on the operation of fire-making, whereas married men dissipate the same energy in other channels. A somewhat similar train of thought may explain a rule of virginity enjoined on women who assist in the production of fire by holding the female fire-stick on the ground. As a virgin’s womb is free to conceive, so, it might be thought, will be the womb of the female fire-stick which she holds; whereas had the female fire-maker been already with child, she could not be reimpregnated, and consequently the female fire-stick could not give birth to a spark. Thus, in the sympathetic connexion between the fire-sticks and the fire-makers we seem to reach the ultimate origin of the order of the Vestal Virgins: they had to be chaste, because otherwise they could not light the fire. Once when the sacred fire had gone out, the Vestal in charge of it was suspected of having brought about the calamity by her unchastity, but she triumphantly repelled the suspicion by eliciting a flame from the cold 240ashes.[778] Ideas of the same primitive kind still linger among the French peasantry, who think that if a girl can blow up a smouldering candle into a flame she is a virgin, but that if she fails to do so, she is not.[779] In ancient Greece none but persons of pure life were allowed to blow up the holy fire with their mouths; a vile man who had polluted his lips was deemed unworthy to discharge the duty.[780]
|Reasons for letting unmarried boys and girls start a fire.| It's not difficult to understand why some people would assign the task of spinning the male fire-stick in the hole of the female fire-stick to married men. The comparison to the sexual act between men and women provides a clear explanation. However, it's less clear why others would prefer to give this responsibility to unmarried boys. The likely reason is the belief that their chastity allows them to retain a reserve of reproductive energy that they can use for making fire, while married men channel that energy elsewhere. A similar line of thinking may explain why women who help produce fire by holding the female fire-stick are expected to remain virgins. Just as a virgin's womb can conceive, it might be thought that the female fire-stick she holds is also ready to produce a spark; if the female fire-maker were pregnant, she would not be able to conceive again, and thus the fire-stick couldn't create a spark. This connection between the fire-sticks and the fire-makers seems to point to the origins of the order of the Vestal Virgins: they had to remain chaste, or they couldn’t ignite the fire. There was a time when the sacred fire went out, and the Vestal responsible was suspected of causing it through her unchastity, but she proved the accusation wrong by igniting a flame from the cold ashes.240 [778] Similar ideas persist among French peasants, who believe that if a girl can blow a smoldering candle into a flame, she is a virgin, but if she can’t, she is not.[779] In ancient Greece, only those of pure character were allowed to blow the sacred fire with their mouths; someone with tainted lips was considered unworthy of this duty.[780]
|The holy fire and virgins of St. Brigit in Ireland.| The French superstition, which I have just mentioned, may well date from Druidical times, for there are some grounds for thinking that among the old Celts, as among their near kinsmen the Latins, holy fires were tended by virgins. In our own country perpetual fires were maintained in the temple of a goddess whom the Romans identified with Minerva,[781] but whose native Celtic name seems to have been Brigit. Like Minerva, Brigit was a goddess of poetry and wisdom, and she had two sisters also called Brigit, who presided over leechcraft and smithcraft respectively. This appears to be only another way of saying that Brigit was the patroness of bards, physicians, and smiths.[782] Now, at Kildare in Ireland the nuns of St. Brigit tended a perpetual holy fire down to the suppression of the monasteries under Henry VIII.; and we can hardly doubt that in doing so they merely kept up, under a Christian name, an ancient pagan worship of Brigit in her character of a fire-goddess or patroness of smiths. The nuns were nineteen in number. Each of them had the care of the fire for a single night in turn; and on the twentieth evening the last nun, having 241heaped wood on the fire, used to say, “Brigit, take charge of your own fire; for this night belongs to you.” She then went away, and next morning they always found the fire still burning and the usual quantity of fuel consumed. Like the Vestal fire at Rome in the old days, the fire of St. Brigit burned within a circular enclosure made of stakes and brushwood, and no male might set foot inside the fence. The nuns were allowed to fan the fire or blow it up with bellows, but they might not blow on it with their breath.[783] |Not to breathe on a holy fire.| Similarly it is said that the Balkan Slavs will not blow with their mouths on the holy fire of the domestic hearth;[784] a Brahman is forbidden to blow a fire with his mouth;[785] and among the Parsees the priests have to wear a veil over their mouth lest they should defile the sacred fire by their breath.[786] The custom of maintaining a perpetual fire was not peculiar |Other perpetual fires in Ireland.| to Kildare, but seems to have been common in Ireland, for the native records shew that such fires were kept up in several monasteries, in each of which a small church or oratory was set apart for the purpose. This was done, for 242example, at the monasteries of Seirkieran, Kilmainham, and Inishmurray.[787] We may conjecture that these holy fires were merely survivals of the perpetual fires which in pagan |St. Brigit’s fire perhaps fed with oak-wood.| times had burned in honour of Brigit. The view that Brigit was a fire-goddess is confirmed by the observation that in the Christian calendar her festival falls the day before Candlemas, and the customs observed at that season by Celtic peasantry seem to prove that she was a goddess of the crops as well as of fire.[788] If that was so, it is another reason for comparing her to Vesta, whose priestesses performed ceremonies to fertilise both the earth and the cattle.[789] Further, there are some grounds for connecting Brigit, like Vesta, with the oak; for at Kildare her Christian namesake, St. Brigit, otherwise known as St. Bride or St. Bridget, built her church under an oak-tree, which existed till the tenth century, and gave its name to the spot, for Kildare is Cilldara, “the church of the oak-tree.”[790] The “church of the oak” may well have displaced a temple or sanctuary of the oak, where in Druidical days the holy fire was fed, like the Vestal fire at Rome, with the wood of the sacred tree.
The sacred fire and virgins of St. Brigit in Ireland. The French superstition I just mentioned could date back to Druid times, as there's some evidence that among the ancient Celts, much like their close relatives the Latins, holy fires were tended by virgins. In our own country, perpetual fires were kept in the temple of a goddess the Romans matched with Minerva,[781] though her original Celtic name seems to have been Brigit. Like Minerva, Brigit was a goddess of poetry and wisdom, and she had two sisters, also named Brigit, who oversaw healing and blacksmithing, respectively. This essentially means Brigit was the patroness of poets, doctors, and smiths.[782] At Kildare in Ireland, the nuns of St. Brigit maintained a perpetual holy fire until the monasteries were shut down under Henry VIII.; and it seems likely they continued, under a Christian title, an ancient pagan worship of Brigit as a fire-goddess or protector of smiths. There were nineteen nuns in total. Each of them took turns caring for the fire for a single night; on the twentieth evening, the last nun would heap wood onto the fire and say, “Brigit, take care of your own fire; for this night belongs to you.” She would then leave, and the next morning, they always found the fire still burning and the usual amount of fuel used. Like the Vestal fire in ancient Rome, St. Brigit's fire burned inside a circular enclosure made of stakes and brushwood, and no man was allowed to step inside the boundary. The nuns could fan the fire or blow it up with bellows, but they couldn't blow on it with their breath.[783] |Don't blow on a sacred fire.| Similarly, it is said that the Balkan Slavs won't blow with their mouths on the holy fire of the home hearth;[784] a Brahman is prohibited from blowing on a fire with his mouth;[785] and among the Parsees, priests must wear a veil over their mouths so they don't defile the sacred fire with their breath.[786] The practice of maintaining a perpetual fire wasn't unique to Kildare; it appears to have been common throughout Ireland, as local records show that such fires were kept in several monasteries, each with a small church or oratory designated for the purpose. For example, this was done at the monasteries of Seirkieran, Kilmainham, and Inishmurray.[787] We can speculate that these holy fires were simply remnants of the perpetual fires that burned in honor of Brigit during pagan times. The belief that Brigit was a fire-goddess is reinforced by the fact that her festival in the Christian calendar occurs the day before Candlemas, and the customs practiced during this season by Celtic farmers seem to indicate that she was a goddess of crops as well as fire.[788] If that's the case, it provides another reason to compare her to Vesta, whose priestesses performed rituals to fertilize both the earth and livestock.[789] Furthermore, there are some grounds linking Brigit, like Vesta, with the oak; because at Kildare, her Christian counterpart, St. Brigit, also known as St. Bride or St. Bridget, built her church beneath an oak tree that lasted until the tenth century and gave its name to the location, as Kildare is Cilldara, “the church of the oak tree.”[790] The “church of the oak” likely replaced a temple or sanctuary of the oak, where in Druid times the holy fire was fed, similar to the Vestal fire in Rome, with wood from the sacred tree.
|Early Irish monasteries built in oak groves.| We may suspect that a conversion of this sort was often effected in Ireland by the early Christian missionaries. The monasteries of Derry and Durrow, founded by St. Columba, were both named after the oak groves amidst which they were built; and at Derry the saint spared the beautiful trees and strictly enjoined his successors to do the same. In his old age, when he lived an exile on the shores of the bleak storm-swept isle of Iona, his heart yearned to the home of his youth among the oak groves of Ireland, and he gave expression to the yearning in passionate verse:—
Early Irish monasteries constructed in oak groves. We might think that this kind of conversion often happened in Ireland through early Christian missionaries. The monasteries of Derry and Durrow, founded by St. Columba, were both named after the oak groves where they were established; and at Derry, the saint protected the beautiful trees and strictly instructed his successors to do the same. In his old age, while living in exile on the shores of the harsh, stormy island of Iona, he longed for the home of his youth among the oak groves of Ireland, and he expressed this longing in passionate poetry:—
A feeling of the same sort came over a very different exile in a very different scene, when growing old amid the turmoil, the gaieties, the distractions of Paris, he remembered the German oak woods of his youth.
A similar feeling washed over a completely different exile in a totally different setting, as he grew older amidst the chaos, the excitement, and the distractions of Paris, he reminisced about the German oak forests of his youth.
|Virgin priestesses of fire among the Incas of Peru.| Far from the oaks of Erin and the saint’s last home among the stormy Hebrides, a sacred fire has been tended by holy virgins, with statelier rites and in more solemn fanes, under the equinoctial line. The Incas of Peru, who deemed themselves the children of the Sun, procured a new fire from their great father at the solstice in June, our Midsummer Day. They kindled it by holding towards the sun a hollow mirror, which reflected his beams on a tinder of cotton wool. But if the sky happened to be overcast at the time, they made the new fire by rubbing two sticks against each other; and they looked upon it as a bad omen when they were obliged to do this, for they said the Sun must be angry with them, since he refused to kindle the flame with his own hand. The sacred fire, however obtained, was deposited at Cuzco, the capital of Peru, in the temple of the Sun, and also in a great convent of holy virgins, who guarded it carefully throughout the year, and it was an evil augury if they suffered it to go out. These 244|Wives of the Sun in Peru.| virgins were regarded as the wives of the Sun, and they were bound to perpetual chastity. If any of them proved unfaithful to her husband the Sun, she was buried alive, like a Roman Vestal, and her paramour was strangled. The reason for putting her to death in this manner was probably, as at Rome, a reluctance to shed royal blood; for all these virgins were of the royal family, being daughters of the Incas or of his kinsmen. Besides tending the holy fire, they had to weave and make all the clothes worn by the Inca and his legitimate wife, to bake the bread that was offered to the Sun at his great festivals, and to brew the wine which the Inca and his family drank on these occasions. All the furniture of the convent, down to the pots, pans, and jars, were of gold and silver, just as in the temple of the Sun, because the virgins were deemed to be his wives. And they had a golden garden, where the very clods were of fine gold; where golden maize reared its stalks, leaves and cobs, all of the precious metal; and where golden shepherds, with slings and crooks of gold, tended golden sheep and lambs.[792] The analogy of these virgin guardians 245of the sacred flame furnishes an argument in favour of the view set forth in the preceding pages; for if the Peruvian Vestals were the brides of the Sun, may not the Roman Vestals have been the brides of the Fire?
|Virgin priestesses of fire in the Inca empire of Peru.| Far from the oaks of Ireland and the saint’s final resting place among the stormy Hebrides, a sacred fire has been kept alive by holy virgins, with grander ceremonies and in more solemn temples, under the equatorial line. The Incas of Peru, who saw themselves as children of the Sun, sourced a new fire from their great father at the solstice in June, our Midsummer Day. They ignited it by holding a hollow mirror towards the sun, which reflected his rays onto a piece of cotton wool. However, if the sky was cloudy at that moment, they started the new fire by rubbing two sticks together; they considered it a bad omen if they had to resort to this method, believing the Sun must be angry with them since he had refused to light the flame himself. Regardless of how it was obtained, the sacred fire was stored in Cuzco, the capital of Peru, in the temple of the Sun, as well as in a great convent of holy virgins who carefully tended it throughout the year; it was considered a terrible sign if it went out. These 244Wives of the Sun in Peru. virgins were viewed as the wives of the Sun and were committed to lifelong chastity. If any of them were unfaithful to her husband the Sun, she was buried alive, similar to a Roman Vestal, and her lover was strangled. The motivation behind this method of execution was likely, like in Rome, a reluctance to spill royal blood, as all these virgins were of royal lineage, being daughters of the Incas or their relatives. In addition to tending the sacred fire, they were responsible for weaving and making all the clothing worn by the Inca and his legitimate wife, baking the bread offered to the Sun during his major festivals, and brewing the wine that the Inca and his family consumed on these occasions. All the furnishings of the convent, down to the pots, pans, and jars, were made of gold and silver, just like in the temple of the Sun, as the virgins were considered his wives. They also had a golden garden, where even the soil was made of fine gold; where golden corn grew with stalks, leaves, and cobs all made of precious metal; and where golden shepherds with slings and crooks of gold watched over golden sheep and lambs.[792] The comparison of these virgin guardians of the sacred flame supports the argument made in the previous pages; for if the Peruvian Vestals were brides of the Sun, could it not be that the Roman Vestals were brides of the Fire?
|Virgin priestesses of fire in Mexico and Yucatan.| On the summit of the great pyramidal temple at Mexico two fires burned continually on stone hearths in front of two chapels, and dreadful misfortunes were supposed to follow if the fires were allowed to go out. They were kept up by priests and maidens, some of whom had taken a vow of perpetual virginity. But most of these girls seem to have served only for a year or more until their marriage. They offered incense to the idols, wove cloths for the service of the temple, swept the sacred area, and baked the cakes which were presented to the gods but eaten by their priests. They were clad all in white, without any ornament. A broom and a censer were their emblems. Death was the penalty inflicted on the faithless virgin who polluted by her incontinence the temple of the god.[793] In Yucatan there was an order of 246Vestals instituted by a princess, who acted as lady-superior and was deified after her death under the title of the Virgin of the Fire. The members enrolled themselves voluntarily either for life or for a term of years, after which they might marry. Their duty was to tend the sacred fire, the emblem of the sun. If they broke their vow of chastity or allowed the fire to go out, they were shot to death with arrows.[794]
|Virgin priestesses of fire in Mexico and Yucatan.| At the top of the large pyramidal temple in Mexico, two fires burned constantly on stone hearths in front of two chapels, and it was believed that terrible misfortunes would occur if the fires were allowed to extinguish. They were maintained by priests and young women, some of whom had pledged to remain virgins forever. However, most of these girls seemed to serve only for a year or so until they got married. They offered incense to the idols, wove fabrics for the temple's service, cleaned the sacred area, and baked the cakes that were presented to the gods but consumed by the priests. They wore all white, with no decorations. A broom and a censer were their symbols. Death was the punishment for the unfaithful virgin who defiled the temple of the god through her indiscretions.[793] In Yucatan, there was a group of Vestals founded by a princess, who served as their leader and was honored after her death with the title of the Virgin of the Fire. The members chose to join voluntarily, either for life or for a set number of years, after which they could marry. Their responsibility was to care for the sacred fire, representing the sun. If they broke their vow of purity or let the fire extinguish, they were executed by arrows.[794]
|Virgin priestesses of fire among the Baganda.| Amongst the Baganda of Central Africa there used to be an order of Vestal Virgins (bakaja) who were attached to the temples of the gods. Their duties were to keep the fire of the god burning all night, to see that there was a good supply of firewood, and to watch that the suppliants did not bring to the deity anything that was tabooed to him. These maidens are also said to have had charge of some of the vessels. All of them were young girls; no man might touch them; and when they reached the age of puberty, the god ordered them to be given in marriage. The place of a girl who thus vacated office had to be supplied by another girl taken from the same clan.[795]
|Virgin priestesses of fire among the Baganda.| Among the Baganda people in Central Africa, there used to be a group of Vestal Virgins (bakaja) linked to the temples of the gods. Their responsibilities included keeping the god's fire burning throughout the night, ensuring there was enough firewood, and making sure that worshippers didn’t bring anything that was forbidden to the deity. These young women were also responsible for some of the sacred vessels. All of them were young girls; no man was allowed to touch them, and once they reached puberty, the god commanded that they be given in marriage. When a girl left her position, another girl from the same clan had to be appointed to take her place.[795]
|Resemblance between the Flamen Dialis of the Romans and the Agnihotri or fire-priest of the Brahmans.| We have seen that some people commit the task of making fire by friction to married men; and following the opinion of other scholars I have conjectured that in some of the Latin tribes the duty of kindling and feeding the sacred fire may have been assigned to the Flamen Dialis, who had always to be married; if his wife died, he vacated his office.[796] The sanctity of his fire is proved by the rule that no brand might be taken from his house except for the purpose of a 247sacrifice.[797] Further, the importance ascribed to the discharge of his duties is attested by another old rule which forbade him to be absent from his house in Rome for a single night.[798] The prohibition would be intelligible if one of his duties had formerly been to superintend the maintenance of a perpetual fire. However that may have been, the life of the priest was regulated by a whole code of curious restrictions or taboos, which rendered the office so burdensome and vexatious that, in spite of the high honours attached to the post, for a period of more than seventy years together no man was found willing to undertake it.[799] Some of these restrictions will be examined later on.[800] Their similarity to the rules of life still observed in India by the Brahmans who are fire-priests (Agnihotris) seems to confirm the view that the Flamen also was originally a fire-priest. The parallel between the two priesthoods would be all the more remarkable if, as some scholars hold, the very names Brahman and Flamen are philologically identical.[801] As to these Brahmanical fire-priests or Agnihotris we are told that the number of them nowadays is very limited, because the ceremonies involve heavy expenditure, and the rules which regulate them are very elaborate and difficult. The offering of food to the fire at meals is, indeed, one of the five daily duties of every Brahman; but the regular fire-service is the special duty of the Agnihotri. In order that he may be ceremonially pure he is bound by certain obligations not to travel or remain away from home for any long time; to sell nothing which is produced by himself or his 248family; to pay little attention to worldly affairs; to speak the truth; to bathe and worship the deities in the afternoon as well as in the morning; and to sacrifice to his deceased ancestors on the fifteenth of every month. He is not allowed to take food at night. He may not eat alkaline salt, meat, honey, and inferior grain, such as some varieties of pulse, millet, and the egg plant. He never wears shoes nor sleeps on a bed, but always on the ground. He is expected to keep awake most of the night and to study the Shâstras. He may have no connexion with, nor unholy thoughts regarding, any woman but his wife; and he must abstain from every other act that involves personal impurity.[802] With these rules we may compare some of the obligations laid on the Flamen Dialis. In the old days, as we saw, he was bound never to be absent from his house for a single night. He might not touch or even name raw meat, beans, ivy, and a she-goat; he might not eat leavened bread, nor touch a dead body; and the feet of his bed had always to be smeared with mud.[803] This last rule seems to be a mitigation of an older custom of sleeping on the ground, a custom which is still observed by the fire-priest in India, as it was in antiquity by the priests of Zeus at Dodona.[804] Similarly the priest of the old Prussian god Potrimpo was bound to sleep on the bare earth for three nights before he sacrificed to the deity.[805]
|Similarity between the Roman Flamen Dialis and the Agnihotri or fire-priest of the Brahmans.| We've seen that some people assign the task of creating fire by friction to married men; and following the views of other scholars, I believe that in some of the Latin tribes, the responsibility of lighting and tending the sacred fire might have been given to the Flamen Dialis, who always had to be married; if his wife died, he would have to leave his position.[796] The sacredness of his fire is shown by the rule that no brand could be taken from his house except for sacrifice.247[797] Additionally, the importance placed on fulfilling his duties is highlighted by another old rule that forbade him from being absent from his home in Rome for even one night.[798] This prohibition would make sense if one of his duties had once been to oversee the maintenance of a perpetual fire. Nevertheless, the life of the priest was governed by a whole set of strange restrictions or taboos, making the position so burdensome and annoying that, despite the high honors associated with it, for over seventy years, no one was willing to take it on.[799] Some of these restrictions will be discussed later.[800] Their similarity to the lifestyle rules still followed in India by the Brahmans who are fire-priests (Agnihotris) seems to support the idea that the Flamen was originally a fire-priest as well. The connection between the two priesthoods would be even more striking if, as some scholars suggest, the very names Brahman and Flamen are linguistically identical.[801] Regarding these Brahmanical fire-priests or Agnihotris, we are informed that their numbers today are quite limited because the ceremonies are costly and the regulations governing them are very detailed and complex. Offering food to the fire during meals is, indeed, one of the five daily responsibilities of every Brahman; however, performing the regular fire service is the specific duty of the Agnihotri. To remain ceremonially pure, he is obligated by certain rules not to travel or be away from home for long periods; not to sell anything produced by himself or his family; to pay little attention to worldly matters; to speak the truth; to bathe and worship the deities both in the morning and the afternoon; and to make sacrifices to his deceased ancestors on the fifteenth of every month. He is not allowed to eat at night. He may not consume alkaline salt, meat, honey, or inferior grains like some types of pulses, millet, and eggplant. He never wears shoes nor sleeps on a bed, opting to sleep on the ground instead. He is expected to stay awake most of the night studying the Shâstras. He may have no connections with, nor any impure thoughts about, any woman except his wife, and he must refrain from all other actions that could lead to personal impurity.[802] We can compare these rules with some of the obligations placed on the Flamen Dialis. In ancient times, as we noted, he was required never to leave his house for a single night. He could not touch or even name raw meat, beans, ivy, or a she-goat; he could not eat leavened bread, nor could he touch a dead body; and the feet of his bed always had to be coated with mud.[803] This last rule seems to be a softer version of an older practice of sleeping on the ground, which is still followed by the fire-priest in India, as it was historically by the priests of Zeus at Dodona.[804] Similarly, the priest of the old Prussian god Potrimpo had to sleep on the bare earth for three nights before making a sacrifice to the deity.[805]
|Mode in which the Agnihotri procures fresh fire by the friction of fire-sticks.| Every Agnihotri has a separate room in his house where the sacred fire is kept burning in a small pit of a cubit square. Should the fire chance to go out, the priest must get fresh fire from another priest or procure it by the friction of fire-sticks (arani). These comprise, first, a block of sami wood (Prosopis spicigera) in which a small hole is made emblematical of the female principle (sakti yoni), and, second, an upright shaft which is made to revolve in the 249hole of the block by means of a rope. The point in the drill where the rope is applied to cause it to revolve is called deva yoni. Two priests take part in the operation. Before they begin they sing a hymn in honour of the fire-god Agni. When the fire has been kindled they place it in a copper vessel and sprinkle it with powdered cow-dung. When it is well alight, they cover it with another copper vessel, sprinkle it with drops of water, and sing another hymn in honour of Agni. Finally, the new fire is consigned to the fire-pit.[806] According to another description of the modern Indian fire-drill, the lower block is usually made of the hard wood of the khadira or khair tree (Acacia catechu), and it contains two shallow holes. In one of these holes the revolving drill works and produces sparks by friction; the other hole contains tinder which is ignited by means of the sparks. This latter hole is known as the yoni, the female organ of generation. The upper or revolving portion of the drill is called the pramantha. It consists of a round shaft of hard wood, with a spike of softer wood inserted in its lower end. One priest causes the shaft to revolve by pulling a cord, while another priest presses the spike down into the hole in the block by leaning hard upon a flat board placed on the top of the shaft. The spike is generally made of the peepul or sacred fig-tree. When it has become charred by friction, it is replaced by another.[807] According to one account, the fire is made in this fashion, not by two priests, but by the Brahman and his wife; she pulls the cord, while he holds the borer in the hole and recites the spells necessary for the production of the fire.[808]
|How the Agnihotri creates fresh fire using fire-stick friction.| Every Agnihotri has a special room in their house where the sacred fire is kept alive in a small pit about a cubit square. If the fire happens to go out, the priest must get fresh fire from another priest or create it by rubbing fire sticks together (arani). This involves, first, a block of sami wood (Prosopis spicigera) with a small hole carved into it, symbolizing the female principle (sakti yoni), and second, an upright shaft that is rotated in the block's hole using a rope. The spot on the drill where the rope is twisted to make it turn is called deva yoni. Two priests take part in this process. Before they start, they sing a hymn in honor of the fire-god Agni. Once the fire is lit, they place it in a copper vessel and sprinkle it with powdered cow dung. When it’s burning well, they cover it with another copper vessel, add a few drops of water, and sing another hymn in honor of Agni. Finally, the new fire is placed in the fire-pit.[806] According to another description of the modern Indian fire-drill, the lower block is typically made from the hard wood of the khadira or khair tree (Acacia catechu) and has two shallow holes. One of these holes is where the rotating drill creates sparks through friction, and the other holds tinder that catches fire from the sparks. This second hole is known as the yoni, the female organ of generation. The upper part of the drill that spins is called the pramantha. It consists of a round shaft made of hard wood, with a spike of softer wood at its lower end. One priest turns the shaft by pulling a cord, while another priest presses the spike down into the block’s hole by pushing down on a flat board placed on top of the shaft. The spike is usually made from the peepul or sacred fig-tree. When it gets charred from the friction, it is replaced with another one.[807] According to one version, the fire is generated not by two priests, but by the Brahman and his wife; she pulls the cord while he holds the borer in the hole and recites the spells needed to produce the fire.[808]
|The Indian fire-sticks made from the sacred fig and sami wood.| This practice of the modern Agnihotri or fire-priest of India is in general accord with the precepts laid down in the ancient sacred books of his religion. For these direct that the upper or male stick of the fire-drill should be made of the sacred fig-tree (asvattha), and the lower or female stick of sami wood (Prosopis spicigera); and they draw out the analogy between the process of fire-making and the intercourse of the sexes in minute detail.[809] It deserves to be 250|The male fire-stick made by preference from a sacred fig-tree growing as a parasite on the female sami tree.| noted that the male fire-stick was cut by preference from a sacred fig-tree which grew as a parasite on a sami or female tree. The reason for this preference is obvious to the primitive mind. A parasite clasping a tree with its tendrils is conceived as a man embracing a woman, hence a pair of fire-sticks made from a pair of trees thus interlaced will naturally possess the power of procreating fire by friction in an unusually high degree.[810] So completely, in the Hindoo mind, does the process of making fire by friction blend with the union of the human sexes that it is actually employed as part of a charm to procure male offspring.[811] Such a confusion of thought helps us to understand the part played by the domestic fire in the ritual of marriage and birth as well as in the legends of the miraculous origin of the Latin kings.[812] In ancient India the male and the female fire-stick were identified with King Pururavas and the nymph Urvasi, whose loves and sorrows formed the theme of a beautiful tale.[813]
|The Indian fire-sticks crafted from sacred fig and sami wood.| This practice of the modern Agnihotri or fire-priest of India generally aligns with the teachings laid out in the ancient sacred texts of his religion. These texts specify that the upper or male stick of the fire-drill should be made from the sacred fig-tree (asvattha), and the lower or female stick from sami wood (Prosopis spicigera); they elaborate on the similarities between the fire-making process and sexual intercourse in great detail.[809] It is noteworthy that the male fire-stick is typically sourced from a sacred fig-tree that grows as a parasite on the female sami tree.| The reason for this preference is clear to a primitive mindset. A parasite wrapping around a tree with its tendrils is viewed as a man embracing a woman, so a pair of fire-sticks made from such interlaced trees will naturally have a heightened ability to produce fire through friction.[810] In the Hindu perspective, the method of creating fire by friction is so intertwined with the union of the sexes that it is even used in charms aimed at securing male offspring.[811] This merging of ideas helps explain the significance of domestic fire in marriage and childbirth rituals, as well as in the tales of the miraculous origins of Roman kings.[812] In ancient India, the male and female fire-stick were represented by King Pururavas and the nymph Urvasi, whose love story and struggles inspired a beautiful tale.[813]
251|The Greeks also preferred to make one of the fire-sticks from a parasitic plant.| Like the ancient Indians, the Greeks seem to have preferred that one of the two fire-sticks should be made from a parasitic or creeping plant. They recommended that the borer of the fire-drill should be made of laurel and the board of ivy or another creeper, apparently a kind of wild vine which grew like ivy upon trees; but in practice both the borer and the board were sometimes made of other woods, among which buckthorn, the evergreen oak, and the lime are particularly mentioned.[814] When we consider the analogy of the Indian preference for a borer made from a parasite, and remember how deeply rooted in the primitive mind is the comparison of the friction of the fire-sticks to the union |The reason for such a preference is the analogy of the union of the sexes.| of the sexes, we shall hardly doubt that the Greeks originally chose the ivy or wild vine for a fire-stick from motives of the sort which led the Hindoos to select the wood of a parasitic fig-tree for the same purpose. But while the Hindoos regarded the parasite as male and the tree to which it clung as female, the Greeks of Theophrastus’s time seem to have inverted this conception, since they recommended that the board, which plays the part of the female in the fire-drill, should be made of ivy or another creeper, whereas the borer, which necessarily represents the male, was to be fashioned out of laurel. This would imply that the ivy was a female and the laurel a male. Yet in Greek, on the contrary, the word for ivy is masculine, and the plant was identified mythologically with the male god Dionysus;[815] whereas the word for laurel is feminine and the tree was identified with a nymph. Hence we may conjecture that at first the Greeks, like the Hindoos, regarded the clinging 252creeper as the male and the tree which it embraced as the female, and that of old, therefore, they made the borer of the fire-drill out of ivy and the board out of laurel. If this was so, the reasons which led them to reverse the usage can only be guessed at. Perhaps practical convenience had a share in bringing about the change. For the laurel is, as the late Professor H. Marshall Ward kindly informed me, a harder wood than the ivy, and to judge by general, though not universal, practice most people find it easier to make fire by the friction of a hard borer on a soft board than by rubbing a hard board with a soft point. This, therefore, would be a reason for making the borer of laurel and the board of ivy. If such a change took place in the history of the Greek fire-drill, it would be an interesting example of superstition modified, if not vanquished, by utility in the struggle for existence.
251The Greeks also liked to make one of the fire sticks from a parasitic plant. Like the ancient Indians, the Greeks seemed to prefer that one of the two fire-sticks should be made from a parasitic or creeping plant. They suggested that the borer of the fire-drill be made of laurel and the board of ivy or another creeper, likely a type of wild vine that grew like ivy on trees; however, in practice, both the borer and the board were sometimes made from other woods, including buckthorn, evergreen oak, and lime.[814] Considering the analogy of the Indian preference for a borer made from a parasite, and recognizing how deeply rooted in primitive thinking is the comparison of the friction of the fire-sticks to the union of the sexes, we can hardly doubt that the Greeks originally chose ivy or wild vine for a fire-stick for similar reasons as the Hindoos who selected wood from a parasitic fig-tree. But while the Hindoos saw the parasite as male and the tree it clung to as female, the Greeks of Theophrastus's time appear to have reversed this idea, recommending that the board, which acts as the female in the fire-drill, should be made of ivy or another creeper, while the borer, which represents the male, was to be made from laurel. This suggests that the ivy was viewed as female and the laurel as male. Yet in Greek, the term for ivy is masculine, and it was mythologically associated with the male god Dionysus;[815] whereas the term for laurel is feminine and the tree was associated with a nymph. Therefore, we might guess that initially, the Greeks, like the Hindoos, viewed the clinging creeper as male and the tree it embraced as female, thus making the borer of the fire-drill from ivy and the board from laurel. If this was indeed the case, the reasons for reversing this practice are open to speculation. Perhaps practical convenience played a role in this change. As the late Professor H. Marshall Ward kindly pointed out, laurel is a harder wood than ivy, and generally, though not universally, most people find it easier to create fire by using a hard borer on a soft board rather than by rubbing a hard board with a soft point. This could explain the choice of laurel for the borer and ivy for the board. If such a transition occurred in the history of the Greek fire-drill, it would serve as an intriguing example of superstition being modified, if not overcome, by practicality in the struggle for survival.
CHAPTER XVII
THE ORIGIN OF PERPETUAL FIRES
|The custom of maintaining a perpetual fire probably originated in the difficulty of making fire by friction.| Whatever superstitions may have gathered about it in the course of ages, the custom of maintaining a perpetual fire probably sprang from a simple consideration of practical convenience. The primitive mode of making fire by the friction of wood is laborious at all times, and it is especially so in wet weather. Hence the savage finds it convenient to keep a fire constantly burning or smouldering in order to spare himself the troubling of kindling it. This convenience becomes a necessity with people who do not know how to make fire. That there have been such tribes down to our own time is affirmed by witnesses whose evidence we have no reason to doubt. Thus Mr. E. H. Man, who resided eleven years in the Andaman Islands and was intimately acquainted with the natives, tells us that, being ignorant of |Some races said to be ignorant of the means of making fire.| the art of making fire, they take the utmost pains to prevent its extinction. When they leave a camp intending to return in a few days, they not only take with them one or more smouldering logs, wrapped in leaves if the weather be wet, but they also place a large burning log or faggot of suitable wood in some sheltered spot, where it smoulders for several days and can be easily rekindled when it is needed. While it is the business of the women to gather the wood, the duty of keeping up the fires both at home and in travelling by land or sea is not confined to them, but is undertaken by persons of either sex who have most leisure or are least burdened.[816] The Russian traveller, Baron 254Miklucho-Maclay, who lived among the natives of the Maclay coast of northern New Guinea at a time when they had hardly come into contact with Europeans, writes: “It is remarkable that here almost all the inhabitants of the coast possess no means whatever of making fire, hence they always and everywhere carry burning or glowing brands about with them. If they go in the morning to the plantation they carry a half-burnt brand from their hearth in order to kindle a fire at the corner of the plantation. If they go on a longer journey into the mountains, they again take fire with them for the purpose of smoking, since their cigars, wrapped in green leaves, continually go out. On sea voyages they usually keep glowing coals in a half-broken pot partly filled with earth. The people who remain behind in the village never forget to keep up the fire.” They repeatedly told him that they had often to go to other villages to fetch fire when the fires in all the huts of their own village had chanced to go out. Yet the same traveller tells us that the mountain tribes of this part of New Guinea, such as the Englam-Mana and Tiengum-Mana, know how to make fire by friction. They partially cleave a log of dry wood with a stone axe and then draw a stout cord, formed of a split creeper, rapidly to and fro in the cleft, till sparks fly out and set fire to a tinder of dry coco-nut fibres.[817] It is 255odd that the people of the coast should not have learned this mode of producing fire from their neighbours in the mountains. The Russian explorer’s observations, however, have been confirmed by German writers. One of them, a Mr. Hoffmann, says of these people: “In every house care is taken that fire burns day and night on the hearth. For this purpose they choose a kind of wood which burns slowly, but glimmers for a long time and retains its glow. When a man sets out on a journey or goes to the field he has always a glimmering brand with him. If he wishes to make fire, he waves the smouldering wood to and fro till it bursts into a glow.” On frequented paths, crossways, and so forth, you may often see trunks of trees lying which have been felled for the purpose of being ignited and furnishing fire to passers-by. Such trees continue to smoulder for weeks.[818] Similarly the dwarf tribes of Central Africa “do not know how to kindle a fire quickly, and in order to get one readily at any moment they keep the burning trunks of fallen trees in suitable spots, and watch over their preservation like the Vestals of old.”[819] It seems to be at least doubtful whether these dwarfs of the vast and gloomy equatorial forests are acquainted with the art of making fire at all. A German traveller observes that the care which they take to preserve fire is extremely remarkable. “It appears,” he says, “that the pygmies, as other travellers have reported, do not know how to kindle fire by rubbing sticks against each other. Like the Wambuba of the forest, in leaving a camp, they take with them a thick glowing brand, and carry it, often for hours, in order to light a fire at their next halting place.”[820]
The tradition of maintaining a constant fire probably began because creating fire by rubbing sticks together was tough. Regardless of any superstitions that may have developed over time, the practice of maintaining a perpetual fire seems to have arisen from practical convenience. The primitive method of creating fire by rubbing wood together is always labor-intensive, especially in wet conditions. As a result, early humans found it easier to keep a fire continuously burning or smoldering to avoid the hassle of rekindling it. This convenience becomes essential for groups that do not know how to make fire. There are indeed tribes to this day that cannot create fire, as confirmed by credible witnesses. For example, Mr. E. H. Man, who lived for eleven years in the Andaman Islands and had close ties with the local people, mentions that because they lack the skills to create fire, they take great care to prevent it from going out. When leaving a campsite with plans to return in a few days, they not only carry smoldering logs wrapped in leaves if it’s wet but also place a large burning log or bundle of suitable wood in a sheltered location to keep it smoldering for several days, making it easy to reignite when necessary. While it is primarily the women's job to gather wood, both men and women share the responsibility of maintaining the fires at home and while traveling by land or sea, depending on who has the time or is less burdened.[816] The Russian traveler, Baron 254Miklucho-Maclay, who lived among the natives of the Maclay coast of northern New Guinea when they had barely interacted with Europeans, writes: “It’s striking that almost all the coastal inhabitants lack any means of making fire, so they always carry burning or glowing embers with them. When they go to the plantation in the morning, they bring a half-burnt log from their hearth to start a fire at the plantation. If they embark on a longer journey into the mountains, they take fire along for smoking since their cigars, wrapped in green leaves, tend to go out. During sea trips, they usually carry glowing coals in a half-broken pot filled with earth. Those remaining in the village never forget to maintain the fire.” They often told him that they have to go to other villages for fire when all the fires in their own village go out. However, the same traveler notes that the mountain tribes in this region of New Guinea, like the Englam-Mana and Tiengum-Mana, do know how to create fire through friction. They partially split a log of dry wood with a stone axe and then quickly pull a strong cord made from a split vine back and forth in the split until sparks fly out and ignite a tinder of dry coconut fibers.[817] It’s 255curious that the coastal inhabitants haven’t learned this method from their mountain neighbors. Nevertheless, the Russian explorer’s findings have been supported by German authors. One of them, Mr. Hoffmann, notes that in every household, they ensure that the fire burns day and night on the hearth. For this purpose, they select a type of wood that burns slowly but glows for a long time. When a man sets off on a journey or heads to the field, he always carries a glowing ember with him. If he needs to start a fire, he waves the smoldering wood back and forth until it ignites.” On common pathways, intersections, and similar places, you can frequently find tree trunks that have been cut down to be ignited and provide fire to travelers. These logs can smolder for weeks.[818] Similarly, the dwarf tribes of Central Africa “do not know how to start a fire quickly, so to have one available at any time, they keep the burning trunks of fallen trees in safe spots and watch over them like the Vestals of ancient times.”[819] It’s somewhat unclear whether these dwarfs from the vast, dark equatorial forests even know how to create fire at all. A German traveler observes that the effort they put into preserving fire is quite remarkable. “It seems,” he notes, “that the pygmies, as reported by other travelers, do not know how to create fire by rubbing sticks together. Like the Wambuba of the forest, when leaving a campsite, they take with them a thick glowing ember and carry it, sometimes for hours, to start a fire at their next stop.”[820]
|Fire kindled by natural causes was probably used by men long before they learned to make it for themselves.| Whether or not tribes ignorant of the means of making fire have survived to modern times, it seems likely that mankind possessed and used fire long before they learned how to 256kindle it. In the violent thunderstorms which accompany the end of the dry season in Central and Eastern Africa, it is not uncommon for the lightning to strike and ignite a tree, from which the fire soon spreads to the withered herbage, till a great conflagration is started. From a source of this sort a savage tribe may have first obtained fire, and the same thing may have happened independently in many parts of the world.[821] Other people, perhaps, procured fire from volcanoes, the lava of which will, under favourable circumstances, remain hot enough to kindle shavings of wood years after an eruption has taken place.[822] Others again may have lit their first fire at the jets of inflammable gas which spring from the ground in various parts of the world, notably at Baku on the Caspian, where the flames burn day and night, summer and winter, to a height of fifteen or twenty feet.[823] It is harder to conjecture how man first learned the great secret of making fire by friction. The discovery was perhaps made by jungle or forest races, who saw dry bamboos or branches thus ignited by rubbing against each other in a high wind. Fires are sometimes started in this way in the forests of New Zealand.[824] It has also been suggested that 257savages may have accidentally elicited a flame for the first time in the process of chipping flints over dry moss, or boring holes with hard sticks in soft wood.[825]
People probably used fire started by natural events long before they learned how to create it themselves. Whether or not there are tribes today that don’t know how to create fire, it seems clear that humans had and used fire long before they learned to 256start it. During the intense thunderstorms at the end of the dry season in Central and Eastern Africa, it’s not uncommon for lightning to strike and set a tree on fire, which then spreads to the dry vegetation until a massive fire breaks out. A savage tribe might have first discovered fire from this type of event, and similar occurrences may have happened independently in various parts of the world.[821] Others might have gotten fire from volcanoes, where lava can remain hot enough to ignite wood shavings for years after an eruption.[822] Some people, on the other hand, may have started their first fire from natural gas jets that burst from the ground in several locations, especially in Baku on the Caspian Sea, where flames burn continuously, day and night, all year round, reaching heights of fifteen to twenty feet.[823] It’s harder to say how people first discovered the secret of making fire through friction. This knowledge might have originated with jungle or forest dwellers who observed dry bamboo or branches igniting when rubbed together during strong winds. Fires can still be started this way in New Zealand's forests.[824] It has also been proposed that early humans may have accidentally created a spark for the first time while chipping flint over dry moss or drilling holes in soft wood using hard sticks.[825]
|Many savages carry fire constantly with them as a matter of convenience.| But even when the art of fire-making has been acquired, the process itself is so laborious that many savages keep fire always burning rather than be at the trouble of extracting it by friction. This, for example, was true of the roving Australian aborigines before they obtained matches from the whites. On their wanderings they carried about with them pieces of smouldering bark or cones of the Banksia tree wherewith to kindle their camp fires.[826] The duty of thus transporting fire from one place to another seems commonly to have fallen to the women. “A stick, a piece of decayed wood, or more often the beautiful seed-stem of the Banksia, is lighted at the fire the woman is leaving; and from her bag, which, in damp weather, she would keep filled with dry cones, or from materials collected in the forest, she would easily, during her journey, preserve the fire got at the last encampment.”[827] Another writer tells us that the Australian native always had his fire-stick with him, and if his wife let it go out, so much the worse for her. The dark brown velvety-looking core of the Banksia is very retentive of fire and burns slowly, so that one of these little fire-sticks would last a considerable time, and a bag of them would suffice for a whole day.[828] The Tasmanians knew how to make fire 258by twirling the point of a stick in a piece of soft bark; “but as it was difficult at times to obtain fire by this means, especially in wet weather, they generally, in their peregrinations, carried with them a fire-stick lighted at their last encampment.”[829] With them, as with the Australians, it was the special task of the women to keep the fire-brand alight and to carry it from place to place.[830] When the natives of Materbert, off New Britain, are on a voyage they carry fire with them. For this purpose they press some of the soft fibrous husk of the ripe coco-nut into a coco-nut shell, and then place a red-hot ember in the middle of it. This will smoulder for three or four days, and from it they obtain a light for their fires wherever they may land.[831] The Polynesians made fire by the friction of wood, rubbing a score in a board with a sharp-pointed stick till the dust so produced kindled into sparks, which were caught in a tinder of dry leaves or grass. While they rubbed, they chanted a prayer or hymn till the fire appeared. But in wet weather the task of fire-making was laborious, so at such times the natives usually carried fire about with them in order to avoid the trouble of kindling it.[832] The Fuegians make fire by striking two lumps of iron pyrites together and letting the sparks fall on birds’ down or on dry moss, which serves as tinder. But rather than be at the pains of doing this they carry fire with them everywhere, both by sea and land, taking great care to prevent its extinction.[833] The Caingua Indians of Paraguay make fire in the usual way by the fire-drill, but to save themselves trouble they keep fire 259constantly burning in their huts by means of great blocks of wood.[834] The Indians of Guiana also produce fire by twirling the point of one stick in the hole of another, but they seldom need to resort to this laborious process, for they keep fire burning in every house, and on long journeys they usually carry a large piece of smouldering timber in their canoes. Even in walking across the savannah an Indian will sometimes take a fire-brand with him.[835] The Jaggas, a Bantu tribe in the Kilimanjaro district of East Africa, keep up fire day and night in their huts on account of their cattle. If it goes out, the women fetch glowing brands from a neighbour’s house; these they carry wrapped up in banana leaves. Thus they convey fire for great distances, sometimes the whole day long. Hence they seldom need to kindle fire, though the men can make it readily by means of the fire-drill.[836] The tribes of British Central Africa also know how to produce fire in this fashion, but they do not often put their knowledge in practice. For there is sure to be a burning brand on one or other of the hearths of the village from which a fire can be lit; and when men go on a journey they take smouldering sticks with them and nurse the glowing wood rather than be at the trouble of making fire by friction.[837] In the huts of the Ibos on the lower Niger burning embers are always kept and never allowed to go out.[838] And this is the regular practice among all the tribes of West Africa who have not yet obtained matches. If the fire in a house should go out, a woman will run to a neighbour’s hut and fetch a burning stick from the hearth. Hence in most of their villages fire has probably not needed to be made for years and years. Among domesticated tribes, like the Effiks or Agalwa, when the men are going out to the plantation they will enclose a burning stick in a hollow piece of a certain kind of wood, which has a lining of its pith left in it, and they will carry this “fire-box” with them.[839]
Many indigenous people carry fire with them for convenience. But even after learning how to make fire, the task itself is so hard that many people prefer to keep a fire constantly burning rather than go through the trouble of making it by rubbing sticks together. For example, this was true for wandering Australian aborigines before they got matches from white settlers. On their travels, they carried smoldering bark or cones from the Banksia tree to start their campfires.[826] The responsibility for transporting fire seems to have generally fallen to the women. “A stick, a piece of decayed wood, or more often the beautiful seed-stem of the Banksia, is lit at the fire the woman is leaving; and from her bag, which, in damp weather, she keeps filled with dry cones, or from materials collected in the forest, she would easily, during her journey, keep the fire going from the last campsite.”[827] Another account says that the Australian native always had his fire stick with him, and if his wife let it go out, it was her responsibility. The dark brown, velvety-looking core of the Banksia retains heat and burns slowly, so one of these small fire sticks could last a long time, and a bag of them would last all day.[828] The Tasmanians knew how to make fire by rubbing the tip of a stick in soft bark; “but because it was sometimes difficult to make fire this way, especially in wet weather, they often carried with them a fire stick lit from their last campsite.”[829] For them, as with the Australians, it was the special task of the women to keep the fire brand alight and carry it from place to place.[830] When the natives of Materbert, off New Britain, are traveling, they carry fire with them. They do this by pressing some soft, fibrous husk of a ripe coconut into a coconut shell, then placing a hot ember in the center. This will smolder for three or four days, and they use it to light their fires wherever they land.[831] The Polynesians made fire by rubbing wood together, creating dust that ignited into sparks, which they caught in dry leaves or grass. While they rubbed, they would chant a prayer or hymn until the fire appeared. However, during wet weather, making fire was challenging, so natives usually carried fire with them to avoid the hassle of starting it.[832] The Fuegians create fire by striking two pieces of iron pyrites together and letting the sparks fall onto bird down or dry moss, which acts as tinder. But instead of doing this, they carry fire with them everywhere, both by sea and land, taking great care to keep it alive.[833] The Caingua Indians of Paraguay make fire in the traditional way with a fire drill, but to save effort, they keep fire continuously burning in their huts using large blocks of wood.[834] The Indians of Guiana also produce fire by twirling one stick in the hole of another, but they rarely need to do this laborious task because they keep fire burning in every home, and on long journeys, they typically carry a large piece of smoldering wood in their canoes. Even when walking across the savannah, an Indian might carry a fire brand.[835] The Jaggas, a Bantu tribe in the Kilimanjaro area of East Africa, keep fire burning day and night in their huts to care for their cattle. If it goes out, the women go to a neighbor’s house to get burning sticks, which they wrap in banana leaves. They transport fire over long distances, sometimes for the entire day. Therefore, they almost never need to light a fire, although men can easily do it using a fire drill.[836] The tribes of British Central Africa also know how to make fire this way, but they rarely practice it. There is usually a burning brand on one of the village hearths to light from, and when men go on a journey, they take smoldering sticks and manage the glowing wood instead of making fire by friction.[837] In the huts of the Ibos on the lower Niger, burning embers are always kept and never allowed to go out.[838] This practice is typical among all tribes in West Africa that haven't yet acquired matches. If the fire in a house goes out, a woman will run to a neighbor's hut and get a burning stick from the hearth. Therefore, in most villages, fire probably hasn’t needed to be made for years. Among settled tribes like the Effiks or Agalwa, when men go to work on the plantation, they enclose a burning stick in a hollow piece of specific wood with the pith left inside, which they carry as a “fire-box.”[839]
260|The theft of fire by Prometheus.| Before the introduction of matches Greek peasants used to convey fire from place to place in a stalk of giant fennel. The stalks of the plant are about five feet long by three inches thick, and are encased in a hard bark. The core of the stalk consists of a white pith which, when it is dry, burns slowly like a wick without injury to the bark.[840] Thus when Prometheus, according to the legend, stole the first fire from heaven and brought it down to earth hidden in a stalk of giant fennel,[841] he carried his fire just as every Greek peasant and mariner did on a journey.
260The stealing of fire by Prometheus. Before matches were invented, Greek farmers would transport fire from one place to another using a stalk of giant fennel. These stalks are about five feet long and three inches thick, covered by a tough bark. Inside, the stalk has a white pith that burns slowly like a wick without damaging the bark.[840] So when Prometheus, according to the legend, stole fire from the heavens and brought it down to earth hidden in a stalk of giant fennel,[841] he was carrying fire just like every Greek farmer and sailor did during their journeys.
|When people settled in villages, it would be convenient to keep up a perpetual fire in the house of the head man.| When a tribe ceased to be nomadic and had settled in more or less permanent villages, it would be a convenient custom to keep a fire perpetually burning in every house. Such a custom, as we have seen, has been observed by various peoples, and it appears to have prevailed universally among all branches of the Aryans.[842] Arnobius implies that it was formerly practised by the Romans, though in his own time the usage had fallen into abeyance.[843] But it would be obviously desirable that there should be some one place in the village where every housewife could be sure of obtaining fire without having to kindle it by friction, if her own should chance to go out. The most natural spot to look for it would be the hearth of the head man of the village, who would come in time to be regarded as responsible for its maintenance. This is what seems to have happened not only among the Herero of South Africa and the Latin peoples of Italy, but also among the ancestors of the Greeks; for in ancient Greece the perpetual fire kept up in the Prytaneum, or town-hall, was at first apparently the fire 261on the king’s hearth.[844] From this simple origin may have sprung the custom which in various parts of the world associates the maintenance of a perpetual fire with chiefly or royal dignity. Thus it was a distinguishing mark of the |Hence the maintenance of a perpetual fire came to be associated with chiefly or royal dignity.| chieftainship of one of the Samoan nobility, that his fire never went out. His attendants had a particular name, from their special business of keeping his fire ablaze all night long while he slept.[845] Among the Gallas the maintenance of a perpetual fire, even when it serves no practical purpose, is a favourite mode of asserting high rank, and the chiefs often indulge in it.[846] The Chitomé, a grand pontiff in the kingdom of Congo, of whom we shall hear more hereafter, kept up in his hut, day and night, a sacred fire, of which he dispensed brands to such as came to ask for them and could pay for them. He is said to have done a good business in fire, for the infatuated people believed that it preserved them from many accidents.[847] In Uganda a perpetual sacred fire, supposed to have come down to earth with the first man Kintu, is maintained by a chief, who is put to death if he suffers it to be extinguished. From this sacred fire the king’s fire (gombolola) is lighted and kept constantly burning at the gate of the royal enclosure during the whole of his reign. By day it burns in a small hut, but at night it is brought out and set in a little hole in the ground, where it blazes brightly till daybreak, whatever the weather may be. When the king journeys the fire goes with him, and when he dies it is extinguished. The death of a king is indeed announced to the people by the words, “The fire has gone out.” A man who bears a special title is charged with the duty of maintaining the fire, and of looking after all the fuel and torches used in the royal enclosure. When the king dies the guardian of his fire is strangled near the hearth.[848] Similarly in Dageou, a country to the west of Darfur, it is 262said that a custom prevailed of kindling a fire on the inauguration of a king and keeping it alight till his death.[849] Among the Mucelis of Angola, when the king of Amboin or Sanga dies, all fires in the kingdom are extinguished. Afterwards the new king makes new fire by rubbing two sticks against each other.[850] Such a custom is probably nothing more than an extension of the practice of putting out a chief’s own fire at his death. Similarly, when a new Muata Jamwo, a great potentate in the interior of Angola, comes to the throne, one of his first duties is to make a new fire by the friction of wood, for the old fire may not be used.[851] Before the palace gate of the king of Siam there burns, or used to burn, a perpetual fire, which was said to have been lit from heaven with a fiery ball.[852]
When people moved into villages, it made sense to keep a constant fire burning in the chief's house. When a tribe transitioned from a nomadic lifestyle to more permanent villages, it became a useful tradition to maintain a fire that was always lit in every home. This practice, as observed among different cultures, seems to have been widespread among all branches of the Aryans.[842] Arnobius suggests that it was once common among the Romans, although by his time, the custom had faded away.[843] It would naturally make sense to have a specific place in the village where any housewife could reliably get fire without needing to start it by friction, in case her own fire went out. The most logical place to find it would be at the hearth of the village chief, who would eventually be seen as responsible for keeping it going. This appears to have occurred not only among the Herero of South Africa and the Latin peoples of Italy, but also among the ancient Greeks; in ancient Greece, the everlasting fire maintained in the Prytaneum, or town-hall, was initially thought to be the fire from the king’s hearth.[844] From this simple beginning may have developed the tradition in various parts of the world that ties the upkeep of a constant fire to the honor of chief or royal status. This was exemplified by the Samoan nobility, where a chief’s fire was never allowed to go out. His attendants had a specific title based on their role of keeping his fire burning throughout the night while he rested.[845] Among the Gallas, having a never-ending fire, even if it serves no practical purpose, is a popular way to demonstrate high status, and chiefs frequently engage in this practice.[846] The Chitomé, a high priest in the Kingdom of Congo, whom we will discuss further later, maintained a sacred fire in his hut day and night, from which he would provide brands to anyone who requested them and could afford to pay. It is said that he made quite a profit from this, as the people believed it protected them from various misfortunes.[847] In Uganda, a perpetual sacred fire, believed to have been brought to earth by the first man Kintu, is kept by a chief, who faces execution if he allows it to go out. From this sacred fire, the king’s fire (gombolola) is ignited and is kept burning continuously at the entrance of the royal area throughout his reign. During the day, it burns in a small hut, but at night, it is taken out and placed in a small hole in the ground, where it shines brightly until dawn, regardless of the weather. When the king travels, the fire accompanies him, and when he dies, it is extinguished. The king's passing is indeed communicated to the people with the words, “The fire has gone out.” A man with a special title is responsible for maintaining the fire and managing all the fuel and torches used in the royal area. When the king dies, the guardian of the fire is strangled near the hearth.[848] Similarly, in Dageou, a region west of Darfur, it is reported that there was a custom of lighting a fire at the inauguration of a king and keeping it burning until his death.[849] Among the Mucelis of Angola, when the king of Amboin or Sanga dies, all fires in the kingdom are extinguished. Afterwards, the new king creates a new fire by rubbing two sticks together.[850] This custom is likely just an extension of the practice of putting out a chief’s fire at his death. Likewise, when a new Muata Jamwo, a significant leader in the interior of Angola, ascends to the throne, one of his first actions is to create a new fire by rubbing wood together, as the old fire may not be used.[851] Before the palace gate of the king of Siam, there burns, or used to burn, a continuous fire, said to have been ignited from heaven by a fiery ball.[852]
|Perpetual fire maintained by the chief called the Great Sun among the Natchez Indians.| Among the Natchez Indians of the lower Mississippi a perpetual fire, supposed to have been brought down from the sun, was maintained in a square temple which stood beside the hut of the supreme chief of the nation. He bore the title of the Great Sun, and believed himself to be a descendant or brother of the luminary his namesake. Every morning when the sun rose he blew three whiffs of his pipe towards it, and raising his hands above his head, and turning from east to west, he marked out the course which the bright orb was to pursue in the sky. The sacred fire in the temple was fed with logs of walnut or oak, and the greatest care was taken to prevent its extinction; for such an event would have been thought to put the whole nation in jeopardy. Eight men were appointed to guard the fire, two of whom were bound to be always on watch; and the Great Sun himself looked to the maintenance of the fire with anxious attention. If any of the guardians of the fire failed to do his duty, the rule was that he should be put to death. When the great chief died his bones were deposited in the temple, along with the bones of many attendants who were strangled in order that their souls might wait upon him in the spirit land. On such an occasion the chief’s fire was 263extinguished, and this was the signal for putting out all the other fires in the country. Every village had also its own temple in which a perpetual fire was maintained under the guardianship of a subordinate chief. These lesser chiefs also bore the title of Suns, but acknowledged the supremacy of the head chief, the Great Sun. All of these Suns were supposed to be descended from a man and woman who had come down from the luminary from which they took their names. There were female Suns as well as male Suns, but they might not marry among themselves; they had always to mate with a woman or a man of lower rank. Their nobility was transmitted in the maternal line; that is, the children of a female Sun, both sons and daughters, were Suns, but the children of a male Sun were not. Hence a chief was never succeeded by his own son, but always by the son either of his sister or of his nearest female relation. The Natchez knew how to produce fire by means of the fire-drill; but if the sacred fire in the temple went out, they relit it, not by the friction of wood, but by a brand brought from another temple or from a tree which had been ignited by lightning.[853] In these customs of the Natchez we have clearly fire-worship and sun-worship of the same general type which meets us again at a higher state of evolution among the Incas of Peru. Both sets of customs probably sprang originally from the perpetual fire on the chief’s domestic hearth.
A perpetual fire kept alive by the leader known as the Great Sun among the Natchez Indians. In the Natchez tribe of the lower Mississippi, an eternal fire, believed to have descended from the sun, was kept alive in a square temple next to the home of the nation’s supreme chief. He held the title of the Great Sun and considered himself a descendant or relation of the sun itself. Every morning at sunrise, he would blow three puffs from his pipe towards the sun, raise his hands above his head, and turn from east to west to mark the path the sun would take across the sky. The sacred fire in the temple was fueled with logs from walnut or oak trees, and great care was taken to ensure it never went out; if it did, it was thought to threaten the entire nation. Eight men were chosen to guard the fire, with two always on duty, and the Great Sun himself closely monitored the fire’s maintenance with great concern. If any guard failed in their duty, they were subject to execution. When the great chief died, his bones were placed in the temple along with the bones of many attendants who were sacrificed so their spirits could serve him in the afterlife. On this occasion, the chief’s fire was put out, signaling all other fires in the country to be extinguished. Each village also had its own temple that maintained a perpetual fire under the care of a subordinate chief. These lesser chiefs also held the title of Suns but acknowledged the authority of the Great Sun. All Suns were believed to be descended from a man and woman who came from the luminary they were named after. There were both female and male Suns, but they could not marry one another; they always had to partner with someone of lower status. Their noble status was passed down through the maternal line; thus, the children of a female Sun, both sons and daughters, were considered Suns, but the children of a male Sun were not. Therefore, a chief was never succeeded by his own son but by the son of his sister or closest female relative. The Natchez knew how to create fire using a fire-drill; however, if the sacred fire in the temple went out, they would reignite it not by rubbing wood together but with a brand from another temple or from a tree struck by lightning.[853] These practices of the Natchez clearly show fire and sun worship of a similar nature that we see later among the Incas of Peru. Both sets of customs likely originated from the eternal fire on the chief’s household hearth.
|Fire carried before chiefs and kings as a symbol of royalty.| When a perpetual fire has thus become a symbol of royalty, it is natural that it should be carried before the king or chief on the march. Among the Indians of the Mississippi a lighted torch used to be borne in front of a chief, and no commoner would dare to walk between a chief 264and his torch-bearer.[854] A sacred fire, supposed to have descended from heaven, was carried in a brazier before the Persian kings,[855] and the custom was adopted as a badge of imperial dignity by later Roman emperors.[856] The practice appears to have been especially observed in time of war. Amongst the Ovambo of South Africa the chief appoints a general to lead the army to battle, and next to the general the greatest officer is he who carries a fire-brand at the head of the warriors. If the fire goes out on the march, it is an evil omen and the army beats a retreat.[857] When the king of Monomotapa, or Benomotapa, was at war, a sacred fire was kept burning perpetually in a hut near his tent.[858] In old days it is said that the king of Mombasa in East Africa could put an army of eighty thousand men in the field. On the march his guards were preceded by men carrying fire.[859] High above the tent of Alexander the Great hung a fiery cresset on a pole, and “the flame of it was seen by night, and the smoke by day.”[860] When a Spartan king was about to lead an army abroad he first sacrificed at home to Zeus the Leader. Then a man called the fire-bearer took fire from the altar and marched with it at the head of the troops to the frontier. There the king again sacrificed to Zeus and Athena, and if the omens were favourable, he crossed the border, preceded by the fire from the sacrifices, which thenceforth led the way and might not be quenched. To perform such sacrifices the king always rose very early in the morning, while it was still dark, in order to get the ear of the god before the enemy could forestall him.[861]
Fire was brought before leaders and rulers as a symbol of royalty. When a constant fire has become a symbol of royalty, it makes sense that it would be carried before the king or chief during a march. Among the Native Americans of the Mississippi, a lit torch used to be carried in front of a chief, and no commoner would dare walk between a chief and his torch-bearer.264[854] A sacred fire, believed to have come down from heaven, was carried in a brazier before the Persian kings,[855] and this custom was later adopted by Roman emperors as a sign of imperial dignity.[856] The practice seems to have been especially observed during wartime. Among the Ovambo of South Africa, the chief designates a general to lead the army into battle, and right next to him is the highest-ranking officer, who carries a firebrand at the front of the warriors. If the fire goes out during the march, it is seen as a bad omen, and the army retreats.[857] When the king of Monomotapa, or Benomotapa, was at war, a sacred fire was kept burning continuously in a hut near his tent.[858] In ancient times, it is said that the king of Mombasa in East Africa could mobilize an army of eighty thousand men. As they marched, his guards were preceded by men carrying fire.[859] High above Alexander the Great's tent hung a blazing cresset on a pole, and "the flame of it was seen by night, and the smoke by day."[860] When a Spartan king was about to lead an army abroad, he first sacrificed at home to Zeus the Leader. Then a man called the fire-bearer took fire from the altar and marched with it at the front of the troops to the border. There, the king sacrificed to Zeus and Athena again, and if the omens were favorable, he crossed the border, preceded by the fire from the sacrifices, which would continue to burn and must not be extinguished. To perform such sacrifices, the king always rose very early in the morning, while it was still dark, to get the attention of the god before the enemy could anticipate him.[861]
|The custom of keeping up a perpetual fire during a king’s reign and extinguishing it at his death, might lead to a belief that his life was bound up with the fire.| A custom of maintaining a fire during a king’s reign and extinguishing it at his death, even if it did not originate in a 265superstition, would naturally lend itself to a superstitious interpretation. The distinction between the sign and the cause of an event is not readily grasped by a dull mind; hence the extinction of the king’s fire, from being merely a signal of his death, might come in time to be regarded as a cause of it. In other words, a vital connexion might be supposed to exist between the king and the fire, so that if the fire were put out the king would die. That a sympathetic bond of some sort united the king’s life with the fire on his hearth was apparently believed by the ancient Scythians. For their most solemn oath was by the king’s hearth, and if any man who had taken this oath forswore himself, they believed that the king would fall ill.[862] The story of Meleager,[863] whose life was said to be bound up with a brand plucked from the fire on the hearth, belongs to the same class of ideas, which will be examined at large in a later part of this work. Wherever a superstition of this sort gathered round the king’s hearth, it is obvious that he would be moved to watch over the fire with redoubled vigilance. On a certain day the Vestal Virgins at Rome used to go to the King of the Sacred Rites, the successor of the old Roman kings, and say to him, “Watchest thou, O King? Watch.”[864] The ceremony may have been a reminiscence or survival of a time when the king’s life as well as the general safety was supposed to hang on the maintenance of the fire, to the guardianship of which he would thus be impelled by the motive of self-preservation as well as of public duty. When natives of the Kei Islands in the East Indies are away on a long voyage, a sacred fire is kept up the whole time of their absence by their friends at home. Three or four young girls are appointed to feed it and watch over it day and night with a jealous care lest it should go out; its extinction would be deemed a most evil omen, for the fire is the symbol of the life of the absent ones.[865] This belief and this practice may help us to understand the corresponding beliefs and practices concerned with the maintenance of a perpetual fire at Rome.
The tradition of keeping a fire burning during a king's reign and extinguishing it at his death might suggest that his life was connected to the fire. Keeping a fire alive during a king’s rule and extinguishing it when he dies, even if it didn’t start from a superstition, could easily be interpreted as such. A dull mind might struggle to see the difference between a signal and the cause of an event; thus, the king’s fire going out, which was simply a sign of his death, could eventually be seen as the reason for it. In other words, people might believe there was an essential connection between the king and the fire, suggesting that if the fire went out, the king would die. The ancient Scythians seemingly believed that there was some sort of sympathetic bond between the king’s life and the fire in his home. Their most serious oath was taken by the king’s hearth, and if someone who swore that oath broke it, they thought the king would become ill.[862] The story of Meleager,[863] who was said to have his life linked to a log taken from the hearth fire, fits into this same category of beliefs, which will be explored further in a later part of this work. When such superstitions surrounded the king’s hearth, it’s clear he would be extra vigilant about keeping the fire alive. On a particular day, the Vestal Virgins in Rome would approach the King of the Sacred Rites, the successor to the old Roman kings, and say to him, “Are you watching, O King? Watch.”[864] This ceremony may have been a reminder or remnant of a time when the king’s life and the general safety were thought to depend on keeping the fire burning, compelling him to protect it for both personal safety and public duty. When the natives of the Kei Islands in the East Indies go on a long journey, a sacred fire is maintained throughout their absence by friends back home. Three or four young girls are chosen to tend it and watch over it day and night with intense care to prevent it from going out; extinguishing it would be seen as a dire omen, for the fire symbolizes the life of those who are away.[865] This belief and practice might help us understand the similar beliefs and practices related to maintaining a perpetual fire in Rome.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE SUCCESSION TO THE KINGDOM IN ANCIENT LATIUM
|The Vestal fire and the great priesthoods appear to have been institutions common to the whole Latin race.| Thus it appears that a variety of considerations combined to uphold, if not to originate, the custom of maintaining a perpetual fire. The sanctity of the wood which fed it, the belief in the generative virtue of the process by which it was kindled, the supposed efficacy of fire in repelling the powers of evil, the association of the hearth with the spirits of the dead and with the majesty or even the life of the king all worked together to invest the simple old custom with a halo of mystery and romance. If this was so at Rome we may assume that matters were not very different in the other Latin towns which kept up a Vestal fire. These too had their kings of the Sacred Rites, their flamens, and their pontiffs, as well as their Vestal Virgins.[866] All the great priesthoods of Rome appear, in fact, to have had their doubles in the other ancient cities of Latium; all were probably primitive institutions common to the whole Latin race.[867]
The Vestal fire and the main priesthoods appear to have been standard practices throughout Latin culture. It looks like a range of factors came together to support, if not to create, the tradition of maintaining a continuous fire. The sacredness of the wood that fueled it, the belief in the life-giving power of how it was ignited, the assumed ability of fire to ward off evil forces, and the connection of the home with the spirits of the deceased and the power or even the essence of the king all contributed to adding layers of mystery and allure to this age-old tradition. If this was true in Rome, we can assume the situation was similar in other Latin cities that maintained a Vestal fire. These also had their kings of the Sacred Rites, their flamens, and their pontiffs, along with their Vestal Virgins.[866] All the major priesthoods of Rome seem to have mirrored those in other ancient cities of Latium; they were likely primitive institutions shared by the entire Latin race.[867]
|Priestly or divine functions of the Roman kings, including the maintenance of the Vestal fire.| Accordingly, whatever is true or probable of the Roman priesthoods, about which we know most, may reasonably be regarded as true or probable of the corresponding priesthoods elsewhere in Latium, about which for the most part we know nothing more than the names. Now in regard to the Roman king, whose priestly functions were inherited by his successor the king of the Sacred Rites, the foregoing discussion has led us to the following conclusions. He 267represented and indeed personated Jupiter, the great god of the oak, the sky, and the thunder, and in that character made rain, thunder, and lightning for the good of his subjects, like many more kings of the weather in other parts of the world. Further, he not only mimicked the oak-god by wearing an oak wreath and other insignia of divinity, but he was married to an oak-nymph Egeria, who appears to have been merely a local form of Diana in her character of a goddess of woods, of waters, and of childbirth. Moreover, he was descended from the oak, since he was born of a virgin who conceived by contact with a fire of sacred oak-wood. Hence he had to guard the ancestral fire and keep it constantly burning, inasmuch as on its maintenance depended the continuance of the royal family. Only on certain stated occasions was it lawful and even necessary to extinguish the old fire in order to revive it in a purer and more vigorous form by the friction of the sacred wood. This was done once a year on the first of March,[868] and we may conjecture that it was also done by the new king on his accession to power; for, as we have seen, it has been customary in |But the fire was formally extinguished and rekindled on certain occasions, perhaps on the death of the king.| various places to extinguish the king’s fire at his death.[869] Among the ancient Persians the perpetual sacred fire was put out on the death of a king and remained unlit until after his funeral.[870] It is a common practice to extinguish the fire in any house where a death has taken place,[871] 268apparently from a fear that the ghost may scorch or singe himself at it, like a moth at the flame of a candle; and the custom of putting out the king’s fire at his decease may in its origin have been nothing more than this. But when the fire on the king’s hearth came to be viewed as bound up in a mysterious fashion with his life, it would naturally be extinguished at his death, not to spare his fluttering ghost the risk and pain of falling into it, but because, as a sort of life-token or external soul, it too must die at his death and be born again from the holy tree. At all events, it seems probable that whenever and from whatever cause it became necessary to rekindle the royal and sacred fire by the friction of wood, the operation was performed jointly by the king and the Vestals, one or more of whom may have been his daughters or the daughters of his predecessor. Regarded as impersonations of Mother Vesta herself, these priestesses would be the chosen vessels, not only to bring to birth the seed of fire in working the fire-drill, but also to receive the seed of the fire-god in their chaste wombs, and so to become the mothers of fire-begotten kings.
|Religious or divine duties of the Roman kings, including maintaining the Vestal fire.| Thus, whatever we know to be true or likely about the Roman priesthoods, which we understand the most, can reasonably be assumed to be true or likely about the similar priesthoods elsewhere in Latium, of which we mostly know nothing beyond their names. Regarding the Roman king, whose priestly duties were passed down to his successor, the king of the Sacred Rites, the previous discussion has led us to some conclusions. He 267represented and even embodied Jupiter, the chief god of the oak, sky, and thunder, and in that role, he produced rain, thunder, and lightning for the benefit of his people, similar to many weather kings in other parts of the world. Furthermore, he not only emulated the oak-god by wearing an oak wreath and other divine symbols, but he was also married to an oak nymph named Egeria, who seems to have been a local version of Diana as a goddess of the woods, waters, and childbirth. Additionally, he was linked to the oak, having been born of a virgin who conceived by contact with sacred oak firewood. Therefore, he had the duty to protect the ancestral fire and keep it burning continuously, as the survival of the royal family depended on it. There were only certain specific occasions when it was permissible and even necessary to extinguish the old fire to revive it in a purer and stronger form through the friction of sacred wood. This occurred once a year on the first of March,[868] and we can speculate that it was also done by the new king upon taking power; as noted, it became customary in |However, the fire was officially extinguished and reignited at certain times, possibly after the king died.|various places to extinguish the king’s fire at his death.[869] Among the ancient Persians, the eternal sacred fire was extinguished upon a king's death and remained unlit until after his funeral.[870] It’s a common practice to put out the fire in any home where someone has died,[871] apparently due to a fear that the ghost might get scorched or burned, like a moth drawn to a candle flame; and the tradition of extinguishing the king’s fire upon his passing may originally have been nothing more than this. However, once the fire in the king’s home was seen as mysteriously connected to his life, it would naturally be extinguished at his death, not to spare his wandering ghost the risk and pain of falling into it, but because, as a kind of life-token or external soul, it too must die when he dies and be reborn from the sacred tree. In any case, it seems likely that whenever and for whatever reason it became necessary to reignite the royal and sacred fire through wood friction, the task was carried out jointly by the king and the Vestals, one or more of whom may have been his daughters or the daughters of his predecessor. Viewed as embodiments of Mother Vesta herself, these priestesses would be the chosen ones, not only to give birth to the spark of fire by using the fire-drill but also to receive the essence of the fire-god in their pure wombs, and thus to become the mothers of fire-born kings.
|What is true of the Roman kings is probably true of the Latin kings in general.| All these conclusions, which we have reached mainly by a consideration of the Roman evidence, may with great probability be applied to the other Latin communities. They too probably had of old their divine or priestly kings, who transmitted their religious functions, without their civil powers, to their successors the kings of the Sacred Rites.
What is true for the Roman kings is probably true for the Latin kings in general. All these conclusions, which we have drawn primarily from the Roman evidence, can probably be applied to other Latin communities as well. They likely had, in the past, their divine or priestly kings, who passed down their religious roles, but not their civil powers, to their successors, the kings of the Sacred Rites.
|What was the rule of succession to the Latin kingship?| But we have still to ask, What was the rule of succession to the kingdom among the old Latin tribes? We possess two lists of Latin kings both professedly complete. One is the list of the kings of Alba, the other is the list of the 269|The list of the Alban kings seems to imply that the kingship was hereditary in the male line.| kings of Rome. If we accept as authentic the list of the Alban kings, we can only conclude that the kingdom was hereditary in the male line, the son regularly succeeding his father on the throne.[872] But this list, if it is not, as Niebuhr held, a late and clumsy fabrication, has somewhat the appearance of an elastic cord which ancient historians stretched in order to link Aeneas to Romulus.[873] Yet it would be rash to set these names wholly aside as a chronological stop-gap deliberately foisted in by later annalists. In early monarchies, before the invention of writing, tradition is remarkably retentive of the names of kings. The Baganda of Central Africa, for example, remember the names of more than thirty of their kings in an unbroken chain of twenty-two generations.[874] Even the occurrence of foreign names among the Alban kings is not of itself sufficient to condemn the list as a forgery; for, as I shall shew presently, this feature is explicable by a rule of descent which appears to have prevailed in many ancient monarchies, including that of Rome. Perhaps the most we can say for the history of the Alban kings is that their names may well be genuine, and that some general features of the monarchy, together with a few events which happened to strike the popular imagination, may have survived in the memory of the people till they found their way into written history. But no dependence can be placed either on the alleged years of their reigns, or on the hereditary principle which is assumed to have connected each king with his predecessor.
What was the succession rule for the Latin kingship? But we still need to ask: What was the rule of succession to the kingdom among the ancient Latin tribes? We have two supposedly complete lists of Latin kings. One is the list of the kings of Alba, and the other is the list of the 269The list of Alban kings suggests that the kingship was passed down through the male line. kings of Rome. If we consider the list of the Alban kings authentic, we can only conclude that the kingdom was hereditary in the male line, with the son typically succeeding his father on the throne.[872] However, this list, unless it is, as Niebuhr suggested, a later and clumsy fabrication, resembles an elastic cord that ancient historians stretched to connect Aeneas to Romulus.[873] Still, it would be unwise to completely dismiss these names as mere chronological fillers deliberately created by later historians. In early monarchies, before writing was invented, traditions tended to preserve the names of kings remarkably well. For instance, the Baganda of Central Africa remember the names of over thirty kings in an unbroken chain spanning twenty-two generations.[874] Even the presence of foreign names among the Alban kings isn’t enough to discredit the list as a forgery; as I will explain shortly, this characteristic can be attributed to a rule of descent that seems to have been common in many ancient monarchies, including Rome’s. Perhaps the best we can say about the history of the Alban kings is that their names might be genuine and that some general aspects of the monarchy, alongside a few events that captured the public’s imagination, may have endured in people's memories until they entered written history. However, we cannot rely on the claimed years of their reigns or the hereditary principle that is supposed to link each king to his predecessor.
When we come to the list of the Roman kings we are on much firmer, though still slippery ground. According 270to tradition there were in all eight kings of Rome,[875] and with regard to the five last of them, at all events, we can hardly doubt that they actually sat on the throne, and that the traditional history of their reigns is, in its main outlines, correct.[876] Now it is very remarkable that though the first king of Rome, Romulus, is said to have been descended from the royal house of Alba, in which the kingship is represented as hereditary in the male line, not one of the |On the other hand none of the Roman kings was immediately succeeded by his son, but three were succeeded by their sons-in-law, who were foreigners.| Roman kings was immediately succeeded by his son on the throne. Yet several left sons or grandsons behind them.[877] On the other hand, one of them was descended from a former king through his mother, not through his father,[878] and three of the kings, namely Tatius, the elder Tarquin, and Servius Tullius, were succeeded by their sons-in-law,[879] who were all either foreigners or of foreign descent.[880] This 271|This suggests that the kingship was transmitted in the female line and was held by foreigners who married the royal princesses.| suggests that the right to the kingship was transmitted in the female line, and was actually exercised by foreigners who married the royal princesses. To put it in technical language, the succession to the kingship at Rome and probably in Latium generally would seem to have been determined by certain rules which have moulded early society in many parts of the world, namely exogamy, beena marriage, and female kinship or mother-kin. Exogamy is the rule which obliges a man to marry a woman of a different clan from his own; beena marriage is the rule that he must leave the home of his birth and live with his wife’s people;[881] and female kinship or mother-kin is the system of tracing relationship and transmitting the family name through women instead of through men.[882] If these principles regulated descent of the kingship among the ancient Latins, the state of things in this respect would be somewhat as follows. The political and religious centre of each community would be the perpetual fire on the king’s hearth tended by Vestal Virgins of the royal clan. The king would be a man of another clan, perhaps of another town or even of another race, who had married a daughter of his predecessor and received the kingdom with her. The children whom he had by her would inherit their mother’s name, not his; the daughters would remain at home; the sons, when they grew up, would go away into the world, marry, and settle in their wives’ country, whether as kings or commoners. Of the daughters who stayed at home, some or all would be dedicated as Vestal Virgins for a longer or shorter time to the service of the fire on the hearth, and one of them would in time become the consort of her father’s successor.
When we look at the list of the Roman kings, we find ourselves on much firmer, though still slippery, ground. According to tradition, there were a total of eight kings of Rome, and concerning at least the last five, we can hardly doubt that they actually reigned and that the main outlines of their reigns are correct. Now, it's quite remarkable that while the first king of Rome, Romulus, is said to be descended from the royal house of Alba, where kingship is portrayed as hereditary through the male line, not one of the Roman kings was directly succeeded by his son on the throne. Still, several left sons or grandsons behind. On the other hand, one of them was descended from a former king through his mother, not his father, and three kings—Tatius, the elder Tarquin, and Servius Tullius—were succeeded by their sons-in-law, who were all either foreigners or of foreign descent. This suggests that kingship was passed down through the female line and was held by foreigners who married the royal princesses. In more technical terms, the succession to the kingship in Rome and likely in Latium overall seemed to follow rules that shaped early societies in many parts of the world, specifically exogamy, beena marriage, and female kinship or mother-kin. Exogamy is the rule that requires a man to marry a woman from a different clan; beena marriage dictates that he must leave his birth home to live with his wife's family; and female kinship or mother-kin is the system of tracing relationships and passing down the family name through women instead of men. If these principles guided the succession of kingship among the ancient Latins, the situation would be somewhat as follows: The political and religious center of each community would be the perpetual fire on the king's hearth, maintained by Vestal Virgins from the royal clan. The king would be a man from a different clan, perhaps from another town or even of another race, who married a daughter of his predecessor and received the kingdom along with her. The children he had with her would inherit their mother’s name, not his; the daughters would stay at home, while the sons, when they grew up, would go out into the world, marry, and settle in their wives’ country, whether as kings or commoners. Some or all of the daughters who stayed at home would be dedicated as Vestal Virgins for varying lengths of time to serve the fire on the hearth, and eventually, one of them would become the partner of her father’s successor.
272|This hypothesis explains some obscure features in the traditional history of the Latin kings, such as the stories of their miraculous birth.| This hypothesis has the advantage of explaining in a simple and natural way some obscure features in the traditional history of the Latin kingship. Thus the legends which tell how Latin kings were born of virgin mothers and divine fathers become at least more intelligible. For, stripped of their fabulous element, tales of this sort mean no more than that a woman has been gotten with child by a man unknown; and this uncertainty as to fatherhood is more easily compatible with a system of kinship which ignores paternity than with one which makes it all-important. If at the birth of the Latin kings their fathers were really unknown,[883] the fact points either to a general looseness of life in the royal family or to a special relaxation |The Latin kings perhaps begotten at a Saturnalia.| of moral rules on certain occasions, when men and women reverted for a season to the licence of an earlier age. Such Saturnalias are not uncommon at some stages of social evolution. In our own country traces of them long survived in the practices of May Day and Whitsuntide, if not of Christmas. Children born of the more or less promiscuous intercourse which characterises festivals of this kind would naturally be fathered on the god to whom the particular festival was dedicated.
272This theory clarifies certain unclear aspects of the traditional history of the Latin kings, such as the tales of their miraculous births. This theory effectively clarifies some of the obscure features in the traditional history of the Latin kingship in a simple and natural way. Consequently, the legends stating that Latin kings were born from virgin mothers and divine fathers become at least more understandable. Because when you take away the fantastical elements, these tales suggest that a woman has become pregnant by an unknown man; this uncertainty about the father aligns more easily with a kinship system that doesn't emphasize paternity than with one that holds it as crucial. If the fathers of the Latin kings were genuinely unknown,[883] this fact indicates either a general looseness in the royal family's lifestyle or a particular relaxation of moral standards during certain occasions when men and women reverted to the freedom of an earlier time. Such Saturnalias aren't uncommon at various points in social development. In our own country, remnants of them have lasted in the traditions of May Day and Whitsuntide, if not Christmas. Children born from the more or less casual interactions typical of these kinds of festivals would naturally be attributed to the god to whom the specific festival was dedicated.
|The Roman festival of Midsummer was a kind of Saturnalia, and was specially associated with the fire-born King Servius Tullius.| In this connexion it may not be without significance that a festival of jollity and drunkenness was celebrated by the plebeians and slaves at Rome on Midsummer Day, and that the festival was specially associated with the fire-born King Servius Tullius, being held in honour of Fortuna, the goddess who loved Servius as Egeria loved Numa. The popular merrymakings at this season included foot-races and boat-races; the Tiber was gay with flower-wreathed boats, in which young folk sat quaffing wine.[884] The festival appears to have been a sort of Midsummer Saturnalia answering to the real Saturnalia which fell at Midwinter. In modern Europe, as we shall learn later on, the great Midsummer festival has been above all a festival 273of lovers and of fire; one of its principal features is the pairing of sweethearts, who leap over the bonfires hand in hand or throw flowers across the flames to each other. And many omens of love and marriage are drawn from the flowers which bloom at this mystic season.[885] It is the time of the roses and of love. Yet the innocence and beauty of such festivals in modern times ought not to blind us to the likelihood that in earlier days they were marked by coarser features, which were probably of the essence of the rites. Indeed, among the rude Esthonian peasantry these features seem to have lingered down to our own generation, if not to the present day. One other feature in the Roman celebration of Midsummer deserves to be specially noticed. The custom of rowing in flower-decked boats on the river on this day proves that it was to some extent a water festival; and, as we shall learn later on, water has always, down to modern times, played a conspicuous part in the rites of Midsummer Day, which explains why the Church, in throwing its cloak over the old heathen festival, chose to dedicate it to St. John the Baptist.[886]
The Roman festival of Midsummer was similar to Saturnalia and was specifically associated with the fire-born King Servius Tullius. In this context, it's noteworthy that a celebration of joy and drunkenness was held by the common people and slaves in Rome on Midsummer Day, which was closely tied to the fire-born King Servius Tullius, held in honor of Fortuna, the goddess who cherished Servius just as Egeria loved Numa. The festive activities at this time included foot races and boat races; the Tiber came alive with flower-adorned boats where young people sat enjoying wine.[884] The festival seems to have been a kind of Midsummer Saturnalia, matching the real Saturnalia that occurred in Midwinter. In modern Europe, as we will see later, the significant Midsummer festival has primarily been a celebration of lovers and fire; one of its key aspects is the pairing of sweethearts, who leap over bonfires hand in hand or toss flowers across the flames to each other. Many signs of love and marriage are drawn from the flowers that bloom during this magical season.[885] It is the season of roses and love. However, the innocence and beauty of these modern celebrations should not blind us to the likelihood that in earlier times they featured rougher elements, which were likely essential to the rituals. Indeed, among the rough Estonian peasantry, these features seem to have persisted into our generation, if not to this day. One other aspect of the Roman Midsummer celebration deserves special mention. The practice of rowing in flower-decorated boats on the river on this day indicates that it was somewhat of a water festival; and, as we will learn later, water has always played a significant role in the rituals of Midsummer Day, which explains why the Church, in covering the old pagan festival, chose to dedicate it to St. John the Baptist.[886]
|But the uncertainty as to the paternity of the Roman kings may only mean that in later times the names of their fathers were forgotten.| The hypothesis that the Latin kings may have been begotten at an annual festival of love is necessarily a mere conjecture, though the traditional birth of Numa on the festival of the Parilia, when shepherds leaped across the spring bonfires,[887] as lovers leap across the Midsummer fires, may perhaps be thought to lend it a faint colour of probability. But it is quite possible that the uncertainty as to their fathers may not have arisen till long after the death of the kings, when their figures began to melt away into the cloudland of fable, assuming fantastic shapes and gorgeous colouring as they passed from earth to heaven. If they were alien immigrants, strangers and pilgrims in the land they ruled over, it would be natural enough that the people should forget their lineage, and forgetting it should provide them with another, which made up in lustre what it lacked in truth. The final apotheosis, which represented the kings as not merely sprung from gods but as themselves deities 274incarnate, would be much facilitated if in their lifetime, as we have seen reason to think, they had actually laid claim to divinity.
But the uncertainty about who the fathers of the Roman kings were might simply suggest that their names were lost over time. The idea that the Latin kings could have been conceived during an annual festival of love is purely speculative, though the traditional tale of Numa being born during the Parilia festival, when shepherds jumped over spring bonfires,[887] like lovers leap over Midsummer fires, might lend it a slight sense of possibility. However, it's quite likely that the confusion about their fathers didn't come about until long after the kings had died, as their stories began to fade into myth, transforming into fanciful figures with vivid imagery as they transitioned from the earthly realm to the divine. If they were foreign immigrants—outsiders in the land they ruled over—it would be understandable that the people might forget their origins and, in that forgetfulness, create an alternative lineage that sparkled more than it was true. The ultimate glorification, which portrayed the kings not just as descendants of gods but as deities themselves, would be much easier if, as we've seen evidence to suggest, they had, during their lifetime, actually claimed to be divine. 274
|Where descent is traced through women only, girls of the highest rank may be married to men of humble birth, even to aliens and slaves.| If among the Latins the women of royal blood always stayed at home and received as their consorts men of another stock, and often of another country, who reigned as kings in virtue of their marriage with a native princess, we can understand not only why foreigners wore the crown at Rome, but also why foreign names occur in the list of the Alban kings. In a state of society where nobility is reckoned only through women—in other words, where descent through the mother is everything, and descent through the father is nothing—no objection will be felt to uniting girls of the highest rank to men of humble birth, even to aliens or slaves, provided that in themselves the men appear to be suitable mates. What really matters is that the royal stock, on which the prosperity and even the existence of the people is supposed to depend, should be perpetuated in a vigorous and efficient form, and for this purpose it is necessary that the women of the royal family should bear children to men who are physically and mentally fit, according to the standard of early society, to discharge the important duty of procreation. Thus the personal qualities of the kings at this stage of social evolution are deemed of vital importance. If they, like their consorts, are of royal and divine descent, so much the better; but it is not essential that they should be so.
When lineage is traced exclusively through women, high-status girls can marry men of lower status, including foreigners and slaves. Among the Latins, royal women typically stayed home and took as husbands men from other backgrounds and often from different countries, who became kings through their marriage to a local princess. This helps explain why foreigners held the crown in Rome and why foreign names appear in the list of the Alban kings. In a society where nobility is determined only through women—meaning that maternal lineage is everything while paternal lineage is insignificant—there is no issue with joining high-status women to men of low birth, even foreigners or slaves, as long as these men are considered suitable partners. What truly matters is that the royal lineage, which is believed to be crucial for the prosperity and survival of the people, should be maintained in a strong and capable manner. For this reason, it is important that royal women have children with men who are physically and mentally suited, by the standards of early society, to fulfill the essential role of reproduction. Therefore, the personal traits of the kings during this period of social development are seen as critically important. If they, like their wives, come from royal and divine backgrounds, that’s even better; but it’s not a requirement.
|In Ashantee, where the kingdom descends through women, the rank of the king’s father is not regarded.| The hypothesis which we have been led to frame of the rule of succession to the Latin kingship will be confirmed by analogy if we can shew that elsewhere, under a system of female kinship, the paternity of the kings is a matter of indifference—nay, that men who are born slaves may, like Servius Tullius, marry royal princesses and be raised to the throne. Now this is true of the Tshi-speaking peoples of the Gold Coast in West Africa. Thus in Ashantee, where the kingdom descends in the female line to the king’s brothers and afterwards to the sons of his sister in preference to his own sons, the sisters of the reigning monarch are free to marry or intrigue with whom they please, provided only that their husband or lover be a very 275strong and handsome man, in order that the kings whom he begets may be men of finer presence than their subjects. It matters not how low may be the rank and position of the king’s father. If the king’s sisters, however, have no sons, the throne will pass to the king’s own son, and failing a son, to the chief vassal or the chief slave. But in the Fantee country the principal slave succeeds to the exclusion of the son. So little regard is paid by these people to the lineage, especially the paternal lineage, of their kings.[888] Yet Ashantee has attained a barbaric civilisation as high perhaps as that of any negro state, and probably not at all inferior to that of the petty Latin kingdoms at the dawn of history.
In Ashantee, where royal lineage comes through women, the status of the king’s father is not seen as significant. Our theory about the way kings are succeeded in Latin cultures will be supported by showing that in other societies with female kinship, a king's father doesn't matter—actually, men born as slaves can, like Servius Tullius, marry royal princesses and ascend to the throne. This is true for the Tshi-speaking people on the Gold Coast in West Africa. In Ashantee, the kingdom passes through the female line to the king's brothers and then to the sons of his sister before it goes to his own sons. The king’s sisters are allowed to marry or have affairs with anyone they choose, as long as their partner is a strong and attractive man, so that the kings he fathers are more impressive than their subjects. The rank and position of the king's father don’t matter. However, if the king's sisters have no sons, the throne goes to the king's own son, and if he has none, then to the chief vassal or the chief slave. In Fantee country, the chief slave takes precedence over the son. This shows how little importance these people place on lineage, especially the father’s side, when it comes to their kings.[888] Yet Ashantee has developed a level of civilization that might rival any African state, and likely isn’t far behind the small Latin kingdoms at the beginning of history.
|Traces of a similar state of things in Uganda.| A trace of a similar state of things appears to survive in Uganda, another great African monarchy. For there the queen dowager and the queen sister are, or were, allowed to have as many husbands as they choose, without going through any marriage ceremony. “Of these two women it is commonly said all Uganda is their husband; they appear to be fond of change, only living with a man for a few days and then inviting some one else to take his place.” We are reminded of the legends of the lustful queen Semiramis, and the likeness may be more than superficial. Yet these women are not allowed, under pain of death, to bear children; hence they practise abortion.[889] Both the licence and the prohibition may be explained if we suppose that formerly the kingdom descended, as it still does in Ashantee, first to the king’s brothers and next to the sons of his sisters. For in that case the next heirs to the throne would be the sons of the king’s mother and of his sisters, and these women might accordingly be allowed, as the king’s sisters still are allowed in Ashantee, to mate with any handsome men who took their fancy, in order that their offspring might be of regal part. But when the line of descent was changed from the female to the male line, in other words, when the kings were 276succeeded by their sons instead of by their brothers or their sisters’ sons, then the king’s mother and his sisters would be forbidden to bear children lest the descent of the crown to the king’s own children should be endangered by the existence of rivals who, according to the old law of the kingdom, had a better right to the throne. We may surmise that the practice of putting the king’s brothers to death at the beginning of his reign, which survived till Uganda passed under English protection,[890] was instituted at the same time as the prohibition of child-bearing laid on the king’s mother and sisters. The one custom got rid of existing rivals; the other prevented them from being born. That the kingship in Uganda was formerly transmitted in the female line is strongly indicated by the rule that the kings and the rest of the royal family take their totems from their mothers, whereas all the other people of the country get their totems from their fathers.[891]
Traces of a similar situation in Uganda. A similar situation seems to persist in Uganda, another significant African monarchy. There, the queen dowager and the queen sister are, or were, allowed to have as many husbands as they want, without any formal marriage ceremony. “It is often said that all of Uganda is their husband; they seem to enjoy variety, only living with a man for a few days before inviting someone else to take his place.” This reminds us of the stories of the lustful queen Semiramis, and the similarity might be deeper than it appears. However, these women are strictly forbidden, under penalty of death, from having children; therefore, they resort to abortion.[889] Both the freedom and the restriction can be understood if we assume that the kingdom traditionally passed down, as it still does in Ashantee, first to the king’s brothers and then to the sons of his sisters. In that case, the next heirs to the throne would be the sons of the king’s mother and his sisters, and these women might be permitted, as the king’s sisters still are in Ashantee, to partner with any attractive men who catch their interest, to ensure their offspring could be of royal blood. But when the line of succession shifted from the female to the male line—meaning that kings were succeeded by their sons instead of by their brothers or their sisters' sons—then the king’s mother and his sisters were prohibited from having children to prevent potential rivals from competing with the king's own children for the throne, as per the old laws of the kingdom. We can speculate that the practice of executing the king’s brothers at the beginning of his reign, which continued until Uganda came under British protection,[890] was established alongside the prohibition against childbearing for the king’s mother and sisters. One custom eliminated existing rivals; the other stopped them from being born. The fact that kingship in Uganda was historically passed down through the female line is strongly suggested by the rule that the kings and the rest of the royal family inherit their totems from their mothers, while all other people in the country inherit their totems from their fathers.[891]
|In Loango also, where the blood royal is traced in the female line, the princesses are free to cohabit with whom they please, and their consorts are practically their slaves.| In Loango the blood royal is traced in the female line, and here also the princesses are free to choose and divorce their husbands at pleasure, and to cohabit at the same time with other men. These husbands are nearly always plebeians, for princes and princesses, who are very numerous and form a ruling caste in the country, may not marry each other. The lot of a prince consort is not a happy one, for he is rather the slave and prisoner than the mate of his imperious princess. In marrying her he engages never more to look at a woman during the whole time he cohabits with his royal spouse. When he goes out he is preceded by guards who drive away all females from the road where he is to pass. If in spite of these precautions he should by ill-luck cast his eyes on a woman, the princess may have his head chopped off, and commonly exercises, or used to exercise, the right. This sort of libertinism, sustained by power, often carries the princesses to the greatest excesses, and nothing is so much 277dreaded as their anger. No wonder that commoners in general avoid the honour of a royal alliance. Only poor and embarrassed men seek it as a protection against their creditors and enemies. All the children of such a man by such a wife are princes and princesses, and any one of the princes may in time be chosen king; for in Loango the crown is not hereditary but elective.[892] Thus it would seem that the father of the King of Loango is nearly always a plebeian, and often little better than a slave.
In Loango, where royal lineage is traced through the female line, princesses are free to live with whoever they want, and their partners essentially act as their servants. In Loango, royalty runs through the female line, and here, princesses can choose and divorce their husbands as they wish, while also being able to have relationships with other men. Most of these husbands are commoners because princes and princesses, who are numerous and form a ruling class in the area, are not allowed to marry each other. The life of a prince consort isn't a happy one; he is more of a servant and prisoner than a partner to his demanding princess. When he marries her, he commits to never looking at another woman for the entire time he is with his royal wife. When he goes out, guards precede him to clear away all women from the path he is to take. If, by chance, he should see a woman, the princess has the authority to have him executed, and she often uses this right. This type of debauchery, supported by power, frequently leads the princesses to extreme behavior, and their anger is greatly feared. It’s no surprise that commoners tend to avoid the honor of a royal connection. Only desperate and struggling men pursue it as a way to protect themselves from creditors and enemies. All the children of such a man with such a wife are princes and princesses, and any of these princes can eventually be chosen as king; in Loango, the crown is not inherited but elected.[892] Thus, it seems that the father of the King of Loango is almost always a commoner, and often not much better than a servant.
|Similar rights enjoyed by queens in Central Africa.| Near the Chambezi river, which falls into Lake Bengweolo in Central Africa, there is a small state governed by a queen who belongs to the reigning family of Ubemba. She bears the title of Mamfumer or Mother of Kings. “The privileges attached to this dignity are numerous. The most singular is that the queens may choose for themselves their husband among the common people. The chosen man becomes prince-consort without sharing in the administration of affairs. He is bound to leave everything to follow his royal and often but little accommodating spouse. To shew that in these households the rights are inverted and that a man may be changed into a woman, the queen takes the title of Monsieur and her husband that of Madame.”[893]
|Similar rights held by queens in Central Africa.| Near the Chambezi River, which flows into Lake Bengweolo in Central Africa, there is a small state ruled by a queen from the Ubemba royal family. She holds the title of Mamfumer or Mother of Kings. “The privileges tied to this title are many. The most unique is that the queens can choose their husbands from among the common people. The chosen man becomes prince-consort without participating in the governance. He is expected to leave everything behind to follow his royal wife, who is often not very accommodating. To illustrate how roles are reversed in these households, the queen takes the title of Monsieur and her husband takes the title of Madame.”[893]
|Traces of female descent of the kingship in ancient Greece.| At Athens, as at Rome, we find traces of succession to the throne by marriage with a royal princess; for two of the most ancient kings of Athens, namely Cecrops and Amphictyon, are said to have married the daughters of their predecessors.[894] This tradition is confirmed by the evidence, which I shall adduce presently, that at Athens male kinship was preceded by female kinship.
|Evidence of female lineage in the monarchy of ancient Greece.| In Athens, just like in Rome, we see evidence of succession to the throne through marriage to a royal princess; for two of the earliest kings of Athens, Cecrops and Amphictyon, are said to have married the daughters of their predecessors.[894] This tradition is supported by the evidence I will present shortly, showing that in Athens, male lineage followed female lineage.
278|With this rule of descent of the kingship males rule over different kingdoms in successive generations.| Further, if I am right in supposing that in ancient Latium the royal families kept their daughters at home and sent forth their sons to marry princesses and reign among their wives’ people, it will follow that the male descendants would reign in successive generations over different kingdoms. Now this seems to have happened both in ancient Greece and in ancient Sweden; from which we may legitimately infer that it was a custom practised by more than one branch of the Aryan stock in Europe. Take, for instance, the great house of Aeacus, the grandfather of Achilles and Ajax. Aeacus himself reigned in Aegina, but his descendants, as has been justly observed, “from the beginning went forth to other lands.”[895] His son Telamon migrated to the |Migrations of the male descendants of Aeacus.| island of Salamis, married the king’s daughter, and reigned over the country.[896] Telamon’s son Teucer, in his turn, migrated to Cyprus, wedded the king’s daughter, and succeeded his father-in-law on the throne.[897] Again, Peleus, another son of Aeacus, quitted his native land and went away to Phthia in Thessaly, where he received the hand of the king’s daughter, and with her a third of the kingdom.[898] Of Achilles, the son of Peleus, we are told that in his youth he was sent to the court of Lycomedes, King of Scyros, where he got one of the princesses with child.[899] The tradition seems to shew that Achilles followed the custom of his family in seeking his fortune in a foreign land. His son Neoptolemus, after him, went away to Epirus, where he settled and became the ancestor of the kings of the country.[900]
278According to this rule of inheritance, male heirs rule various kingdoms over generations. Furthermore, if I'm correct in thinking that in ancient Latium, royal families kept their daughters at home while sending their sons out to marry princesses and rule among their wives’ people, it suggests that male descendants would indeed govern various kingdoms in succession. This seems to have occurred in both ancient Greece and Sweden, allowing us to reasonably conclude that this practice was common among multiple branches of the Aryan heritage in Europe. For example, consider the prominent lineage of Aeacus, the grandfather of Achilles and Ajax. Aeacus himself ruled in Aegina, but his descendants, as has been rightly noted, “from the beginning went forth to other lands.”[895] His son Telamon moved to the island of Salamis, married the king’s daughter, and took over the rule of the area.[896] Telamon’s son Teucer then migrated to Cyprus, married the king’s daughter there, and became the successor to his father-in-law on the throne.[897] Additionally, Peleus, another son of Aeacus, left his homeland for Phthia in Thessaly, where he married the king’s daughter and received a third of the kingdom along with her.[898] We learn that Achilles, the son of Peleus, was sent to the court of Lycomedes, King of Scyros, in his youth, where he made one of the princesses pregnant.[899] This tradition suggests that Achilles adhered to his family's custom of seeking opportunities in foreign lands. His son Neoptolemus subsequently moved to Epirus, where he established himself and became the ancestor of the kings in that region.[900]
|Migrations of the male descendants of Tydeus and Pelops.| Again, Tydeus was a son of Oeneus, the King of Calydon in Aetolia, but he went to Argos and married the king’s daughter.[901] His son Diomede migrated to Daunia in Italy, where he helped the king in a war with his enemies, receiving as his reward the king’s daughter in marriage and 279part of the kingdom.[902] As another example we may take the family of the Pelopidae, whose tragic fortunes the Greek poets never wearied of celebrating. Their ancestor was Tantalus, King of Sipylus in Asia Minor. But his son Pelops passed into Greece, won Hippodamia, the daughter of the King of Pisa, in the famous chariot-race, and succeeded his father-in-law on the throne.[903] His son Atreus did not remain in Pisa, but migrated to Mycenae, of which he became king;[904] and in the next generation Menelaus, son of Atreus, went to Sparta, where he married Helen, the king’s daughter, and himself reigned over the country.[905] Further, it is very notable that, according to the old lyric poets, Agamemnon himself, the elder brother of Menelaus, reigned not at Mycenae but in Lacedaemon, the native land of his wife Clytaemnestra, and that he was buried at Amyclae, the ancient capital of the country.[906]
|Migrations of the male descendants of Tydeus and Pelops.| Once again, Tydeus was a son of Oeneus, the King of Calydon in Aetolia, but he moved to Argos and married the king’s daughter.[901] His son Diomede moved to Daunia in Italy, where he assisted the king in a war against his enemies, receiving the king’s daughter in marriage and part of the kingdom as his reward.[902] Another example is the family of the Pelopidae, whose tragic stories the Greek poets endlessly celebrated. Their ancestor was Tantalus, King of Sipylus in Asia Minor. However, his son Pelops migrated to Greece, won Hippodamia, the daughter of the King of Pisa, in the famous chariot race, and succeeded his father-in-law on the throne.[903] His son Atreus did not stay in Pisa but moved to Mycenae, where he became king;[904] and in the next generation, Menelaus, son of Atreus, went to Sparta, where he married Helen, the king’s daughter, and ruled the country himself.[905] Moreover, it’s quite noteworthy that, according to the old lyric poets, Agamemnon, the elder brother of Menelaus, did not reign in Mycenae but in Lacedaemon, the homeland of his wife Clytaemnestra, and that he was buried in Amyclae, the ancient capital of the region.[906]
|These migrations not understood in later times.| Various reasons are assigned by ancient Greek writers for these migrations of the princes. A common one is that the king’s son had been banished for murder. This would explain very well why he fled his own land, but it is no reason at all why he should become king of another. We may suspect that such reasons are afterthoughts devised by writers who, accustomed to the rule that a son should succeed to his father’s property and kingdom, were hard put to it to account for so many traditions of kings’ sons who quitted the land of their birth to reign over a foreign kingdom.
|These migrations were not understood in later times.| Various reasons are suggested by ancient Greek writers for these migrations of the princes. A common one is that the king’s son was exiled for murder. This might explain why he left his homeland, but it doesn’t explain why he would become king of another place. We may suspect that these reasons are just afterthoughts created by writers who, used to the idea that a son should inherit his father’s property and kingdom, struggled to explain so many stories of kings’ sons who left their birthplace to rule over foreign lands.
|Traces of similar migrations in Scandinavian tradition.| In Scandinavian tradition we meet with traces of similar customs. For we read of daughters’ husbands who received a share of the kingdoms of their royal fathers-in-law, even when these fathers-in-law had sons of their own; in particular, during the five generations which preceded Harold the Fair-haired, male members of the Ynglingar family, which is said to have come from Sweden, are reported in 280the Heimskringla or Sagas of the Norwegian Kings to have obtained at least six provinces in Norway by marriage with the daughters of the local kings.[907]
|Evidence of similar migrations in Scandinavian tradition.| In Scandinavian tradition, we see evidence of similar customs. We read about husbands of daughters who received a share of the kingdoms from their royal fathers-in-law, even when those fathers-in-law had sons of their own. Specifically, during the five generations before Harold the Fair-haired, male members of the Ynglingar family, believed to have originated in Sweden, are reported in the Heimskringla or Sagas of the Norwegian Kings to have gained at least six provinces in Norway through marriage to the daughters of local kings.[907]
|A reminiscence of the transmission of the kingship through women is preserved in popular tales.| Thus it would seem that among some Aryan peoples, at a certain stage of their social evolution, it has been customary to regard women and not men as the channels in which royal blood flows, and to bestow the kingdom in each successive generation on a man of another family, and often of another country, who marries one of the princesses and reigns over his wife’s people. A common type of popular tale, which relates how an adventurer, coming to a strange land, wins the hand of the king’s daughter and with her the half or the whole of the kingdom, may well be a reminiscence of a real custom.[908]
A memory of passing down kingship through women is kept alive in popular stories. It seems that among some Aryan groups, at a certain point in their social development, it was common to see women, not men, as the bearers of royal lineage, and to grant the kingdom in each generation to a man from a different family, often from a different country, who marries one of the princesses and rules over her people. A common type of folk tale, which tells how an adventurer arrives in a foreign land, wins the hand of the king's daughter, and gains part or all of the kingdom, might well reflect a true historical practice.[908]
|Where such customs prevail, the kingship is an appanage of marriage with a princess.| Where usages and ideas of this sort prevail, it is obvious that the kingship is merely an appanage of marriage with a woman of the blood royal. The old Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus puts this view of the kingship very clearly in 281the mouth of Hermutrude, a legendary queen of Scotland, and her statement is all the more significant because, as we shall see presently, it reflects the actual practice of the Pictish kings. “Indeed she was a queen,” says Hermutrude, “and but that her sex gainsaid it, might be deemed a king; nay (and this is yet truer), whomsoever she thought worthy of her bed was at once a king, and she yielded her kingdom with herself. Thus her sceptre and her hand went together.”[909] Wherever a custom of this sort is observed, a man may clearly acquire the kingdom just as well by marrying the widow as the daughter of his predecessor. This is what Aegisthus did at Mycenae, and what Hamlet’s uncle Feng and Hamlet’s successor Wiglet did in Denmark; all three slew their predecessors, married their widows, and then sat peacefully on the throne.[910] The tame submission of the people to their rule would be intelligible, if they regarded the assassins, in spite of their crime, as the lawful occupants of the throne by reason of their marriage with the widowed queens. Similarly, Gyges murdered Candaules, King of Lydia, |The Lydian kingship apparently transmitted through women.| married his queen, and reigned over the country.[911] Nor was this the only instance of such a succession in the history of Lydia. The wife of King Cadys conspired against his life with her paramour Spermus, and though her husband recovered from the dose of poison which she administered to him, he died soon afterwards, and the adulterer married his leman and succeeded to the throne.[912] These cases excite a suspicion that in the royal house of Lydia descent was traced in the female line, and the suspicion is strengthened by the legendary character of Omphale, the ancestress of the dynasty. For she is represented as a masculine but dissolute queen of the Semiramis type, who wore male attire and put all her favoured lovers to death, while on the other hand her consort Hercules was her purchased slave, 282was treated with indignity, and went about dressed as a woman.[913] This plainly implies that the queen was a far more powerful and important personage than the king, as would naturally happen wherever it is the queen who confers royalty on her consort at marriage instead of receiving it from him. The story that she prostituted the daughters of the Lydians to their male slaves[914] is of a piece with the tradition that she herself married her slave Hercules. It may mean little more than that the Lydians were indifferent to paternity, and that the children of freewomen by slaves ranked as free. Such an indifference to fatherhood, coupled with the ancient accounts of the loose morals of the Lydian girls, who were accustomed to earn a dowry by prostitution,[915] is a mark of the system of female kinship. Hence we may conjecture that Herodotus was wrong in saying that from Hercules to Candaules the crown of Lydia had descended for twenty-two generations from father to son.[916] The old mode of transmitting the crown of Lydia through women probably did not end with Candaules. At least we are told that his murderer and successor Gyges, like Hercules, the mythical founder of the dynasty, gave himself and his kingdom into the hands of the woman he loved, and that when she died he collected all the slaves from the country round about and raised in her memory a mound so lofty that it could be seen from every part of the Lydian plain, and for centuries after was known as the Harlot’s Tomb.[917]
In societies where these traditions are followed, becoming a king comes from marrying a princess. When such traditions and beliefs are prevalent, it is clear that kingship is simply a result of marrying a woman from the royal family. The ancient Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus expresses this idea explicitly in 281the words of Hermutrude, a legendary queen of Scotland, and her statement is particularly important because, as we will see shortly, it reflects the actual practices of the Pictish kings. "Indeed she was a queen," says Hermutrude, "and if not for her gender, she could be seen as a king; in fact (and this is even more accurate), whoever she deemed worthy of her bed immediately became a king, and she offered her kingdom along with herself. Thus, her scepter and her hand were intertwined." [909] In such a custom, a man can clearly claim the kingdom by marrying the widow or the daughter of his predecessor. This is what Aegisthus did in Mycenae, as well as Hamlet’s uncle Feng and Hamlet’s successor Wiglet in Denmark; all three killed their predecessors, married their widows, and then ruled peacefully from the throne.[910] The passive acceptance of the people toward their rule would make sense if they viewed the murderers, despite their crime, as the rightful kings due to their marriage to the widowed queens. Similarly, Gyges killed Candaules, King of Lydia, |because the Lydian monarchy appears to be inherited through women.| married his queen, and ruled the country.[911] This wasn't the only instance of such a succession in Lydia's history. The wife of King Cadys conspired with her lover Spermus to kill him, and although her husband survived the poison she gave him, he passed away soon after, and the lover married her and took the throne.[912] These examples raise suspicion that in the royal family of Lydia, lineage was traced through women, and this suspicion is strengthened by the legendary figure of Omphale, the ancestor of the dynasty. She is depicted as a masculine but dissolute queen, reminiscent of Semiramis, who dressed as a man and executed all her favored lovers, while her partner Hercules was her bought slave, 282who was treated with disrespect and wore women’s clothing.[913] This clearly indicates that the queen held much more power and importance than the king, as would naturally occur when the queen is the one who grants royalty to her husband through marriage rather than receiving it from him. The story that she forced the daughters of the Lydians to serve their male slaves[914] aligns with the tradition that she herself married her slave Hercules. It might suggest that the Lydians were indifferent to paternity, and that the offspring of free women with slaves were considered free. Such disregard for fatherhood, combined with ancient accounts of the loose morals of Lydian women, who were known to earn a dowry through prostitution,[915] points to a system of female kinship. Thus, we may speculate that Herodotus was mistaken in claiming that from Hercules to Candaules, the crown of Lydia was passed down for twenty-two generations from father to son.[916] The old way of passing down the crown of Lydia through women likely continued even after Candaules. At least, we are told that his murderer and successor Gyges, like Hercules, the mythical founder of the dynasty, entrusted himself and his kingdom to the woman he loved, and when she died, he gathered all the slaves from the surrounding areas and built a mound in her memory so tall that it could be seen from all over the Lydian plain, which for centuries was known as the Harlot’s Tomb.[917]
|Marriage of Canute with the widow of his predecessor.| When Canute the Dane had been acknowledged King of England, he married Emma, the widow of his predecessor Ethelred, whose throne he had overturned and whose children he had driven into exile. The marriage has not unnaturally puzzled the historians, for Emma was much 283older than her second husband, she was then living in Normandy, and it is very doubtful whether Canute had ever seen her before she became his bride. All, however, becomes plain if, as the cases of Feng and Wiglet seem to shew, it was an old Danish custom that marriage with a king’s widow carried the kingdom with it as a matter of right. In that case the young but prudent Canute married the mature widow merely out of policy in order to clinch, according to Danish notions, by a legal measure his claim to that crown which he had already won for himself by the sword.[918] Among the Saxons and their near kinsmen the Varini it appears to have been a regular custom for the new king to marry his stepmother. Thus Hermegisclus, King of the Varini, on his deathbed enjoined his son Radigis to wed his stepmother in accordance with their ancestral practice, and his injunction was obeyed.[919] Edbald, King of Kent, married his stepmother after the death of his father Ethelbert;[920] and as late as the ninth century Ethelbald, King of the West Saxons, wedded Judith, the widow of his father Ethelwulf.[921] Such marriages are intelligible if we suppose that old Saxon as well as old Danish law gave the kingdom to him who married the late king’s widow.
|Canute's marriage to the widow of his predecessor.| When Canute the Dane was recognized as King of England, he married Emma, the widow of his predecessor Ethelred, whose throne he had taken and whose children he had forced into exile. This marriage has puzzled historians, not surprisingly, since Emma was significantly older than her second husband, was living in Normandy at the time, and it’s quite uncertain whether Canute had ever met her before they got married. However, everything becomes clear if we consider that, as the cases of Feng and Wiglet demonstrate, it was an old Danish tradition that marrying a king’s widow granted you the kingdom by right. In that case, the young but shrewd Canute married the older widow simply out of political strategy to solidify, according to Danish customs, his claim to the crown he had already secured through conquest. [918] Among the Saxons and their close relatives the Varini, it seems to have been a common practice for the new king to marry his stepmother. For instance, Hermegisclus, King of the Varini, on his deathbed instructed his son Radigis to marry his stepmother in line with their traditional customs, and Radigis followed this command.[919] Edbald, King of Kent, married his stepmother after his father Ethelbert’s death;[920] and as recently as the ninth century, Ethelbald, King of the West Saxons, married Judith, the widow of his father Ethelwulf.[921] Such marriages make sense if we assume that both old Saxon and old Danish law granted the kingdom to whoever took the late king’s widow as his wife.
|Traces of the system of female kinship among the Aryans.| To the view that the right to the Latin kingship was derived from women and not from men, it may be objected that the system of female kinship or mother-kin is unknown among the Aryans,[922] and that even if faint traces of it may be met with elsewhere, the last place in the world where we should look for it would be Rome, the stronghold of the patriarchal family. To meet this objection it is necessary to point to some facts which appear to be undoubted 284survivals among Aryan peoples of a custom of tracing descent through the mother only.
|Evidence of the female kinship system among the Aryans.| Some might argue that the idea of Latin kingship being derived from women rather than men is flawed because the system of female kinship, or mother-kin, isn’t recognized among the Aryans,[922] and that even if there are weak signs of it elsewhere, Rome, known for its patriarchal family structure, would be the least likely place to find it. To counter this argument, we need to point out certain clear evidence among Aryan societies that indicates a practice of tracing lineage solely through the mother. 284
|Female kinship among the Athenians, the Epizephyrian Locrians, the Cantabrians, and the Germans.| In Attica tradition ran that of old the women were the common property of the men, who coupled with them like beasts, so that while every one knew his mother, nobody knew who his father was. This system of sexual communism was abolished by Cecrops, the first King of Athens, who introduced individual marriage in its place.[923] Little weight could be attached to this tradition, if it were not supported to a certain extent by the Attic usage which always allowed a man to marry his half-sister by the same father but not his half-sister by the same mother.[924] Such a rule seems clearly to be a relic of a time when kinship was counted only through women. Again, the Epizephyrian Locrians in Italy traced all ancestral distinction in the female, not the male line. Among them the nobles were the members of the hundred houses from whom were chosen by lot the maidens to be sent to Troy.[925] For in order, it is said, to expiate the sacrilege committed by the Locrian Ajax when he violated Cassandra in the sanctuary of Athena at Troy, the cities of Locris used annually to send to the Trojan goddess two maidens, whom the Trojans slew, and, burning their bodies on the wood of certain trees which bore no fruit, threw the ashes into the sea. If the maidens contrived to escape they took refuge in the sanctuary of Athena, which they thenceforth swept and washed, never quitting it except at night, and always going barefoot, shorn, and clad in a single garment. The custom is said to have been observed for a thousand years down to the fourth century before our era.[926] Among the Locrians, as elsewhere, the 285system of female kinship would seem to have gone hand in hand with dissolute morals; for there is reason to think that of old the Locrians, like the Lydians and Armenians, had been wont to prostitute their daughters before marriage, though in later times the custom fell into abeyance.[927] The Cantabrians of Spain seem also to have had mother-kin; for among them it was the daughters who inherited property and who portioned out their brothers in marriage.[928] Again, the ancient Germans deemed the tie between a man and his sister’s children as close as that between a father and his children; indeed some regarded the bond as even closer and more sacred, and therefore in exacting hostages they chose the children of a man’s sister rather than his own children, believing that this gave them a firmer hold on the family.[929] The superiority thus assigned to the maternal uncle over the father is an infallible mark of mother-kin, either present or past, as may be observed, for instance, in very many African tribes to this day, among whom both property and political power pass, not from father to son, but from the maternal uncle to his nephews.[930] Similarly, in Melanesia the close relation of the mother’s brother to his nephew is maintained even where the system of relationship has become patriarchal.[931] Amongst the Germans in the time of Tacitus, it is true, a man’s heirs were his own children,[932] but the mother’s brother could never have attained the position he held except under a system of maternal descent. Another vestige of mother-kin among a Teutonic people appears to be found in the Salic law. For it was a custom with the Salian Franks that when a widow married again, a price had to be paid to her family, and in laying down the order in which her kinsmen were entitled to receive this payment 286the law gave a decided preference to the female over the male line; thus the first person entitled to claim the money was the eldest son of the widow’s sister.[933]
|Women’s family relationships among the Athenians, the Epizephyrian Locrians, the Cantabrians, and the Germans.| In ancient Attica, there was a belief that women were shared among men, who treated them like animals, which meant that while everyone knew their mother, no one knew their father. This system of sexual sharing was ended by Cecrops, the first King of Athens, who introduced individual marriage instead.[923] This tradition might not hold much weight if it weren't partly backed by the Athenian practice that allowed a man to marry his half-sister on his father's side but not on his mother's side.[924] Such a rule seems to clearly be a leftover from a time when lineage was traced only through women. Similarly, the Epizephyrian Locrians in Italy determined all their ancestral lineage through females, not males. Among them, the nobles were the members of a hundred houses from which maidens were drawn by lot to be sent to Troy.[925] It is said this was done to make amends for the sacrilege committed by the Locrian Ajax when he violated Cassandra in the sanctuary of Athena at Troy, as the cities of Locris sent two maidens to the Trojan goddess each year, who were then killed by the Trojans. Their bodies were burned on certain fruitless trees, and their ashes were cast into the sea. If the maidens managed to escape, they would seek refuge in Athena’s sanctuary, which they maintained by sweeping and washing, never leaving except at night and always going barefoot, with their hair cut short, and wearing only a single garment. This custom is said to have lasted for a thousand years, up until the fourth century BC.[926] Among the Locrians, as in other cultures, the system of female kinship seemed to coincide with loose morals; indeed, there are reasons to believe that in the past, like the Lydians and Armenians, the Locrians would have their daughters prostitute themselves before marriage, although this custom later fell out of practice.[927] The Cantabrians in Spain also appear to have had a matrilineal system, as it was the daughters who inherited property and arranged marriages for their brothers.[928] Additionally, the ancient Germans considered the connection between a man and his sister’s children to be as strong as that between a father and his own children; indeed, some believed the bond was even closer and more sacred. When taking hostages, they preferred the children of a man’s sister over his own, believing this strengthened their tie to the family.[929] The preference for the maternal uncle over the father is a clear indicator of a matrilineal system, whether it's current or historical, as can be observed among many African tribes today, where property and political power pass from the maternal uncle to his nephews instead of from father to son.[930] Likewise, in Melanesia, the strong bond between a mother’s brother and his nephew is maintained even in patriarchal societies.[931] Among the Germans during Tacitus's time, it’s true that a man’s heirs were his own children,[932] but the maternal uncle wouldn’t have held the position he did without a tradition of maternal descent. Another sign of female kinship among a Teutonic people can be seen in the Salic law. It was customary for the Salian Franks that if a widow remarried, her family had to be compensated, and the law made it clear that females were prioritized over males in receiving this payment; hence, the first person entitled to the money was the eldest son of the widow’s sister.[933]
|Among the Picts the kingship was transmitted through women.| It is a moot point whether the Picts of Scotland belonged to the Aryan family or not;[934] but among them the kingdom was certainly transmitted through women. Bede tells us that down to his own time, in the early part of the eighth century, whenever a doubt arose as to the succession, the Picts chose their king from the female rather than the male line.[935] The statement is amply confirmed by historical evidence. For we possess a list of the Pictish kings and their fathers which was drawn up in the reign of Cenaed, King of the Scots, towards the end of the tenth century; and for the period from the year 583 to the year 840 the register is authenticated by the Irish Annals of Tigernach and Ulster. Now, it is significant that in this list the fathers of the kings are never themselves kings; in other words, no king was succeeded on the throne by his son. Further, if we may judge by their names, the fathers of the Pictish kings were not Picts but foreigners—men of Irish, Cymric, or English race. The inference from these facts seems to be that among the Picts the royal family was exogamous, and that the crown descended in the female line; in other words, that the princesses married men of another clan or even of another race, and that their issue by these strangers sat on the throne, whether they succeeded in a prescribed order according to birth, or whether they were elected from among the sons of princesses, as the words of Bede might be taken to imply.[936]
Among the Picts, leadership was inherited through women. It's unclear whether the Picts of Scotland were part of the Aryan family or not;[934] but it is certain that they transmitted their kingdom through women. Bede tells us that up until his time in the early eighth century, whenever there was uncertainty about succession, the Picts chose their king from the female line rather than the male one.[935] This statement is well-supported by historical evidence. We have a list of Pictish kings and their fathers that was created during the reign of Cenaed, King of the Scots, near the end of the tenth century; and for the period from 583 to 840, the record is verified by the Irish Annals of Tigernach and Ulster. Notably, in this list, the fathers of the kings are never kings themselves; in other words, no king was succeeded by his son. Additionally, judging by their names, the fathers of the Pictish kings were not Picts but foreigners—men of Irish, Welsh, or English descent. The conclusion from these facts seems to be that among the Picts, the royal family was exogamous, and the crown was passed down through the female line; meaning that the princesses married men from other clans or even other races, and their children with these outsiders took the throne, whether they succeeded in a specific order of birth or were elected from among the sons of princesses, as Bede's words might suggest.[936]
|Female kinship among the Etruscans.| Another European, though apparently not Aryan, 287people among whom the system of female kinship appears to have prevailed were the Etruscans. For in Etruscan sepulchral inscriptions the name of the mother of the deceased is regularly recorded along with or even without the name of the father; and where the names of both father and mother are mentioned, greater prominence is given to the mother’s name by writing it in full, whereas the father’s name is, in accordance with Roman usage, merely indicated by an initial.[937] The statement of Theopompus that among the Etruscans sexual communism was a recognised practice, and that paternity was unknown,[938] may be only an exaggerated way of saying that they traced their descent through their mothers and not through their fathers. Yet apparently in Etruria, as elsewhere, this system of relationship was combined with a real indifference to fatherhood and with the dissolute morals which that indifference implies; for Etruscan girls were wont to earn a dowry by prostitution.[939] In these customs the Etruscans resembled the Lydians, and the similarity confirms the common opinion of antiquity, which modern historians have too lightly set aside, that the Etruscans were of Lydian origin.[940] However that may be, in considering the vestiges of mother-kin among the Latins, we shall do well to bear in mind that the same archaic mode of tracing descent appears to have prevailed among the neighbouring Etruscans, who not only exercised a powerful influence on Rome, but gave her two, if not three, of her kings.[941]
Female family ties among the Etruscans. Another group of Europeans, although not Aryan, 287where the system of female kinship seems to have been prominent were the Etruscans. In Etruscan burial inscriptions, the name of the deceased's mother is consistently recorded alongside or even without the father's name; and when both parents' names are given, the mother's name is written out fully, while the father's name is abbreviated to just an initial, following Roman tradition.[937] Theopompus stated that among the Etruscans, sexual communism was accepted, and paternity was not recognized,[938] which may just be an exaggerated way of saying that they traced lineage through their mothers rather than their fathers. Yet, it seems that in Etruria, like in other places, this relationship system was connected with a genuine indifference to fatherhood and the promiscuous behavior that such indifference implies; since Etruscan girls often earned a dowry through prostitution.[939] In these customs, the Etruscans were similar to the Lydians, and this resemblance supports the long-held belief from ancient times, which modern historians have often dismissed too easily, that the Etruscans had Lydian roots.[940] Regardless of this, when examining the remnants of mother-kin among the Latins, we should keep in mind that this same ancient method of tracing lineage appears to have been present among the nearby Etruscans, who not only had a significant impact on Rome but also provided her with two, if not three, kings.[941]
288|Mother-kin may survive in the royal family after it has been exchanged for father-kin in all others.| It would be neither unnatural nor surprising if among the ancient Latins mother-kin survived in the royal family after it had been exchanged for father-kin in all others. For royalty, like religion, is essentially conservative; it clings to old forms and old customs which have long vanished from ordinary life. Thus in Uganda persons of royal blood still inherit their totems from their mothers, while other people inherit them from their fathers. So in Denmark and Scandinavia, as we have seen, the kingdom would appear to have been transmitted through women long after the family name and property had become hereditary in the male line among the people. Sometimes the difference in custom between kings and commoners is probably based rather on a distinction of race than on varying degrees of social progress; for a dynasty is often a family of alien origin who have imposed their rule on their subjects by force of arms, as the Normans did on the Saxons, and the Manchus on the Chinese. More rarely, perhaps, it may have happened that from motives of policy or superstition a |Sometimes a conquering race may have left a nominal kingship to members of the old royal house.| conquering tribe has left a nominal kingship to the members of the old royal house. Such a concession would be most likely to be made where the functions of the king were rather religious than civil, and where the prosperity of the country was supposed to depend on the maintenance of the established relations between the people and the gods of the land. In that case the new-comers, knowing not how to appease and conciliate these strange deities, might be glad to let the priestly kings of the conquered race perform the quaint rites and mumble the venerable spells, which had been found to answer their purpose time out of mind.[942] In a commonwealth 289like the Roman, formed by the union of different stocks, the royal family might thus belong either to the conquerors or to the conquered; in other words, either to the |This perhaps happened at Rome, where many of the kings seem to have been plebeians.| patricians or to the plebeians. But if we leave out of account Romulus and Tatius, who are more or less legendary figures, and the two Tarquins, who came of a noble Etruscan house, all the other Roman kings appear from their names to have been men of plebeian, not patrician, families.[943] Hence it seems probable that they belonged to the indigenous race, who may have retained mother-kin, at least in the royal succession, after they had submitted to invaders who knew father-kin only.
288Mother-kin can still remain in the royal family even after father-kin takes over in other places. It wouldn’t be unnatural or surprising if among the ancient Latins mother-kin persisted in the royal family after it had been replaced by father-kin among everyone else. Royalty, much like religion, is fundamentally conservative; it clings to old traditions and customs that have disappeared from everyday life. For example, in Uganda, royal individuals inherit their totems from their mothers, while other people inherit them from their fathers. Similarly, in Denmark and Scandinavia, as we have seen, the kingdom seemed to be passed down through women long after family names and property became inherited through the male line among the wider population. Sometimes, the difference in customs between kings and commoners likely stems from a racial distinction rather than varying levels of social progression; a dynasty is often a family of foreign origin that has imposed its rule on its subjects through military force, like the Normans did to the Saxons and the Manchus to the Chinese. More rarely, it might have happened that, for reasons of policy or superstition, a conquering tribe left nominal kingship to the members of the old royal house. Such a concession would probably be made where the king's role was more religious than civil, and where the prosperity of the land was thought to rely on maintaining the established connections between the people and the land's gods. In this case, the newcomers, unfamiliar with how to appease these unfamiliar deities, might have preferred to let the priestly kings of the conquered group perform the ancient rituals and recite the time-tested spells that had always proven effective.[942] In a commonwealth like Rome, made up of different ethnic groups, the royal family could belong to either the conquerors or the conquered; in other words, it could belong to either the This probably occurred in Rome, where many of the kings appear to have been commoners.patricians or the plebeians. However, if we disregard Romulus and Tatius, who are somewhat legendary figures, and the two Tarquins, who came from a noble Etruscan family, all the other Roman kings seem to have been, based on their names, plebeians rather than patricians.[943] Therefore, it seems likely that they belonged to the local population, who may have held onto mother-kin, at least in royal succession, even after they had submitted to invaders who only knew father-kin.
|The abolition of the monarchy at Rome may have been a revolution whereby the patricians wrested the shadow of sovereignty from the plebeians and transferred it to themselves, who already wielded the substance.| If that was so, it confirms the view that the old Roman kingship was essentially a religious office; for the conquerors would be much more ready to leave an office of this sort in the hands of the conquered than a kingship of the type with which we are familiar. “Let these puppets,” they might think, “render to the gods their dues, while we rule the people in peace and lead them in war.” Of such priestly kings Numa was the type. But not all of his successors were willing to model themselves on his saintly figure and, rejecting the pomps and vanities of earth, to devote themselves to communion with heaven. Some were men of strong will and warlike temper, who could not brook the dull routine of the cloister. They longed to exchange the stillness and gloom of the temple or the sacred grove for the sunshine, the dust, and the tumult of the battlefield. Such men broke bounds, and when they threatened to get completely out of hand and turn the tables on the patricians, it was time that they should go. This, we may conjecture, was the real meaning of the abolition of the kingship at Rome. It put an end to the solemn pretence that the state was still ruled by the ancient owners of the soil: it took the shadow of power from them and gave it to those who had long possessed the substance. The ghost of the monarchy had begun to walk and grow troublesome: the revolution laid it for centuries.
The end of the monarchy in Rome could be seen as a revolution where the patricians stripped the plebeians of the illusion of power while keeping the real authority for themselves. If that’s the case, it supports the idea that the old Roman kingship was mainly a religious role; the conquerors would be much more inclined to leave a position like this in the hands of the conquered than a kingship like we know today. “Let these puppets,” they might think, “offer their respects to the gods while we govern the people peacefully and lead them in battle.” Numa was the classic example of such priestly kings. However, not all of his successors wanted to emulate his virtuous example and, turning away from the ostentation and distractions of life, dedicate themselves to a connection with the divine. Some were strong-willed and warrior-like, who couldn’t stand the monotonous routine of the cloister. They yearned to swap the quiet and darkness of the temple or sacred grove for the sunlight, dust, and chaos of the battlefield. Such individuals broke free, and when they threatened to spiral out of control and challenge the patricians, it became necessary for them to be removed. This, we can assume, was the true significance of the abolition of the kingship in Rome. It ended the serious façade that the state was still ruled by the ancient landowners: it stripped them of their illusion of power and handed it to those who had long held the real authority. The specter of the monarchy had started to stir and cause trouble: the revolution laid it to rest for centuries.
290|At first the intention seems to have been to leave the annual kingship or consulship to the old royal family.| But though the effect of the revolution was to substitute the real rule of the patricians for the nominal rule of the plebeians, the break with the past was at the outset less complete than it seems. For the first two consuls were both men of the royal blood. One of them, L. Junius Brutus, was sister’s son of the expelled King Tarquin the Proud.[944] As such he would have been the heir to the throne under a strict system of mother-kin. The other consul, L. Tarquinius Collatinus, was a son of the late king’s cousin Egerius.[945] These facts suggest that the first intention of the revolutionaries was neither to abolish the kingship nor to wrest it from the royal family, but, merely retaining the hereditary monarchy, to restrict its powers. To achieve this object they limited the tenure of office to a year and doubled the number of the kings, who might thus be expected to check and balance each other. But it is not impossible that both restrictions were merely the revival of old rules which the growing power of the kings had contrived for a time to set aside in practice. The legends of Romulus and Remus, and afterwards of Romulus and Tatius, may be real reminiscences of a double kingship like that of Sparta;[946] and in the yearly ceremony of the Regifugium or Flight of the King we seem to detect a trace of an annual, not a life-long, tenure of office.[947] The same thing may perhaps be true of the parallel change which took place at Athens when the people deprived the Medontids of their regal powers and reduced them from kings to responsible magistrates, who held office at first for life, but afterwards only for periods of ten years.[948] Here, too, the limitation of the tenure of the kingship may have been merely the reinforcement of an old custom which had fallen into abeyance. At Rome, however, the attempt to maintain the hereditary principle, if it was made at all, was almost immediately abandoned, and the patricians openly transferred to themselves the 291double kingship, which thenceforth was purely elective, and was afterwards known as the consulship.[949]
290At first, it looked like the plan was to maintain the annual kingship or consulship within the old royal family. However, although the revolution effectively replaced the nominal power of the plebeians with the actual control of the patricians, the break from the past was initially less complete than it appears. The first two consuls were both from the royal bloodline. One of them, L. Junius Brutus, was the nephew of the ousted King Tarquin the Proud.[944] This meant he would have been the rightful heir under a strict matrilineal system. The other consul, L. Tarquinius Collatinus, was the son of the late king's cousin Egerius.[945] These details suggest that the original goal of the revolutionaries was not to eliminate kingship or take it away from the royal family, but rather to maintain hereditary monarchy while limiting its powers. To accomplish this, they restricted the length of the office to one year and increased the number of kings, expecting them to check and balance each other. However, it’s possible that these restrictions were simply a revival of older rules that the rising power of the kings had previously managed to bypass. The legends of Romulus and Remus, followed by Romulus and Tatius, may actually reflect a double kingship similar to that of Sparta;[946] and the annual ceremony of the Regifugium or Flight of the King suggests an annual, rather than a lifelong, term of office.[947] A similar phenomenon may have occurred in Athens when the people stripped the Medontids of their royal authority, reducing them from kings to accountable magistrates, initially for life but later for ten-year terms.[948] Here too, the limitation on kingship may have simply reinforced an old custom that had fallen out of practice. In Rome, however, the effort to keep the hereditary principle, if it was even attempted, was soon abandoned, and the patricians openly claimed the double kingship for themselves, which then became purely elective and was later known as the consulship.[949]
|The abolition of the monarchy at Rome seems to have been hastened by an attempt of the last king to shift the succession from the female to the male line.| The history of the last king of Rome, Tarquin the Proud, leads us to suspect that the offence which he gave by his ambitious and domineering character was heightened by an attempt to shift the succession of the kingship from the female to the male line. He himself united both rights in his own person; for he had married the daughter of his predecessor, Servius Tullius, and he was the son or grandson of Tarquin the Elder,[950] who preceded Servius Tullius on the throne. But in asserting his right to the crown, if we can trust Roman history on this point, Tarquin the Proud entirely ignored his claim to it through women as the son-in-law of his predecessor, and insisted only on his claim in the male line as the son or grandson of a former king.[951] And he evidently intended to bequeath the kingdom to one of his sons; for he put out of the way two of the men who, if the succession had been through women in the way I have indicated, would have been entitled to sit on the throne before his own sons, and even before himself. One of these was his sister’s husband, the other was her elder son. Her younger son, the famous Lucius Junius Brutus, only escaped the fate of his father and elder brother by feigning, like Hamlet, imbecility, and thus deluding his wicked uncle into the belief that he had nothing to fear from such a simpleton.[952] This design of 292Tarquin to alter the line of succession from the female to the male side of the house may have been the last drop which filled his cup of high-handed tyranny to overflowing. At least it is a strange coincidence, if it is nothing more, that he was deposed by the man who, under a system of female kinship, was the rightful heir, and who in a sense actually sat on the throne from which he pushed his uncle. For the curule chair of the consul was little less than the king’s throne under a limited tenure.
|The downfall of the monarchy in Rome appears to have been hastened by the last king's effort to change the succession from the female line to the male line.| The story of Rome's last king, Tarquin the Proud, suggests that his ambitious and domineering personality was amplified by his effort to change the royal succession from women to men. He combined both claims in his own right; he had married the daughter of his predecessor, Servius Tullius, and he was the son or grandson of Tarquin the Elder,[950] who ruled before Servius Tullius. However, when asserting his right to the throne, if we can believe Roman history, Tarquin the Proud completely disregarded his claim through his marriage ties and insisted solely on his male lineage as the son or grandson of a former king.[951] He clearly intended to pass on the kingdom to one of his sons, as he eliminated two men who, had the succession followed the female line as mentioned, would have been entitled to the throne before his sons and even before him. One was his sister’s husband, and the other was her older son. The younger son, the famous Lucius Junius Brutus, only escaped the fate of his father and older brother by pretending to be foolish, like Hamlet, tricking his evil uncle into believing he posed no threat as a simpleton.[952] Tarquin's plan to change the line of succession from female to male may have been the tipping point that led to his overwhelming tyranny. Moreover, it is a curious coincidence, if nothing more, that he was overthrown by the very man who was the rightful heir under a female lineage system and who, in a way, sat on the throne he had usurped from his uncle. The consul's curule chair was essentially equivalent to the king’s throne, albeit under limited authority. 292
|The hereditary principle does not necessarily exclude the elective in the succession to a monarchy; many African chieftainships or kingships are both hereditary and elective.| It has often been asked whether the Roman monarchy was hereditary or elective. The question implies an opposition between the two modes of succession which by no means necessarily exists. As a matter of fact, in many African tribes at the present day the succession to the kingdom or the chieftainship is determined by a combination of the hereditary and the elective principle, that is, the kings or chiefs are chosen by the people or by a body of electors from among the members of the royal family. And as the chiefs have commonly several wives and many children by them, the number of possible candidates may be not inconsiderable. For example, we are told that “the government of the Banyai is rather peculiar, being a sort of feudal republicanism. The chief is elected, and they choose the son of the deceased chief’s sister in preference to his own offspring. When dissatisfied with one candidate, they even go to a distant tribe for a successor, who is usually of the family of the late chief, a brother, or a sister’s son, but never his own son or daughter. When first spoken to on the subject, he answers as if he thought himself unequal to the task and unworthy of the honour, but, having accepted it, all the wives, goods, and children of his predecessor belong to him, and he takes care to keep them in a dependent position.” Among these people “the children of the chief have fewer privileges than common free men. They may not be sold, but, rather than choose any one of them for a chief at any future time, the free men would prefer to elect one of themselves who bore only a very distant relationship to the family.”[953]
The hereditary principle doesn't automatically eliminate the option for an elective method in royal succession; many African chiefdoms or kingdoms use both hereditary and elective processes. People often wonder whether the Roman monarchy was hereditary or elective. This question suggests a conflict between these two methods of succession, which doesn’t necessarily exist. In fact, many African tribes today determine succession to kingship or chieftainship through a mix of hereditary and elective principles, meaning kings or chiefs are selected by the people or a group of electors from among the royal family members. Since chiefs commonly have multiple wives and many children, the pool of potential candidates can be substantial. For example, it’s said that “the government of the Banyai is quite unique, resembling a type of feudal republicanism. The chief is elected, and they prefer the son of the deceased chief’s sister over his own children. When they’re dissatisfied with a candidate, they might even look to a distant tribe for a successor, usually from the late chief's family—like a brother or a sister's son—never his own son or daughter. Initially, when approached about this, he responds as if he feels unqualified and unworthy of the honor, but once he accepts, all the wives, possessions, and children of his predecessor belong to him, and he ensures they remain dependent on him.” Among these people, “the chief's children have fewer privileges than ordinary free men. They can’t be sold, but rather than choosing one of them as chief in the future, the free men would prefer to elect one of themselves, even if he is only distantly related to the family.”[953]
293|Chiefs and kings in Africa elected from several families in rotation.| Sometimes the field of choice is extended still further by a rule that the chief may or must be chosen from one of several families in a certain order. Thus among the Bangalas of the Cassange Valley in Angola the chief is elected from three families in rotation.[954] And Diagara, a country bordering on Senegambia, is ruled by an absolute monarch who is chosen alternately from two families, one of which lives in Diapina and the other in Badumar.[955] In the Winamwanga tribe, to the south of Lake Tanganyika, “the first male child born to a chief after he succeeds to the chieftainship is the natural heir, but many years ago there were two claimants to the throne, whose supporters were about equal, and to avoid a civil war the following arrangement was made. One of them was allowed to reign, but the other claimant or his son was to succeed him. This was carried out, so that now there are continually alternate dynasties.”[956] So in the Matse tribe of Togoland in West Africa, there are two royal families descended from two women, which supply a king alternately. Hence the palm forest which belongs to the crown is divided into two parts; the reigning king has the right to one part, and the representative of the other royal house has a right to the other part.[957] Among the Yorubas in western Africa the sovereign chief is always taken from one or more families which have the hereditary right of furnishing the community with rulers. In many cases the succession passes regularly from one to a second family alternately; but in one instance, apparently unique, the right of succession to the sovereignty seems to be possessed by four princely families, from each of which the head chief is elected in rotation. The principle of primogeniture is not necessarily followed in the election, but the choice of the electors must always fall on one who is related to a former chief in the male line. For paternal descent alone is 294recognised in Yorubaland, where even the greatest chief may take to wife a woman of the lowest rank. Sometimes the choice of the ruling chief is made by divine authority, intimated to the people through the high priest of the principal god of the district.[958] Among the Igaras, on the lower Niger, the royal family is divided into four branches, each of which provides a king in turn. The capital and its district, both of which bear the name of Idah, are always occupied by the reigning branch of the royal family, while the three other branches, not being allowed to live there, retreat into the interior. Hence at the death of a king a double change takes place. On the one hand the late reigning family, with all their dependants, have to leave the homes in which many of them have been born and brought up, and to migrate to towns in the forest, which they know only by name. On the other hand, the new reigning family come into the capital, and their people settle in the houses occupied by their forefathers four reigns ago. The king is generally elected by the leading men of his branch of the royal family; they choose the richest and most powerful of their number.[959]
293In Africa, chiefs and kings are chosen from different families on a rotational basis. Sometimes, the selection process is expanded by a rule dictating that the chief must be chosen from specific families in a particular order. For example, among the Bangalas of the Cassange Valley in Angola, the chief is selected from three families in rotation.[954] In Diagara, a region bordering Senegambia, an absolute monarch is chosen alternately from two families, one residing in Diapina and the other in Badumar.[955] In the Winamwanga tribe, south of Lake Tanganyika, the first male child born to a chief after he takes on the role is the natural heir. However, many years ago, there were two contenders for the throne, whose supporters were nearly equal, and to prevent a civil war, an arrangement was made. One contender was allowed to rule, while the other claimant or his son would follow him in succession. This has led to a continual alternation of dynasties.[956] Similarly, in the Matse tribe of Togoland in West Africa, two royal families, descended from two women, each take turns supplying a king. As a result, the palm forest owned by the crown is split into two sections; the ruling king has rights to one part, while the representative of the other royal house has rights to the other part.[957] Among the Yorubas in western Africa, the sovereign chief comes from one or more families that have the hereditary right to provide rulers for the community. In many instances, succession alternates between two families. However, in a seemingly unique case, the right to rule appears to be shared among four princely families, from each of which the chief is elected in rotation. The principle of primogeniture isn’t strictly followed, but the electors must choose someone related to a former chief through the male line. Only paternal descent is recognized in Yorubaland, where even the highest chief may marry a woman of the lowest status. Sometimes, the selection of the ruling chief is deemed to be sanctioned by divine authority, communicated to the community through the high priest of the principal god in the area.[958] Among the Igaras, located along the lower Niger, the royal family is split into four branches, with each providing a king in turn. The capital and its surrounding district, both named Idah, are occupied by the reigning branch of the royal family, while the other three branches, unable to reside there, retreat to the interior. Therefore, upon the death of a king, a twofold transition occurs. Firstly, the late ruling family, along with all their dependents, must leave their homes, where many were born and raised, and move to forest towns that they are only familiar with by name. Secondly, the new ruling family arrives in the capital, and their followers settle in the homes once occupied by their ancestors four reigns ago. The king is typically elected by the leading members of his branch of the royal family, who choose the wealthiest and most influential among them.[959]
|Among the Khasis of Assam, also, the succession to the kingdom is partly hereditary and partly elective.| Again, among the Khasis of Assam we meet with the same combination of the hereditary with the elective principle in the succession to the kingdom. Indeed, in this people the kingship presents several features of resemblance to the old Latin kingship as it appears to have existed at the dawn of history. For a Khasi king is the religious as well as the secular head of the state; along with the sooth-sayers he consults the auspices for the public good, and sometimes he has priestly duties to perform. Succession to the kingship always runs in the female line, for the Khasis have a regular system of mother-kin as opposed to father-kin; hence it is not the king’s sons, but his uterine brothers and the sons of his uterine sisters who succeed him on the 295throne in order of birth. But this hereditary principle is controlled by a body of electors, who have the right of rejecting unsuitable claimants to the throne. Generally the electors are a small body composed of the heads of certain priestly clans; but in some Khasi states the number of the electors has been greatly increased by the inclusion of representative headmen of certain important lay clans, or even by the inclusion of village headmen or of the chief superintendents of the village markets. Nay, in the Langrim state all the adult males regularly vote at the election of a monarch; and here the royal family is divided into two branches, a Black and a White, from either of which, apparently, the electors are free to choose a king. Similarly, in the Nobosohpoh state there are two royal houses, a Black and a White, and the people may select the heir to the throne from either of them.[960]
Among the Khasis of Assam, the succession to the kingdom is both hereditary and elected. Similarly, among the Khasis of Assam, we find a blend of hereditary and elective principles in the succession to the kingdom. In fact, the kingship among these people has several similarities to the ancient Latin kingship that seems to have existed at the beginning of history. A Khasi king is both the religious and secular leader of the state; he consults with soothsayers to determine favorable omens for the public good and sometimes has priestly duties to fulfill. Succession to the kingship follows the female line, as the Khasis adhere to a system of matrilineality rather than patrilineality; thus, it is not the king’s sons, but his uterine brothers and the sons of his uterine sisters who inherit the throne based on birth order. However, this hereditary principle is regulated by a group of electors who have the authority to dismiss unsuitable candidates for the throne. Generally, the electors consist of a small group made up of the leaders of specific priestly clans; but in some Khasi states, the number of electors has increased significantly by including representatives from important lay clans, village headmen, or chief overseers of village markets. For instance, in the Langrim state, all adult males regularly vote in the election of a monarch; here, the royal family is split into two branches, known as Black and White, and the electors can choose a king from either group. Likewise, in the Nobosohpoh state, there are two royal houses, a Black and a White, and the people have the option to select the heir to the throne from either one.[960]
|Thus the Roman monarchy may have combined the hereditary with the elective principle.| Thus the mere circumstance that all the Roman kings, with the exception of the two Tarquins, appear to have belonged to different families, is not of itself conclusive against the view that heredity was one of the elements which determined the succession. The number of families from whom the king might be elected may have been large. And even if, as is possible, the electors were free to chose a king without any regard to his birth, the hereditary principle would still be maintained if, as we have seen reason to conjecture, it was essential that the chosen candidate should marry a woman of the royal house, who would generally be either the daughter or the widow of his predecessor. In this way the apparently disparate principles of unfettered election and strict heredity would be combined; the marriage of the elected king with the hereditary princess would furnish the link between the two. Under such a system, to put it otherwise, the kings are elective and the queens hereditary. This is just the converse of what happens under a system of male kinship, where the kings are hereditary and the queens elective.
So, the Roman monarchy might have combined hereditary and elective principles. The fact that all the Roman kings, except for the two Tarquins, seem to come from different families doesn't automatically rule out the idea that heredity played a role in the succession. There may have been many families eligible for the kingship. Even if, as is possible, the electors could choose a king without considering his lineage, the hereditary principle would still hold if, as we suspect, it was crucial for the chosen candidate to marry a member of the royal family, typically the daughter or widow of his predecessor. This way, the seemingly conflicting principles of open election and strict heredity would be reconciled; the marriage of the elected king to the hereditary princess would create a connection between the two. In other words, under this system, kings are elected while queens are hereditary. This is the opposite of what happens in a male lineage system, where kings are hereditary and queens are elected.
In the later times of Rome it was held that the custom had been for the people to elect the kings and for the senate 296to ratify the election.[961] But we may suspect, with Mommsen, that this was no more than an inference from the mode of electing the consuls. The magistrates who, under the republic, represented the kings most closely were the dictator and the King of the Sacred Rites, and neither of these was elected by the people. Both were nominated, the dictator by the consul, and the King of the Sacred Rites by the chief pontiff.[962] Accordingly it seems probable that under |The king was probably nominated either by his predecessor or by an interim king.| the monarchy the king was nominated either by his predecessor or, failing that, by an interim king (interrex) chosen from the senate.[963] Now if, as we have been led to think, an essential claim to the throne was constituted by marriage with a princess of the royal house, nothing could be more natural than that the king should choose his successor, who would commonly be also his son-in-law. If he had several sons-in-law and had omitted to designate the one who was to reign after him, the election would be made by his substitute, the interim king.
In the later days of Rome, it was believed that the people would elect the kings and the senate would approve the election.296[961] However, we might suspect, like Mommsen, that this was just an assumption based on how consuls were chosen. The officials who most closely represented the kings during the republic were the dictator and the King of the Sacred Rites, and neither of these roles was elected by the people. Both were appointed: the dictator by the consul, and the King of the Sacred Rites by the chief pontiff.[962] It seems likely that under the monarchy, the king was appointed either by his predecessor or, if that was not possible, by an interim king (interrex) selected from the senate.[963] Now, if, as we've been led to believe, a key claim to the throne came from marrying a princess of the royal family, it would be completely natural for the king to choose his successor, who would usually also be his son-in-law. If he had multiple sons-in-law and hadn't specified who should reign after him, the election would be handled by his substitute, the interim king.
|Personal qualities which commended a man for marriage with a princess and succession to the throne.| The personal qualities which recommended a man for a royal alliance and succession to the throne would naturally vary according to the popular ideas of the time and the character of the king or his substitute, but it is reasonable to suppose that among them in early society physical strength and beauty would hold a prominent place.[964] We have seen that in Ashantee the husbands or paramours of the princesses must always be men of fine presence, because they are to be the fathers of future kings. Among the Ethiopians in antiquity, as among the Ashantees and many other African tribes to this day, the crown passed in the female line to the son of the king’s sister, but if there 297was no such heir they chose the handsomest and most valiant man to reign over them.[965] We are told that the Gordioi |Fat kings.| elected the fattest man to the kingship,[966] nor is this incredible when we remember that in Africa corpulence is still regarded as a great distinction and beauty, and that both the chiefs and their wives are sometimes so fat that they can hardly walk. Thus among the Caffres chiefs and rich men attain to an enormous bulk, and the queens fatten themselves on beef and porridge, of which they partake freely in the intervals of slumber. To be fat is with them a mark of riches, and therefore of high rank; common folk cannot afford to eat and drink and lounge as much as they would like to do.[967] The Syrakoi in antiquity are reported to have bestowed the crown on the tallest man or on the man with |Long-headed kings and chiefs.| the longest head in the literal, not the figurative, sense of the word.[968] They seem to have been a Sarmatian people to the north of the Caucasus,[969] and are probably the same with the long-headed people described by Hippocrates, who says that among them the men with the longest heads were esteemed the noblest, and that they applied bandages and other instruments to the heads of their children in infancy for the sake of moulding them into the shape which they admired.[970] Such reports are probably by no means fabulous, for among the Monbuttu or Mang-bettou of Central Africa down to this day “when the children of chiefs are young, string is wound round their heads, which are gradually compressed into a shape that will allow of the longest head-dress. The skull thus treated in childhood takes the appearance of an elongated egg.”[971] Similarly 298|Heads artificially moulded as a mark of high rank.| some of the Indian tribes on the north-west coast of America artificially mould the heads of their children into the shape of a wedge or a sugar-loaf by compressing them between boards; some of them regard such heads as a personal beauty, others as a mark of high birth.[972] For instance, “the practice among some of the Salish seems to have had a definite social, as well as aesthetic, significance. There appear to have been recognised degrees of contortion marking the social status of the individual. For example slaves, of which the Salish kept considerable numbers, were prohibited from deforming the heads of their children at all, consequently a normal, undeformed head was the sign and badge of servitude. And in the case of the base-born of the tribes the heads of their children were customarily but slightly deformed, while the heads of the children born of wealthy or noble persons, and particularly those of chiefs, were severely and excessively deformed.”[973]
|Personal traits that made a man fit for marrying a princess and for becoming king.| The personal qualities that made a man a good candidate for a royal marriage and for inheritance of the throne would naturally differ based on the prevailing ideas of the era and the attitude of the king or his representative. However, it’s reasonable to think that in early societies, physical strength and attractiveness were highly valued.[964] We've seen that in Ashantee, the husbands or lovers of princesses must always be strikingly handsome because they are expected to be the fathers of future kings. In ancient Ethiopia, similar to the Ashantees and many other African tribes today, the crown was passed through the female line to the son of the king’s sister. If there wasn’t such an heir, the people chose the most attractive and courageous man to rule over them.[965] We’re told that the Gordioi elected the heaviest man to be their king,[966] which isn’t surprising considering that in Africa, being overweight is still seen as a significant sign of distinction and beauty. Both chiefs and their wives can sometimes be so large that they struggle to walk. Among the Caffres, chiefs and affluent individuals can grow to an enormous size, while queens indulge in beef and porridge, consuming large amounts during their naps. For them, being fat is a sign of wealth and thus high status; ordinary people can’t afford to eat, drink, and relax as much as they wish.[967] The Syrakoi in ancient times reportedly crowned the tallest man or the man with the longest head in the literal sense.[968] They appeared to be a Sarmatian group from north of the Caucasus,[969] and are likely the same long-headed people described by Hippocrates, who noted that among them, the men with the longest heads were regarded as the most noble. They used bandages and other tools on their infants' heads to shape them into the form they found desirable.[970] These accounts are likely based on reality, as among the Monbuttu or Mang-bettou of Central Africa, even today “when chief's children are young, a string is wrapped around their heads, gradually flattening them into a shape that can accommodate the longest head-dress. The skull, treated this way in childhood, resembles an elongated egg.”[971] Similarly, some Indian tribes on the northwest coast of America reshape their children's heads into wedge or sugar-loaf forms by pressing them between boards. Some see such heads as a sign of physical beauty, while others consider them marks of high birth.[972] For instance, “the customs among some of the Salish appear to have had specific social, as well as aesthetic, importance. There seemed to be recognized levels of head shaping that indicated an individual's social standing. Slave children, for example, were not allowed to have their heads deformed at all, so a normal, undeformed head represented servitude. In contrast, the children of lower-class individuals had heads that were typically only slightly deformed, while the offspring of wealthy or noble people, especially chiefs, had their heads significantly and excessively deformed.”[973]
|Among the Bororos the best singers are the chiefs.| Among the Bororos of Brazil at the present day the title to chieftaincy is neither corpulence nor an egg-shaped head, but the possession of a fine musical ear and a rich baritone, bass, or tenor voice. The best singer, in fact, becomes the chief. There is no other way to supreme power but this. Hence in the education of the Bororo youth the main thing is to train, not their minds, but their voices, for the best of the tuneful quire will certainly be 299chief. In this tribe, accordingly, there is no such thing as hereditary chieftainship; for if the son of a chief has an indifferent ear or a poor voice, he will be a commoner to the end of his days. When two rival songsters are found in the same village, they sing against each other, and he who is judged to have acquitted himself best in the musical contest mounts the throne. His defeated rival sometimes retires in a huff with his admirers and founds a new village. Once seated in the place of power, the melodious singer is not only highly honoured and respected, but can exact unconditional obedience from all, and he gives his orders, like an operatic king or hero, in a musical recitativo. It is especially at eventide, when the sun has set and the labours of the day are over, that he pours out his soul in harmony. At that witching hour he takes up his post in front of the men’s club-house, and while his subjects are hushed in attention he bursts into sacred song, passing from that to lighter themes, and concluding the oratorio by chanting his commands to each individual for the next day.[974] When Addison ridiculed the new fashion of the Italian opera, in which generals sang the word of command, ladies delivered their messages in music, and lovers chanted their billet-doux, he little suspected that among the backwoods of Brazil a tribe of savages in all seriousness observed a custom which he thought absurd even on the stage.[975]
|In the Bororo community, the top singers are the chiefs.| Among the Bororos of Brazil today, the criteria for chieftaincy aren’t based on physical size or a distinct head shape, but on the ability to sing well and possess a strong baritone, bass, or tenor voice. Essentially, the best singer becomes the chief. There’s no other path to ultimate authority. Therefore, in the education of Bororo youth, the focus is on developing their voices rather than their minds, as the top singer in the group will undoubtedly be the chief. In this tribe, there is no hereditary leadership; if a chief’s son has a mediocre ear or a weak voice, he will be just a commoner for his entire life. When two rival singers exist in the same village, they compete against one another, and the one deemed the better performer in the singing contest ascends to the throne. The defeated rival might leave in anger with his followers and establish a new village. Once in power, the talented singer is not only extremely honored and respected but also commands absolute obedience from everyone. He delivers his directives, like an operatic king or hero, in a musical recitative. Especially at twilight, when the sun sets and the day’s work is finished, he expresses himself in song. At this enchanting hour, he stands in front of the men’s club-house, and while his people listen attentively, he begins with sacred songs, moves to lighter topics, and wraps up by singing his commands to each person for the next day.[974] When Addison mocked the new trend of Italian opera, where generals sang orders, ladies communicated through music, and lovers expressed their affection in song, he had no idea that in the jungles of Brazil, a tribe of people took a similar practice seriously—a custom he found ridiculous even on stage.[975]
|Succession to the throne determined by a race.| Sometimes apparently the right to the hand of the princess and to the throne has been determined by a race. The Alitemnian Libyans awarded the kingdom to the fleetest runner.[976] Amongst the old Prussians, candidates for nobility raced on horseback to the king, and the one who reached him first was ennobled.[977] According to tradition the earliest games at Olympia were held by Endymion, who set his sons to run a race for the kingdom. His tomb was said to be at the point of the racecourse from which the runners started.[978] The famous story of Pelops and Hippodamia 300|Greek traditions of princesses whose hands were won in a race.| is perhaps only another version of the legend that the first races at Olympia were run for no less a prize than a kingdom. For Oenomaus was king of Pisa, a town close to Olympia; and having been warned by an oracle that he would die by the hand of the man who married his daughter Hippodamia, he resolved to keep her a maid. So when any one came a-wooing her, the king made the suitor drive away in a chariot with Hippodamia, while he himself pursued the pair in another car drawn by fleet horses, and, overtaking the unlucky wight, slew him. In this way he killed twelve suitors and nailed their heads to his house, the ruins of which were shewn at Olympia down to the second century of our era. The bodies of the suitors were buried under a lofty mound, and it is said that in former days sacrifices were offered to them yearly. When Pelops came to win the hand of Hippodamia, he bribed the charioteer of Oenomaus not to put the pins into the wheels of the king’s chariot. So Oenomaus was thrown from the car and dragged by his horses to death. But some say he was despatched by Pelops according to the oracle. Anyhow, he died, and Pelops married Hippodamia and succeeded to the kingdom.[979] The grave of Oenomaus was shown at Olympia; it was a mound of earth enclosed with stones.[980] Here, too, precincts were dedicated to Pelops and Hippodamia, in which sacrifices were offered to them annually; the victim presented to Pelops was a black ram, whose blood was poured into a pit.[981] Other traditions were current in antiquity of princesses who were offered in marriage to the fleetest runner and won by the victor in the race. Thus Icarius at Sparta set the wooers of his daughter Penelope to run a race; Ulysses won and wedded her. His father-in-law is said to have tried to induce him to take up his abode in Sparta; which seems to shew that if Ulysses had accepted the invitation he would have inherited the kingdom through his wife.[982] So, too, the Libyan King Antaeus placed his beautiful daughter Barce or Alceis at the end of the racecourse; her many 301noble suitors, both Libyans and foreigners, ran to her as the goal, and Alcidamus, who touched her first, gained her in marriage.[983] Danaus, also, at Argos is said to have stationed his many daughters at the goal, and the runner who reached them first had first choice of the maidens.[984] Somewhat different from these traditions is the story of Atalante, for in it the wooers are said to have contended, not with each other, but with the coy maiden herself in a foot-race. She slew her vanquished suitors and hung up their heads in the racecourse, till Hippomenes gained the race and her hand by throwing down the golden apples which she stooped to pick up.[985]
|Throne succession determined by a race.| Sometimes it seems that the right to marry the princess and take the throne has been decided by a race. The Alitemnian Libyans awarded the kingdom to the fastest runner.[976] Among the old Prussians, candidates for nobility raced on horseback to the king, and whoever reached him first was ennobled.[977] According to tradition, the earliest games at Olympia were organized by Endymion, who had his sons race for the kingdom. His tomb was said to be at the starting point of the racecourse.[978] The well-known tale of Pelops and Hippodamia 300Greek traditions of princesses whose hands were earned through a race. is perhaps just another version of the legend that the first races at Olympia were held for a kingdom as a prize. Oenomaus was the king of Pisa, a town near Olympia; and having been warned by an oracle that he would die at the hands of the man who married his daughter Hippodamia, he decided to keep her single. So whenever someone came to court her, the king would make the suitor drive away in a chariot with Hippodamia while he chased after them in another chariot pulled by swift horses, and when he caught up to the poor guy, he would kill him. In this way, he killed twelve suitors and nailed their heads to his house, the ruins of which were shown at Olympia as late as the second century AD. The bodies of the suitors were buried under a tall mound, and it's said that in earlier days, sacrifices were made to them yearly. When Pelops came to win Hippodamia's hand, he bribed Oenomaus's charioteer not to secure the pins in the wheels of the king’s chariot. So Oenomaus was thrown from the chariot and dragged to his death by his horses. But some say Pelops killed him according to the oracle. Whatever the case, he died, and Pelops married Hippodamia and inherited the kingdom.[979] Oenomaus's grave was shown at Olympia; it was a mound of earth surrounded by stones.[980] Here, too, shrines were dedicated to Pelops and Hippodamia, where offerings were made to them every year; the sacrifice presented to Pelops was a black ram, whose blood was poured into a pit.[981] Other traditions from ancient times tell of princesses who were offered in marriage to the fastest runner and won by the victor of the race. For instance, Icarius at Sparta made the suitors of his daughter Penelope race; Ulysses won and married her. His father-in-law is said to have tried to persuade him to settle in Sparta, which shows that if Ulysses had accepted the invitation, he would have inherited the kingdom through his wife.[982] Similarly, the Libyan King Antaeus placed his beautiful daughter Barce or Alceis at the end of the racecourse; her many noble suitors, both Libyans and foreigners, raced to win her, and Alcidamus, who reached her first, married her.[983] Danaus, also, at Argos is said to have positioned his many daughters at the goal, and the runner who got there first could choose any of the maidens.[984] A bit different from these tales is the story of Atalante, where the suitors competed against the shy maiden herself in a footrace. She killed her defeated suitors and hung their heads on the racecourse until Hippomenes won the race and her hand by dropping golden apples for her to pick up.[985]
|Custom of racing for a bride among the Kirghiz and Calmucks.| These traditions may very well reflect a real custom of racing for a bride, for such a custom appears to have prevailed among various peoples, though in practice it has degenerated into a mere form or pretence. Thus “there is one race, called the ‘Love Chase,’ which may be considered a part of the form of marriage among the Kirghiz. In this the bride, armed with a formidable whip, mounts a fleet horse, and is pursued by all the young men who make any pretensions to her hand. She will be given as a prize to the one who catches her, but she has the right, besides urging on her horse to the utmost, to use her whip, often with no mean force, to keep off those lovers who are unwelcome to her, and she will probably favour the one whom she has already chosen in her heart. As, however, by Kirghiz custom, a suitor to the hand of a maiden is obliged to give a certain kalym, or purchase-money, and an agreement must be made with the father for the amount of dowry which he gives his daughter, the ‘Love Chase’ is a mere matter of form.”[986] Similarly “the ceremony of marriage among the Calmucks is performed on horseback. A girl is first mounted, who rides off in full speed. Her lover pursues; and if he overtakes her, she becomes his wife, and 302the marriage is consummated on the spot, after which she returns with him to his tent. But it sometimes happens that the woman does not wish to marry the person by whom she is pursued, in which case she will not suffer him to overtake her; and we were assured that no instance occurs of a Calmuck girl being thus caught unless she has a partiality for her pursuer. If she dislikes him she rides, to use the language of English sportsmen, ‘neck or nothing,’ until she has completely escaped, or until the pursuer’s horse is tired out, leaving her at liberty to return, to be afterwards chased by some more favoured admirer.”[987] The race for the bride is found also among the Koryaks of north-eastern Asia. It takes place in a large tent, round which many separate compartments called pologs are arranged in a continuous circle. The girl gets a start and is clear of the marriage if she can run through all the compartments without being caught by the bridegroom. The women of the encampment place every obstacle in the man’s way, tripping him up, belabouring him with switches, and so forth, so that he has little chance of succeeding unless the girl wishes it and waits for him.[988] Among some of the rude indigenous tribes of the Malay Peninsula “marriage is preceded by a singular ceremony. An old man presents the future couple to the assembled guests, and, followed by their families, he leads them to a great circle, round which the girl sets off to run as fast as she can. If the young man succeeds in overtaking her, she becomes his mate; otherwise he loses all rights, which happens especially when he is not so fortunate as to please his bride.”[989] Another writer tells us that among these savages, when there is a 303river at hand, the race takes place on the water, the bride paddling away in one canoe and pursued by the bridegroom in another.[990] Before the wedding procession starts for the |Caffre race for bride.| bridegroom’s hut, a Caffre bride is allowed to make one last bid for freedom, and a young man is told off to catch her. Should he fail to do so, she is theoretically allowed to return to her father, and the whole performance has to be repeated; but the flight of the bride is usually a pretence.[991]
|Tradition of racing for a bride among the Kirghiz and Calmucks.| These traditions likely reflect a genuine practice of racing for a bride, as such customs seem to have existed among various cultures, albeit often reduced to a mere formality. For example, there’s a race known as the ‘Love Chase,’ which is considered part of the marriage process among the Kirghiz. In this event, the bride, armed with a strong whip, rides a fast horse while being chased by all the young men vying for her hand. The one who catches her gets to marry her, but she can not only push her horse to its limits but also use her whip, often quite forcefully, to ward off suitors she doesn't want. Typically, she will favor the one she has already chosen in her heart. However, according to Kirghiz custom, a suitor must give a certain kalym, or bride price, and an arrangement must be made with the father regarding the dowry for his daughter, meaning the ‘Love Chase’ is mostly a formality.”[986] Likewise, “the marriage ceremony among the Calmucks is carried out on horseback. A girl first rides off at full speed, with her lover in pursuit. If he catches her, she becomes his wife, and the marriage is consummated right there, after which she goes back with him to his tent. However, it sometimes happens that the woman doesn’t want to marry the person chasing her; in which case, she won’t let him catch her. We were told there are no instances of a Calmuck girl being caught unless she has feelings for her pursuer. If she doesn’t like him, she rides, using the language of English sportsmen, ‘neck or nothing,’ until she either escapes completely or his horse gets tired, allowing her to return and potentially be chased by another admirer who is more favored.”[987] The race for the bride is also noted among the Koryaks in northeastern Asia. It takes place in a large tent, with many separate sections called pologs arranged in a continuous circle. The girl gets a head start and is free to go if she can run through all the sections without being caught by her groom. The women of the camp will do everything they can to hinder the man, tripping him and hitting him with switches, so he has little chance of success unless the girl decides to wait for him.[988] Among some of the more primitive indigenous tribes of the Malay Peninsula, “marriage begins with a unique ceremony. An elder presents the couple to the guests and, followed by their families, he leads them to a large circle where the girl starts to run as fast as possible. If the young man successfully catches her, she becomes his partner; if not, he loses all rights, especially if he fails to win her affection.”[989] Another writer informs us that among these tribes, when there’s a river nearby, the race happens on the water, with the bride paddling away in one canoe while the groom pursues her in another.[990] Before the wedding procession heads to the bridegroom’s hut, a Caffre bride gets one last chance at freedom, and a young man is assigned to catch her. If he fails, she is theoretically allowed to return to her father, and the entire event must occur again; however, the bride's escape is usually just an act.[991]
|The bride-race among Teutonic peoples, and its traces in modern Europe.| Similar customs appear to have been practised by all the Teutonic peoples; for the German, Anglo-Saxon, and Norse languages possess in common a word for marriage which means simply bride-race.[992] Moreover, traces of the custom survived into modern times. Thus in the Mark of Brandenburg, down to the first half of the nineteenth century at least, it was the practice for bride and bridegroom to run a race on their wedding day in presence of all the guests. Two sturdy men took the bride between them and set off. The bridegroom gave them a start and then followed hot-foot. At the end of the course stood two or three young married women, who took from the bride her maiden’s crown and replaced it by the matron’s cap. If the bridegroom failed to overtake his bride, he was much ridiculed.[993] In other parts of Germany races are still held at marriage, but the competitors are no longer the bride and bridegroom. Thus in Hesse at the wedding of a well-to-do farmer his friends race on horseback to the house of the bride, and her friends similarly race on horseback to the house of the bridegroom. The prize hangs over the gate of the farmyard or the door of the house. It consists of a silken or woollen 304handkerchief, which the winner winds round his head or fastens to his breast. The victors have also the right to escort the marriage procession.[994] In Upper Bavaria, down at least to some fifty years ago, a regular feature of a rustic wedding used to be what was called the “bride-race” or the “key-race.” It generally took place when the bridal party was proceeding from the church to the alehouse. A course was marked out and two goals, consisting of heaps of straw, were set up at distances of three and four hundred yards respectively. The strongest and fleetest of the young fellows raced barefoot, clad only in shirt and trousers. He who first reached the further goal received the first prize; this was regularly a key of gilt wood, which the winner fastened to his hat. Often, as in some of the Greek legends, the bride herself was the goal of the race. The writers who record the custom suggest that the race was originally for the key of the bridechamber, and that the bridegroom ran with the rest.[995] In Scotland also the guests at a rustic wedding used to ride on horseback for a prize, which sometimes consisted of the bride’s cake set up on a pole in front of the bridegroom’s house. The race was known as the broose.[996] At Weitensfeld, in Carinthia, a festival called the Bride-race is still held every year. It is popularly supposed to commemorate a time when a plague had swept away the whole people except a girl and three young men. These three, it is said, raced with each other in order that the winner might get the maiden to wife, and so repeople the land. The race is now held on horseback. The winner receives as the prize a garland of flowers called the Bride-wreath, and the man who comes in last gets a wreath of ribbons and pig’s bristles.[997] It seems not impossible that this custom is a relic of a fair at which the marriageable maidens of the year were assigned in order of merit to the young men who distinguished themselves by their feats of strength 305and agility. A practice of this sort appears to have prevailed |Assignment of brides to picked young men among the Samnites.| among the ancient Samnites. Every year the youths and maidens were tested publicly, and the young man who was adjudged best had first choice of the girls; the second best had the next choice, and so on with the rest.[998] “They say,” writes Strabo, “that the Samnites have a beautiful custom which incites to virtue. For they may not give their daughters in marriage to whom they please, but every year the ten best maidens and the ten best youths are picked out, and the best of the ten maidens is given to the best of the ten youths, and the second to the second, and so on. But if the man who wins one of these prizes should afterwards turn out a knave, they disgrace him and take the girl from him.”[999] The nature of the test to which the young men and women were subjected is not mentioned, but we may conjecture that it was mainly athletic.
The bride race among Germanic peoples and its remnants in modern Europe. Similar customs seem to have been practiced by all the Teutonic peoples; for the German, Anglo-Saxon, and Norse languages share a common word for marriage that simply means bride-race.[992] Moreover, traces of the custom survived into modern times. For instance, in the Mark of Brandenburg, up until at least the first half of the nineteenth century, it was common for the bride and groom to race on their wedding day in front of all the guests. Two strong men would carry the bride between them and set off running. The groom would give them a head start and then chase after them. At the finish line stood two or three young married women, who took the bride's maiden crown and replaced it with a matron’s cap. If the groom failed to catch up to his bride, he was ridiculed.[993] In other parts of Germany, races still occur at weddings, but the competitors are no longer the bride and groom. In Hesse, for example, during the wedding of a wealthy farmer, his friends race on horseback to the bride’s house, and her friends race on horseback to the groom’s house. The prize hangs over the gate of the farm or the door of the house. It consists of a silk or woollen 304handkerchief, which the winner ties around his head or attaches to his chest. The winners also have the right to lead the wedding procession.[994] In Upper Bavaria, at least up until about fifty years ago, a regular part of a rustic wedding included what was known as the “bride-race” or the “key-race.” This generally occurred when the wedding party was moving from the church to the tavern. A course was marked out and two goals, made of straw bales, were set up at distances of three and four hundred yards, respectively. The strongest and fastest young men raced barefoot, dressed only in shirts and trousers. The first to reach the far goal received the first prize; this was typically a gilt wooden key that the winner attached to his hat. Often, as noted in some of the Greek legends, the bride herself was the goal of the race. Writers who note this custom suggest that the race originally was for the key to the bridal chamber and that the groom ran along with the others.[995] In Scotland too, the guests at a country wedding would ride on horseback for a prize, which sometimes consisted of the bride’s cake displayed on a pole in front of the groom’s house. The race was known as the broose.[996] In Weitensfeld, in Carinthia, a festival called the Bride-race is still held every year. It is believed to commemorate a time when a plague wiped out the entire population except for a girl and three young men. These three raced against each other so that the winner could marry the maiden and help repopulate the land. The race is now held on horseback. The winner receives a prize of a flower garland called the Bride-wreath, and the last-place finisher gets a wreath of ribbons and pig’s bristles.[997] It seems possible that this custom is a remnant of a fair where the year's eligible maidens were assigned by merit to the young men who showcased their feats of strength 305and agility. A similar practice appears to have been followed Assignment of brides to selected young men among the Samnites. among the ancient Samnites. Every year the youths and maidens were publicly tested, and the young man deemed the best had first choice of the girls; the second best had the next choice, and so on for the rest.[998] “They say,” writes Strabo, “that the Samnites have a lovely custom that encourages virtue. For they cannot marry their daughters to whoever they want, but every year the ten best maidens and the ten best youths are selected, and the best of the ten maidens is given to the best of the ten youths, the second to the second, and so forth. But if the man who wins one of these prizes later turns out to be a bad person, he is shamed and the girl is taken away from him.”[999] The criteria for evaluating the young men and women is not mentioned, but we can guess that it was mainly athletic.
|Contests for a bride other than races.| The contests for a bride may be designed to try the skill, strength, and courage of the suitors as well as their horsemanship and speed of foot. Speaking of King’s County, Ireland, in the latter part of the eighteenth century, Arthur Young says: “There is a very ancient custom here, for a number of country neighbours among the poor people, to fix upon some young woman that ought, as they think, to be married; they also agree upon a young fellow as a proper husband for her; this determined, they send to the fair one’s cabin to inform her that on the Sunday following ‘she is to be horsed,’ that is, carried on men’s backs. She must then provide whisky and cyder for a treat, as all will pay her a visit after mass for a hurling match. As soon as she is horsed, the hurling begins, in which the young fellow appointed for her husband has the eyes of all the company fixed on him: if he comes off conqueror, he is certainly married to the girl; but if another is victorious, he as certainly loses her, for she is the prize of the victor. These trials are not always finished in one Sunday, they take sometimes two or three, and the common expression when they are over is, that ‘such a girl was goal’d.’ Sometimes one 306barony hurls against another, but a marriageable girl is always the prize. Hurling is a sort of cricket, but instead of throwing the ball in order to knock down a wicket, the aim is to pass it through a bent stick, the ends stuck in the ground.”[1000] In the great Indian epic the Mahabharata it is |The Indian Svayamvara.| related that the hand of the lovely Princess Draupadi or Krishna, daughter of the King of the Panchalas, was only to be won by him who could bend a certain mighty bow and shoot five arrows through a revolving wheel so as to hit the target beyond. After many noble wooers had essayed the task in vain, the disguised Arjun was successful, and carried off the princess to be the wife of himself and his four brothers.[1001] This was an instance of the ancient Indian practice of Svayamvara, in accordance with which a maiden of high rank either chose her husband from among her assembled suitors or was offered as the prize to the conqueror in a trial of skill. The custom was occasionally observed among the Rajputs down to a late time.[1002] The Tartar king Caidu, the cousin and opponent of Cublay Khan, is said to have had a beautiful daughter named Aijaruc, or “the Bright Moon,” who was so tall and brawny that she outdid all men in her father’s realm in feats of strength. She vowed she would never marry till she found a man who could vanquish her in wrestling. Many noble suitors came and tried a fall with her, but she threw them all; and from every one whom she had overcome she exacted a hundred horses. In this way she collected an immense stud.[1003] In the Nibelungenlied the fair Brunhild, Queen of Iceland, was only to be won in marriage by him who could beat her in three trials of strength, and the unsuccessful wooers forfeited their heads. Many had thus perished, but at last Gunther, King of the Burgundians, vanquished and 307married her.[1004] It is said that Sithon, King of the Odomanti in Thrace, had a lovely daughter, Pallene, and that many |Hippoclides at Sicyon, and how he danced away his marriage.| men came a-wooing her not only from Thrace but from Illyria and the country of the Don. But her father said that he who would wed his daughter must first fight himself and pay with his life the penalty of defeat. Thus he slew many young men. But when he was grown old and his strength had failed, he set two of the wooers, by name Dryas and Clitus, to fight each other for the kingdom and the hand of the princess. The combat was to take place in chariots, but the princess, being in love with Clitus, bribed his rival’s charioteer to put no pins in the wheels of his chariot; so Dryas came to the ground, and Clitus slew him and married the king’s daughter.[1005] The tale agrees closely with that of Pelops and Hippodamia. Both stories probably contain, in a legendary form, reminiscences of a real custom. Within historical times Clisthenes, tyrant of Sicyon, made public proclamation at the Olympian games that he would give his daughter Agariste in marriage to that suitor who, during a year’s trial, should prove himself the best. So many young men who prided themselves on their persons and on their lineage assembled at Sicyon from all parts of the Greek world. The tyrant had a racecourse and a wrestling school made on purpose for them, and there he put them through their paces. Of all the suitors none pleased him so much as Hippoclides, the handsomest and richest man of Athens, a scion of the old princely house of Cypselus. And when the year was up and the day had come on which the award was to be made, the tyrant sacrificed a hundred oxen and entertained the suitors and all the people of Sicyon at a splendid banquet. Dinner being over, the wine went round and the suitors fell to wrangling as to their accomplishments and their wit. In this feast of reason the gay Hippoclides outshone himself and them all until, flushed with triumph and liquor, he jumped on a table, danced to music, and then, as a finishing touch, stood on his head and sawed the air with 308his legs. This was too much. The tyrant in disgust told him he had danced away his marriage.[1006]
|Competitions for a bride aside from races.| The contests for a bride can test the skill, strength, and courage of the suitors, along with their horsemanship and speed. Referring to King’s County, Ireland, in the late eighteenth century, Arthur Young mentions: “There is an old custom here among the local poor folk, where they pick a young woman they believe should get married; they also choose a young man they think would be a suitable husband for her. Once they decide, they send someone to her home to inform her that the following Sunday ‘she is to be horsed,’ which means she will be carried on men’s backs. She must then prepare whisky and cider for a gathering, as everyone will visit her after mass for a hurling match. As soon as she is horsed, the hurling begins, and the young man chosen as her husband has everyone’s attention on him: if he wins, he gets to marry her; but if another wins, he loses her, as she becomes the prize of the victor. These trials don’t always finish in one Sunday; they can sometimes take two or three, and the common phrase afterward is that ‘such a girl was goal’d.’ Occasionally, one barony hurls against another, but a marriageable girl is always the prize. Hurling is similar to cricket, but instead of throwing a ball to knock down a wicket, the goal is to pass it through a bent stick stuck in the ground.”[1000] In the great Indian epic the Mahabharata it is The Indian Svayamvara. said that the hand of the beautiful Princess Draupadi or Krishna, daughter of the King of the Panchalas, could only be won by the man who could bend a certain mighty bow and shoot five arrows through a revolving wheel to hit the target beyond. After many noble suitors tried and failed, the disguised Arjun succeeded and took the princess to be the wife of himself and his four brothers.[1001] This was an example of the ancient Indian practice of Svayamvara, where a high-ranking maiden either chose her husband from her assembled suitors or was offered as the prize to the winner in a skill challenge. This custom was sometimes observed among the Rajputs well into a later time.[1002] The Tartar king Caidu, cousin and rival of Cublay Khan, was said to have a beautiful daughter named Aijaruc, or “the Bright Moon,” who was so tall and muscular that she surpassed all men in her father’s realm in physical feats. She vowed never to marry until she found a man who could defeat her in wrestling. Many noble suitors came and tried to wrestle her, but she threw them all and demanded a hundred horses from each one she defeated. In this way, she amassed a huge collection of horses.[1003] In the Nibelungenlied, the fair Brunhild, Queen of Iceland, could only be won in marriage by the man who could best her in three strength trials, with the unsuccessful suitors losing their lives. Many had died, but at last, Gunther, King of the Burgundians, overcame her and married her.[1004] It is said that Sithon, King of the Odomanti in Thrace, had a lovely daughter named Pallene, and many men came to woo her, not only from Thrace but also from Illyria and the country of the Don. However, her father declared that anyone who wished to marry his daughter must first fight him and pay with his life if defeated. Thus, he killed many young men. But when he grew old and grew weak, he set two of the suitors, Dryas and Clitus, to fight each other for both the kingdom and the hand of the princess. The battle was to take place in chariots, but the princess, secretly in love with Clitus, bribed his rival’s charioteer to sabotage Clitus' chariot. As a result, Dryas fell, and Clitus killed him and married the king’s daughter.[1005] The tale closely resembles that of Pelops and Hippodamia. Both stories likely hold legendary memories of an actual custom. In recorded history, Clisthenes, the tyrant of Sicyon, publicly declared during the Olympic games that he would give his daughter Agariste in marriage to the suitor who, over a year’s trial, proved himself the best. Many young men, proud of their looks and lineage, gathered in Sicyon from all over the Greek world. The tyrant had a racecourse and a wrestling school built specifically for them, where he put them to the test. Out of all the suitors, none impressed him more than Hippoclides, the handsomest and wealthiest man from Athens, a descendant of the old princely house of Cypselus. When the year was up and the day arrived for the final decision, the tyrant sacrificed a hundred oxen and hosted a lavish banquet for the suitors and the people of Sicyon. After dinner, as the wine flowed, the suitors boasted about their skills and wit. In this contest of reasoning, the lively Hippoclides took the spotlight until, feeling bold from both triumph and drink, he jumped on a table, danced to the music, and then, to top it off, stood on his head and kicked his legs in the air. That was too much for the tyrant, who, in disgust, told him he had danced away his chance at marriage.[1006]
|The annual flight of the king (regifugium) at Rome may have been a relic of his contest for the kingdom and for the hand of the princess.| Thus it appears that the right to marry a girl, and especially a princess, has often been conferred as a prize in an athletic contest. There would be no reason, therefore, for surprise if the Roman kings, before bestowing their daughters in marriage, should have resorted to this ancient mode of testing the personal qualities of their future sons-in-law and successors. If my theory is correct, the Roman king and queen personated Jupiter and his divine consort, and in the character of these divinities went through the annual ceremony of a sacred marriage for the purpose of causing the crops to grow and men and cattle to be fruitful and multiply. Thus they did what in more northern lands we may suppose the King and Queen of May were believed to do in days of old. Now we have seen that the right to play the part of the King of May and to wed the Queen of May has sometimes been determined by an athletic contest, particularly by a race.[1007] This may have been a relic of an old marriage custom of the sort we have examined, a custom designed to test the fitness of a candidate for matrimony. Such a test might reasonably be applied with peculiar rigour to the king in order to ensure that no personal defect should incapacitate him for the performance of those sacred rites and ceremonies on which, even more than on the despatch of his civil and military duties, the safety and prosperity of the community were believed to depend. And it would be natural to require of him that from time to time he should submit himself afresh to the same ordeal for the sake of publicly demonstrating that he was still equal to the discharge of his high calling. A relic of that test perhaps survived in the ceremony known as the Flight of the King (regifugium), continued to be annually observed at Rome down to imperial times. On the twenty-fourth day of 309February a sacrifice used to be offered in the Comitium, and when it was over the King of the Sacred Rites fled from the Forum.[1008] We may conjecture that the Flight of the King was originally a race for an annual kingship, which may have been awarded as a prize to the fleetest runner. At the end of the year the king might run again for a second term of office; and so on, until he was defeated and deposed or perhaps slain. In this way what had once been a race would tend to assume the character of a flight and a pursuit. The king would be given a start; he ran and his competitors ran after him, and if he were overtaken he had to yield the crown and perhaps his life to the lightest of foot among them. In time a man of masterful character might succeed in seating himself permanently on the throne and reducing the annual race or flight to the empty form which it seems always to have been within historical times.[1009] The rite was sometimes interpreted as a commemoration of the expulsion of the kings from Rome; but this appears to have been a mere afterthought devised to explain a ceremony of which the old meaning was forgotten. It is far more likely that in acting thus the King of the Sacred Rites was merely keeping up an ancient custom which in the regal period had been annually observed by 310his predecessors the kings. What the original intention of the rite may have been must probably always remain more or less a matter of conjecture. The present explanation is suggested with a full sense of the difficulty and obscurity in which the subject is involved.
The yearly flight of the king (regifugium) in Rome may have been a leftover from his fight for the throne and for the princess's hand. It seems that the right to marry a girl, especially a princess, has often been given as a reward in an athletic competition. So, there would be no reason to be surprised if the Roman kings, before marrying off their daughters, used this ancient method to assess the personal qualities of their future sons-in-law and successors. If my theory holds, the Roman king and queen represented Jupiter and his divine partner, and in these roles, they performed the annual ritual of a sacred marriage to promote the growth of crops and the fertility of people and livestock. This mirrors what we might think the King and Queen of May were believed to do in ancient times in northern lands. We have seen that the right to take on the role of the King of May and to marry the Queen of May has sometimes been determined through an athletic contest, particularly a race.[1007] This may have been a remnant of an old marriage tradition of the kind we've discussed, a custom aimed at testing a candidate's suitability for marriage. Such a test might understandably be applied with particular rigor to the king to ensure that he had no personal flaws that would prevent him from carrying out the sacred rights and ceremonies upon which, more than on the execution of his civil and military duties, the community's safety and success were thought to rely. It would be natural to expect him to periodically submit himself to this ordeal to publicly demonstrate that he was still capable of fulfilling his important role. Perhaps a relic of that test survived in the ceremony known as the Flight of the King (regifugium), which continued to be observed annually in Rome right up to imperial times. On February 24th, a sacrifice was offered in the Comitium, and once that was done, the King of the Sacred Rites would flee from the Forum.[1008] We can speculate that the Flight of the King was originally a race for an annual kingship, awarded as a prize to the fastest runner. At the end of the year, the king might run again for a new term; this would continue until he was either defeated and removed from his position or perhaps killed. Thus, what had once been a race would evolve into a flight and a pursuit. The king would be given a head start; he would run away while his competitors chased after him, and if he was caught, he had to surrender the crown and possibly his life to the swiftest among them. Over time, a strong-willed individual might manage to establish himself permanently on the throne, turning the annual race or flight into a mere formality, as it seems to have been in historical times.[1009] The ritual was sometimes seen as a commemoration of the expulsion of the kings from Rome; however, this seems likely to have been a later explanation created to rationalize a ceremony whose original meaning had been forgotten. It’s far more probable that in performing this act, the King of the Sacred Rites was simply maintaining an ancient custom that had been annually observed by his royal predecessors. The original purpose of the rite will likely always remain somewhat uncertain. The current explanation is offered with a full acknowledgment of the challenges and ambiguities surrounding this topic.
|The theory is confirmed by the evidence that at the Saturnalia a man used to personate the god Saturn and to be put to death in that character.| Thus, if my theory is correct, the yearly flight of the Roman king was a relic of a time when the kingship was an annual office awarded, along with the hand of a princess, to the victorious athlete or gladiator, who thereafter figured along with his bride as a god and goddess at a sacred marriage designed to ensure the fertility of the earth by homoeopathic magic. Now this theory is to a certain extent remarkably confirmed by an ancient account of the Saturnalia which was discovered and published some years ago by a learned Belgian scholar, Professor Franz Cumont of Ghent. From that account we learn that down to the beginning of the fourth century of our era, that is, down nearly to the establishment of Christianity by Constantine, the Roman soldiers stationed on the Danube were wont to celebrate the Saturnalia in a barbarous fashion which must certainly have dated from a very remote antiquity. Thirty days before the festival they chose by lot from among themselves a young and handsome man, who was dressed in royal robes to resemble the god Saturn. In that character he was allowed to indulge all his passions to the fullest extent; but when his brief reign of thirty days was over, and the festival of Saturn was come, he had to cut his own throat on the altar of the god he personated.[1010] We can hardly doubt that this tragic figure, whom a fatal lot doomed to masquerade for a short time as a deity and to 311die as such a violent death, was the true original of the merry monarch or King of the Saturnalia, as he was called, whom a happier lot invested with the playful dignity of Master of the Winter Revels.[1011] In all probability the grim predecessor of the frolicsome King of the Saturnalia belonged to that class of puppets who in some countries have been suffered to reign nominally for a few days each year merely for the sake of discharging a burdensome or fatal obligation which otherwise must have fallen on the real king.[1012] If that is so, we may infer that the part of the god Saturn, who was commonly spoken of as a king,[1013] was formerly played at the Saturnalia by the Roman king himself. And a trace of the Sacred Marriage may perhaps be detected in the licence accorded to the human representatives of Saturn, a licence which, if I am right, is strictly analogous to the old orgies of May Day and other similar festivals. It is to be observed that Saturn was |Saturn the god of seed, and the Saturnalia a festival of sowing.| the god of the seed, and the Saturnalia the festival of sowing held in December,[1014] when the autumn sowing was over and the husbandman gave himself up to a season of jollity after the long labours of summer and autumn.[1015] On the principles of 312homoeopathic magic nothing could be more natural than that, when the last seeds had been committed to the earth, the marriage of the powers of vegetation should be simulated by their human representatives for the purpose of sympathetically quickening the seed. In short, no time could be more suitable for the celebration of the Sacred Marriage. We have seen as a matter of fact that the sowing of the seed has often been accompanied by sexual orgies with the express intention of thereby promoting the growth of the crops. At all events the view that the King’s Flight at Rome was a mitigation of an old custom of putting him to death at the end of a year’s tenure of office, is confirmed by the practice of annually slaying a human representative of the divine king Saturn, which survived in some parts of the Roman empire, though not at Rome itself, down to Christian times.
The theory is backed by evidence that during the Saturnalia, a man would take on the role of the god Saturn and be sacrificed in that capacity. So, if my theory is correct, the annual flight of the Roman king is a leftover from a time when kingship was an annual position given, along with the hand of a princess, to the winning athlete or gladiator, who then acted as a god and goddess along with his bride in a sacred marriage intended to ensure the earth's fertility through homoeopathic magic. This theory is significantly backed by an ancient account of the Saturnalia unearthed and published a few years ago by learned Belgian scholar, Professor Franz Cumont of Ghent. According to that account, until the early fourth century, just before Christianity was established by Constantine, Roman soldiers stationed on the Danube celebrated the Saturnalia in a crude manner that likely dates back to very ancient times. Thirty days before the festival, they would randomly choose a young and handsome man from among themselves, who was dressed in royal attire to resemble the god Saturn. In that role, he was allowed to indulge all his desires to the fullest; but when his short reign of thirty days ended and the festival of Saturn arrived, he was required to cut his own throat on the altar of the god he represented.[1010] We can hardly doubt that this tragic figure, who was fated to dress up as a deity for a brief time and to meet such a violent end, was the real origin of the joyful monarch or King of the Saturnalia, as he was known, whom a happier fate bestowed with the playful title of Master of the Winter Revels.[1011] It's likely that the grim predecessor of the joyful King of the Saturnalia belonged to the group of figures who in some cultures have been allowed to reign nominally for a few days each year simply to fulfill a burdensome or deadly obligation that otherwise would have fallen on the true king.[1012] If that’s the case, we might infer that the part of the god Saturn, commonly referred to as a king,[1013] was originally played at the Saturnalia by the Roman king himself. There may be a trace of the Sacred Marriage in the freedom allowed to the human representatives of Saturn, a freedom which, if I'm correct, closely resembles the ancient May Day orgies and other similar festivities. It’s important to note that Saturn was |The god of seeds, and the Saturnalia was a festival for planting.| the god of seeds, and the Saturnalia was the sowing festival held in December,[1014] when the autumn sowing was finished and the farmer enjoyed a season of celebration after the long work of summer and autumn.[1015] Based on the principles of homoeopathic magic, it makes perfect sense that after the last seeds were planted, the marriage of the powers of vegetation would be symbolically represented by their human counterparts to sympathetically enhance the seed. In summary, there couldn’t be a more appropriate time to celebrate the Sacred Marriage. We have observed that the sowing of seed has often been accompanied by sexual orgies with the express goal of promoting the growth of crops. In any case, the belief that the King’s Flight in Rome was a softening of an ancient custom of executing him at the end of a year in office is supported by the ongoing practice of annually sacrificing a human representative of the divine king Saturn, which persisted in parts of the Roman Empire, though not in Rome itself, up until Christian times.
|If the Latin kings were begotten at the licentious festival of the Saturnalia, we could understand why their paternity was sometimes uncertain, and why they might be of servile parentage.| This theory would throw light on some dark passages in the legends of the Roman kingship, such as the obscure and humble births of certain kings and their mysterious ends. For if the sacred marriage took place at a licentious festival like the Saturnalia, when slaves were temporarily granted the privileges of freemen,[1016] it might well be that the paternity of the children begotten at this time, including those of the royal family, was a matter of uncertainty; nay, it might be known that the king or queen had offspring by a slave. Such offspring of a royal father and a slave mother, or of a royal mother and a slave father, would rank as princes and princesses according as male or female kinship prevailed. Under a system of male kinship the union of the king with a slave woman would give birth to a Servius Tullius, and, according to one tradition, to a Romulus. If female kinship prevailed in the royal family, as we have seen reason to suppose, it is possible that the stories of the birth of Romulus and 313Servius from slave mothers is a later inversion of the facts, and that what really happened was that some of the old Latin kings were begotten by slave fathers on royal princesses at the festival of the Saturnalia. The disappearance of female kinship would suffice to account for the warping of the tradition. All that was distinctly remembered would be that some of the kings had had a slave for one of their parents; and people living under a system of paternal descent would naturally conclude that the slave parent of a king could only be the mother, since according to their ideas no son of a slave father could be of royal blood and sit on the throne.[1017]
|If the Latin kings were born during the chaotic festival of the Saturnalia, it makes sense why their parentage was sometimes uncertain and why they could have been born to servants.| This idea could illuminate some confusing parts of the legends surrounding the Roman kingship, like the obscure and humble origins of certain kings and their mysterious fates. Because if the sacred marriage happened during a wild festival like the Saturnalia, when slaves temporarily enjoyed the rights of free people,[1016] it’s possible that the paternity of children conceived during this time, including those in the royal family, was uncertain; indeed, it might have been known that the king or queen had children with a slave. Such children of a royal father and a slave mother, or of a royal mother and a slave father, would be considered princes and princesses based on whether male or female kinship was dominant. In a male-dominated kinship system, the union of the king with a slave woman could produce a Servius Tullius, and, according to one account, even a Romulus. If female kinship was more prominent in the royal family, as we have reason to believe, it’s possible that the tales of Romulus and Servius being born from slave mothers are a later distortion of the facts, and that in reality, some of the early Latin kings were conceived by slave fathers with royal princesses at the Saturnalia festival. The disappearance of female kinship would sufficiently explain the alteration of tradition. What was clearly remembered was that some kings had a slave as one of their parents; and in a society that practiced paternal lineage, people would naturally conclude that the slave parent of a king must have been the mother, since according to their beliefs, no son of a slave father could be of royal blood and ascend to the throne.[1017]
|The violent ends of the Roman kings.| Again, if I am right in supposing that in very early times the old Latin kings personated a god and were regularly put to death in that character, we can better understand the mysterious or violent ends to which so many of them are said to have come. Too much stress should not, however, be laid on such legends, for in a turbulent state of society kings, like commoners, are apt to be knocked on the head for much sounder reasons than a claim to divinity. Still, it is worth while to note that Romulus is said to have vanished mysteriously like Aeneas, or to have been cut to pieces by the patricians whom he had offended,[1018] |Death of Romulus on the seventh of July, the Nonae Caprotinae, at a festival resembling the Saturnalia.| and that the seventh of July, the day on which he perished, was a festival which bore some resemblance to the Saturnalia. For on that day the female slaves were allowed to take certain remarkable liberties. They dressed up as free women in the attire of matrons and maids, and in this guise they went forth from the city, scoffed and jeered at all whom they met, and engaged among themselves in a fight, striking and throwing stones at each other. Moreover, they feasted under a wild fig-tree, made use of a rod cut from the tree for a certain purpose, perhaps to beat each other with, and offered the milky juice of the tree in sacrifice to Juno Caprotina, whose name appears to mean either the goddess of the goat (caper) or the goddess of the wild fig-tree, for 314|The Nonae Caprotinae seems to have been the festival of the fertilisation of the fig.| the Romans called a wild fig-tree a goat-fig (caprificus). Hence the day was called the Nonae Caprotinae after the animal or the tree. The festival was not peculiar to Rome, but was held by women throughout Latium.[1019] It can hardly be dissociated from a custom which was observed by ancient husbandmen at this season. They sought to fertilise the fig-trees or ripen the figs by hanging strings of fruit from a wild fig-tree among the boughs. The practice appears to be very old. It has been employed in Greece both in ancient and modern times, and Roman writers often refer to it. Palladius recommends the solstice in June, that is Midsummer Day, as the best time for the operation; Columella prefers July.[1020] In Sicily at the present day the operation is performed either on Midsummer Day (the festival of St. John the Baptist) or in the early days of July;[1021] in Morocco and North Africa generally it takes place on Midsummer Day.[1022] The wild fig-tree is a male and 315the cultivated fig-tree is a female, and the fertilisation is effected by insects, which are engendered in the fruit of the male tree and convey the pollen to the blossom of the female.[1023] Thus the placing of wild figs, laden with pollen and insects, among the boughs of the cultivated fig-tree is, like the artificial fertilisation of the date-palm,[1024] a real marriage of the trees, and it may well have been regarded as such by the peasants of antiquity long before the true theory of the process was discovered. Now the fig is an |Importance of the fig as an article of diet.| important article of diet in countries bordering on the Mediterranean. In Palestine, for example, the fruit is not, as with us, merely an agreeable luxury, but is eaten daily and forms indeed one of the staple productions of the country. “To sit every man under his vine, and under his fig tree” was the regular Jewish expression for the peaceable possession of the Holy Land; and in the fable of Jotham the fig-tree is invited by the other trees, next after the olive, to come and reign over them.[1025] When Sandanis the Lydian 316attempted to dissuade Croesus from marching against the Persians, he represented to him that there was nothing to be gained by conquering the inhabitants of a barren country who neither drank wine nor ate figs.[1026] An Arab commentator on the Koran observes that “God swears by these two trees, the fig and the olive, because among fruit-trees they surpass all the rest. They relate that a basket of figs was offered to the prophet Mohammed, and when he had eaten one he bade his comrades do the same, saying, ‘Truly, if I were to say that any fruit had come down from Paradise, I would say it of the fig.’”[1027] Hence it would be natural that a process supposed to be essential to the ripening of so favourite a fruit should be the occasion of a popular festival. We may suspect that the license allowed to slave women on this day formed part of an ancient Saturnalia, at which the loose behaviour of men and women was supposed to secure the fertilisation of the fig-trees by homoeopathetic magic.
The brutal deaths of the Roman kings. Again, if I'm correct in thinking that in very early times the old Latin kings acted as gods and were regularly killed in that role, we can better understand the mysterious or violent ends that many of them are said to have met. However, we shouldn't place too much emphasis on such legends, because in a chaotic society, kings, like commoners, are often killed for much more practical reasons than a claim to divinity. Still, it's worth noting that Romulus is said to have vanished mysteriously like Aeneas or to have been cut to pieces by the patricians he had offended,[1018] Death of Romulus on July 7th, during the Nonae Caprotinae festival, which is similar to the Saturnalia. and that the seventh of July, the day he died, was a festival that seemed somewhat like the Saturnalia. On that day, the female slaves were allowed to take certain remarkable liberties. They dressed as free women in the clothing of married women and maids, and in this disguise they left the city, mocking and jeering at everyone they encountered, and engaged in fights, hitting and throwing stones at each other. They also feasted under a wild fig tree, used a rod taken from the tree for a specific purpose, possibly to hit each other, and offered the milky sap of the tree in sacrifice to Juno Caprotina, whose name seems to mean either the goddess of the goat (caper) or the goddess of the wild fig tree, for314The Nonae Caprotinae appears to have been the festival celebrating the fertilization of the fig. the Romans called a wild fig tree a goat-fig (caprificus). Thus, the day was called the Nonae Caprotinae after the animal or the tree. The festival wasn't unique to Rome but was celebrated by women throughout Latium.[1019] It can hardly be separated from a custom observed by ancient farmers at this time. They sought to fertilize the fig trees or ripen the figs by hanging strings of fruit from a wild fig tree among the branches. This practice seems to be very old. It has been used in Greece both in ancient and modern times, and Roman writers often mention it. Palladius suggests the summer solstice in June, that is Midsummer Day, as the best time for this operation; Columella prefers July.[1020] In Sicily today, this operation is done either on Midsummer Day (the festival of St. John the Baptist) or in the early days of July;[1021] in Morocco and North Africa generally, it takes place on Midsummer Day.[1022] The wild fig tree is male, and the cultivated fig tree is female, with fertilization taking place through insects, which are born in the fruit of the male tree and carry the pollen to the blossom of the female.[1023] Therefore, placing wild figs, rich in pollen and insects, among the branches of the cultivated fig tree is, like the artificial fertilization of the date-palm,[1024] a true marriage of the trees, and it may well have been seen as such by ancient farmers long before the actual theory of the process was understood. Now the fig is an|Importance of figs as a food source.| important food item in countries surrounding the Mediterranean. In Palestine, for instance, the fruit is not merely a delightful luxury, as it is for us, but is eaten daily and is indeed one of the staple products of the area. “To sit every man under his vine, and under his fig tree” was the usual Jewish expression for the peaceful ownership of the Holy Land; and in the fable of Jotham, the fig tree is invited by the other trees, after the olive, to come and rule over them.[1025] When Sandanis the Lydian tried to convince Croesus not to march against the Persians, he pointed out that there was no benefit in conquering the inhabitants of a barren land who neither drank wine nor ate figs.[1026] An Arab commentator on the Koran notes that “God swears by these two trees, the fig and the olive, because among fruit trees they stand out above all the rest. It is said that a basket of figs was offered to the prophet Mohammed, and when he ate one, he told his companions to do the same, saying, ‘Truly, if I were to say that any fruit had come down from Paradise, I would say it of the fig.’”[1027] Therefore, it makes sense that a process thought to be crucial for the ripening of such a favored fruit would be the cause of a popular festival. We may suspect that the freedom given to slave women on this day was part of an ancient Saturnalia, where the unruly behavior of men and women was believed to ensure the fertilization of the fig trees through sympathetic magic.
|At the festival of the seventh of July women were probably thought to be fertilised by the fig as well as to fertilise it.| But it is possible and indeed probable that the fertilisation was believed to be mutual; in other words, it may have been imagined, that while the women caused the fig-tree to bear fruit, the tree in its turn caused them to bear children. This conjecture is confirmed by a remarkable African parallel. The Akikuyu of British East Africa attribute to the wild fig-tree |Supposed fertilisation of barren women by the wild fig-tree among the Akikuyu of British East Africa.| the power of fertilising barren women. For this purpose they apply the white sap or milk to various parts of the body of the would-be mother; then, having sacrificed a goat, they tie the woman to a wild fig-tree with long strips cut from the intestines of the sacrificial animal. “This seems,” writes Mr. C. W. Hobley, who reports the custom, “to be a case of the tree marriage of India. I fancy there is an idea of ceremonial marriage with the ancestral spirits which are said to inhabit certain of these fig-trees; in fact it supports the Kamba idea of the spiritual husbands.”[1028] The belief in spiritual husbands, 317|Belief of the Akamba that the spirits of the dead live in wild fig-trees.| to which Mr. Hobley here briefly refers, is as follows. The Akamba of British East Africa imagine that every married woman is at the same time the wife of a living man and also the wife of the spirit of some departed ancestor (aimu). They are firmly convinced that the fertility of a wife depends to a great extent on the attentions of her spiritual husband, and if she does not conceive within six months after marriage they take it as a sign that her spiritual husband is neglecting her; so they offer beer and kill a goat as a propitiatory sacrifice. If after that the woman still remains barren, they make a bigger feast and kill a bullock. On the other hand, if a wife is found to be with child soon after marriage, they are glad and consider it a proof that she has found favour in the eyes of her ghostly husband. Further, they believe that at death the human spirit quits the bodily frame and takes up its abode in a wild fig-tree (mumbo); hence they build miniature huts at the foot of those fig-trees which are thought to be haunted by the souls of the dead, and they periodically sacrifice to these spirits.[1029] Accordingly, we may conjecture, though we are not told, that amongst the Akamba, as among the Akikuyu, a barren woman sometimes resorts to a wild fig-tree in order to obtain a child, since she believes that her spiritual spouse has his abode in the tree. The Akikuyu clearly attribute a special power of fertilisation to the milky sap of the tree, since they apply it to various parts of the woman who desires to become a mother: perhaps they regard it as the seed of the fig. This may explain why the Roman slave-women offered the milky juice of the tree to Juno Caprotina; they may have intended thereby to add to the fecundity of the mother goddess. And we can scarcely doubt that the rods which they cut from the wild fig-tree, for the purpose apparently of beating each other, were supposed to communicate the generative virtue of the tree to the women who 318|Supposed fertilisation of women by the wild banana-tree among the Baganda.| were struck by them. The Baganda of Central Africa appear to ascribe to the wild banana-tree the same power of removing barrenness which the Akikuyu attribute to the wild fig-tree. For when a wife has no child, she and her husband will sometimes repair to a wild banana-tree and there, standing one on each side of the tree, partake of the male organs of a goat, the man eating the flesh and drinking the soup and the woman drinking the soup only. This is believed to ensure conception after the husband has gone in to his wife.[1030] Here again, as among the Akikuyu, we see that the fertilising virtue of the tree is reinforced by the fertilising virtue of the goat; and we can therefore better understand why the Romans called the male wild fig-tree “goat-fig,” and why the Messenians dubbed it simply “he-goat.”
At the festival on July 7th, people probably thought that women were both fertilized by the fig and that they also fertilized it. However, it's possible and even likely that they thought the fertilization was mutual; in other words, they may have imagined that while women helped the fig tree to bear fruit, the tree, in turn, helped them to have children. This idea is supported by a fascinating parallel from Africa. The Akikuyu of British East Africa believe that the wild fig tree has the power to fertilize barren women. For this, they apply the white sap or "milk" to various parts of the would-be mother's body; then, after sacrificing a goat, they tie the woman to a wild fig tree with long strips cut from the goat's intestines. “This appears,” writes Mr. C. W. Hobley, who documents the custom, “to resemble the tree marriage of India. I suspect there is a concept of ceremonial marriage with the ancestral spirits said to inhabit certain of these fig trees; in fact, it supports the Kamba belief in spiritual husbands.”[1028] The belief in spiritual husbands, 317The Akamba believe that the spirits of the dead reside in wild fig trees.that Mr. Hobley briefly mentions, goes as follows. The Akamba of British East Africa believe that every married woman is simultaneously the wife of a living man and also the wife of the spirit of a deceased ancestor (aimu). They are firmly convinced that a wife's fertility largely depends on the attention of her spiritual husband, and if she doesn’t conceive within six months after marriage, they interpret it as a sign that her spiritual husband is neglecting her; thus, they offer beer and sacrifice a goat as a way to appease him. If the woman still remains barren after this, they throw a larger feast and sacrifice a bullock. Conversely, if a wife is found to be pregnant soon after marriage, they rejoice and see it as proof that she has won the favor of her ghostly husband. Additionally, they believe that at death, the human spirit leaves the body and resides in a wild fig tree (mumbo); therefore, they build small huts at the base of these fig trees that are thought to be inhabited by the souls of the dead, and they periodically make sacrifices to these spirits.[1029] Thus, we can suggest, although we are not explicitly told, that among the Akamba, as with the Akikuyu, a barren woman may sometimes go to a wild fig tree to seek a child, believing that her spiritual husband resides in the tree. The Akikuyu clearly associate a unique power of fertilization with the milky sap of the tree, since they apply it to the body of the woman who wishes to become a mother: perhaps they consider it akin to the seed of the fig. This might explain why Roman slave-women offered the milky juice of the tree to Juno Caprotina; they may have intended to increase the fertility of the mother goddess. We can hardly doubt that the branches they cut from the wild fig tree, seemingly for the purpose of hitting each other, were thought to transfer the tree's generative power to the women who were struck by them. 318|Alleged fertilization of women by the wild banana tree among the Baganda.| The Baganda of Central Africa seem to attribute the same ability to remove barrenness to the wild banana tree, which the Akikuyu assign to the wild fig tree. When a wife is childless, she and her husband might go to a wild banana tree and, standing on either side of it, share the male parts of a goat, with the man eating the flesh and drinking the soup while the woman drinks only the soup. This is believed to ensure conception after the husband has been intimate with his wife.[1030] Once again, similar to the Akikuyu, we observe that the tree's fertilizing quality is augmented by the goat's fertilizing power; thus, we can better understand why the Romans referred to the male wild fig tree as “goat-fig,” and why the Messenians simply called it “he-goat.”
|The Roman king may have celebrated a sacred marriage on the Nonae Caprotinae as a charm to make the fig-trees bear fruit.| The association of the death of Romulus with the festival of the wild fig-tree can hardly be accidental, especially as he and his twin-brother Remus were said to have been suckled by the she-wolf under a fig-tree, the famous ficus Ruminalis, which was shewn in the forum as one of the sacred objects of Rome and received offerings of milk down to late times.[1031] Indeed, some have gone so far both in ancient and modern times as to derive the names of Romulus and Rome itself from this fig-tree (ficus Ruminalis); if they are right, Romulus was “the fig-man” and Rome “the fig-town.”[1032] Be that as it may, the clue to the association of Romulus with the fig is probably furnished by the old belief that the king is responsible for the fruits of the earth and the rain from heaven. We may conjecture that on this principle the Roman king was expected to make the fig-trees blossom and 319bear figs, and that in order to do so he masqueraded as the god of the fig-tree and went through a form of sacred marriage, either with his queen or with a slave-woman, on the July day when the husbandmen resorted to a more efficacious means of producing the same result. The ceremony of the sacred marriage need not have been restricted to a single day in the year. It may well have been repeated for many different crops and fruits. If the Queen of Athens was annually married to the god of the vine, why should not the King of Rome have annually wedded the goddess of the fig?
The Roman king might have celebrated a sacred marriage on the Nonae Caprotinae to ensure the fig trees would bear fruit. The link between Romulus's death and the wild fig-tree festival probably isn’t a coincidence, especially since he and his twin brother Remus were said to be suckled by a she-wolf under a fig tree, the famous ficus Ruminalis, which was displayed in the forum as one of Rome's sacred objects and received milk offerings until relatively late in history.[1031] In fact, some have gone so far in both ancient and modern times as to claim that the names Romulus and Rome itself come from this fig tree (ficus Ruminalis); if that’s true, Romulus was “the fig-man” and Rome was “the fig-town.”[1032] Regardless, the reason for linking Romulus with the fig likely stems from the old belief that the king is responsible for the earth's fruits and the rain from the sky. We can guess that, based on this principle, the Roman king was expected to make the fig trees bloom and bear fruit, and that to achieve this, he would disguise himself as the god of the fig tree and enact a sacred marriage, either with his queen or a slave woman, on the July day when farmers used more effective means to achieve the same goal. The sacred marriage ceremony likely wasn’t limited to just one day of the year. It could have been repeated for various crops and fruits. If the Queen of Athens was married each year to the god of the vine, why shouldn’t the King of Rome have married the goddess of the fig annually?
|The marriage of the divine king or human god often followed by his death.| But, as we have seen, Romulus, the first king of Rome, is said to have perished on the day of this festival of the fig, which, if our hypothesis is correct, was also the day of his ceremonial marriage to the tree. That the real date of his death should have been preserved by tradition is very improbable; rather we may suppose that the reason for dating his death and his marriage on the same day was drawn from some ancient ritual in which the two events were actually associated. But we have still to ask, Why should the king’s wedding-day be also the day of his death? The answer must be deferred for the present. All we need say now is that elsewhere the marriage of the divine king or human god has been regularly followed at a brief interval by his violent end. For him, as for others, death often treads on the heels of love.[1033]
The marriage of the divine king or god typically happens before his death. However, as we've noted, Romulus, the first king of Rome, is said to have died on the day of this fig festival, which, if our theory is accurate, was also the day of his ceremonial marriage to the tree. It’s unlikely that the actual date of his death was preserved through tradition; rather, we might assume that the reason for linking his death and marriage to the same day stemmed from some ancient ritual where the two events were connected. But we still need to consider: why would the king’s wedding day also be the day of his death? We’ll put off that answer for now. For now, all we should mention is that, in other instances, the marriage of the divine king or human god has typically been followed shortly afterward by his violent end. For him, as with others, death often closely follows love.[1033]
320|Violent ends of Tatius, Tullus Hostilius, and other Roman kings.| Another Roman king who perished by violence was Tatius, the Sabine colleague of Romulus. It is said that he was at Lavinium offering a public sacrifice to the ancestral gods, when some men to whom he had given umbrage despatched him with the sacrificial knives and spits which they had snatched from the altar.[1034] The occasion and the manner of his death suggest that the slaughter may have been a sacrifice rather than an assassination. Again, Tullus Hostilius, the successor of Numa, was commonly said to have been killed by lightning, but many held that he was murdered at the instigation of Ancus Marcius, who reigned after him.[1035] Speaking of the more or less mythical Numa, the type of the priestly king, Plutarch observes that “his fame was enhanced by the fortunes of the later kings. For of the five who reigned after him the last was deposed and ended his life in exile, and of the remaining four not one died a natural death; for three of them were assassinated and Tullus Hostilius was consumed by thunderbolts.”[1036] This implies that King Ancus Marcius, as well as Tarquin the Elder and Servius Tullius, perished by the hand of an assassin. No other ancient historian, so far as I know, records this of Ancus Marcius, though one of them says that the king “was carried off by an untimely death.”[1037] Tarquin the Elder was slain by two murderers whom the sons of his predecessor, Ancus Marcius, had hired to do the deed.[1038] Lastly, Servius Tullius came by his end in circumstances which recall the combat for the priesthood of Diana at Nemi. He was attacked by his successor and killed by his orders, though not by his hand. Moreover, he lived among the oak groves of the Esquiline Hill at the head of the 321Slope of Virbius, and it was here, beside a sanctuary of Diana, that he was slain.[1039]
320Violent deaths of Tatius, Tullus Hostilius, and other Roman kings. Another Roman king who died violently was Tatius, the Sabine partner of Romulus. It's said that while he was in Lavinium making a public sacrifice to the ancestral gods, some men who felt wronged by him killed him with the sacrificial knives and spits they grabbed from the altar.[1034] The circumstances and manner of his death suggest it might have been more of a sacrifice than an assassination. Similarly, Tullus Hostilius, who succeeded Numa, was often said to have been killed by lightning, but many believed he was murdered on the orders of Ancus Marcius, who ruled after him.[1035] Reflecting on the mostly mythical Numa, the archetype of the priestly king, Plutarch notes that “his fame was enhanced by the fortunes of the later kings. Of the five who reigned after him, the last was overthrown and ended his life in exile, and of the remaining four, not one died a natural death; three were assassinated and Tullus Hostilius was struck down by thunderbolts.”[1036] This implies that King Ancus Marcius, along with Tarquin the Elder and Servius Tullius, died at the hands of assassins. No other ancient historian, to my knowledge, reports this about Ancus Marcius, though one mentions that the king “met an untimely death.”[1037] Tarquin the Elder was killed by two assassins hired by the sons of his predecessor, Ancus Marcius.[1038] Lastly, Servius Tullius died in circumstances reminiscent of the fight for the priesthood of Diana at Nemi. He was attacked and killed by the orders of his successor, though not by the successor's own hand. Additionally, he lived among the oak groves of Esquiline Hill at the top of the Slope of Virbius, and it was here, next to a sanctuary of Diana, that he met his end.[1039]
|The succession to the Latin kingshipmay sometimes have been decided by single combat.| These legends of the violent ends of the Roman kings suggest that the contest by which they gained the throne may sometimes have been a mortal combat rather than a race. If that were so, the analogy which we have traced between Rome and Nemi would be still closer. At both places the sacred kings, the living representatives of the godhead, would thus be liable to suffer deposition and death at the hand of any resolute man who could prove his divine right to the holy office by the strong arm and the sharp sword. It would not be surprising if among the early Latins the claim to the kingdom should often have been settled by single combat; for down to historical times the Umbrians regularly submitted their private disputes to the ordeal of battle, and he who cut his adversary’s throat was thought thereby to have proved the justice of his cause beyond the reach of cavil.[1040] “Any one who remembers how in the forests of Westphalia the Femgericht set the modern civil law at defiance down into the eighteenth century, and how in the mountains of Corsica and Sardinia blood-revenge has persisted and persists to our own days, will not wonder that hardly a century after the union of Italy the Roman legislation had not yet succeeded in putting down the last relics of this ancient Italian or rather Indo-European mode of doing justice in the nests of the Apennines.”[1041]
The succession to the Latin kingship was sometimes determined by single combat. These stories about the violent ends of the Roman kings suggest that the way they claimed the throne might have sometimes involved life-and-death battles instead of a race. If that’s true, the connection we’ve drawn between Rome and Nemi would be even stronger. In both locations, the sacred kings, who were seen as living representations of the divine, could face deposition and death at the hands of any determined individual who could prove his right to the sacred role through strength and skill with a sword. It wouldn’t be surprising if among the early Latins, claims to the throne were often decided through single combat; even into historical times, the Umbrians commonly resolved their private disputes through battle, and the one who killed his opponent was considered to have proved the righteousness of his cause beyond question.[1040] “Anyone who recalls how in the forests of Westphalia the Femgericht challenged modern civil law well into the eighteenth century, and how in the mountains of Corsica and Sardinia blood feuds have continued and still exist today, will not be surprised that hardly a century after the unification of Italy, Roman law had not yet managed to eliminate the last remnants of this ancient Italian, or rather Indo-European, way of achieving justice in the hills of the Apennines.”[1041]
|Combats for the kingdom in Africa.| A parallel to what I conceive to have been the rule of the 322old Latin kingship is furnished by a West African custom of to-day. When the Maluango or king of Loango, who is deemed the representative of God on earth, has been elected, he has to take his stand at Nkumbi, a large tree near the entrance to his sacred ground. Here, encouraged by one of his ministers, he must fight all rivals who present themselves to dispute his right to the throne.[1042] This is one of the many instances in which the rites and legends of ancient Italy are illustrated by the practice of modern Africa. Similarly among the Banyoro of Central Africa, whose king had to take his life with his own hand whenever his health and strength began to fail, the succession to the throne was determined by a mortal combat among the claimants, who fought till only one of them was left alive.[1043] Even in England a relic of a similar custom survived till lately in the coronation ceremony, at which a champion used to throw down his glove and challenge to mortal combat all who disputed the king’s right to the crown. The ceremony was witnessed by Pepys at the coronation of Charles the Second.[1044]
|Battles for the kingdom in Africa.| A parallel to what I believe was the rule of the 322 old Latin kingship is found in a West African custom today. When the Maluango, or king of Loango, who is seen as God’s representative on earth, is chosen, he must stand at Nkumbi, a large tree near the entrance to his sacred ground. Here, encouraged by one of his ministers, he has to fight any challengers who come forward to dispute his claim to the throne.[1042] This is one of the many examples where the rites and legends of ancient Italy are mirrored in modern Africa. Similarly, among the Banyoro of Central Africa, the king had to take his own life if his health and strength began to decline. The succession to the throne was determined by a deadly fight among the claimants, who battled until only one was left alive.[1043] Even in England, a remnant of a similar custom remained until recently in the coronation ceremony, where a champion would throw down his glove and challenge anyone who questioned the king’s right to the crown to combat. Pepys witnessed this at the coronation of Charles the Second.[1044]
|In Greece and Italy kings probably personated Cronus and Saturn, the god of the seed, before they personated Zeus and Jupiter, the god of the oak.| In the foregoing enquiry we have found reason to suppose that the Roman kings personated not only Jupiter the god of the oak, but Saturn the god of the seed and perhaps also the god of the fig-tree. The question naturally arises, Did they do so simultaneously or successively? In other words, did the same king regularly represent the oak-god at one season of the year, the seed-god at another, and the fig-god at a third? or were there separate dynasties of oak-kings, seed-kings, and fig-kings, who belonged perhaps to different stocks and reigned at different times? The 323evidence does not allow us to answer these questions definitely. But tradition certainly points to the conclusion that in Latium and perhaps in Italy generally the seed-god Saturn was an older deity than the oak-god Jupiter, just as in Greece Cronus appears to have preceded Zeus. Perhaps Saturn and Cronus were the gods of an old indigenous and agricultural people; while Jupiter and Zeus were the divinities of a ruder invading race, which swarmed down into Italy and Greece from the forests of central Europe, bringing their wild woodland deities to dwell in more fertile lands, under softer skies, side by side with the gods of the corn and the vine, the olive and the fig. If that was so, we may suppose that before the irruption of these northern barbarians the old kings of Greece and Italy personated the gods of the fat field and fruitful orchard, and that it was not till after the conquest that their successors learned to pose as the god of the verdant oak and the thundering sky. However, on questions so obscure we must be content to suspend our judgment. It is unlikely that the student’s search-light will ever pierce the mists that hang over these remote ages. All that we can do is to follow the lines of evidence backward as far as they can be traced, till, after growing fainter and fainter, they are lost altogether in the darkness.
In Greece and Italy, kings probably assumed the roles of Cronus and Saturn, the god of seed, before representing Zeus and Jupiter, the god of oak. In the previous discussion, we found reason to believe that the Roman kings represented not only Jupiter, the god of the oak, but also Saturn, the god of the seed, and possibly the god of the fig-tree. This raises the question: Did they do so at the same time or one after the other? In other words, did the same king consistently play the oak-god in one season, the seed-god in another, and the fig-god in a third? Or were there separate lineages of oak-kings, seed-kings, and fig-kings, perhaps from different backgrounds and reigning at different times? The 323 evidence doesn't allow us to answer these questions definitively. However, tradition certainly suggests that in Latium and likely in Italy as a whole, the seed-god Saturn was an older deity than the oak-god Jupiter, just as Cronus seems to have come before Zeus in Greece. Perhaps Saturn and Cronus were the gods of an ancient indigenous agricultural people, while Jupiter and Zeus were deities of a more primitive invading race that swept down into Italy and Greece from the forests of central Europe, bringing their wild woodland gods to settle in more fertile lands with milder climates, alongside the gods of grain, vine, olive, and fig. If that was the case, we can assume that before these northern invaders arrived, the old kings of Greece and Italy embodied the gods of rich fields and productive orchards, and it wasn’t until after the conquest that their successors began to represent the god of the lush oak and the thundering sky. However, on such obscure questions, we must remain cautious with our judgments. It’s unlikely that future scholars will ever fully uncover the mysteries surrounding these distant ages. All we can do is trace the lines of evidence backward as far as they can go, until they gradually fade away and are completely lost in the darkness.
CHAPTER XIX
ST. GEORGE AND THE PARILIA
|The early Italians were as much a pastoral as an agricultural people, and their kings would be expected to ensure the safety and fecundity of the flocks and herds.| In the course of the preceding investigation we found reason to assume that the old Latin kings, like their brethren in many parts of the world, were charged with certain religious duties or magical functions, amongst which the maintenance of the fertility of the earth held a principal place. By this I do not mean that they had to see to it only that the rain fell, and that the corn grew and trees put forth their fruit in due season. In those early days it is probable that the Italians were quite as much a pastoral as an agricultural people, or, in other words, that they depended for their subsistence no less on their flocks and herds than on their fields and orchards. To provide their cattle with grass and water, to ensure their fecundity and the abundance of their milk, and to guard them from the depredations of wild beasts, would be objects of the first importance with the shepherds and herdsmen who, according to tradition, founded Rome;[1045] and the king, as the representative or embodiment of the deity, would be expected to do his part towards procuring these blessings for his people by the performance of sacred rites. The Greeks of the Homeric age, as we have seen, thought that the reign of a good king not only made the land to bear wheat 325and barley, but also caused the flocks to multiply and the sea to yield fish.[1046]
The early Italians were just as much shepherds as they were farmers, and their kings were expected to protect and ensure the fertility of their flocks and herds. In the course of our earlier investigation, we found reason to believe that the ancient Latin kings, like their counterparts in many regions, had specific religious duties or magical roles, with maintaining the fertility of the land being of primary importance. By this, I don't mean they were only responsible for making sure it rained, that crops grew, and that trees bore fruit on time. During those early times, it’s likely that the Italians relied as much on their livestock as they did on their farms and orchards for survival. Providing their animals with grass and water, ensuring they bred successfully and produced plenty of milk, and protecting them from wild predators were top priorities for the shepherds and herders who, according to legend, founded Rome;[1045] and the king, as the representative or embodiment of the divine, was expected to fulfill his responsibilities by performing sacred rituals to secure these blessings for his people. The Greeks of the Homeric age, as we have seen, believed that a good king's reign not only made the land fertile for wheat and barley but also caused flocks to multiply and the sea to provide fish.[1046]
|Numa is said to have been born and Rome to have been founded on the shepherds’ festival of the Parilia, the twenty-first of April.| In this connexion, accordingly, it can be no mere accident that Rome is said to have been founded and the pious king Numa to have been born on the twenty-first of April, the day of the great shepherds’ festival of the Parilia.[1047] It is very unlikely that the real day either of the foundation of the city or of Numa’s birth should have been remembered, even if we suppose Numa to have been an historical personage rather than a mythical type; it is far more probable that both events were arbitrarily assigned to this date by the speculative antiquaries of a later age on the ground of some assumed fitness or propriety. In what did this fitness or propriety consist? The belief that the first Romans were shepherds and herdsmen would be reason enough for supposing that Rome was founded on the day of the shepherds’ festival, or even that the festival was instituted to commemorate the event.[1048] But why should Numa be thought to have been born on that day of all days? Perhaps it was because the old sacred kings, of whom he was the model, had to play an important part in the ceremonies of the day. The birthdays of the gods were celebrated by festivals;[1049] the kings were divine or semi-divine; it would be natural, therefore, that their birthdays should be identified with high feasts and holidays. Whether this was so or not, the festival of the Parilia presents so many points of resemblance to some of the popular customs discussed in these volumes that a 326brief examination of it may not be inappropriate in this place.[1050]
Numa is said to have been born on April 21st, the day of the Parilia festival for shepherds, which is also when Rome was founded. In this context, it's no coincidence that Rome is said to have been founded and the pious king Numa born on April 21st, the day of the significant shepherds’ festival of the Parilia.[1047] It's quite unlikely that the actual date of the city’s founding or Numa’s birth was accurately recalled, even if we assume Numa was a historical figure rather than a mythical one; it's much more likely that both events were randomly assigned to this date by later scholars based on some supposed relevance or significance. What was this relevance or significance? The belief that the first Romans were shepherds and herdsmen would be enough reason to think that Rome was founded on the day of the shepherds’ festival, or even that the festival was created to honor the event.[1048] But why would Numa be thought to have been born on this particular day? Perhaps it was because the ancient sacred kings, whom he represented, played a crucial role in the rituals of that day. The birthdays of the gods were celebrated with festivals;[1049] the kings were divine or semi-divine; thus, it makes sense that their birthdays would be linked with major feasts and holidays. Whether this was the case or not, the festival of the Parilia shares many similarities with some of the popular customs discussed in these volumes, so a brief look at it might be relevant here.[1050]
|The Parilia, a festival celebrated by shepherds and herdsmen in honour of Pales, for the safety and increase of their flocks and herds.| The spring festival of the twenty-first of April, known as the birthday of Rome,[1051] was deemed second in importance to none in the calendar.[1052] It was held by shepherds and herdsmen for the welfare and increase of their flocks and herds.[1053] The pastoral deity to whom they paid their devotions was Pales, as to whose sex the ancients themselves were not at one. In later times they commonly spoke of her as a goddess; but Varro regarded Pales as masculine,[1054] and we may follow his high authority. The day was celebrated with similar rites both in the town and the country, but in its origin it must have been a strictly rural festival. Indeed, it could hardly be carried out in full except among the sheepfolds and cattle-pens. At some time of the day, probably in the morning, the people repaired to the temple of Vesta, where they received from the Vestal Virgins ashes, blood, and bean-straw to be used in fumigating themselves and probably their beasts. The ashes were those of the unborn calves which had been torn from their mothers’ wombs on the fifteenth of April; the blood was that which had dripped from the tail of a horse sacrificed in October.[1055] Both were probably supposed to exercise a fertilising as well as a cleansing influence on the people and on the cattle;[1056] for apparently one effect of the ceremonies, in the popular opinion, was to quicken the wombs of women no less than of cows and ewes.[1057] At break 327of day the shepherd purified his sheep, after sprinkling and sweeping the ground. The fold was decked with leafy boughs, and a great wreath was hung on the door.[1058] The purification of the flocks apparently consisted in driving them over burning heaps of grass, pine-wood, laurel, and branches of the male olive-tree.[1059] Certainly at some time of |The flocks purified by being driven through fire.| the day the sheep were compelled to scamper over a fire.[1060] Moreover, the bleating flocks were touched with burning sulphur and fumigated with its blue smoke.[1061] Then the shepherd offered to Pales baskets of millet, cakes of millet, and pails of warm milk. Next he prayed to the god that he would guard the fold from the evil powers, including probably witchcraft;[1062] that the flocks, the men, and the dogs might be hale and free from disease; that the sheep might not fall a prey to wolves; that grass and leaves might abound; that water might be plentiful; that the udders of the dams might be full of milk; that the rams might be lusty, and the ewes prolific; that many lambs might be born; and that there might be much wool at shearing.[1063] This prayer the shepherd had to repeat four times, looking to the east; then he washed his hands in the morning dew. After that he drank a bowl of milk and wine, and, warmed with the liquor, leaped ever burning heaps of crackling straw. This practice of jumping over a straw fire would seem to have been a principal part of the ceremonies: at least it struck the ancients themselves, for they often refer to it.[1064]
The Parilia is a festival celebrated by shepherds and herders in honor of Pales, focusing on the safety and growth of their flocks and herds. The spring festival on April 21, known as the birthday of Rome,[1051] was considered the second most important day on the calendar.[1052] It was celebrated by shepherds and herders for the well-being and increase of their animals.[1053] The pastoral deity they honored was Pales, whose gender was a topic of debate even among the ancients. In later times, they often referred to her as a goddess; however, Varro viewed Pales as male,[1054] and we might consider his authority. The day was celebrated with similar rituals both in the city and the countryside, but it originated as a strictly rural festival. In fact, it could hardly be fully observed except among the sheepfolds and cattle-pens. At some point during the day, likely in the morning, people went to the temple of Vesta, where they received from the Vestal Virgins ashes, blood, and bean-straw to use for fumigating themselves and possibly their animals. The ashes were from unborn calves that had been taken from their mothers’ wombs on April 15; the blood was from a horse sacrificed in October.[1055] Both were likely believed to have a fertilizing as well as a cleansing effect on people and cattle;[1056] for apparently, one expected outcome of the ceremonies, in popular belief, was to enhance the fertility of women as well as cows and ewes.[1057] At daybreak, the shepherd purified his sheep by sprinkling and sweeping the ground. The fold was decorated with leafy branches, and a large wreath was hung on the door.[1058] The purification of the flocks involved driving them over burning piles of grass, pine wood, laurel, and branches of the male olive tree.[1059] Certainly, at some point during the day, the sheep were made to run over a fire.The herds were cleansed by passing through fire. Moreover, the bleating flocks were touched with burning sulfur and fumigated with its blue smoke.[1061] Then the shepherd offered Pales baskets of millet, cakes made of millet, and pails of warm milk. Next, he prayed to the deity to protect the fold from evil forces, including possibly witchcraft;[1062] that the flocks, men, and dogs might be healthy and free from illness; that the sheep would not be preyed upon by wolves; that there would be plenty of grass and leaves; that water would be abundant; that the mothers would have full udders; that the rams would be strong, and the ewes prolific; that many lambs would be born; and that there would be plenty of wool at shearing time.[1063] The shepherd had to repeat this prayer four times, facing east; then he washed his hands in the morning dew. After that, he drank a bowl of milk and wine, and, warmed by the drink, leapt over burning piles of crackling straw. This act of jumping over a straw fire seemed to be a key part of the rituals: at least it caught the attention of the ancients themselves, as they frequently referenced it.[1064]
|The shepherd’s prayer.| The shepherd’s prayer at the Parilia is instructive, because it gives us in short a view of the chief wants of 328|The shepherd has to propitiate the tree-spirits and water-spirits.| the pastoral life. The supplication for grass and leaves and water reminds us that the herdsman no less than the husbandman depends ultimately on vegetation and rain; so that the same divine powers which cover the fields of the one with yellow corn may be conceived to carpet the meadows of the other with green grass, and to diversify them with pools and rivers for the refreshment of the thirsty cattle. And it is to be borne in mind that in countries where grass is less plentiful than under the rainy skies of northern Europe, sheep, goats, and cattle still subsist in great measure on the leaves and juicy twigs of trees.[1065] Hence in these lands the pious shepherd and goatherd cannot afford to ignore or to offend the tree-spirits, on whose favour and bounty his flocks are dependent for much of their fodder. Indeed, at the Parilia the shepherd made elaborate excuses to these divine beings for any trespass he might unwittingly have committed on their hallowed domain by entering a sacred grove, sitting in the shadow of a holy tree, or lopping leafy branches from it with which to feed a sickly sheep.[1066] In like manner he craved pardon of the water-nymphs, if the hoofs of his cattle had stirred up the mud in their clear pools; and he implored Pales to intercede for him with the divinities of springs “and the gods dispersed through every woodland glade.”[1067]
The shepherd's prayer. The shepherd’s prayer at the Parilia is insightful, because it briefly highlights the main needs of 328The shepherd needs to satisfy the spirits of the trees and the spirits of the water. the pastoral lifestyle. The plea for grass, leaves, and water reminds us that the herdsman, just like the farmer, ultimately relies on plants and rain; so the same divine powers that cover the fields of one with golden grain can be thought to blanket the meadows of the other with green grass and provide pools and rivers for the refreshment of thirsty cattle. It’s important to note that in regions where grass is less abundant than in the rainy skies of northern Europe, sheep, goats, and cattle primarily feed on the leaves and tender twigs of trees.[1065] Therefore, in these areas, the devout shepherd and goatherd cannot afford to overlook or anger the tree spirits, who greatly influence the availability of fodder for his flocks. In fact, at the Parilia, the shepherd went to great lengths to offer apologies to these divine beings for any trespass he might inadvertently have made in their sacred domain by entering a holy grove, sitting in the shade of a sacred tree, or cutting leafy branches to feed a sick sheep.[1066] Similarly, he asked for forgiveness from the water nymphs if his cattle’s hooves disturbed the mud in their clear pools; and he pleaded with Pales to advocate for him with the deities of springs “and the gods scattered throughout every woodland glade.”[1067]
|The Parilia was perhaps the time when the flocks and herds were turned out for the first time in spring to graze in the open.| The Parilia was generally considered to be the best time for coupling the rams and the ewes;[1068] and it has been 329suggested that it was also the season when the flocks and herds, after being folded and stalled throughout the winter, were turned out for the first time to pasture in spring.[1069] The occasion is an anxious one for the shepherd, especially in countries which are infested with wolves, as ancient Italy was.[1070] Accordingly the Italian shepherd propitiated Pales with a slaughtered victim before he drove his flocks afield in spring;[1071] but it is doubtful whether this sacrifice formed part of the Parilia. None of the ancient authors who expressly describe the Parilia mention the slaughter of a victim; and in Plutarch’s day a tradition ran that of old no blood was shed at the festival.[1072] But such a tradition seems to point to a contrary practice in after-times. In the absence of decisive evidence the question must be left open; but modern analogy, as we shall see, strongly supports the opinion that immediately at the close of the Parilia the flocks and herds were driven out to graze in the open pastures for the first time after their long winter confinement. On this view a special significance is seen to attach to some of the features of the festival, such as the prayer for protection against the wolf; for the brute could hardly do the sheep and kine much harm so long as they were safely pent within the walls of the sheepcote and the cattle-stall.
The Parilia was likely the time when flocks and herds were released for the first time in spring to graze outside. The Parilia was generally seen as the best time for breeding the rams and the ewes;[1068] and it has been suggested that it was also the season when the flocks and herds, after being kept indoors throughout the winter, were released for the first time to graze in spring.[1069] This occasion is a stressful one for the shepherd, especially in regions that are infested with wolves, as ancient Italy was.[1070] Therefore, the Italian shepherd would appease Pales with a sacrificed animal before taking his flocks out to pasture in spring;[1071] but it's unclear whether this sacrifice was part of the Parilia. None of the ancient writers who specifically describe the Parilia mention the slaughter of an animal; and in Plutarch’s time, there was a belief that no blood was shed at the festival.[1072] However, such a belief seems to hint at a different practice in later times. Without conclusive evidence, the question remains open; but modern comparisons, as we will see, strongly support the idea that right after the Parilia, the flocks and herds were driven out to graze in the open pastures for the first time after being confined all winter. From this perspective, some aspects of the festival, like the prayer for protection against wolves, hold special significance; as the animals would hardly be in danger from wolves while they were safely inside the sheepfold and cattle barn.
|The Roman kings had perhaps to discharge some important religious function at the Parilia.| As the Parilia is said to have been celebrated by Romulus, who sacrificed to the gods and caused the people to purify themselves by leaping over flames,[1073] some scholars have inferred that it was customary for the king, and afterwards for his successor, the chief pontiff, or the King of the Sacred Rites, to offer sacrifices for the people at the Parilia.[1074] The inference is reasonable and receives some confirmation, as we shall see presently, from the analogy of modern custom. Further, the tradition that Numa was born on the day of the Parilia may be thought to point in the same way, since it is most naturally explicable on the hypothesis that 330the king had to discharge some important function at the festival. Still, it must be confessed that the positive evidence for connecting the Roman kings with the celebration of the twenty-first of April is slight and dubious.
The Roman kings probably had to carry out important religious responsibilities during the Parilia. Since the Parilia is said to have been celebrated by Romulus, who sacrificed to the gods and had the people purify themselves by jumping over flames,[1073] some scholars have suggested that it became a tradition for the king, and later for his successor, the chief pontiff, or the King of the Sacred Rites, to make sacrifices for the people during the Parilia.[1074] This idea seems reasonable and is somewhat supported, as we will see shortly, by similarities with modern customs. Additionally, the belief that Numa was born on the day of the Parilia may hint at the same conclusion, as it is most easily explained by the idea that the king had to perform an important role at the festival. Nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that the concrete evidence linking the Roman kings to the celebration on April 21st is minimal and questionable.
|The Parilia intended to ensure the welfare of the cattle and to guard them against witches and wolves.| On the whole the festival of the Parilia, which probably fell at or near the time of turning out the cattle to pasture in spring, was designed to ensure their welfare and increase, and to guard them from the insidious machinations or the open attacks of their various enemies, among whom witches and wolves were perhaps the most dreaded.
The Parilia was intended to protect the cattle and keep them safe from witches and wolves. Overall, the Parilia festival, which likely took place around the time cattle were released to pasture in spring, aimed to ensure their health and growth, while also safeguarding them from the sneaky plots or direct threats of their many enemies, with witches and wolves being among the most feared.
|A celebration of the same sort is still held in eastern Europe on the twenty-third of April, the festival of St. George, the patron saint of cattle, horses, and wolves.| Now it can hardly be a mere coincidence that down to modern times a great popular festival of this sort has been celebrated only two days later by the herdsmen and shepherds of eastern Europe, who still cherish a profound belief in witchcraft, and still fear, with far better reason, the raids of wolves on their flocks and herds. The festival falls on the twenty-third of April and is dedicated to St. George, the patron saint of cattle, horses, and wolves. The Esthonians say that on St. George’s morning the wolf gets a ring round his snout and a halter about his neck, whereby he is rendered less dangerous till Michaelmas. But if the day should chance to be a Friday at full moon, or if before the day came round any person should have been so rash as to thump the dirty linen in the wash-tub with two beetles, the cattle will run a serious risk of being devoured by wolves. Many are the precautions taken by the anxious Esthonians |Precautions taken by the Esthonians against wolves and witches on St. George’s Day.| on this day to guard their herds from the ravening beasts. Thus some people gather wolf’s dung on the preceding night, burn it, and fumigate the cattle with it in the morning. Or they collect bones from the pastures and burn them at a cross-road, which serves as a charm against sickness, sorcery, and demons quite as well as against wolves. Others smoke the cattle with asa foetida or sulphur to protect them against witchcraft and noxious exhalations. They think, too, that if you sew stitches on St. George’s morning the cubs of the wolves will be blind, no doubt because their eyes are sewed up by the needle and thread. In order to forecast the fate of their herds the peasants put eggs or a sharp weapon, such as an axe or a scythe, before the doors of the stalls, and the animal which crushes an egg or wounds itself will surely be 331rent by a wolf or will perish in some other fashion before the year is out. So certain is its fate that many a man prefers to slaughter the doomed beast out of hand for the sake of saving at least the beef.
A similar celebration still takes place in Eastern Europe on April 23rd, honoring St. George, the patron saint of cattle, horses, and wolves. It’s hardly a coincidence that up to modern times, a major festival of this kind has been celebrated just two days later by the herdsmen and shepherds of Eastern Europe, who still hold a strong belief in witchcraft and genuinely fear the raids of wolves on their livestock. The festival takes place on April 23rd and is dedicated to St. George, the patron saint of cattle, horses, and wolves. The Estonians say that on St. George’s morning, the wolf gets a ring around its snout and a halter around its neck, making it less dangerous until Michaelmas. However, if that day happens to be a Friday during a full moon, or if someone has been foolish enough to bang dirty laundry in the wash tub with two beetles before the day arrives, the cattle are at serious risk of being attacked by wolves. Many precautions are taken by the worried Estonians Precautions that the Estonians take against wolves and witches on St. George’s Day. on this day to protect their herds from these predatory animals. Some people collect wolf dung the night before, burn it, and use the smoke to fumigate the cattle in the morning. Others gather bones from the pastures and burn them at a crossroads, which acts as a charm against illness, sorcery, and demons just as much as against wolves. Some people even smoke their cattle with asa foetida or sulfur to shield them from witchcraft and harmful vapors. They believe that if you sew stitches on St. George’s morning, the wolf cubs will be blind, probably because their eyes are sewn shut with the needle and thread. To predict the fate of their herds, the peasants place eggs or a sharp tool like an axe or scythe in front of the stalls, and the animal that breaks an egg or injures itself is sure to be attacked by a wolf or will die in some other way within the year. The certainty of this fate is such that many prefer to slaughter the doomed animal right away to at least save the meat.
|The Esthonians generally drive their cattle out to pasture for the first time on St. George’s Day.| As a rule the Esthonians drive their cattle out to pasture for the first time on St. George’s Day, and the herdsman’s duties begin from then. If, however, the herds should have been sent out to graze before that day, the boys who look after them must eat neither flesh nor butter while they are on duty; else the wolves will destroy many sheep, and the cream will not turn to butter in the churn. Further, the boys may not kindle a fire in the wood, or the wolf’s tooth would be fiery and he would bite viciously. By St. George’s Day, the twenty-third of April, there is commonly fresh grass in the meadows. But even if the spring should be late and the cattle should have to return to their stalls hungrier than they went forth, many Esthonian farmers insist on turning out the poor beasts on St. George’s Day in order that the saint may guard them against his creatures the wolves. On this morning the farmer treats the herdsman to a dram of brandy, and gives him two copper kopecks as “tail-money” for every cow in the herd. This money the giver first passes thrice round his head and then lays it on the dunghill; for if the herdsman took it from his hand, it would in some way injure the herd. Were this ceremony omitted, the wolves would prove very destructive, because they had not been appeased on St. George’s Day. After receiving the “tail-money” some herdsmen are wont to collect the herd on the village common. Here they set up their crook in the ground, place their hat on it, and walk thrice round the cattle, muttering spells or the Lord’s Prayer as they do so. The pastoral crook should be cut from the rowan or mountain-ash and consecrated by a wise man, who carves mystic signs on it. Sometimes the upper end of the crook is hollowed out and filled with quicksilver and asa foetida, the aperture being stopped up with resin. Some Esthonians cut a cross with a scythe under the door through which the herd is to be driven, and fill the furrows of the cross with salt to prevent certain evil beings from harming the cattle. Further, it is an almost universal custom in 332Esthonia not to hang bells on the necks of the kine till St. George’s Day; the few who can give a reason for the rule say that the chiming of the bells before that season would attract the wild beasts.[1075]
Estonians typically take their cattle out to pasture for the first time on St. George’s Day. Typically, Estonians drive their cattle out to pasture for the first time on St. George’s Day, marking the start of the herdsman’s responsibilities. However, if the herds had been let out to graze before that date, the boys looking after them are not allowed to eat meat or butter while they’re on duty; otherwise, the wolves will attack many sheep, and the cream won’t turn into butter when churned. Also, the boys can’t light a fire in the woods, or the wolf's tooth will become fiery, and he will bite more fiercely. By St. George’s Day, April 23rd, there’s usually new grass in the meadows. But even if spring is late and the cattle must return hungrier than when they went out, many Estonian farmers insist on allowing them out on St. George’s Day so that the saint can protect them from the wolves. On this morning, the farmer treats the herdsman to a shot of brandy and gives him two copper kopecks as "tail-money" for every cow in the herd. The farmer first circles the money three times around his head and then places it on the dung heap; if the herdsman were to take it directly from his hand, it could somehow harm the herd. If this ritual is skipped, the wolves would become very destructive, as they wouldn’t have been appeased on St. George’s Day. After receiving the "tail-money," some herdsmen usually gather the herd on the village common. There, they stake their crook in the ground, place their hat on it, and walk around the cattle three times while muttering spells or the Lord’s Prayer. The pastoral crook should be made from rowan or mountain ash and must be consecrated by a wise person who carves mystical symbols on it. Sometimes, the top of the crook is hollowed out and filled with quicksilver and asa foetida, and then sealed with resin. Some Estonians cut a cross with a scythe under the door that the herd will pass through and fill the grooves of the cross with salt to keep certain evil beings from harming the cattle. Additionally, it’s almost universally customary in 332Estonia not to hang bells around the cows’ necks until St. George’s Day; those who have reasons for this rule say that ringing the bells before then would draw in wild animals.[1075]
|Sacrifices for horses offered on St. George’s Day by the Esthonians of Dago.| In the island of Dago down to the early part of the nineteenth century there were certain holy trees from which no one dared to break a bough; in spite of the lack of wood in the island the fallen branches were allowed to rot in heaps on the ground. Under such trees the Esthonians used to offer sacrifices on St. George’s Day for the safety and welfare of their horses. The offerings, which consist of an egg, a piece of money, and a bunch of horse-hair tied up with a red thread, were buried in the earth.[1076] The custom is interesting because it exhibits St. George in the two-fold character of a patron of horses and of trees. In the latter capacity he has already met us more than once under the name of Green George.[1077]
|Horse sacrifices made on St. George’s Day by the Estonians of Dago.| In the island of Dago, well into the early nineteenth century, there were certain sacred trees that no one dared to cut a branch from; even though there was a shortage of wood on the island, the fallen branches were left to decay in piles on the ground. Under these trees, the Estonians would make sacrifices on St. George’s Day for the safety and well-being of their horses. The offerings, which included an egg, a coin, and a bundle of horsehair tied with a red thread, were buried in the ground.[1076] This custom is interesting because it shows St. George in both roles as a protector of horses and of trees. In the latter role, he has already appeared to us a few times under the name Green George.[1077]
|St. George as the patron of wolves and cattle in Russia; the herds are driven out to pasture for the first time on his day.| In Russia the saint is known as Yegory or Yury, and here, as in Esthonia, he is a patron of wolves as well as of flocks and herds. Many legends speak of the connexion which exists between St. George and the wolf. In Little Russia the beast is known as “St. George’s Dog,” and the carcases of sheep which wolves have killed are not eaten, it being held that they have been made over by divine command to the beasts of the field.[1078] The festival of St. George on the twenty-third of April has a national as well as an ecclesiastical character in Russia, and the mythical features of the songs which are devoted to the day prove that the saint has supplanted some old Slavonian deity who used to be honoured at this season in heathen times. It is not as a slayer of dragons and a champion of forlorn damsels that St. George figures in these songs, but as a patron of farmers and herdsmen who preserves cattle from harm, and on whose day accordingly the flocks and herds 333are driven out to browse the fresh pastures for the first time after their confinement through the long Russian winter. “What the wolf holds in its teeth, that Yegory has given,” is a proverb which shews how completely he is thought to rule over the fold and the stall. Here is one of the songs:—
St. George is the patron saint of wolves and cattle in Russia; herds are taken out to pasture for the first time on his feast day. In Russia, the saint is known as Yegory or Yury, and similar to Esthonia, he is a guardian of both wolves and livestock. Many legends highlight the connection between St. George and the wolf. In Little Russia, the wolf is referred to as “St. George’s Dog,” and the bodies of sheep killed by wolves are left uneaten, as it is believed that they have been given by divine order to the beasts of the field.[1078] The festival of St. George on April 23 has both national and religious significance in Russia, and the mythical aspects of the songs dedicated to this day suggest that the saint replaced an ancient Slavic deity who was honored during this time in pagan eras. In these songs, St. George is not portrayed as a dragon slayer or a hero rescuing damsels in distress, but as a protector of farmers and herdsmen who keeps cattle safe from harm. On his day, therefore, flocks and herds are let out to graze in the fresh pastures for the first time after being cooped up through the long Russian winter. “What the wolf has in its teeth, Yegory has given,” is a proverb that illustrates how completely he is believed to have authority over the livestock. Here is one of the songs:—
A White-Russian song represents St. George as opening with golden keys, probably the sunbeams, the soil which has been frost-bound all the winter:—
A White-Russian song shows St. George starting with golden keys, which likely represents the sunbeams, and the ground that has been frozen all winter:—
In Moravia they “meet the Spring” with a song in which they ask Green Thursday, that is, the day before Good Friday, what he has done with the keys, and he answers: “I gave them to St. George. St. George arose and unlocked the earth, so that the grass grew—the green grass.” In White Russia it is customary on St. George’s Day to drive the cattle afield through the morning dew, and in Little Russia and Bulgaria young folk go out early and roll themselves in it.[1079] In the Smolensk Government on this day the cattle are driven out first to the rye-fields and then to the pastures. A religious service is held in the stalls before the departure of the herd and afterwards in the field, where the stool 334which supported the holy picture is allowed to stand for several weeks till the next procession with the pictures of the saints takes place. St. George’s Day in this government is the herdsmen’s festival, and it is the term from which their engagements are dated.[1080] And in the Smolensk Government, when the herds are being sent out to graze on St. George’s Day, the following spell is uttered:—
In Moravia, they “welcome spring” with a song where they ask Green Thursday, the day before Good Friday, what he did with the keys. He replies, “I gave them to St. George. St. George rose up and unlocked the earth, making the grass grow—the green grass.” In White Russia, it’s a tradition on St. George’s Day to take the cattle out to the fields through the morning dew, and in Little Russia and Bulgaria, young people go out early and roll in it.[1079] In the Smolensk region on this day, the cattle are first taken to the rye fields and then to the meadows. A religious service takes place in the stalls before the herd leaves and afterward in the field, where the stool that held the holy picture is left standing for several weeks until the next procession with the saints' pictures occurs. St. George’s Day in this region is a festival for herdsmen and it marks when their contracts begin.[1080] And in the Smolensk region, as the herds are sent out to graze on St. George’s Day, the following spell is recited:—
|In Russia witches try to steal the milk of the cattle on the eve of St. George.| But in the opinion of the Russian peasant wolves are not the only foes of cattle at this season. On the eve of St. George’s Day, as well as on the night before Whitsunday and on Midsummer Eve, witches go out naked in the dark and cut chips from the doors and gates of farmyards. These they boil in a milk-pail, and thus charm away the milk from the farms. Hence careful housewives examine their doors and smear mud in any fresh gashes they may find in them, which frustrates the knavish tricks of the milk-stealing witch. Not to be baffled, however, the witches climb the wooden crosses by the wayside and chip splinters from them, or lay their hands on stray wooden wedges. These they stick into a post in the cattle-shed and squeeze them with their hands till milk flows from them as freely as from the dugs of a cow. At this time also wicked people turn themselves by magic art into dogs and black cats, and in that disguise they suck the milk of cows, mares, and ewes, while they slaughter the bulls, horses, and rams.[1082]
In Russia, witches attempt to steal milk from cows on the night before St. George's Day. But Russian peasants believe that wolves aren’t the only threats to cattle during this time. On the eve of St. George’s Day, as well as the night before Whitsun and on Midsummer Eve, witches go out naked in the dark and chip away at the doors and gates of farms. They then boil these pieces in a milk pail, using them to magically steal the milk from the farms. That's why careful housewives check their doors and smear mud over any new scratches they find, which thwarts the sneaky tricks of the milk-stealing witch. However, witches don’t give up easily; they climb wooden crosses by the roadside, chip splinters from them, or take stray wooden wedges. They insert these into a post in the cattle shed and squeeze them until milk flows as freely as from a cow's teats. During this time, wicked people also magically transform into dogs and black cats, and in those disguises, they suck the milk from cows, mares, and ewes, while slaughtering the bulls, horses, and rams.[1082]
335|St. George’s Day among the Ruthenians.| The Ruthenians of Bukowina and Galicia believe that at midnight before St. George’s Day (the twenty-third of April) the witches come in bands of twelve to the hills at the boundaries of the villages and there dance and play with fire. Moreover, they cull on the mountains the herbs they need for their infernal enchantments. Like the Esthonians and the Russians, the Ruthenians drive their cattle out to pasture for the first time on St. George’s Day; hence during the preceding night the witches are very busy casting their spells on the cows; and the farmer is at great pains to defeat their fell purpose. With this intent many people catch a snake, skin it, and fumigate the cows with the skin on the eve of the saint’s day. To rub the udders and horns of the cows with serpent’s fat is equally effective. Others strew meal about the animals, saying, “Not till thou hast gathered up this meal, shalt thou take the milk from my cow So-and-so.” Further, sods of turf, with thorn-branches stuck in them, are laid on the gate-posts; and crosses are painted with tar on the doors. These precautions keep the witches from the cows. If, however, a beast should after all be bewitched, the farmer’s wife drags a rope about in the dew on the morning of St. George’s Day. Then she chops it up small, mixes salt with it, and scatters the bits among the cow’s fodder. No sooner has the afflicted animal partaken of this compound than the spell is broken.[1083]
335St. George's Day among the Ruthenians. The Ruthenians of Bukowina and Galicia believe that at midnight before St. George’s Day (April 23rd), witches gather in groups of twelve on the hills at the edge of the villages to dance and play with fire. They also gather herbs from the mountains for their dark spells. Similar to the Esthonians and Russians, the Ruthenians let their cattle graze for the first time on St. George’s Day; therefore, the witches are very active casting spells on the cows the night before, and farmers work hard to protect them. To do this, many catch a snake, skin it, and use the skin to fumigate the cows the night before the saint’s day. Rubbing the udders and horns of the cows with snake fat is also effective. Others scatter meal around the animals, saying, “Not until you gather this meal will you take the milk from my cow So-and-so.” Additionally, they place sods of turf with thorn branches in them on the gateposts, and paint crosses with tar on the doors. These precautions prevent the witches from approaching the cows. However, if a cow does end up bewitched, the farmer’s wife drags a rope through the dew on the morning of St. George’s Day. She then cuts it up, mixes it with salt, and scatters the pieces in the cow’s feed. As soon as the affected animal eats this mixture, the spell is broken.[1083]
|St. George’s Day among the Huzuls of the Carpathians.| The Huzuls of the Carpathian Mountains believe that when a cow gives milk tinged with blood, or no milk at all, a witch is the cause of it. These maleficent beings play their pranks especially on the eve of St. George’s Day and on Midsummer Eve, but they are most dangerous at the former season, for that night they and the foul fiends hold their greatest gathering or sabbath. To steal the cows’ milk they resort to various devices. Sometimes they run about in the shape of dogs and smell the cows’ udders. Sometimes they rub the udders of their own cows with milk taken from a neighbour’s kine; then their own cows yield abundant milk, but the udders of the neighbour’s cows shrivel up or give only blood. Others again make a wooden cow 336on the spot where the real cows are generally milked, taking care to stick into the ground the knife they used in carving the image. Then the wooden cow yields the witch all the milk of the cattle which are commonly milked there, while the owner of the beasts gets nothing but blood from them.
St. George’s Day celebrated by the Huzuls in the Carpathians. The Huzuls of the Carpathian Mountains believe that when a cow gives milk that’s mixed with blood, or doesn’t produce any milk at all, a witch is to blame. These evil beings play their tricks especially on the eve of St. George’s Day and on Midsummer Eve, but they are most dangerous during the former, as that night they and the wicked spirits gather for their biggest meeting or sabbath. To steal the cows’ milk, they use various tricks. Sometimes they run around in the form of dogs and sniff the cows’ udders. Other times, they rub the udders of their own cows with milk taken from a neighbor’s cows; then their own cows produce plenty of milk, while the neighbor’s cows dry up or only give blood. Some even create a wooden cow at the spot where the real cows are usually milked, making sure to stick the knife they used to carve it into the ground. Then the wooden cow provides the witch all the milk from the cattle that are typically milked there, while the owner gets nothing but blood from them. 336
|Precautions taken by the Huzuls against the witches who try to steal milk on the eve of St. George.| Hence the Huzuls take steps to guard their cows from the machinations of witches at this season. For this purpose they kindle a great fire before the house on the eve of St. George’s Day, using as fuel the dung which has accumulated during the winter. Also they place on the gate-posts clods in which are stuck the branches consecrated on Palm Sunday or boughs of the silver poplar, the wood of which is deemed especially efficacious in banning fiends. Moreover, they make crosses on the doors, sprinkle the cows with mud, and fumigate them with incense or the skin of a snake. To tie red woollen threads round the necks or tails of the animals is also a safeguard against witchcraft. And in June, when the snow has melted and the cattle are led to the high mountain pastures, the herds have no sooner reached their summer quarters than the herdsman makes “living fire” by the friction of wood and drives the animals over the ashes in order to protect them against witches and other powers of evil. The fire thus kindled is kept constantly burning in the herdsman’s hut till with the chill of autumn the time comes to drive the herds down the mountains again. If the fire went out in the interval, it would be an ill omen for the owner of the pastures.[1084]
|Precautions taken by the Huzuls against witches trying to steal milk on the eve of St. George.| So, the Huzuls take measures to protect their cows from the tricks of witches during this time. To do this, they light a big fire in front of their house on the eve of St. George's Day, using dung that has built up over the winter as fuel. They also put clods on the gate-posts, with branches blessed on Palm Sunday or boughs from the silver poplar, which is believed to be especially effective in warding off evil spirits. Additionally, they draw crosses on the doors, sprinkle mud on the cows, and fumigate them with incense or snake skins. Tying red wool threads around the necks or tails of the animals is another way to protect them from witchcraft. In June, when the snow has melted and the cattle are taken to the high mountain pastures, as soon as the herds reach their summer home, the herdsman makes "living fire" by rubbing wood together and drives the animals over the ashes to shield them from witches and other evil forces. This fire is kept burning in the herdsman’s hut until autumn's chill comes and it’s time to bring the herds back down the mountains. If the fire goes out during that time, it’s considered a bad sign for the pasture owner.[1084]
|Sacrifice for horses in Silesia on St. George’s Day.| In some parts of Silesia the might of the witches is believed to be at the highest pitch on St. George’s Day. The people deem the saint very powerful in the matter of cattle-breeding and especially of horse-breeding. At the Polish village of Ostroppa, not far from Gleiwitz, a sacrifice for horses used to be offered at the little village church. It has been described by an eye-witness. Peasants on horseback streamed to the spot from all the neighbouring villages, not with the staid and solemn pace of pilgrims, but with the noise and clatter of merrymakers hastening to a revel. The sorry image of the saint, carved in wood and about an ell 337high, stood in the churchyard on a table covered with a white cloth. It represented him seated on horseback and spearing the dragon. Beside it were two vessels to receive offerings of money and eggs respectively. As each farmer galloped up, he dismounted, led his horse by the bridle, knelt before the image of the saint, and prayed. After that he made his offering of money or eggs, according to his means, in the name of his horse. Then he led the beast round the church and churchyard, tethered it, and went into the church to hear mass and a sermon. Having thus paid his devotions to the saint, every man leaped into the saddle and made for the nearest public-house as fast as his horse could lay legs to the ground.[1085]
|Offerings for horses in Silesia on St. George’s Day.| In some areas of Silesia, it's believed that the witches are at their most powerful on St. George’s Day. People see the saint as very influential when it comes to cattle-breeding, particularly horse-breeding. In the Polish village of Ostroppa, near Gleiwitz, a sacrifice for horses was traditionally made at the local church. An eye-witness described the scene: farmers on horseback came rushing in from surrounding villages, not in the slow and serious manner of pilgrims, but with the loud and festive energy of party-goers heading to a celebration. The crude wooden statue of the saint, about a yard high, stood in the churchyard on a table covered with a white cloth. It depicted him riding a horse and slaying the dragon. Next to it were two containers for collecting money and eggs as offerings. When each farmer arrived on horseback, he got off, led his horse by the bridle, knelt before the saint’s image, and prayed. After that, he made his offering—money or eggs—depending on what he could afford, all in the name of his horse. Then he walked his horse around the church and churchyard, tied it up, and went inside to attend mass and listen to a sermon. After paying his respects to the saint, everyone jumped back on their horse and raced to the nearest pub as fast as they could. [1085]
|Festival of St. George, as the patron of horses, at Ertringen in Bavaria.| At Ertringen, in South Bavaria, there is a chapel of St. George, where a festival of the saint used to be held on April the twenty-fourth down to the beginning of the nineteenth century. From the whole neighbourhood people streamed thither on horseback and in waggons to take part in the ceremony. More than fourteen hundred riders are said to have been present on one occasion. The foundation of the chapel was attributed to the monastery of Holy Cross Vale (Heiligkreuztal), and the abbot and prior with their suite attended the festival in state mounted on white horses. A burgher of Ertringen had to ride as patron in the costume of St. George, whom he represented. He alone bestrode a fiery stallion. After the celebration of high mass the horses were blessed at the chapel. Then the procession of men on horseback moved round the common lands, winding up at the parish church, where it broke up.[1086] In many villages near Freiburg in Baden St. George is the patron of horses, and in some parts of Baden the saint’s day (April the twenty-third) is the season when cattle are driven out to pasture for the first time in spring.[1087]
Festival of St. George, the patron of horses, in Ertringen, Bavaria. In Ertringen, South Bavaria, there is a chapel dedicated to St. George, where a festival for the saint used to take place on April 24th until the early nineteenth century. People from the surrounding area would flock there on horseback and in wagons to join in the celebration. On one occasion, over fourteen hundred riders are said to have been present. The chapel's foundation was linked to the monastery of Holy Cross Vale (Heiligkreuztal), and the abbot and prior attended the festival in style, riding on white horses. A local man from Ertringen had the honor of riding as the patron dressed up as St. George, representing him. He alone rode a fiery stallion. After the high mass, the horses were blessed at the chapel. Following that, the procession of horsemen took a route around the common lands, ending at the parish church, where the group dispersed.[1086] In many villages near Freiburg in Baden, St. George is recognized as the patron of horses, and in some areas of Baden, the saint’s day (April 23rd) marks the time when cattle are led out to pasture for the first time in spring.[1087]
|St. George’s Day among the Saxons and Roumanians of Transylvania.| The Saxons of Transylvania think that on the eve of 338St. George’s Day the witches ride on the backs of the cows into the farmyard, if branches of wild rosebushes or other thorny shrubs are not stuck over the gate of the yard to keep them out.[1088] Beliefs and practices of this sort are shared by the Roumanians of Transylvania. They hold that on St. George’s Day the witches keep their sabbath in sequestered spots, such as woodland glades, deserted farm-steadings, and the like. In Walachia green sods are laid on the window-sills and on the lintels of the doors to avert the uncanny crew. But in Transylvania the Roumanians, not content with setting a thorn-bush in the doorway of the house, keep watch and ward all night beside the cattle or elsewhere, to catch the witches who are at work stealing the milk from the cows. Here, as elsewhere, the day is above all the herdsman’s festival. It marks the beginning of spring; the shepherds are preparing to start for the distant pastures, and they listen with all their ears to some wiseacre who tells them how, if the milk should fail in the udders of the sheep, they have only to thrash the shepherd’s pouch, and every stroke will fall on the witch who is pumping the lost milk into her pails.[1089]
St. George’s Day among the Saxons and Romanians of Transylvania. The Saxons of Transylvania believe that on the eve of 338St. George’s Day, witches ride on the backs of cows into the farmyard unless wild rosebush branches or other thorny shrubs are placed over the gate to keep them out.[1088] These beliefs are also held by the Roumanians of Transylvania. They think that on St. George’s Day, witches gather for their sabbath in secluded places, like forest clearings, abandoned farms, and similar spots. In Walachia, green sod is placed on window sills and door lintels to ward off the eerie group. However, in Transylvania, Roumanians go a step further than just putting a thorn bush at the doorway; they keep watch all night beside the cattle or in other places to catch the witches stealing milk from the cows. Here, as everywhere else, the day is primarily the herdsman’s festival. It signals the start of spring; the shepherds prepare to head to far-off pastures, eagerly listening to advice from someone who claims that if the milk runs out in the sheep's udders, all they need to do is thump the shepherd’s pouch, and every hit will land on the witch who is siphoning off the lost milk into her pails.[1089]
|St. George’s Day the herdsman’s festival among the Walachians.| The Walachians look on St. George’s Day as very holy; for they are mainly a pastoral folk, and St. George is the patron of herds and herdsmen. On that day also, as well as on the day before and the day after, the Walachian numbers his herd, beginning at one and counting continuously up to the total. This he never does at any other time of the year. On this day, too, he milks his sheep for the first time into vessels which have been carefully scoured and are wreathed with flowers. Then too a cake of white meal is baked in the shape of a ring, and is rolled on the ground in sight of the herd; and from the length of its course omens are drawn as to the good or bad luck of the cattle in their summer pastures. If the herd is owned by several men, they afterwards lay hold of the ring, and break 339it among them, and the one who gets the largest piece will have the best luck. The milk is made into a cheese which is divided; and the pieces of the cake are given to the shepherds. In like manner the wreaths of flowers which crowned the pails are thrown into the water, and from the way in which they float down-stream the shepherds presage good or evil fortune.[1090]
|St. George’s Day, the shepherd's festival among the Wallachians.| The Walachians consider St. George’s Day to be very sacred; they are primarily a pastoral community, and St. George is the patron saint of herds and herders. On this day, as well as the day before and the day after, a Walachian will count his herd, starting at one and continuing up to the total. He never does this at any other time of the year. On this day, he also milks his sheep for the first time into containers that have been thoroughly cleaned and decorated with flowers. A cake made of white flour is baked in the shape of a ring and rolled on the ground in front of the herd; the distance it rolls is interpreted as a sign of the good or bad fortune of the cattle in their summer pastures. If several men own the herd, they then grab the ring and break it apart, and the one who gets the biggest piece will have the best luck. The milk is made into cheese, which is shared, and the pieces of the cake are given to the shepherds. Similarly, the flower wreaths that adorned the pails are tossed into the water, and the way they float downstream is used by the shepherds to predict good or bad fortune.[1090]
|St. George’s Day among the Bulgarians and South Slavs.| The Bulgarians seem to share the belief that cattle are especially exposed to the machinations of witches at this season, for it is a rule with them not to give away milk, butter, or cheese on the eve of St. George’s Day; to do so, they say, would be to give away the profit of the milch kine.[1091] They rise very early on the morning of this day, and wash themselves in the dew, that they may be healthy.[1092] It is said, too, that a regular sacrifice is still offered on St. George’s Day in Bulgaria. An old man kills a ram, while girls spread grass on which the blood is poured forth.[1093] The intention of the sacrifice may be to make the herbage grow abundantly in the pastures. Amongst the South Slavs the twenty-third of April, St. George’s Day, is the chief festival of the spring. The herdsman thinks that if his cattle are well on that day they will thrive throughout the year. As we have already seen,[1094] he crowns the horns of his cows with garlands of flowers to guard them against witchcraft, and in the evening the garlands are hung on the doors of the stalls, where they remain until the next St. George’s Day. Early in the morning of that day, when the herdsman drives the cows from the byres, the housewife takes salt in one hand and a potsherd with glowing coals in the other. She offers the salt to the cow, and the beast must step over the smouldering coals, on which various kinds of roses are smoking. This deprives the witches of all power to harm the cow. On the eve or the morning of the day old women cut thistles and fasten them to the doors and gates of the farm; and they make crosses with cow’s dung on the doors of the byres to ward off the witches. Many knock great nails into the 340doors, which is thought to be a surer preventive even than thistles. In certain districts the people cut thistles before sunrise and put some on each other’s heads, some on the fences, the windows, the doors, and some in the shape of wreaths round the necks of the cows, in order that the witches may be powerless to harm man and beast, house and homestead, throughout the year. If, nevertheless, a witch should contrive to steal through the garden fence and into the byre, it is all over with the cows. A good housewife will also go round her house and cattle-stalls early in the morning of the fateful day and sprinkle them with holy water. Another approved means of driving the witches away is furnished by the froth which is shot from the spokes of a revolving mill-wheel; for common-sense tells us that just as the froth flies from the wheel, so the witches will fly from our house, if only we apply the remedy in the right way. And the right way is this. On the eve of St. George’s Day you must send a child to fetch froth from the mill, three stones from three cross-roads, three twigs of a blackberry bush, three sprigs of beech, and three shoots of a wild vine. Then you insert the plants in a buttered roll, put the stones in the fire, boil the froth, toast the buttered roll over the glowing stones, and speak these words: “The blackberry twigs gather together, the beeches pull together, but the foam from the wheel shakes all evil away.” Do this, and you may take my word for it that no witch will be able to charm away the milk from your cows.[1095]
St. George’s Day among Bulgarians and South Slavs. The Bulgarians believe that cattle are particularly vulnerable to witches during this time, so they have a custom of not giving away milk, butter, or cheese on the eve of St. George’s Day; they say that doing so would mean giving away the profits from their dairy cows.[1091] They wake up very early on this day and wash themselves in the dew for good health.[1092] It’s also said that a proper sacrifice is still made on St. George’s Day in Bulgaria. An old man sacrifices a ram, while girls spread grass to collect the blood.[1093] The purpose of this sacrifice might be to ensure plentiful grass in the pastures. For South Slavs, April 23rd, St. George’s Day, is the main spring festival. The herdsman believes that if his cattle are healthy on this day, they will prosper throughout the year. As we’ve already mentioned,[1094] he adorns the horns of his cows with flower garlands to protect them from witchcraft, and in the evening, those garlands are hung on the doors of the stalls, where they stay until the next St. George’s Day. Early on this day, when the herdsman leads his cows out, the housewife holds salt in one hand and a pot with glowing coals in the other. She offers the salt to the cow, and the cow must step over the smoldering coals, which are sprinkled with different kinds of roses. This is meant to prevent witches from harming the cow. On the eve or morning of the day, older women cut thistles and attach them to the doors and gates of the farm, making crosses with cow dung on the barn doors to keep witches away. Many also drive large nails into the doors, which is believed to be more effective than thistles. In some areas, people cut thistles before sunrise and place them on each other’s heads, as well as on fences, windows, and doors, creating wreaths around the cows' necks, so witches cannot harm people or animals and their homes throughout the year. If, however, a witch manages to slip through the garden fence and into the barn, the cows are doomed. A good housewife will also go around her home and cattle stalls early on that crucial day and sprinkle them with holy water. Another way to chase away witches involves the froth that flies off the spokes of a turning mill wheel; the idea is that just as the froth is flung from the wheel, the witches will be sent away from your home if the remedy is applied correctly. The proper method is this: on the eve of St. George’s Day, send a child to collect froth from the mill, three stones from three crossroads, three twigs from a blackberry bush, three sprigs of beech, and three shoots from a wild vine. Then, insert the plants into a buttered roll, place the stones in the fire, boil the froth, and toast the buttered roll over the glowing stones while saying: “The blackberry twigs gather together, the beeches pull together, but the foam from the wheel shakes all evil away.” If you do this, I assure you that no witch will be able to enchant your cows and steal their milk.[1095]
|Precautions of the same sort are taken against wolves and witches whenever the cattle are driven out to pasture for the first time in spring.| Thus on the whole the festival of St. George at the present day, like the Parilia of ancient Italy, is a ceremony intended to guard the cattle against their real and their imaginary foes, the wolves and the witches, at the critical season when the flocks and herds are driven out to pasture for the first time in spring. Precautions of the same sort are naturally taken by the superstitious herdsman whenever, the winter being over, he turns his herds out into the open for the first time, whether it be on St. George’s Day or not. Thus in Prussia and Lithuania, when the momentous morning broke, the herd-boy ran from house to house in the 341village, knocked at the windows, and cried: “Put out the fire, spin not, reel not, but drive the cattle out!” Meantime the herdsman had fetched sand from the church, which he strewed on the road by which the beasts must go from the farmyard. At the same time he laid a woodcutter’s axe in every doorway, with the sharp edge outwards, over which the cows had to step. Then he walked in front of them, speaking never a word, and paying no heed to the herd, which was kept together by the herd-boys alone. His thoughts were occupied by higher things, for he was busy making crosses, blessing the cattle, and murmuring prayers, till the pastures were reached. The axe in the doorway signified that the wolf should flee from the herd as from the sharp edge of the axe: the sand from the church betokened that the cattle should not disperse and wander in the meadows, but should keep as close together as people in church.[1096]
Similar precautions are taken against wolves and witches when the cattle are first put out to pasture in the spring. So, nowadays, the St. George's festival, like the Parilia of ancient Italy, serves as a ceremony to protect the cattle from both real and imagined threats, like wolves and witches, during the crucial time when flocks and herds are first driven out to pasture in spring. Similarly, the superstitious herdsman follows this practice whenever winter ends and he takes his herds out into the open for the first time, whether it's St. George's Day or not. In Prussia and Lithuania, when that important morning arrived, the herd-boy would run from house to house in the village, knock on the windows, and shout: "Put out the fire, don’t spin, don’t weave, but drive the cattle out!" Meanwhile, the herdsman would gather sand from the church and sprinkle it along the path where the animals would walk from the farmyard. He would also place a woodcutter’s axe in every doorway, with the sharp edge facing out, for the cows to step over. Then he would walk ahead of them, not saying a word and ignoring the herd, which was being managed solely by the herd-boys. His mind was focused on more significant matters, as he was busy making crosses, blessing the cattle, and murmuring prayers until they reached the pastures. The axe in the doorway meant that the wolf should flee from the herd as if from the sharp edge of the axe; the sand from the church indicated that the cattle should not scatter and roam in the meadows, but should stay together like people in church.[1096]
|Swedish observances at turning out the cattle to graze after their winter confinement.| In Sweden the cattle are confined almost wholly to their stalls during the long and dreary northern winter; and the first day in spring on which they are turned out into the forest to graze has been from time immemorial a great popular festival. The time of its celebration depends more or less on the mildness or severity of the season. For the most part it takes place about the middle of May. On the preceding evening bonfires are kindled everywhere in the forest, because so far as their flickering light extends the cattle will be safe from the attacks of wild beasts throughout the summer. For the same reason people go about the woods that night firing guns, blowing horns, and making all kinds of discordant noises. The mode of celebrating the festival, which in some places is called the feast of flowers, varies somewhat in different provinces. In Dalsland the cattle are driven home that day from pasture at noon instead of at evening. Early in the morning the herd-boy repairs with the herd to the forest, where he decks their horns with wreaths of flowers and provides himself with a wand of the rowan or mountain-ash. During his absence the girls pluck flowers, weave them into a garland, 342and hang it on the gate through which the cattle must pass on their return from the forest. When they come back, the herd-boy takes the garland from the gate, fastens it to the top of his wand, and marches with it at the head of his beasts to the hamlet. Afterwards the wand with the garland on it is set up on the muck-heap, where it remains all the summer. The intention of these ceremonies is not said, but on the analogy of the preceding customs we may conjecture that both the flowers and the rowan-wand are supposed to guard the cattle against witchcraft. A little later in the season, when the grass is well grown in the forest, most of the cattle are sent away to the säter, or summer pastures, of which every hamlet commonly has one or more. These are clearings in the woods, and may be many miles distant from the village. In Dalecarlia the departure usually takes place in the first week of June. It is a great event for the pastoral folk. An instinctive longing seems to awaken both in the people and the beasts. The preparations of the women are accompanied by the bleating of the sheep and goats and the lowing of the cattle, which make incessant efforts to break through the pens near the house where they are shut up. Two or more girls, according to the size of the herd, attend the cattle on their migration and stay with them all the summer. Every animal as it goes forth, whether cow, sheep, or goat, is marked on the brow with a cross by means of a tar-brush in order to protect it against evil spirits. But more dangerous foes lie in wait for the cattle in the distant pastures, where bears and wolves not uncommonly rush forth on them from the woods. On such occasions the herd-girls often display the utmost gallantry, belabouring the ferocious beasts with sticks, and risking their own lives in defence of the herds.[1097]
Swedish customs for allowing cattle to graze after being kept in during the winter. In Sweden, cattle are mostly kept in their stalls during the long, harsh northern winter, and the first spring day they are allowed out to graze in the forest has always been a significant popular festival. The timing of this celebration varies depending on how mild or severe the winter has been, but it generally occurs around mid-May. The evening before, bonfires are lit throughout the forest because the flickering light helps keep the cattle safe from wild animals during the summer. For the same reason, people roam the woods that night, firing guns, blowing horns, and making all sorts of loud noises. The way the festival is celebrated, which in some areas is called the feast of flowers, differs a bit across provinces. In Dalsland, the cattle are brought home from pasture at noon instead of in the evening. Early in the morning, the herd-boy takes the animals to the forest, where he decorates their horns with flower wreaths and carries a stick made from rowan or mountain-ash. While he is away, the girls pick flowers, weave them into a garland, and hang it on the gate the cattle will pass through when they come back from the forest. When they return, the herd-boy removes the garland from the gate, attaches it to the top of his stick, and leads his animals back to the village. Later, the stick with the garland is placed on the manure pile, where it stays throughout the summer. The purpose of these ceremonies is not explicitly stated, but based on similar traditions, it seems that both the flowers and the rowan stick are meant to protect the cattle from witchcraft. Later in the season, once the grass has grown well in the forest, most of the cattle are sent off to the säter, or summer pastures, which each village typically has one or more of. These are clearings in the woods that can be several miles away from the village. In Dalecarlia, the departure usually happens in the first week of June. It's a significant event for the shepherding community, and both people and animals seem to feel an instinctive excitement. The women’s preparations are accompanied by the bleating of sheep and goats and the lowing of cattle that try continuously to break through the pens where they are kept. Two or more girls, depending on the size of the herd, accompany the cattle during their journey and stay with them throughout the summer. Every animal, whether cow, sheep, or goat, is marked with a cross on its brow using a tar brush to protect it from evil spirits. However, more dangerous predators lurk in the distant pastures, where bears and wolves may attack the cattle. In such cases, the herd-girls often show remarkable bravery, striking the fierce animals with sticks and risking their own safety to defend the herds.[1097]
|These modern parallels throw light on some features of the Parilia.| The foregoing customs, practised down to modern times by shepherds and herdsmen with a full sense of their meaning, throw light on some features of the Parilia which might otherwise remain obscure. They seem to shew that when the Italian shepherd hung green boughs on his folds, 343and garlands on his doors, he did so in order to keep the witches from the ewes; and that in fumigating his flocks with sulphur and driving them over a fire of straw he sought to interpose a fiery barrier between them and the powers of evil, whether these were conceived as witches or mischievous spirits.
These contemporary parallels illuminate certain aspects of the Parilia. The customs mentioned, still practiced today by shepherds and herdsmen who fully understand their significance, illuminate certain aspects of the Parilia that might otherwise remain unclear. They seem to show that when the Italian shepherd hung green branches on his pens and garlands on his doors, he did so to protect the ewes from witches; and that by fumigating his flocks with sulfur and driving them over a straw fire, he aimed to create a fiery barrier between them and evil forces, whether these were thought of as witches or troublesome spirits.
|Green George a personification of a spirit of trees or of vegetation in general.| But St. George is more than a patron of cattle. The mummer who dresses up in green boughs on the saint’s day and goes by the name of Green George[1098] clearly personifies the saint himself, and such a disguise is appropriate only to a spirit of trees or of vegetation in general. As if to make this quite clear, the Slavs of Carinthia carry a tree decked with flowers in the procession in which Green George figures; and the ceremonies in which the leaf-clad masker takes a part plainly indicate that he is thought to stand in intimate connexion with rain as well as with cattle. This counterpart of our Jack in the Green is known in some parts of Russia, and the Slovenes call him Green George. Dressed in leaves and flowers, he appears in public on St. George’s Day carrying a lighted torch in one hand and a pie in the other. Thus arrayed he goes out to the cornfields, followed by girls, who sing appropriate songs. A circle of brushwood is then lighted, and the pie is set in the middle of it. All who share in the ceremony sit down around the fire, and the pie is divided among them. The observance has perhaps a bearing on the cattle as well as on the cornfields, for in some parts of Russia when the herds go out to graze for the first time in spring a pie baked in the form of a sheep is cut up by the chief herdsman, and the bits are kept as a cure for the ills to which sheep are subject.[1099]
|Green George represents a tree spirit or nature in general.| But St. George is more than just a protector of cattle. The performer who dresses in green branches on the saint’s day and is called Green George[1098] clearly symbolizes the saint himself, and such a costume is fitting only for a spirit of trees or vegetation. To make this point clear, the Slavs of Carinthia carry a flower-adorned tree in the parade where Green George appears; and the rituals that involve the leafy-costumed performer clearly suggest that he is linked to both rain and cattle. This counterpart of our Jack in the Green is known in some areas of Russia, and the Slovenes refer to him as Green George. Dressed in leaves and flowers, he makes an appearance on St. George’s Day, holding a lit torch in one hand and a pie in the other. Clad this way, he heads to the cornfields, followed by girls singing appropriate songs. A circle of brushwood is then ignited, and the pie is placed in the center of it. Everyone participating in the ceremony sits around the fire, and the pie is shared among them. The observance probably has significance for cattle as well as for the cornfields, because in some parts of Russia, when the herds first go out to graze in the spring, a pie baked in the shape of a sheep is cut by the head herdsman, and the pieces are kept as a remedy for the ailments that sheep can have.[1099]
|“Ringing out the grass” on St. George’s Day.| At Schwaz, an old Tyrolese town in the lower valley of the Inn, young lads assemble on St. George’s Day, which is here the twenty-fourth of April, and having provided themselves with bells, both large and small, they go in procession ringing them to the various farms of the neighbourhood, where they are welcomed and given milk to drink. These processions, which take place in other parts 344of the Tyrol also, go by the name of “ringing out the grass” (Grasausläuten), and it is believed that wherever the bell-ringers come, there the grass grows and the crops will be abundant. This beneficial effect appears to be ascribed to the power of the bells to disperse the evil spirits, which are thought to be rampant on St. George’s Day. For the same purpose of averting demoniac influence at this time, people in Salzburg and the neighbouring districts of Upper Austria go in procession round the fields and stick palm branches or small crosses in them; also they fasten branches of the Prunus Padus, L., at the windows of the houses and cattle-stalls.[1100] In some parts of Germany the farmer looks to the height of his corn on St. George’s Day, expecting that it should then be high enough to hide a crow.[1101]
“Ringing out the grass” on St. George’s Day. In Schwaz, an old Tyrolean town in the lower valley of the Inn, young guys gather on St. George’s Day, celebrated here on April 24th. They get bells, both big and small, and parade around ringing them to different farms in the area, where they are greeted and given milk to drink. These parades, which also happen in other parts of Tyrol, are known as “ringing out the grass” (Grasausläuten). It's believed that where the bell-ringers go, the grass grows, and crops will be plentiful. This good effect is thought to come from the bells' ability to chase away evil spirits, which are believed to be particularly active on St. George’s Day. To ward off demonic influences during this time, people in Salzburg and the nearby areas of Upper Austria walk around the fields and stick palm branches or small crosses in them; they also attach branches of the Prunus Padus, L., to the windows of houses and animal stalls.[1100] In some regions of Germany, farmers look at the height of their corn on St. George’s Day, expecting it to be tall enough to conceal a crow.[1101]
|St. George supposed to get barren women with child.| Even when we have said that St. George of Eastern Europe represents an old heathen deity of sheep, cattle, horses, wolves, vegetation, and rain, we have not exhausted all the provinces over which he is supposed to bear sway. According to an opinion which appears to be widely spread, he has the power of blessing barren women with offspring. This belief is clearly at the root of the South Slavonian custom, described above, whereby a childless woman hopes to become a mother by wearing a shirt which has hung all night on a fruitful tree on St. George’s Eve.[1102] Similarly, a Bulgarian wife who desires to have a child will strike off a serpent’s head on St. George’s Day, put a bean in its mouth, and lay the head in a hollow tree or bury it in the earth at a spot so far from the village that the crowing of the cocks cannot be heard there. If the bean buds, her wishes will be granted.[1103]
St. George is thought to assist women who can't conceive. Even when we mention that St. George of Eastern Europe symbolizes an ancient pagan god associated with sheep, cattle, horses, wolves, vegetation, and rain, we still haven't covered all the areas where he's thought to have influence. According to a widely held belief, he has the ability to bless barren women with children. This idea is clearly the foundation of the South Slavonian custom described above, in which a childless woman hopes to become a mother by wearing a shirt that has been hung overnight on a fruitful tree on St. George’s Eve.[1102] Likewise, a Bulgarian wife who wants to conceive will cut off a serpent's head on St. George’s Day, place a bean in its mouth, and leave the head in a hollow tree or bury it far from the village so that the crowing of the cocks cannot be heard. If the bean sprouts, her wishes will come true.[1103]
345|Love-charms practised among the Slavs on St. George’s Day.| It is natural to suppose that a saint who can bestow offspring can also bring fond lovers together. Hence among the Slavs, with whom St. George is so popular, his day is one of the seasons at which youths and maidens resort to charms and divination in order to win or discover the affections of the other sex. Thus, to take examples, a Bohemian way of gaining a girl’s love is as follows. You catch a frog on St. George’s Day, wrap it in a white cloth, and put it in an ant-hill after sunset or about midnight. The creature croaks terribly while the ants are gnawing the flesh from its bones. When silence reigns again, you will find nothing left of the frog but one little bone in the shape of a hook and another little bone in the shape of a shovel. Take the hook-shaped bone, go to the girl of your choice, and hook her dress with the bone, and she will fall over head and ears in love with you. If you afterwards tire of her, you have only to touch her with the shovel-shaped bone, and her affection will vanish as quickly as it came.[1104] Again, at Ceklinj, in Crnagora, maidens go at break of day on St. George’s morning to a well to draw water, and look down into its dark depth till tears fill their eyes and they fancy they see in the water the image of their future husband.[1105] At Krajina, in Servia, girls who would pry into the book of fate gather flowers in the meadows on the eve of St. George, make them up into nosegays, and give to the nosegays the names of the various lads whose hearts they would win. Late at night they place the flowers by stealth under the open sky, on the roof or elsewhere, and leave them there till daybreak. The lad on whose nosegay most dew has fallen will love the girl most truly throughout the year. Sometimes mischievous young men secretly watch these doings, and steal the bunches of flowers, which makes sore hearts among the girls.[1106] Once more, in wooded districts of Bohemia a Czech maiden will sometimes go out on St. George’s Eve into an oak or beech forest and catch a 346young wild pigeon. It may be a ring-dove or a wood-pigeon, but it must always be a male. She takes the bird home with her, and covers it with a sieve or shuts it up in a box that nobody may know what she is about. Having kept and fed it till it can fly, she rises very early in the morning, while the household is still asleep, and goes with the dove to the hearth. Here she presses the bird thrice to her bare breast, above her heart, and then lets it fly away up the chimney, while she says:—
345Love spells practiced by the Slavs on St. George's Day. It's natural to think that a saint who can grant children can also bring lovers together. Therefore, among the Slavs, who hold St. George in high regard, his day is one of the times when young men and women use charms and divination to win or find the affections of the opposite sex. For example, in Bohemia, a way to win a girl's heart goes like this: on St. George’s Day, you catch a frog, wrap it in a white cloth, and bury it in an ant hill after sunset or around midnight. The frog makes terrible croaking sounds while the ants eat its flesh. Once silence returns, you will find only one small bone shaped like a hook and another shaped like a shovel. Take the hook-shaped bone, go to the girl you like, and hook it onto her dress, and she will fall completely in love with you. If you later grow tired of her, just touch her with the shovel-shaped bone, and her affection will disappear as quickly as it came.[1104] In Ceklinj, Crnagora, maidens rise at dawn on St. George's morning to fetch water from a well. They look deep into the water until tears fill their eyes, imagining they see the image of their future husband.[1105] In Krajina, Serbia, girls who want to peek into their fate gather flowers in meadows the night before St. George's Day. They make bouquets from the flowers and assign each bouquet the name of a boy they want to win over. Late at night, they secretly place the flowers under the open sky, on the roof, or elsewhere, leaving them there until dawn. The boy whose bouquet has the most dew on it by morning will love the girl truly throughout the year. Sometimes mischievous young men secretly observe these rituals and steal the bouquets, leaving the girls heartbroken.[1106] Additionally, in the wooded areas of Bohemia, a Czech girl might go out on St. George’s Eve into an oak or beech forest to catch a young wild pigeon. It can be a ring-dove or a wood-pigeon, but it has to be a male. She brings the bird home, covers it with a sieve, or puts it in a box so no one knows what she’s doing. After keeping and feeding it until it can fly, she wakes up early in the morning while the household is still asleep and takes the dove to the hearth. Here, she presses the bird three times against her bare breast, over her heart, and then lets it fly up the chimney, saying:—
|St. George in Syria esteemed a giver of offspring to childless women.| In the East, also, St. George is reputed to be a giver of offspring to barren women, and in this character he is revered by Moslems as well as Christians. His shrines may be found in all parts of Syria; more places are associated with him than with any other saint in the calendar. The most famous of his sanctuaries is at Kalat el Hosn, in Northern Syria. Childless women of all sects resort to it in order that the saint may remove their reproach. Some people shrug their shoulders when the shrine is mentioned in this connexion. Yet many Mohammedan women who desired offspring used to repair to it with the full consent of their husbands. Nowadays the true character of the place is beginning to be perceived, and many Moslems have forbidden their wives to visit it.[1108] Such beliefs and practices |The Syrian St. George may represent Tammuz.| lend some colour to the theory that in the East the saint has taken the place of Tammuz or Adonis.[1109]
St. George in Syria is seen as a provider of children for women who don't have any. In the East, St. George is also known for being a provider of children to barren women, and both Muslims and Christians honor him for this. His shrines can be found throughout Syria; there are more places linked to him than to any other saint in the calendar. The most well-known of his sanctuaries is at Kalat el Hosn, in Northern Syria. Childless women from all faiths come there hoping the saint will remove their shame. Some people may scoff when the shrine is mentioned in this context. However, many Muslim women who wanted children used to visit it with their husbands’ full support. Nowadays, the true nature of the site is starting to be recognized, and many Muslims have prohibited their wives from going there.[1108] Such beliefs and practices The Syrian St. George might symbolize Tammuz. support the idea that in the East, the saint has taken the place of Tammuz or Adonis.[1109]
347|In Europe St. George seems to have displaced an old Aryan god of the spring, such as the Lithuanian Pergrubius.| But we cannot suppose that the worship of Tammuz has been transplanted to Europe and struck its roots deep among the Slavs and other peoples in the eastern part of our continent. Rather amongst them we must look for a native Aryan deity who now masquerades in the costume of the Cappadocian saint and martyr St. George. Perhaps we may find him in the Pergrubius of the Lithuanians, a people who retained their heathen religion later than any other branch of the Aryan stock in Europe. This Pergrubius is described as “the god of the spring,” as “he who makes leaves and grass to grow,” or more fully as “the god of flowers, plants, and all buds.” On St. George’s Day, the twenty-third of April, the heathen Prussians and Lithuanians offered a sacrifice to Pergrubius. A priest, who bore the title of Wurschait, held in his hand a mug of beer, while he thus addressed the deity: “Thou drivest away the winter; thou bringest back the pleasant spring. By thee the fields and gardens are green, by thee the groves and the woods put forth leaves.” According to another version, the prayer ran as follows: “Thou drivest the winter away, and givest in all lands leaves and grass. We pray thee that thou wouldst make our corn to grow and wouldst put down all weeds.” After praying thus, the priest drank the beer, holding the mug with his teeth, but not touching it with his hands. Then without handling it he threw the mug backward over his head. Afterwards it was picked up and filled again, and all present drank out of it. They also sang a hymn in praise of Pergrubius, and then spent the whole day in feasting and dancing.[1110] Thus it appears that Pergrubius was a Lithuanian god of the spring, who caused the grass and the 348corn to grow and the trees to burst into leaf. In this he resembles Green George, the embodiment of the fresh vegetation of spring, whose leaf-clad representative still plays his pranks on the very same day in some parts of Eastern Europe. Nothing, indeed, is said of the relation of Pergrubius to cattle, and so far the analogy between him and St. George breaks down. But our accounts of the old Lithuanian mythology are few and scanty; if we knew more about Pergrubius we might find that as a god or personification of spring he, like St. George, was believed to exert all the quickening powers of that genial season—in other words, that his beneficent activity was not confined to clothing the bare earth with verdure, but extended to the care of the teeming flocks and herds, as well as to the propagation of mankind. Certainly it is not easy to draw a sharp line of division between the god who attends to cattle and the god who provides the food on which they subsist.
347In Europe, St. George appears to have replaced an ancient Aryan spring god, similar to the Lithuanian Pergrubius. However, we can't assume that the worship of Tammuz was brought to Europe and became deeply rooted among the Slavs and other people in Eastern Europe. Instead, we should look for a local Aryan deity who now appears in the form of the Cappadocian saint and martyr St. George. We might find him in the Lithuanian Pergrubius, a people who held onto their pagan beliefs longer than any other group of Aryan descent in Europe. This Pergrubius is described as “the god of spring,” as “he who makes leaves and grass grow,” or more fully as “the god of flowers, plants, and all buds.” On St. George’s Day, April 23rd, the pagan Prussians and Lithuanians made a sacrifice to Pergrubius. A priest, known as Wurschait, held a mug of beer and addressed the deity: “You drive away the winter; you bring back the pleasant spring. Through you, the fields and gardens are green; through you, the groves and woods grow leaves.” In another version, the prayer went like this: “You chase winter away and bring leaves and grass to all lands. We ask you to make our crops grow and to remove all weeds.” After praying this way, the priest drank the beer, holding the mug with his teeth without using his hands. Then, without touching it, he threw the mug over his head. Later, it was picked up, refilled, and everyone drank from it. They also sang a hymn praising Pergrubius and spent the whole day feasting and dancing.[1110] This shows that Pergrubius was a Lithuanian god of spring, who caused grass and corn to grow and trees to burst into leaf. He is similar to Green George, representing the fresh vegetation of spring, whose leafy representative still plays tricks on the same day in some parts of Eastern Europe. However, there’s no mention of Pergrubius's connection to cattle, and thus the similarity with St. George doesn't fully hold. But our knowledge of old Lithuanian mythology is limited; if we knew more about Pergrubius, we might discover that, as a god or figure of spring, he, like St. George, was thought to have all the life-giving powers of that warm season—in other words, that his beneficial influence extended beyond covering the bare earth with greenery to also caring for the abundant flocks and herds, as well as supporting human reproduction. Indeed, it’s challenging to clearly separate the god who looks after cattle from the god who provides the sustenance they rely on. 348
|The Roman equivalent of St. George was Pales, who may have been personated by the king at the Parilia.| Thus Pergrubius may perhaps have been the northern equivalent of the pastoral god Pales, who was worshipped by the Romans only two days earlier at the spring festival of the Parilia. It will be remembered that the Roman shepherds prayed to Pales for grass and leaves, the very things which it was the part of Pergrubius to supply. Is it too bold to conjecture that in rural districts of Italy Pales may have been personated by a leaf-clad man, and that in the early age of Rome the duty of thus representing the god may have been one of the sacred functions of the king? The conjecture at least suggests a reason for the tradition that Numa, the typical priestly king of Rome, was born on the day of the Parilia.
The Roman equivalent of St. George was Pales, who may have been represented by the king during the Parilia. So, Pergrubius could possibly be seen as the northern equivalent of the pastoral god Pales, who was honored by the Romans just two days earlier at the spring festival of the Parilia. It’s worth noting that Roman shepherds would pray to Pales for grass and leaves, which were exactly what Pergrubius was responsible for providing. Is it too far-fetched to think that in rural parts of Italy, Pales might have been represented by a man dressed in leaves, and that in early Rome, the role of embodying the god may have been one of the sacred duties of the king? This idea at least offers an explanation for the tradition that Numa, the classic priest-king of Rome, was born on the day of the Parilia.
CHAPTER XX
THE WORSHIP OF THE OAK
§ 1. The Diffusion of the Oak in Europe
|The Latin kings represented Jupiter, the god of the oak, the sky, the thunder, and the rain.| In a preceding chapter some reasons were given for thinking that the early Latin kings posed as living representatives of Jupiter, the god of the oak, the sky, the rain, and the thunder, and that in this capacity they attempted to exercise the fertilising functions which were ascribed to the god. The probability of this view will be strengthened if it can be proved that the same god was worshipped under other names by other branches of the Aryan stock in Europe, and that the Latin kings were not alone in arrogating to themselves his powers and attributes. In this chapter I propose briefly to put together a few of the principal facts which point to this conclusion.
The Latin kings symbolized Jupiter, the god of the oak, sky, thunder, and rain. In a previous chapter, we discussed some reasons for believing that the early Latin kings acted as living representations of Jupiter, the god of the oak, the sky, the rain, and the thunder, and that in doing so, they tried to perform the fertilizing functions attributed to the god. This idea will be more convincing if it can be shown that the same god was worshipped under different names by other branches of the Aryan people in Europe, and that the Latin kings were not the only ones claiming his powers and attributes. In this chapter, I plan to briefly compile a few key facts that support this conclusion.
|Why should the god of the oak be also the god of the sky, the thunder, and the rain?| But at the outset a difficulty presents itself. To us the oak, the sky, the rain, and the thunder appear things totally distinct from each other. How did our forefathers come to group them together and imagine them as attributes of one and the same god? A connexion may be seen between the sky, the rain, and the thunder; but what has any of them to do with the oak? Yet one of these apparently disparate elements was probably the original nucleus round which in time the others gathered and crystallised into the composite conception of Jupiter. Accordingly we must ask, Which of them was the original centre of attraction? If men started with the idea of an oak-god, how came they to enlarge his kingdom by annexing to it the province of the sky, the rain, and the thunder? If, on the other hand, they 350set out with the notion of a god of the sky, the rain, and the thunder, or any one of them, why should they have added the oak to his attributes? The oak is terrestrial; the sky, the thunder, and the rain are celestial or aerial. What is the bridge between the two?
|Why should the god of the oak also be the god of the sky, thunder, and rain?| But right away, we hit a snag. To us, the oak, the sky, the rain, and the thunder seem to be completely different things. How did our ancestors come to group them together and think of them as traits of one god? There’s a connection between the sky, the rain, and the thunder; but what does any of that have to do with the oak? Yet, one of these seemingly unrelated elements was likely the original core around which the others gathered and formed the combined idea of Jupiter. So, we need to ask, which one was the original focal point? If people began with the idea of an oak god, how did they expand his domain to include the sky, the rain, and the thunder? On the flip side, if they started with the concept of a god of the sky, the rain, and the thunder, or any of those, why would they have added the oak to his characteristics? The oak is earthly; the sky, the thunder, and the rain are heavenly or atmospheric. What connects the two?
|In the composite character of Jupiter the oak is probably primary, the sky, the rain, and the thunder secondary and derivative.| In the sequel I shall endeavour to shew that on the principle of primitive thought the evolution of a sky-god from an oak-god is more easily conceivable than the converse; and if I succeed, it becomes probable that in the composite character of Jupiter the oak is primary and original, the sky, the rain, and the thunder secondary and derivative.
In the mixed nature of Jupiter, the oak is probably the primary element, while the sky, rain, and thunder are secondary and derived. Later, I will try to show that, based on the idea of early thought, it's more reasonable to think of a sky-god evolving from an oak-god than the other way around; and if I'm successful, it suggests that in Jupiter's mixed character, the oak is the primary and original aspect, while the sky, rain, and thunder are secondary and derived.
|Europe covered with vast oak forests in prehistoric times.| We have seen that long before the dawn of history Europe was covered with vast primaeval woods, which must have exercised a profound influence on the thought as well as on the life of our rude ancestors who dwelt dispersed under the gloomy shadow or in the open glades and clearings of the forest.[1111] Now, of all the trees which composed these woods the oak appears to have been both the commonest and the most useful. The proof of this is drawn partly from the statements of classical writers, partly from the remains of ancient villages built on piles in lakes and marshes, and partly from the oak forests which have been found embedded in peat-bogs.
Europe was once covered with large oak forests in prehistoric times. We've seen that long before recorded history, Europe was blanketed with large primeval forests, which likely had a significant impact on the thoughts and lives of our primitive ancestors who lived scattered under the dark canopy or in the open spaces and clearings of the woods.[1111] Among all the trees in these forests, the oak seems to have been both the most common and the most valuable. This is evidenced partly by the writings of classical authors, partly by the remnants of ancient villages built on stilts in lakes and swamps, and partly by the oak forests that have been discovered buried in peat bogs.
|Remains of oak forests found in peat-bogs.| These bogs, which attain their greatest development in Northern Europe, but are met with also in the central and southern parts of the Continent, have preserved as in a museum the trees and plants which sprang up and flourished after the end of the glacial epoch. Thus in Scotland the peat, which occupies wide areas both in the highlands and lowlands, almost everywhere covers the remains of forests, among which the commoner trees are pine, oak, and birch. The oaks are of great size, and are found at heights above the sea such as the tree would not now naturally attain to. Equally remarkable for their size are the pines, but though they also had a wider distribution than at present, they appear not to have formed any extensive forests at the lowest levels of the country. Still, remains of them have been dug up in many lowland peat-mosses, where the bulk 351of the buried timber is oak.[1112] When Hatfield Moss in Yorkshire was drained, there were found in it trunks of oak a hundred feet long and as black as ebony. One giant actually measured a hundred and twenty feet in length, with a diameter of twelve feet at the root and six feet at the top. No such tree now exists in Europe.[1113] Sunken forests and peat occur at many places on the coasts of England, especially on low shelving shores where the land falls away with a gentle slope to the sea. These submerged areas were once mud flats which, as the sea retreated from them, gradually became clothed with dense forests, chiefly of oak and Scotch fir, though ash, yew, alder, and other trees sooner or later mingled with them.[1114] The great peat-bogs of Ireland shew that there was a time when vast woods of oak and yew covered the country, the oak growing on the hills up to a height of four hundred feet or thereabout above the sea, while at higher levels deal was the prevailing timber. Human relics have often been discovered in these Irish bogs, and ancient roadways made of oak have also come to light.[1115] In the peat-bog near Abbeville, in the valley of the Somme, trunks of oak have been dug up fourteen feet thick, a diameter rarely met with outside the tropics in the old Continent.[1116]
|Remnants of oak forests discovered in peat bogs.| These bogs, which are most abundant in Northern Europe but can also be found in central and southern parts of the continent, have preserved the trees and plants that thrived after the end of the Ice Age like they were in a museum. In Scotland, the peat that covers large areas in both the highlands and lowlands often hides the remains of forests, with common trees like pine, oak, and birch. The oaks are particularly large and can be found at elevations that they would not naturally grow at now. The pines are also notable for their size, and while they had a wider distribution in the past, they didn't seem to form large forests in the country’s lowland areas. Nonetheless, remnants of them have been discovered in many lowland peat bogs, where most of the buried timber is oak.351 When Hatfield Moss in Yorkshire was drained, oak trunks were uncovered that were a hundred feet long and black as ebony. One remarkable tree even measured a hundred and twenty feet in length, with a diameter of twelve feet at the base and six feet at the top. No tree of such size exists in Europe today.[1112] Sunken forests and peat can be found in various locations along the coasts of England, especially on low, sloping shores where the land gently descends to the sea. These submerged areas were once mud flats that gradually became covered with dense forests—primarily oak and Scots pine—after the sea receded, though species like ash, yew, alder, and others eventually mixed in.[1113] The vast peat bogs of Ireland indicate there was a time when extensive oak and yew forests populated the country, with oak growing on hills up to about four hundred feet above sea level, while at higher altitudes, fir trees were more common. Human artifacts have frequently been found in these Irish bogs, along with ancient oak roads that have surfaced.[1114] In the peat bog near Abbeville, in the valley of the Somme, oak trunks have been excavated that are fourteen feet thick—a diameter rarely seen outside the tropics in mainland Europe.[1115]
|Former oak woods of Denmark and Scandinavia.| At present the woods of Denmark consist for the most part of magnificent beeches, which flourish here as luxuriantly as anywhere in the world. Oaks are much rarer and appear to be on the decline. Yet the evidence of the peat-bogs proves that before the advent of the beech the country was overspread with dense forests of tall and stately oaks. It was during the ascendency of the oak in the woods that bronze seems to have become known in Denmark; for swords and shields of that metal, now in the museum of Copenhagen, have been taken out of peat in which oaks abound. Yet at a still earlier period the oak had been preceded by the pine or Scotch fir in the Danish forests; and 352the discovery of neolithic implements in the peat-bogs shews that savages of the Stone Age had their homes in these old pine woods as well as in the later forests of oak. Some antiquaries are of opinion that the Iron Age in Denmark began with the coming of the beech, but of this there is no evidence; for aught we know to the contrary the beautiful beech forests may date back to the Age of Bronze.[1117] The peat-bogs of Norway abound in buried timber; and in many of them the trees occur in two distinct layers. The lower of these layers consists chiefly of oak, hazel, ash, and other deciduous trees; the upper is composed of Scotch firs and birches. In the bogs of Sweden also the oak forests underlie the pine forests.[1118] However, it appears to be doubtful whether Scandinavia was inhabited in the age of the oak woods. Neolithic tools have indeed been found in the peat, but generally not deeper down than two feet or so; hence one antiquary infers that in these bogs not more than two feet of peat has formed within historical times.[1119] But negative evidence on such a point goes for little, as only a small portion of the bogs can have been explored.
Former oak forests of Denmark and Scandinavia. Today, the forests of Denmark are mostly filled with stunning beeches, which thrive here as abundantly as anywhere in the world. Oaks are much less common and seem to be decreasing. However, the evidence from the peat bogs shows that before the beeches took over, the area was covered with dense forests of tall, majestic oaks. During the time when oaks dominated the woods, bronze appears to have been introduced in Denmark; swords and shields made of this metal, now displayed in the Copenhagen museum, have been excavated from peat where oaks were prevalent. Even earlier, the oak was preceded by the pine, or Scotch fir, in the Danish forests; and 352 the find of neolithic tools in the peat bogs indicates that Stone Age people lived in these old pine forests as well as in the later oak forests. Some historians believe that the Iron Age in Denmark began with the arrival of the beech, but there is no solid evidence for this; the beautiful beech forests might actually go back to the Bronze Age.[1117] The peat bogs of Norway are rich in buried wood, and in many of them, the trees are found in two separate layers. The lower layer mainly consists of oak, hazel, ash, and other deciduous trees, while the upper layer is made up of Scotch firs and birches. In Sweden’s bogs, the oak forests also lie beneath the pine forests.[1118] However, it’s uncertain whether Scandinavia was inhabited during the age of oak woods. Neolithic tools have indeed been found in the peat, but generally not deeper than about two feet; thus, one historian infers that no more than two feet of peat has formed in these bogs in historical times.[1119] However, negative evidence about this point is not very convincing, as only a small section of the bogs can have been investigated.
|The ancient lake dwellings of Europe were built to a great extent on oaken piles.| Unequivocal proof of the prevalence of the oak and its usefulness to man in early times is furnished by the remains of the pile villages which have been discovered in many of the lakes of Europe. In the British Islands the piles and the platforms on which these crannogs or lake dwellings rested appear to have been generally of oak, though fir, birch, and other trees were sometimes used in their construction. Speaking of the Irish and Scotch crannogs a learned antiquary remarks: “Every variety of structure observed in the one country is to be found in the other, from the purely artificial island, framed of oak-beams, mortised together, to the natural island, artificially fortified or enlarged by girdles of oak-piles or ramparts of loose stones.”[1120] Canoes hollowed out of trunks of oak have been found both in the Scotch and in the Irish crannogs.[1121] In 353the lake dwellings of Switzerland and Central Europe the piles are very often of oak, but by no means as uniformly so as in the British Islands; fir, birch, alder, ash, elm, and other timber were also employed for the purpose.[1122] That the inhabitants of these villages subsisted partly on the produce |The inhabitants of the lake dwellings subsisted partly on acorns.| of the oak, even after they had adopted agriculture, is proved by the acorns which have been found in their dwellings along with wheat, barley, and millet, as well as beech-nuts, hazel-nuts, and the remains of chestnuts and cherries.[1123] In the valley of the Po the framework of logs and planks which supports the prehistoric villages is most commonly of elm wood, but evergreen oak and chestnut were also used; and the abundance of oaks is attested by the great quantities of acorns which were dug up in these settlements. As the acorns were sometimes found stored in earthenware vessels, it appears that they were eaten by the people as well as by their pigs.[1124]
The ancient lake houses of Europe were primarily constructed on oak piles. Clear evidence of the widespread use of oak and its value to early humans is provided by the remains of the pile villages discovered in many of Europe's lakes. In the British Isles, the piles and platforms for these crannogs or lake houses were generally made of oak, although fir, birch, and other types of wood were sometimes used. Regarding the Irish and Scottish crannogs, a knowledgeable historian notes: “Every type of structure seen in one country can be found in the other, ranging from the entirely man-made island made of oak beams, joined together, to the natural island that was enhanced or fortified with rings of oak piles or walls of loose stones.”[1120] Canoes carved out of oak trunks have been found in both Scottish and Irish crannogs.[1121] In the 353 lake houses of Switzerland and Central Europe, the piles are often made of oak, though not as consistently as in the British Isles; fir, birch, alder, ash, elm, and other woods were also used.[1122] The fact that the people in these villages relied partly on the oak's yield, even after they began farming, is shown by the acorns found in their homes alongside wheat, barley, and millet, as well as beech nuts, hazelnuts, and remnants of chestnuts and cherries.[1123] In the Po Valley, the framework of logs and boards that supports the prehistoric villages is mostly made of elm, but evergreen oak and chestnut were also used; the abundance of oaks is confirmed by the large numbers of acorns unearthed in these settlements. Since acorns were sometimes found stored in clay pots, it seems they were consumed by the people as well as their pigs.[1124]
|Evidence of classical writers as to the oak forests of Europe.| The evidence of classical writers proves that great oak forests still existed down to their time in various parts of Europe. Thus the Veneti on the Atlantic coast of Brittany made their flat-bottomed boats out of oak timber, of which, we are told, there was abundance in their country.[1125] Pliny informs us that, while the whole of Germany was covered with cool and shady woods, the loftiest trees were to be seen not far from the country of the Chauci, who inhabited the coast of the North Sea. Among these giants of the forest he speaks especially of the oaks which grew on the banks of two lakes. When the waves had undermined their roots, the oaks are said to have torn away great portions of the bank and floated like islands on the lakes.[1126] The same |The oak woods of Germany.| 354writer speaks of the vast Hercynian wood of Germany as an oak forest, old as the world, untouched for ages, and passing wonderful in its immortality. So huge were the trees, he says, that when their roots met they were forced up above ground in the shape of arches, through which a troop of horse could ride as through an open gate.[1127] His testimony as to the kind of trees which composed this famous forest is confirmed by its name, which seems to mean no more than “oak wood.”[1128] In the second century before our era oak forests were still so common in the valley of the Po that the herds of swine which browsed on the acorns sufficed to |The oak woods of ancient Italy and Greece.| supply the greater part of the demand for pork throughout Italy, although nowhere in the world, according to Polybius, were more pigs butchered to feed the gods, the people, and the army.[1129] Elsewhere the same historian describes the immense herds of swine which roamed the Italian oak forests, especially on the coasts of Tuscany and Lombardy. In order to sort out the different droves when they mingled with each other in the woods, each swineherd carried a horn, and when he wound a blast on it all his own pigs came trooping to him with such vehemence that nothing could stop them; for all the herds knew the note of their own horn. In the oak forests of Greece this device was unknown, and the swineherds there had harder work to come by their own when the beasts had strayed far in the woods, as they were apt to do in autumn while the acorns were falling.[1130] Down to the beginning of our era oak woods were interspersed among the olive groves and vineyards of the Sabine country in central Italy.[1131] Among the beautiful woods which clothed the Heraean mountains in Sicily the oaks were particularly remarked for their stately growth and the great size of their acorns.[1132] In the second century after 355Christ the oak forests of Arcadia still harboured wild boars, bears, and huge tortoises in their dark recesses.[1133]
|Accounts from classical authors regarding the oak forests of Europe.| The accounts from classical writers show that large oak forests still existed during their time in various parts of Europe. For instance, the Veneti on the Atlantic coast of Brittany made their flat-bottomed boats from oak wood, which was plentiful in their region.[1125] Pliny tells us that while Germany was covered in cool, shady woods, the tallest trees were found near the country of the Chauci, who lived on the North Sea coast. Among these giant trees, he especially mentions the oaks that grew along the shores of two lakes. When the waves had eroded their roots, the oaks were said to have torn away large parts of the bank and floated like islands on the lakes.[1126] The same The oak forests of Germany. 354writers describe the vast Hercynian wood in Germany as an oak forest, ancient as the world itself, left untouched for ages, and remarkable for its lasting nature. He claimed that the trees were so large that when their roots intertwined, they were pushed above ground in the form of arches, allowing a troop of horsemen to ride through as if it were an open gate.[1127] His observations about the types of trees in this renowned forest are backed by its name, which simply seems to mean “oak wood.”[1128] In the second century B.C., oak forests were still so prevalent in the Po Valley that the herds of pigs that fed on the acorns were enough to meet most of Italy's pork demand, even though, as Polybius said, nowhere else in the world were more pigs slaughtered for the gods, the people, and the army.[1129] Elsewhere, the same historian describes the massive herds of pigs roaming the Italian oak forests, particularly along the coasts of Tuscany and Lombardy. To manage the different groups when they mixed in the woods, each swineherd carried a horn, and when he blew it, all his pigs would come running to him with such eagerness that nothing could stop them, as all the herds recognized the sound of their own horn. In the oak forests of Greece, this method was unknown, and the swineherds there had a harder time finding their pigs when they wandered far into the woods, especially during autumn when the acorns were falling.[1130] Until the beginning of our era, oak woods were scattered among the olive groves and vineyards of the Sabine region in central Italy.[1131] The beautiful woods covering the Heraean mountains in Sicily were particularly noted for their impressive oaks and the large size of their acorns.[1132] In the second century A.D., the oak forests of Arcadia still sheltered wild boars, bears, and huge tortoises in their dark corners.[1133]
|The oak still the chief forest tree of Europe.| Even now the predominance of the oak as the principal forest tree of Europe has hardly passed away. Thus we are told that among the leaf-bearing trees of Greece, as opposed to the conifers, the oak still plays by far the most important part in regard both to the number of the individuals and the number of the species.[1134] And the British oak in particular (Quercus robur) is yet the prevailing tree in most of the woods of France, Germany, and southern Russia, while in England the coppice and the few fragments of natural forest still left are mainly composed of this species.[1135]
The oak is still the main forest tree in Europe. Even today, the oak's status as the main forest tree in Europe has not faded. We learn that among the broadleaf trees in Greece, compared to the conifers, the oak still plays a significantly important role in both the number of individuals and the variety of species.[1134] Moreover, the British oak (Quercus robur) is still the dominant tree in most woods across France, Germany, and southern Russia, while in England, the coppice and the remaining fragments of natural forest are primarily made up of this species.[1135]
|In Europe acorns have been used as human food both in ancient and modern times.| Thus the old classical tradition that men lived upon acorns before they learned to till the ground[1136] may very well be founded on fact. Indeed acorns were still an article of diet in some parts of southern Europe within historical times. Speaking of the prosperity of the righteous, Hesiod declares that for them the earth bears much substance, and the oak on the mountains puts forth acorns.[1137] The Arcadians in their oak-forests were proverbial for eating acorns,[1138] but not the acorns of all oaks, only those of a particular sort.[1139] Pliny tells us that in his day acorns still constituted the wealth of many nations, and that in time of dearth they were ground and baked into bread.[1140] According to Strabo, the mountaineers of Spain subsisted on acorn bread for two-thirds of the year;[1141] and in that country acorns were served up as a second course even at the meals of the well-to-do.[1142] In the same regions the same practice 356|Acorns as food in modern Europe.| has survived to modern times. The commonest and finest oak of modern Greece is the Quercus Aegilops, with a beautiful crown of leaves, and the peasants eat its acorns both roasted and raw.[1143] The sweeter acorns of the Quercus Ballota also serve them as food, especially in Arcadia.[1144] In Spain people eat the acorns of the evergreen oak (Quercus Ilex), which are known as bellotas, and are said to be much larger and more succulent than the produce of the British oak. The duchess in Don Quixote writes to Sancho’s wife to send her some of them. But oaks are now few and far between in La Mancha.[1145] Even in England and France acorns have been boiled and eaten by the poor as a substitute for bread in time of dearth.[1146] And naturally the use of acorns as food for swine has also lasted into modern times. It is on acorns that those hogs are fattened in Estremadura which make the famous Montanches hams.[1147] Large herds of swine in all the great oak woods of Germany depend on acorns for their autumn subsistence; and in the remaining royal forests of England the inhabitants of the neighbouring villages still claim their ancient right of pannage, turning their hogs into the woods in October and November.[1148]
In Europe, people have consumed acorns as food throughout both ancient and modern times. So the old classical idea that humans lived on acorns before they learned to farm[1136] might actually be true. In fact, acorns were still part of the diet in some areas of southern Europe during historical times. Hesiod talks about the prosperity of the righteous, saying that the earth produces plenty, and the oak trees on the mountains produce acorns.[1137] The Arcadians, known for their oak forests, were famous for eating acorns,[1138] but they only consumed acorns from a specific type of oak.[1139] Pliny mentions that in his time, acorns were still an important source of wealth for many nations, and during times of famine, they were ground and baked into bread.[1140] According to Strabo, the mountain people of Spain lived on acorn bread for two-thirds of the year;[1141] and in that country, acorns were served as a second course even at the dinners of the wealthy.[1142] The same tradition 356Acorns as food in today's Europe. has continued to the present day. The most common and best oak in modern Greece is the Quercus Aegilops, which has a lovely crown of leaves, and peasants eat its acorns both roasted and raw.[1143] The sweeter acorns of the Quercus Ballota are also eaten, especially in Arcadia.[1144] In Spain, people consume the acorns from the evergreen oak (Quercus Ilex), known as bellotas, which are said to be much larger and more delicious than those from the British oak. The duchess in Don Quixote writes to Sancho’s wife requesting some of them. However, oaks have become rare in La Mancha.[1145] Even in England and France, the poor have boiled and eaten acorns as a substitute for bread during famines.[1146] Additionally, the practice of feeding acorns to pigs has also continued into modern times. In Estremadura, they fatten pigs on acorns to make the famous Montanches hams.[1147] Large herds of pigs in all the major oak forests of Germany rely on acorns for their food in autumn, and in the remaining royal forests of England, local villagers still claim their traditional right of pannage, letting their pigs into the woods in October and November.[1148]
§ 2. The Aryan God of the Oak and the Thunder[1149]
|The many benefits received by the ancient Aryans from the oak naturally led them to worship the tree.| Thus we may conclude that the primitive Aryans of Europe lived among oak woods, used oak sticks for the lighting of their fires, and oak timber for the construction of 357their villages, their roads, their canoes, fed their swine on acorns, and themselves subsisted in part on the same simple diet. No wonder, then, if the tree from which they received so many benefits should play an important part in their religion, and should be invested with a sacred character. We have seen that the worship of trees has been world-wide, and that, beginning with a simple reverence and dread of the tree as itself animated by a powerful spirit, it has |The worship of the tree itself gradually grew into a worship of the god of the tree, but no sharp line of distinction can be drawn between the two.| gradually grown into a cult of tree gods and tree goddesses, who with the advance of thought become more and more detached from their old home in the trees, and assume the character of sylvan deities and powers of fertility in general, to whom the husbandman looks not merely for the prosperity of his crops, but for the fecundity of his cattle and his women. Where this evolution has taken place it has necessarily been slow and long. Though it is convenient to distinguish in theory between the worship of trees and the worship of gods of the trees, it is impossible to draw a hard and fast line between them in practice, and to say, “Here the one begins and the other ends.” Such distinctions, however useful they may be as heads of classification to the student, evade in general the duller wit of the tree worshipper. We cannot therefore hope to lay our finger on that precise point in the history of the Aryans when they ceased to worship the oak for its own sake, and began to worship a god of the oak. That point, if it were ideally possible to mark it, had doubtless been left far behind them by the more intelligent, at least, of our forefathers before they emerged into the light of history. We must be content for the most part to find among them gods of whom the oak was an attribute or sacred adjunct rather than the essence. If we wish to find the original worship of the tree itself we must go for it to the ignorant peasantry of to-day, not to the enlightened writers of antiquity. Further, it is to be borne in mind that while all oaks were probably the object of superstitious awe, so that the felling of any of them for timber or firewood would be attended with ceremonies designed to appease the injured spirit of the tree,[1150] only certain particular groves or individual oaks would in general receive that measure of 358homage which we should term worship. The reasons which led men to venerate some trees more than others might be various. Amongst them the venerable age and imposing size of a giant oak would naturally count for much. And any other striking peculiarity which marked a tree off from its fellows would be apt to attract the attention, and to concentrate on itself the vague superstitious awe of the savage. We know, for example, that with the Druids the growth of mistletoe on an oak was a sign that the tree was especially sacred; and the rarity of this feature—for mistletoe does not commonly grow on oaks—would enhance the sanctity and mystery of the tree. For it is the strange, the wonderful, the rare, not the familiar and commonplace, which excites the religious emotions of mankind.
The numerous benefits that the ancient Aryans gained from the oak naturally led them to revere the tree. So, we can conclude that the early Aryans in Europe lived among oak forests, used oak branches to start their fires, and built their villages, roads, and canoes from oak wood. They fed their pigs acorns and partly survived on the same simple diet. It's no surprise, then, that the tree providing them so many benefits played a significant role in their religion and was seen as sacred. We've seen that tree worship has been universal, initially starting with a basic reverence and fear of trees as if they were animated by powerful spirits. The worship of the tree itself gradually transformed into the worship of the god of the tree, but there’s no clear line between the two.|As time went on, this developed into a worship of tree gods and goddesses. As ideas progressed, these deities became more separated from their origins in the trees and transformed into woodland gods and fertility spirits. Farmers sought their favor not only for the success of their crops but also for the fertility of their livestock and women.| This evolution has been slow and long. While it’s useful to theoretically distinguish between tree worship and the worship of tree gods, it’s impossible to clearly delineate them in practice and say, “Here one starts and the other ends.” Such distinctions, though helpful for classification for students, often escape the understanding of the tree worshipper. Therefore, we can’t pinpoint the exact moment in Aryan history when they stopped worshipping the oak for its own sake and began worshipping a god of the oak. If it were ideal to mark that point, it had likely been left long behind by at least the more advanced of our ancestors before they entered recorded history. For the most part, we can find among them gods for whom the oak was an attribute or a sacred element rather than the core essence. If we want to uncover the original worship of the tree itself, we need to look to today's uneducated peasantry, not the educated writers of ancient times. Additionally, it’s worth noting that while all oaks likely inspired some superstitious awe—meaning that cutting any of them down for timber or firewood would involve rituals to appease the wounded spirit of the tree—only particular groves or individual oaks generally received what we would consider worship. Various reasons led people to revere some trees more than others. Among these, the ancient age and grand size of a giant oak would naturally hold significance. Any other striking feature setting a tree apart from others would also tend to draw attention and focus the vague superstitious awe of primitive people. For instance, we know that for the Druids, finding mistletoe on an oak was a sign that the tree was especially sacred, and since mistletoe doesn’t commonly grow on oaks, this rarity would heighten the tree’s sanctity and mystery. It is the unusual, the wonderful, the rare—and not the familiar and mundane—that stirs the religious feelings of humanity.
|The worship of the oak tree or of the oak god seems to have been common to all the Aryans of Europe.| The worship of the oak tree or of the oak god appears to have been shared by all the branches of the Aryan stock in Europe. Both Greeks and Italians associated the tree |Worship of the oak in Greece; its association with Zeus.| with their highest god, Zeus or Jupiter, the divinity of the sky, the rain, and the thunder.[1151] Perhaps the oldest and certainly one of the most famous sanctuaries in Greece was that of Dodona, where Zeus was revered in the oracular oak.[1152] The thunder-storms which are said to rage at Dodona more frequently than anywhere else in Europe,[1153] would render the spot a fitting home for the god whose voice was heard alike in the rustling of the oak leaves and in the crash of thunder. Perhaps the bronze gongs which kept up a humming in the wind round the sanctuary[1154] were 359meant to mimick the thunder that might so often be heard rolling and rumbling in the coombs of the stern and barren mountains which shut in the gloomy valley.[1155] In Boeotia, as we have seen, the sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera, the oak god and the oak goddess, was celebrated with much pomp by a religious federation of states.[1156] And on Mount Lycaeus in Arcadia the character of Zeus as god both of the oak and of the rain comes out clearly in the rain charm practised by the priest of Zeus, who dipped an oak branch in a sacred spring.[1157]
The worship of the oak tree or the oak god appears to have been prevalent among all the Aryans in Europe. The worship of the oak tree or the oak god appears to have been shared by all branches of the Aryan people in Europe. Both Greeks and Italians associated the tree |Veneration of the oak tree in Greece; its connection to Zeus.| with their highest god, Zeus or Jupiter, the deity of the sky, rain, and thunder.[1151] Perhaps the oldest and definitely one of the most famous sanctuaries in Greece was that of Dodona, where Zeus was honored in the oracular oak.[1152] The thunderstorms that are said to occur at Dodona more frequently than anywhere else in Europe,[1153] would make the place a fitting home for the god whose voice could be heard in the rustling of the oak leaves and the crash of thunder. Maybe the bronze gongs that created a humming sound in the wind around the sanctuary[1154] were meant to mimic the thunder that could often be heard rolling and rumbling in the deep and barren mountains surrounding the gloomy valley.[1155] In Boeotia, as we have seen, the sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera, the oak god and the oak goddess, was celebrated with great ceremony by a religious federation of states.[1156] And on Mount Lycaeus in Arcadia, the nature of Zeus as the god of both the oak and the rain is clearly shown in the rain charm performed by the priest of Zeus, who would dip an oak branch in a sacred spring.[1157]
|Zeus as the rain god of the Greeks.| In his latter capacity Zeus was the god to whom the Greeks regularly prayed for rain. Nothing could be more natural; for often, though not always, he had his seat on the mountains where the clouds gather and the oaks grow. On the acropolis at Athens there was an image of Earth praying to Zeus for rain.[1158] And in time of drought the Athenians themselves prayed, “Rain, rain, O dear Zeus, on the cornland of the Athenians and on the plains.”[1159] The mountains which lay round their city, and to which they looked through the clear Attic air for signs of the weather, were associated by them with the worship of the weather-god Zeus. It was a sign of rain when, away to sea, a cloud rested on the sharp peak of Aegina, which cuts the sky-line like a blue horn.[1160] On this far-seen peak Panhellenian Zeus was worshipped,[1161] and legend ran that once, when all Greece was parched with drought, envoys assembled in Aegina from every quarter and entreated Aeacus, the king of the island, that he would intercede with his father Zeus for rain. The king complied with the request, and by sacrifices and prayers wrung the needed showers from his sire the sky-god.[1162]
Zeus as the Greek god of rain. In this role, Zeus was the god that the Greeks frequently prayed to for rain. It made perfect sense; often, although not always, he resided on the mountains where clouds formed and oaks grew. On the Acropolis in Athens, there was a statue of Earth asking Zeus for rain.[1158] During times of drought, the Athenians prayed, “Rain, rain, dear Zeus, on the fields of the Athenians and on the plains.”[1159] The mountains surrounding their city, which they looked to through the clear Attic air for weather signs, were linked to the worship of the weather god Zeus. When a cloud rested on the sharp peak of Aegina, which jutted into the sky like a blue horn, it was a sign of rain.[1160] On this distant peak, Panhellenian Zeus was worshipped,[1161] and legend tells that once, when all of Greece was suffering from drought, envoys from all over came together in Aegina and asked Aeacus, the king of the island, to plead with his father Zeus for rain. The king agreed and, through sacrifices and prayers, was able to persuade his father, the sky-god, to send the much-needed showers.[1162]
360|Zeus as the god of fertility.| Again, it was a sign of rain at Athens when clouds in summer lay on the top or the sides of Hymettus,[1163] the chain of barren mountains which bounds the Attic plain on the east, facing the westering sun and catching from his last beams a solemn glow of purple light. If during a storm a long bank of clouds was seen lowering on the mountain, it meant that the storm would increase in fury.[1164] Hence an altar of Showery Zeus stood on Hymettus.[1165] Again, omens of weather were drawn when lightning flashed or clouds hung on the top of Mount Parnes to the north of Athens;[1166] and there accordingly an altar was set up to sign-giving Zeus.[1167] The climate of eastern Argolis is dry, and the rugged mountains are little better than a stony waterless wilderness. On one of them, named Mount Arachnaeus, or the Spider Mountain, stood altars of Zeus and Hera, and when rain was wanted the people sacrificed there to the god and goddess.[1168] On the ridge of Mount Tmolus, near Sardes, there was a spot called the Birthplace of Rainy Zeus,[1169] probably because clouds resting on it were observed to presage rain. The members of a religious society in the island of Cos used to go in procession and offer sacrifices on an altar of Rainy Zeus, when the thirsty land stood in need of refreshing showers.[1170] Thus conceived as the source of fertility, it was not unnatural that Zeus should receive the title of the Fruitful One,[1171] and that at Athens he should be worshipped under the surname of the Husbandman.[1172]
360 degreesZeus, the god of fertility. Again, it was a sign of rain in Athens when clouds during summer rested on the top or sides of Hymettus,[1163] the range of barren mountains that borders the Attic plain to the east, facing the setting sun and catching a tranquil glow of purple light from its last rays. If a thick bank of clouds was seen gathering on the mountain during a storm, it indicated that the storm would intensify.[1164] Therefore, an altar to Showery Zeus was established on Hymettus.[1165] Similarly, omens about the weather were noted when lightning struck or clouds settled on the summit of Mount Parnes to the north of Athens;[1166] thus an altar was erected to the omen-giving Zeus there.[1167] The climate in eastern Argolis is dry, and the rugged mountains are little more than a barren, waterless landscape. On one such mountain, called Mount Arachnaeus, or the Spider Mountain, there were altars dedicated to Zeus and Hera, and when rain was needed, people would sacrifice there to the god and goddess.[1168] On the ridge of Mount Tmolus, near Sardes, there was a place known as the Birthplace of Rainy Zeus,[1169] likely because clouds settling there were seen as a sign of rain. Members of a religious group on the island of Cos would process and offer sacrifices at an altar of Rainy Zeus when the parched land required refreshing showers.[1170] Thus, viewed as the source of fertility, it was natural for Zeus to be called the Fruitful One,[1171] and for him to be worshipped under the title of the Husbandman in Athens.[1172]
|Zeus as the god of thunder and lightning.| Again, Zeus wielded the thunder and lightning as well 361as the rain.[1173] At Olympia and elsewhere he was worshipped under the surname of Thunderbolt;[1174] and at Athens there was a sacrificial hearth of Lightning Zeus on the city wall, where some priestly officials watched for lightning over Mount Parnes at certain seasons of the year.[1175] Further, spots which had been struck by lightning were regularly fenced in by the Greeks and consecrated to Zeus the Descender, that is, to the god who came down in the flash from heaven. Altars were set up within these enclosures and sacrifices offered on them. Several such places are known from inscriptions to have existed in Athens.[1176]
Zeus, the god of thunder and lightning. Once again, Zeus controlled the thunder, lightning, and rain.361 [1173] In Olympia and other places, he was honored with the title Thunderbolt;[1174] and in Athens, there was a sacrificial altar for Lightning Zeus on the city wall, where certain priestly officials monitored for lightning over Mount Parnes during specific times of the year.[1175] Additionally, areas that had been struck by lightning were regularly fenced off by the Greeks and dedicated to Zeus the Descender, the god who came down in a flash from the sky. Altars were built in these enclosures, and sacrifices were made on them. Several of these locations are documented in inscriptions to have existed in Athens.[1176]
|The Greek kings personified Zeus, as the Italian kings personified Jupiter.| Thus when ancient Greek kings claimed to be descended from Zeus, and even to bear his name,[1177] we may reasonably suppose that they also attempted to exercise his divine functions by making thunder and rain for the good of their people or the terror and confusion of their foes. In this respect the legend of Salmoneus[1178] probably reflects the pretensions of a whole class of petty sovereigns who reigned of old, each over his little canton, in the oak-clad highlands of Greece. Like their kinsmen the Irish kings, they were expected to be a source of fertility to the land and of fecundity to the cattle;[1179] and how could they fulfil these expectations better than by acting the part of their kinsman Zeus, the great god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain? They personified him, apparently, just as the Italian kings personified Jupiter.[1180]
The Greek kings symbolized Zeus, just like the Italian kings symbolized Jupiter. So, when ancient Greek kings claimed to be descended from Zeus and even to share his name,[1177] we can reasonably assume they also tried to wield his divine powers by bringing thunder and rain for the benefit of their people or to instill fear and chaos in their enemies. In this sense, the story of Salmoneus[1178] likely reflects the ambitions of a whole group of local rulers who once governed their small regions in the oak-covered mountains of Greece. Like their relatives, the Irish kings, they were expected to bring fertility to the land and abundance to the livestock;[1179] and what better way could they meet these expectations than by acting like their relative Zeus, the great god of the oak, thunder, and rain? They embodied him, it seems, just as the Italian kings embodied Jupiter.[1180]
|Jupiter in Italy as the god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain.| In ancient Italy every oak was sacred to Jupiter, the Italian counterpart of Zeus;[1181] and on the Capitol at Rome the god was worshipped as the deity not merely of the oak, but of the rain and the thunder.[1182] Contrasting 362the piety of the good old times with the scepticism of an age when nobody thought that heaven was heaven, or cared a fig for Jupiter, a Roman writer tells us that in former days noble matrons used to go with bare feet, streaming hair, and pure minds, up the long Capitoline slope, praying to Jupiter for rain. And straightway, he goes on, it rained bucketsful, then or never, and everybody returned dripping like drowned rats. “But nowadays,” says he, “we are no longer religious, so the fields lie baking.”[1183] And as Jupiter conjured up the clouds and caused them to discharge their genial burden on the earth, so he drove them away and brought the bright Italian sky back once more. Hence he was worshipped under the titles of the Serene, he who restores serenity.[1184] Lastly, as god of the fertilising showers |Jupiter as the god of fertility.| he made the earth to bring forth; so people called him the Fruitful One.[1185]
Jupiter in Italy as the god of oak trees, thunder, and rain. In ancient Italy, every oak tree was sacred to Jupiter, the Italian equivalent of Zeus;[1181] and at the Capitol in Rome, the god was honored not just as the deity of the oak, but also of rain and thunder.[1182] Comparing the faith of the good old days with the skepticism of a time when no one believed that heaven was heavenly, or cared about Jupiter, a Roman writer mentions that in earlier days, noble women would walk barefoot, with flowing hair and pure intentions, up the long slope of the Capitol, praying to Jupiter for rain. And right away, he continues, it would rain heavily, then or never, and everyone would return soaked like drowned rats. “But nowadays,” he says, “we're no longer religious, so the fields are parched.”[1183] Just as Jupiter summoned the clouds and made them pour their life-giving rain on the earth, he also cleared them away and brought back the bright Italian sky. Because of this, he was worshipped under the titles of the Serene, he who restores clarity.[1184] Lastly, as the god of nourishing rainJupiter as the god of fertility. he made the earth fertile; thus, people referred to him as the Fruitful One.[1185]
|The god of the oak and the thunder among the northern Aryans.| When we pass from southern to central Europe we still meet with the great god of the oak and the thunder among the barbarous Aryans who dwelt in the vast primaeval forests.[1186] Thus among the Celts of Gaul the Druids esteemed nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the oak on which it grew; they chose groves of oaks for the scene of their solemn service, and they performed none of their rites without oak leaves.[1187] “The Celts,” says a Greek writer, “worship |Celtic worship of the oak.| Zeus, and the Celtic image of Zeus is a tall oak.”[1188] The 363Celtic conquerors who settled in Asia in the third century before our era appear to have carried the worship of the oak with them to their new home; for in the heart of Asia Minor the Galatian senate met in a place which bore the pure Celtic name of Drynemetum, “the sacred oak grove” or “the temple of the oak.”[1189] Indeed the very name of Druids is believed by good authorities to mean no more than “oak men.”[1190] When Christianity displaced Druidism in Ireland, the churches and monasteries were sometimes built in oak groves or under solitary oaks,[1191] the choice of the site |Traces of sacred oaks in Ireland.| being perhaps determined by the immemorial sanctity of the trees, which might predispose the minds of the converts to receive with less reluctance the teaching of the new faith.[1192] But there is no positive evidence that the Irish Druids performed their rites, like their Gallic brethren, in oak groves,[1193] so that the inference from the churches of Kildare, Derry, and the rest is merely a conjecture based on analogy.
The god of oak and thunder for the northern Aryans. As we move from southern to central Europe, we still encounter the great god of the oak and thunder among the barbaric Aryans who lived in the vast primeval forests.[1186] Among the Celts of Gaul, the Druids held nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the oak tree it grew on; they chose oak groves for their solemn ceremonies and performed none of their rituals without oak leaves.[1187] “The Celts,” says a Greek writer, “worship Zeus, and the Celtic image of Zeus is a tall oak.”[1188] The Celtic conquerors who settled in Asia in the third century before our era seemed to have brought the worship of the oak with them to their new home; because in the heart of Asia Minor, the Galatian senate met in a place that had the pure Celtic name of Drynemetum, meaning “the sacred oak grove” or “the temple of the oak.”[1189] In fact, many believe the very name Druids simply means “oak men.”[1190] When Christianity replaced Druidism in Ireland, churches and monasteries were sometimes built in oak groves or under solitary oaks,[1191] likely because the site's location was influenced by the ancient sacredness of the trees, which might have made it easier for converts to accept the teachings of the new faith.[1192] However, there is no concrete evidence that the Irish Druids conducted their rituals, like their Gallic counterparts, in oak groves,[1193] so the inference from the churches of Kildare, Derry, and the others is merely a guess based on analogy.
In the religion of the ancient Germans the veneration for sacred groves seems to have held the foremost place,[1194] and 364according to Grimm the chief of their holy trees was the oak.[1195] It appears to have been especially dedicated to the |The Teutonic god of the oak and the thunder.| god of thunder, Donar or Thunar, the equivalent of the Norse Thor; for a sacred oak near Geismar, in Hesse, which Boniface cut down in the eighth century, went among the heathen by the name of Jupiter’s oak (robur Jovis), which in old German would be Donares eih, “the oak of Donar.”[1196] That the Teutonic thunder god Donar, Thunar, Thor was identified with the Italian thunder god Jupiter appears from our word Thursday, Thunar’s day, which is merely a rendering of the Latin dies Jovis.[1197] Thus among the ancient Teutons, as among the Greeks and Italians, the god of the oak was also the god of the thunder. Moreover, he was regarded as the great fertilising power, who sent rain and caused the earth to bear fruit; for Adam of Bremen tells us that “Thor presides in the air; he it is who rules thunder and lightning, wind and rains, fine weather and crops.”[1198] In these respects, therefore, the Teutonic thunder god again resembled his southern counterparts Zeus and Jupiter. And like them Thor appears to have been the chief god of the pantheon; for in the great temple at Upsala his image |The worship of Thor at Upsala.| occupied the middle place between the images of Odin and Frey,[1199] and in oaths by this or other Norse trinities he was always the principal deity invoked.[1200] Beside the temple at Upsala there was a sacred grove, but the kinds of trees which grew in it are not known. Only of one tree are we told that it was of mighty size, with great spreading branches, and that it remained green winter and summer alike. Here too was a spring where sacrifices were offered. They used to plunge a living man into the water, and if he disappeared they drew a favourable omen. Every nine years, at the spring equinox, a great festival was held at Upsala in honour of Thor, the god of thunder, Odin, the god of war, and Frey, 365the god of peace and pleasure. The ceremonies lasted nine days. Nine male animals of every sort were sacrificed, that their blood might appease the gods. Each day six victims were slaughtered, of whom one was a man. Their bodies were fastened to the trees of the grove, where dogs and horses might be seen hanging beside men.[1201]
In ancient Germanic religion, respect for sacred groves seemed to be the most important, and according to Grimm, the most revered of their holy trees was the oak. It appears to have been especially associated with the thunder god, Donar or Thunar, who is equivalent to the Norse Thor. A sacred oak near Geismar in Hesse, which Boniface cut down in the eighth century, was referred to among the heathens as Jupiter’s oak (robur Jovis), which in old German would be Donares eih, "the oak of Donar." The Teutonic thunder god Donar, Thunar, Thor was associated with the Italian thunder god Jupiter, as seen in our word Thursday, Thunar’s day, which is simply a translation of the Latin dies Jovis. Thus, among the ancient Teutons, just like in Greek and Italian traditions, the god of the oak was also the god of thunder. Additionally, he was seen as the primary life-giving force, who sent rain and helped the earth produce food. Adam of Bremen tells us that “Thor presides in the air; he it is who rules thunder and lightning, wind and rains, fine weather and crops.” In these aspects, the Teutonic thunder god resembled his southern counterparts Zeus and Jupiter. Like them, Thor seems to have been the chief god in their pantheon, as his image in the great temple at Upsala was placed in the center between the images of Odin and Frey, and in oaths invoking this or other Norse trinities, he was always the main deity called upon. Beside the temple at Upsala, there was a sacred grove, but the types of trees that grew there are unknown. We do, however, know of one tree that was exceptionally large, with wide-spreading branches, and that stayed green all year round. Here, too, was a spring where sacrifices were made. They would plunge a living man into the water, and if he disappeared, it was seen as a good omen. Every nine years, at the spring equinox, there was a major festival at Upsala to honor Thor, the god of thunder, Odin, the god of war, and Frey, the god of peace and pleasure. The celebrations lasted nine days. Nine male animals of every kind were sacrificed to appease the gods. Each day, six victims were slaughtered, one of whom was a man. Their bodies were hung on the trees of the grove, where dogs and horses could be seen dangling next to men.
|Perun, the god of the oak and the thunder among the Slavs.| Amongst the Slavs also the oak appears to have been the sacred tree of the thunder god Perun, the counterpart of Zeus and Jupiter.[1202] It is said that at Novgorod there used to stand an image of Perun in the likeness of a man with a thunder-stone in his hand. A fire of oak wood burned day and night in his honour; and if ever it went out the attendants paid for their negligence with their lives.[1203] Perun seems, like Zeus and Jupiter, to have been the chief god of his people; for Procopius tells us that the Slavs “believe that one god, the maker of lightning, is alone lord of all things, and they sacrifice to him oxen and every victim.”[1204]
Perun, the god of oak trees and thunder in Slavic mythology. Among the Slavs, the oak was considered the sacred tree of the thunder god Perun, who was similar to Zeus and Jupiter.[1202] It is said that in Novgorod, there used to be a statue of Perun in the form of a man holding a thunderstone. A fire made from oak wood burned continuously in his honor; and if it ever went out, the caretakers were punished severely for their negligence.[1203] Perun appeared to be, like Zeus and Jupiter, the main god of his people; as Procopius noted, the Slavs “believe that one god, the creator of lightning, is the sole master of everything, and they make sacrifices to him of oxen and various offerings.”[1204]
|Perkunas, the chief Lithuanian god.| The chief deity of the Lithuanians was Perkunas or Perkuns, the god of thunder and lightning, whose resemblance to Zeus and Jupiter has often been pointed out.[1205] Oaks 366were sacred to him, and when they were cut down by the Christian missionaries, the people loudly complained that their sylvan deities were destroyed.[1206] Perpetual fires, kindled with the wood of certain oak-trees, were kept up in honour of Perkunas; if such a fire went out, it was lighted again by friction of the sacred wood.[1207] Men sacrificed to oak-trees for good crops, while women did the same to lime-trees; 367from which we may infer that they regarded oaks as male and lime-trees as female.[1208] And in time of drought, when they wanted rain, they used to sacrifice a black heifer, a black he-goat, and a black cock to the thunder-god in the depths of the woods. On such occasions the people assembled in great numbers from the country round about, ate and drank, and called upon Perkunas. They carried a bowl of beer thrice round the fire, then poured the liquor on the flames, while they prayed to the god to send showers.[1209] Thus the chief Lithuanian deity presents a close resemblance to Zeus and Jupiter, since he was the god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain.[1210]
Perkunas, the main Lithuanian god. The main deity of the Lithuanians was Perkunas or Perkuns, the god of thunder and lightning, often compared to Zeus and Jupiter.[1205] Oaks 366 were sacred to him, and when Christian missionaries cut them down, the people loudly protested that their woodland deities were being destroyed.[1206] They maintained perpetual fires, kindled with the wood from certain oak trees, in honor of Perkunas; if such a fire went out, it was reignited by rubbing the sacred wood together.[1207] Men sacrificed to oak trees for good harvests, while women did the same for lime trees; 367 this suggests they saw oaks as male and lime trees as female.[1208] During droughts, when they sought rain, they sacrificed a black heifer, a black goat, and a black rooster to the thunder god deep in the woods. On these occasions, people gathered in large numbers from the surrounding areas, feasted, and called upon Perkunas. They carried a bowl of beer three times around the fire and then poured the drink onto the flames while praying for the god to send rain.[1209] Thus, the chief Lithuanian deity closely resembles Zeus and Jupiter, as he is the god of the oak, thunder, and rain.[1210]
|The god of the oak and the thunder among the Esthonians.| Wedged in between the Lithuanians and the Slavs are the Esthonians, a people who do not belong to the Aryan family. But they also shared the reverence for the oak, and associated the tree with their thunder-god Taara, the deity of their pantheon, whom they called “Old Father,” or “Father of Heaven.”[1211] It is said that down to the beginning of the nineteenth century Esthonians used to smear the holy oaks, lime-trees, and ash-trees with the fresh blood of animals at least once a year.[1212] The following prayer to thunder is instructive, because it shews how easily thunder, through its association with rain, may appear to the rustic 368mind in the character of a beneficent and fertilising power. It was taken down from the lips of an Esthonian peasant |Esthonian prayer to thunder.| in the seventeenth century. “Dear Thunder,” he prayed, “we sacrifice to thee an ox, which has two horns and four claws, and we would beseech thee for the sake of our ploughing and sowing, that our straw may be red as copper, and our corn yellow as gold. Drive somewhere else all black, thick clouds over great marshes, high woods, and wide wastes. But to us ploughmen and sowers give a fruitful time and sweet rain. Holy Thunder, guard our fields, that they may bear good straw below, good ears above, and good grain within.”[1213] Sometimes in time of great drought an Esthonian farmer would carry beer thrice round a sacrificial fire, then pour it on the flames with a prayer that the thunder-god would be pleased to send rain.[1214]
The god of oak and thunder in Estonian mythology. Nestled between the Lithuanians and the Slavs are the Estonians, a people who do not belong to the Aryan family. However, they also hold a deep respect for the oak tree and link it with their thunder-god Taara, the deity of their pantheon, whom they refer to as “Old Father” or “Father of Heaven.”[1211] It is said that up until the early nineteenth century, Estonians would annually smear the sacred oaks, lime trees, and ash trees with the fresh blood of animals at least once a year.[1212] The following prayer to thunder is notable, as it illustrates how easily thunder, through its link with rain, can seem to the rural mind as a beneficial and fertilizing force. It was recorded from an Estonian peasant Estonian thunder prayer. in the seventeenth century. “Dear Thunder,” he prayed, “we sacrifice to you an ox, with two horns and four hooves, and we kindly ask you, for the sake of our farming and sowing, that our straw may be red like copper, and our grain golden like gold. Drive away all the black, heavy clouds from the great marshes, high forests, and vast open lands. But for us plowmen and sowers, grant a fruitful season and gentle rain. Holy Thunder, protect our fields, so that they may yield good straw below, good ears above, and good grain inside.”[1213] During times of severe drought, an Estonian farmer would sometimes carry beer three times around a sacrificial fire, then pour it onto the flames with a prayer that the thunder-god would kindly send rain.[1214]
|Parjanya, the old Indian god of thunder, rain, and fertility.| In like manner, Parjanya, the old Indian god of thunder and rain, whose name is by some scholars identified with the Lithuanian Perkunas,[1215] was conceived as a deity of fertility, who not only made plants to germinate, but caused cows, mares, and women to conceive. As the power who impregnated all things, he was compared to a bull, an animal which to the primitive herdsman is the most natural type of the procreative energies. Thus in a hymn of the Rigveda it is said of him:—
Parjanya, the ancient Indian god of thunder, rain, and fertility. Similarly, Parjanya, the ancient Indian god of thunder and rain, whose name some scholars connect with the Lithuanian Perkunas,[1215] was viewed as a fertility deity, who not only helped plants grow, but also enabled cows, mares, and women to conceive. As the force that brought life to all things, he was likened to a bull, which to the early herdsman represents the most natural symbol of reproductive power. Thus in a hymn of the Rigveda, it is stated about him:—
369In another hymn Parjanya is spoken of as “giver of growth to plants, the god who ruleth over the waters and all moving creatures,” and it is said that “in him all living creatures have their being.” Then the poet goes on:—
369In another hymn, Parjanya is referred to as the “giver of growth to plants, the god who rules over the waters and all living creatures,” and it is said that “in him all living beings have their existence.” Then the poet continues:—
And in yet another hymn we read:—
And in yet another song we read:—
In short, “Parjanya is a god who presides over the lightning, the thunder, the rain, and the procreation of plants and living creatures. But it is by no means clear whether he is originally a god of the rain, or a god of the thunder. For, as both phenomena are always associated in India, either of the two opinions is admissible, if no deciding evidence comes from another quarter.”[1219] On this point something will be said presently. Here it is enough to have indicated the ease with which the notion of the thunder-god passes into, or is combined with, the idea of a god of fertility in general.
In short, “Parjanya is a god who governs lightning, thunder, rain, and the reproduction of plants and living beings. But it’s not clear whether he originally started as a rain god or a thunder god. Since both occurrences are always linked in India, either viewpoint is valid unless there’s decisive evidence from elsewhere.”[1219] Regarding this matter, something will be discussed shortly. For now, it’s important to note how easily the concept of a thunder god merges with or combines the idea of a fertility god in general.
|God of thunder, rain, and fertility among the Iroquois.| The same combination meets us in Heno, the thunder-spirit of the Iroquois. His office was not only to hurl his bolts at evil-doers, but to cool and refresh the ground with showers, to ripen the harvest, and to mature the fruits of the earth. In spring, when they committed the seeds to the soil, the Indians prayed to him that he would water them and foster their growth: and at the harvest 370festival they thanked him for his gift of rain.[1220] The Hos |Goddess of lightning, rain, and fertility among the Hos.| of Togoland in West Africa distinguish two deities of the lightning, a god Sogble and a goddess Sodza, who are husband and wife and talk with each other in the sound of thunder. The goddess has epithets applied to her which seem to shew that she is believed to send the rain and to cause the plants to grow. She is addressed as “Mother of men and beasts, ship full of yams, ship full of the most varied fullness.” Further, it is said to be she who blesses the tilled land. Moreover, like the Hindoo thunder-god Parjanya, who slays demons, the Ho thunder-goddess drives away evil spirits and witches from people’s houses; under her protection children multiply and the inmates of the house remain healthy.[1221] The Indians of the Andes, about |Gods of thunder, rain, and fertility among the Indians of the Andes and the Abchases of the Caucasus.| Lake Titicaca, believe in a thunder-god named Con or Cun, whom they call the “lord” or “father” of the mountains (Ccollo-auqui). He is regarded as a powerful being, but irritable and difficult of access, who dwells on the high mountains above the line of perpetual snow. Yet he gives great gifts to those who win his favour; and when the crops are languishing for lack of rain, the Indians try to rouse the god from his torpor by pouring a small libation of brandy into a tarn below the snow-line; for they dare not set foot on the snow lest they should meet the dreadful thunder-god face to face. His bird is the condor as the eagle was the bird of the Greek thunder-god Zeus.[1222] Similarly in time of drought the Abchases of the Caucasus sacrifice an ox to Ap-hi, the god of thunder and lightning, and an old man prays him to send rain, thunder, and lightning, telling him that the crops are parched, the grass burnt up, and the cattle starving.[1223] These examples shew how readily a thunder-god may come to be viewed as a power of fertility; the connecting link is furnished by the fertilising rain which usually accompanies a thunder-storm.
|God of thunder, rain, and fertility in Iroquois culture.| We see a similar combination in Heno, the thunder spirit of the Iroquois. His role was not just to strike down wrongdoers with his bolts, but also to cool and refresh the earth with rain, ripen the crops, and bring fruit to maturity. In spring, when they planted the seeds, the Indians prayed to him to water them and support their growth; and during the harvest festival, they thanked him for his gift of rain.370[1220] The Hos Goddess of lightning, rain, and fertility among the Hos. of Togoland in West Africa have two lightning deities, a god named Sogble and a goddess named Sodza, who are husband and wife and communicate with each other through the sound of thunder. The goddess has titles that suggest she is believed to bring rain and promote plant growth. She is referred to as “Mother of men and beasts, ship full of yams, ship full of diverse abundance.” It is also said that she blesses the cultivated land. Moreover, like the Hindu thunder god Parjanya, who defeats demons, the Ho thunder goddess drives away evil spirits and witches from homes; under her protection, children thrive and the household remains healthy.[1221] The Indians of the Andes, around Gods of thunder, rain, and fertility among the Indigenous people of the Andes and the Abkhazians of the Caucasus. Lake Titicaca, believe in a thunder god named Con or Cun, whom they call the “lord” or “father” of the mountains (Ccollo-auqui). He is seen as a powerful being, though irritable and hard to reach, living high up in the mountains above the snow line. Yet he grants great gifts to those who earn his approval; when crops are dying for lack of rain, the Indians try to awaken the god from his slumber by pouring a small offering of brandy into a pool below the snow line, as they dare not step onto the snow for fear of encountering the fearsome thunder god face to face. His bird is the condor, just as the eagle was the bird for the Greek thunder god Zeus.[1222] Similarly, during drought, the Abchases of the Caucasus sacrifice an ox to Ap-hi, the god of thunder and lightning, and an elder prays for him to send rain, thunder, and lightning, explaining that the crops are dry, the grass is burnt, and the cattle are starving.[1223] These examples show how easily a thunder god can be perceived as a fertility power; the link is typically the fertilizing rain that comes with a thunderstorm.
|Traces of the worship of the oak in modern Europe.| As might have been expected, the ancient worship of the oak in Europe has left its print in popular custom and 371superstition down to modern times. Thus in the French department of Maine it is said that solitary oak-trees in the fields are still worshipped, though the priests have sought to give the worship a Christian colour by hanging images of saints on the trees.[1224] In various parts of Lower Saxony and Westphalia, as late as the first half of the nineteenth century, traces survived of the sanctity of certain oaks, to which the people paid a half-heathenish, half-Christian worship. In the principality of Minden young people of both sexes used to dance round an old oak on Easter Saturday with loud shouts of joy. And not far from the village of Wormeln, in the neighbourhood of Paderborn, there stood a holy oak in the forest, to which the inhabitants of Wormeln and Calenberg went every year in solemn procession.[1225] Another vestige of superstitious reverence for the oak in Germany is the custom of passing sick people and animals through a natural or artificial opening in the trunk of an oak for the purpose of healing them of their infirmities.[1226] At a village near Ragnit in East Prussia there was an oak which, down to the seventeenth century, the villagers regarded as sacred, firmly believing that any person who harmed it would be visited with misfortune, especially with some bodily ailment.[1227] About the middle of the nineteenth century the Lithuanians still laid offerings for spirits under ancient oaks;[1228] and old-fashioned people among them preferred to cook the viands for funeral banquets on a fire of oak-wood, or at least under an oak-tree.[1229] On the rivulet Micksy, between the governments of Pskov and Livonia in Russia, there stood a stunted, |Worship of the oak in modern Russia.| withered, but holy oak, which received the homage of the neighbouring peasantry down at least to 1874. An eye-witness has described the ceremonies. He found a great crowd of people, chiefly Esthonians of the Greek Church, assembled with their families about the tree, all dressed in 372gala costume. Some of them had brought wax candles and were fastening them about the trunk and in the branches. Soon a priest arrived, and, having donned his sacred robes, proceeded to sing a canticle, such as is usually sung in the Orthodox Church in honour of saints. But instead of saying as usual, “Holy saint, pray the Lord for us,” he said, “Holy Oak Hallelujah, pray for us.” Then he incensed the tree all round. During the service the tapers on the oak were lighted, and the people, throwing themselves on the ground, adored the holy tree. When the pastor had retired, his flock remained till late at night, feasting, drinking, dancing, and lighting fresh tapers on the oak, till everybody was drunk and the proceedings ended in an orgy.[1230]
|Evidence of oak worship in modern Europe.| As expected, the ancient worship of the oak in Europe has left its mark on popular customs and 371superstitions that persist to this day. In the French department of Maine, it's said that solitary oak trees in the fields are still venerated, even though priests have attempted to give this worship a Christian twist by hanging images of saints on the trees.[1224] In various areas of Lower Saxony and Westphalia, as late as the first half of the nineteenth century, remnants of the sacred nature of certain oaks were still evident, and the people practiced a mix of pagan and Christian worship. In the principality of Minden, young men and women would dance around an old oak on Easter Saturday, shouting joyfully. Not far from the village of Wormeln, near Paderborn, there was a holy oak in the forest, which the residents of Wormeln and Calenberg would visit each year in a solemn procession.[1225] Another remnant of the oak's superstitious reverence in Germany is the practice of passing sick individuals and animals through a natural or man-made opening in the trunk of an oak tree to heal them of their ailments.[1226] In a village near Ragnit in East Prussia, an oak that was considered sacred by the villagers up until the seventeenth century was believed to bring misfortune, especially physical ailments, to anyone who harmed it.[1227] Around the middle of the nineteenth century, Lithuanians were still leaving offerings for spirits under ancient oaks;[1228] and older generations among them preferred to cook food for funeral banquets over oak wood or at least beneath an oak tree.[1229] By the Micksy stream, between the Pskov and Livonia regions in Russia, there stood a small, withered, but holy oak, which received respect from the local peasantry at least until 1874. An eyewitness described the ceremonies where a large crowd, mostly Esthonians of the Greek Church, gathered with their families around the tree, all dressed in festive attire. Some brought wax candles to tie around the trunk and in the branches. Soon, a priest arrived, put on his sacred vestments, and began to sing a hymn typically performed in the Orthodox Church for saints. However, instead of saying, “Holy saint, pray the Lord for us,” he said, “Holy Oak Hallelujah, pray for us.” Then he incensed the tree all around. During the service, the candles on the oak were lit, and the people, falling to the ground, worshipped the holy tree. After the pastor left, his congregation stayed late into the night, feasting, drinking, dancing, and lighting more candles on the oak, until everyone was drunk and the festivities ended in an orgy.[1230]
|Ceremonial fires kindled by the friction of oak-wood.| Another relic of the ancient sanctity of the oak has survived to modern times in the practice of kindling ceremonial fires by means of the friction of oak-wood. This has been done, either at stated seasons of the year or on occasions of distress, by Slavs, Germans, and Celts.[1231] Taken together with the perpetual sacred fires of oak-wood which we have found among the Slavs, the Lithuanians, and the ancient Romans,[1232] the wide prevalence of the practice seems clearly to point back to a time when the forefathers of the Aryans in Europe dwelt in forests of oak, fed their fires with oak-wood, and rekindled them, when they chanced to go out, by rubbing two oaken sticks against each other.
Ceremonial fires made by rubbing oak wood together. Another remnant of the ancient significance of oak has persisted into modern times through the practice of lighting ceremonial fires using the friction of oak wood. This has been done, either at specific times of the year or during moments of distress, by Slavs, Germans, and Celts.[1231] Along with the ongoing sacred fires of oak wood found among the Slavs, Lithuanians, and ancient Romans,[1232] the widespread nature of this practice suggests a time when the ancestors of the Aryans in Europe lived in oak forests, fueled their fires with oak wood, and rekindled them when they went out by rubbing two oak sticks together.
|In the great European god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain, the original element seems to have been the oak.| From the foregoing survey of the facts it appears that a god of the oak, the thunder, and the rain was worshipped of old by all the main branches of the Aryan stock in Europe, and was indeed the chief deity of their pantheon.[1233] It was natural enough that the oak should loom large in the religion 373of people who lived in oak forests, used oak timber for building, oak sticks for fuel, and oak acorns for food and fodder; but we have still to explain how they were led to associate the thunder and the rain with the oak in their conception of this great divinity. From the nature of the case our solution of the problem must be conjectural; we can only guess at the |The clue to the development of a lightning-god out of an oak-god may have been the notion that the heavenly fire or lightning was made, like the earthly fire, by the friction of oak-wood.| train of thought which prompted our forefathers to link together things which to us seem so very different. Thunder and rain may indeed naturally be regarded as akin since the two so often occur together; but the difficulty is to understand why the oak should be joined with them. Which of the three elements was the original nucleus about which the others afterwards clustered? In our ignorance of the facts, this question amounts to asking whether, on the principles of savage thought, it is easier to suppose that an original god of thunder and rain should afterwards add the oak-tree to his attributes, or that, on the contrary, an old god of the oak should annex to himself the thunder and the rain? In favour of the first of these suppositions it may be said that a god of thunder and rain might in time be regarded as a god of the oak, because thunder and rain come from the sky, and the oak reaches skyward and is often struck by lightning.[1234] But this train of thought is hardly likely to carry conviction even to the mind of a savage. On the other hand, it is not difficult to imagine how early man in Europe might suppose the thunder, or rather the lightning, to be derived from the oak. Seeing that fire on earth was regularly kindled by the rubbing of oaken sticks together, he might readily infer that fire in heaven was produced in like manner; in other words, that the flash of lightning was the spark elicited by some one who was lighting his fire in the usual fashion up aloft; for the 374savage commonly explains natural phenomena by ideas drawn from the circle of his own daily life. Similarly, people who are accustomed to make fire by means of flints sometimes suppose that lightning is produced in the same way. This is reported of the Armenians,[1235] and it may be inferred of the many peoples who believe that the flint implements of prehistoric races are thunder-bolts.[1236]
In ancient European culture, the main god connected to the oak, thunder, and rain was probably focused on the oak itself. From this overview, it's clear that a god linked to the oak, thunder, and rain was worshipped by the major branches of the Aryan people in Europe and was the leading figure in their pantheon.[1233] It makes sense that the oak would be significant in the beliefs of people who lived in oak-rich forests, used oak wood for construction, burned oak for fuel, and relied on acorns for food and livestock feed; however, we still need to figure out why they associated thunder and rain with the oak in their concept of this powerful deity. Given the nature of the topic, our understanding will have to be speculative; we can only guess at the The link between the development of a lightning god from an oak god may stem from the belief that heavenly fire or lightning, similar to earthly fire, was produced by the friction of oak wood. thought process that led our ancestors to connect these seemingly different aspects. Thunder and rain are often experienced together, so they naturally feel related; however, the challenge lies in explaining the oak's association with them. Which of these three elements was the original one, with the others forming around it? In our lack of evidence, this question becomes one of whether, based on primitive reasoning, it's more plausible that a god of thunder and rain later incorporated the oak into his attributes, or that an ancient oak god absorbed thunder and rain into his role? Those in favor of the first idea might argue that a god of thunder and rain could eventually become viewed as a god of the oak, given that thunder and rain come from the sky, and the oak grows tall and is frequently struck by lightning.[1234] However, this line of reasoning is unlikely to convince even a primitive thinker. On the flip side, it’s easy to imagine how early Europeans could think that thunder, or more accurately, lightning, originated from the oak. Since fire on the ground was typically made by rubbing oak sticks together, they might logically conclude that heavenly fire was created in a similar way; in other words, the flash of lightning was just the spark from someone starting a fire in the usual manner up above, as primitive people often explain natural events based on their everyday experiences. Similarly, people who create fire using flints may assume lightning is produced in a similar way. This belief has been noted among the Armenians,[1235] and it can be inferred that many cultures believe the flint tools of prehistoric humans are actually thunderbolts.[1236]
|When an oak-god had once grown into a lightning-god, he would easily develop into a god of the rain and the sky.| Thus it is easy to conceive how a god of the oak, viewed as the source of earthly fire, should come to be regarded as a god of the lightning, and hence, by an easy extension of ideas, as a god of thunder and rain. Accordingly we may provisionally assume that the great Aryan gods who combine these various functions have been evolved in this fashion. A further step in their promotion would be taken when the whole sky was assigned to their dominion. The Greeks and Italians certainly advanced their Zeus and Jupiter to this lofty position;[1237] but there seems to be no evidence that the Aryans of the north ever raised their corresponding deities 375to the rank of sky-gods in general. It is commonly indeed assumed that the sky was the original province of all these deities, or rather of the single Aryan god from which they are descended. But on this theory it is hard to see why the god of the sky should have taken up with the oak, and not only that, but should have clung to it even after he had, in some places at least, begun to sit very loose to his old home, the vault of heaven. Surely his fidelity to the oak from the earliest to the latest times among all the different families of his European worshippers is a strong argument for regarding the tree as the primary, not a secondary, element in his composite nature.
When an oak god turns into a lightning god, he can easily become a god of rain and the sky. This makes it clear how a god of the oak, seen as a source of earthly fire, could also be seen as a god of lightning, and thus, with a simple shift in ideas, as a god of thunder and rain. Therefore, we can tentatively assume that the major Aryan gods who embody these various roles have developed in this way. A further advancement in their status would occur when the entire sky was assigned to their reign. The Greeks and Italians certainly elevated their Zeus and Jupiter to this high position;[1237] but there seems to be no evidence that the northern Aryans ever promoted their equivalent deities to the status of general sky gods. It is often assumed that the sky was the original domain of all these deities, or rather of the single Aryan god from whom they descended. But under this theory, it’s difficult to understand why the sky god would have been associated with the oak, and even more puzzling why he would have remained attached to it even after he had started to distance himself from his original home in the heavens in some places. Certainly, his enduring loyalty to the oak throughout the ages among all the various groups of his European worshippers strongly supports the idea that the tree is a primary, not a secondary, aspect of his complex identity.
CHAPTER XXI
DIANUS AND DIANA
|Recapitulation.| In this chapter I propose to recapitulate the conclusions to which the enquiry has thus far led us, and drawing together the scattered rays of light, to turn them on the dark figure of the priest of Nemi.
Recap. In this chapter, I aim to summarize the conclusions we've reached so far in our investigation. By bringing together the various insights, I will focus them on the mysterious figure of the priest of Nemi.
|Rise of sacred kings, who are supposed to be endowed with magical or divine powers.| We have found that at an early stage of society men, ignorant of the secret processes of Nature and of the narrow limits within which it is in our power to control and direct them, have commonly arrogated to themselves functions which in the present state of knowledge we should deem superhuman or divine. The illusion has been fostered and maintained by the same causes which begot it, namely, the marvellous order and uniformity with which Nature conducts her operations, the wheels of her great machine revolving with a smoothness and precision which enable the patient observer to anticipate in general the season, if not the very hour, when they will bring round the fulfilment of his hopes or the accomplishment of his fears. The regularly recurring events of this great cycle, or rather series of cycles, soon stamp themselves even on the dull mind of the savage. He foresees them, and foreseeing them mistakes the desired recurrence for an effect of his own will, and the dreaded recurrence for an effect of the will of his enemies. Thus the springs which set the vast machine in motion, though they lie far beyond our ken, shrouded in a mystery which we can never hope to penetrate, appear to ignorant man to lie within his reach: he fancies he can touch them and so work by magic art all manner of good to himself and evil to his foes. In time the 377fallacy of this belief becomes apparent to him: he discovers that there are things he cannot do, pleasures which he is unable of himself to procure, pains which even the most potent magician is powerless to avoid. The unattainable good, the inevitable ill, are now ascribed by him to the action of invisible powers, whose favour is joy and life, whose anger is misery and death. Thus magic tends to be displaced by |Transition from magic to religion.| religion, and the sorcerer by the priest. At this stage of thought the ultimate causes of things are conceived to be personal beings, many in number and often discordant in character, who partake of the nature and even of the frailty of man, though their might is greater than his, and their life far exceeds the span of his ephemeral existence. Their sharply-marked individualities, their clear-cut outlines have not yet begun, under the powerful solvent of philosophy, to melt and coalesce into that single unknown substratum of phenomena which, according to the qualities with which our imagination invests it, goes by one or other of the high-sounding names which the wit of man has devised to hide his ignorance. Accordingly, so long as men look on their gods as beings akin to themselves and not raised to an unapproachable height above them, they believe it to be possible for those of their own number who surpass their fellows to attain to the divine rank after death or even in life. Incarnate human deities of this latter sort may be said |Incarnate human deities.| to halt midway between the age of magic and the age of religion. If they bear the names and display the pomp of deities, the powers which they are supposed to wield are commonly those of their predecessor the magician. Like him, they are expected to guard their people against hostile enchantments, to heal them in sickness, to bless them with offspring, and to provide them with an abundant supply of food by regulating the weather and performing the other ceremonies which are deemed necessary to ensure the fertility of the earth and the multiplication of animals. Men who are credited with powers so lofty and far-reaching naturally hold the highest place in the land, and while the rift between the spiritual and the temporal spheres has not yet widened too far, they are supreme in civil as well as religious matters: in a word, they are kings as well as gods. 378Thus the divinity which hedges a king has its roots deep down in human history, and long ages pass before these are sapped by a profounder view of nature and man.
|Emergence of sacred kings, who are believed to possess magical or divine powers.| In the early stages of society, people, unaware of the hidden processes of Nature and the limited ways in which we can control them, often took on roles that we would now consider superhuman or divine. This misconception was supported and sustained by the same factors that created it—the amazing order and consistency with which Nature operates, with its great machinery working so smoothly and accurately that a careful observer can generally predict the seasons, if not the exact hours, when hopes will be fulfilled or fears realized. The regularly occurring events in this vast cycle quickly impress themselves even on the dullest minds. They anticipate these events, and by doing so, mistakenly believe that the desired outcome is a result of their own will, and the feared outcome is due to the will of their enemies. Thus, the mechanisms that drive this great machine, although far beyond our understanding and wrapped in a mystery we can never hope to unravel, seem to be within reach of uninformed individuals: they think they can manipulate them and, through magical means, bring about good for themselves and harm to their foes. Over time, the illusion of this belief becomes clear to them: they realize there are things they cannot achieve, pleasures they cannot obtain on their own, and pains that even the most powerful magician cannot evade. The unreachable good and the unavoidable bad are then attributed to the actions of unseen powers, whose favor brings joy and life, while their anger brings suffering and death. As a result, magic tends to give way to Transition from magic to religion. religion, and sorcerers to priests. At this point in thought, the ultimate causes of events are seen as personal beings, numerous and often conflicting in nature, who share human traits and weaknesses, even though they possess greater power and their existence far exceeds the brief span of human life. Their distinct individualities and clear boundaries have not yet started to dissolve and merge, under the influence of philosophy, into that single unknown substance of phenomena, which, depending on how our imagination characterizes it, is referred to by various grand names invented to mask our ignorance. Thus, as long as people see their gods as beings similar to themselves rather than as distant entities, they believe that individuals among them who excel can achieve divine status either in life or after death. These incarnate human deities can be thought of as existing between the realms of magic and religion. While they carry the titles and display the grandeur of deities, the powers they are believed to possess are typically those of the magician they replaced. Like them, they are expected to protect their people from hostile magic, heal them during illness, bless them with children, and provide ample food by controlling the weather and performing other rituals believed necessary to ensure the earth's fertility and the increase of animals. Individuals credited with such high and far-reaching powers naturally occupy the highest positions in society, and while the divide between the spiritual and temporal domains has not yet become too pronounced, they hold sway over both civil and religious matters: in short, they are both kings and gods. 378Thus, the divine aura surrounding a king is deeply rooted in human history, and many ages pass before these foundations are weakened by a deeper understanding of nature and humanity.
|The King of the Wood at Nemi seems to have been one of these divine kings and to have mated with the divine Queen of the Wood, Diana.| In the classical period of Greek and Latin antiquity the reign of kings was for the most part a thing of the past; yet the stories of their lineage, titles, and pretensions suffice to prove that they too claimed to rule by divine right and to exercise superhuman powers. Hence we may without undue temerity assume that the King of the Wood at Nemi, though shorn in later times of his glory and fallen on evil days, represented a long line of sacred kings who had once received not only the homage but the adoration of their subjects in return for the manifold blessings which they were supposed to dispense. What little we know of the functions of Diana in the Arician grove seems to prove that she was here conceived as a goddess of fertility, and particularly as a divinity of childbirth.[1238] It is reasonable, therefore, to suppose that in the discharge of these important duties she was assisted by her priest, the two figuring as King and Queen of the Wood in a solemn marriage, which was intended to make the earth gay with the blossoms of spring and the fruits of autumn, and to gladden the hearts of men and women with healthful offspring.
The King of the Wood at Nemi seems to have been one of those divine kings who worked alongside the divine Queen of the Wood, Diana. During the classical era of Greek and Latin antiquity, the reign of kings was mostly a thing of the past; however, the tales of their lineage, titles, and claims show that they also asserted they ruled by divine right and had superhuman abilities. Therefore, we can reasonably assume that the King of the Wood at Nemi, despite having lost his former glory and fallen on hard times, represented a long line of sacred kings who had once received not only respect but also devotion from their subjects in exchange for the many blessings they were believed to provide. What little we know about Diana’s role in the Arician grove suggests she was seen as a goddess of fertility, especially a deity of childbirth.[1238] It makes sense, then, to believe that in fulfilling these vital responsibilities, she was supported by her priest, with the two acting as King and Queen of the Wood in a formal marriage meant to bring vibrancy to the earth through spring blossoms and autumn fruits, as well as to fill the hearts of men and women with healthy children.
|Virbius, whom the King of the Wood represented, was probably a form of Jupiter regarded as god of the greenwood, and especially of the oak.| If the priest of Nemi posed not merely as a king, but as a god of the grove, we have still to ask, What deity in particular did he personate? The answer of antiquity is that he represented Virbius, the consort or lover of Diana.[1239] But this does not help us much, for of Virbius we know little more than the name. A clue to the mystery is perhaps supplied by the Vestal fire which burned in the grove.[1240] For the perpetual holy fires of the Aryans in Europe appear to have been commonly kindled and fed with oak-wood,[1241] and we have seen that in Rome itself, not many miles from Nemi, the fuel of the Vestal fire consisted of oaken sticks or logs, which in early days the holy maidens doubtless gathered or cut in the coppices of oak that once covered the Seven Hills.[1242] But the ritual of the various Latin towns seems 379to have been marked by great uniformity;[1243] hence it is reasonable to conclude that wherever in Latium a Vestal fire was maintained, it was fed, as at Rome, with wood of the sacred oak. If this was so at Nemi, it becomes probable that the hallowed grove there consisted of a natural oak-wood, and that therefore the tree which the King of the Wood had to guard at the peril of his life was itself an oak; indeed it was from an evergreen oak, according to Virgil, that Aeneas plucked the Golden Bough.[1244] Now the oak was the sacred tree of Jupiter, the supreme god of the Latins. Hence it follows that the King of the Wood, whose life was bound up in a fashion with an oak, personated no less a deity than Jupiter himself. At least the evidence, slight as it is, seems to point to this conclusion. The old Alban dynasty of the Silvii or Woods, with their crown of oak leaves, apparently aped the style and emulated the powers of Latian Jupiter, who dwelt on the top of the Alban Mount.[1245] It is not impossible that the King of the Wood, who guarded the sacred oak a little lower down the mountain, was the lawful successor and representative of this ancient line of the Silvii or Woods.[1246] At all events, if I am right in supposing that he passed for a human Jupiter, it would appear that Virbius, with whom legend identified him, was nothing but a local form of Jupiter, considered perhaps in his original aspect as a god of the greenwood.[1247]
Virbius, depicted as the King of the Wood, was probably a form of Jupiter viewed as the god of the forest, especially the oak. If the priest of Nemi acted not just as a king but also as a god of the grove, we still need to ask, which specific deity was he embodying? According to ancient sources, he represented Virbius, the partner or lover of Diana.[1239] But this doesn’t provide much clarity, as we know little about Virbius beyond the name. A possible clue to this mystery may lie in the Vestal fire that burned in the grove.[1240] The perpetual sacred fires of the Aryans in Europe seem to have commonly been kindled and maintained with oak wood,[1241] and we have observed that in Rome, not far from Nemi, the fuel for the Vestal fire consisted of oak sticks or logs, which the holy maidens likely gathered or cut from the oak groves that once covered the Seven Hills.[1242] However, the rituals of various Latin towns appear to have been quite uniform;[1243] thus, it is reasonable to assume that wherever a Vestal fire was kept in Latium, it was fed, like in Rome, with wood from the sacred oak. If this was the case at Nemi, it’s likely that the sacred grove there was made up of natural oak woods, meaning the tree the King of the Wood had to protect at the risk of his life was indeed an oak; in fact, it was from an evergreen oak, according to Virgil, that Aeneas picked the Golden Bough.[1244] Now, the oak was the sacred tree of Jupiter, the supreme god of the Latins. Therefore, it follows that the King of the Wood, whose life was closely tied to an oak, represented none other than Jupiter himself. At least, the evidence, though limited, seems to lead to this conclusion. The ancient Alban dynasty of the Silvii or Woods, adorned with a crown of oak leaves, seemingly imitated the style and powers of Latin Jupiter, who resided on the peak of Alban Mount.[1245] It’s possible that the King of the Wood, who protected the sacred oak a bit further down the mountain, was the rightful successor and representative of this ancient line of the Silvii or Woods.[1246] Regardless, if I’m correct in thinking he was considered a human version of Jupiter, it would appear that Virbius, with whom legend linked him, was merely a local manifestation of Jupiter, perhaps regarded in his original form as a god of the greenwood.[1247]
380|Diana and the oak.| The hypothesis that in later times at all events the King of the Wood played the part of the oak god Jupiter, is confirmed by an examination of his divine partner Diana. |Diana, the divine partner of the King of the Wood at Nemi, seems to have been especially associated with the oak.| For two distinct lines of argument converge to shew that if Diana was a queen of the woods in general, she was at Nemi a goddess of the oak in particular. In the first place, she bore the title of Vesta, and as such presided over a perpetual fire, which we have seen reason to believe was fed with oak wood.[1248] But a goddess of fire is not far removed from a goddess of the fuel which burns in the fire; primitive thought perhaps drew no sharp line of distinction between the blaze and the wood that blazes. In the second place, the nymph Egeria at Nemi appears to have been merely a form of Diana, and Egeria is definitely said to have been a Dryad, a nymph of the oak.[1249] Elsewhere in Italy the goddess had her home on oak-clad mountains. Thus Mount Algidus, a spur of the Alban hills, was covered in antiquity with dark forests of oak, both of the evergreen and the deciduous sort. In winter the snow lay long on these cold hills, and their gloomy oak-woods were believed to be a favourite haunt of Diana, as they have been of brigands in modern times.[1250] Again, Mount Tifata, the long abrupt ridge of the Apennines which looks down on the Campanian plain behind Capua, was wooded of old with evergreen oaks, among which Diana had a temple. Here Sulla thanked the goddess for his victory over the Marians in the plain below, attesting his gratitude by inscriptions which were long afterwards to be seen in the temple.[1251] On the whole, then, we conclude that at Nemi the King of the Wood personated the oak-god Jupiter and mated with the oak-goddess Diana in the sacred grove. An echo of their mystic union has come down to us in the legend of the loves of Numa and Egeria, who according to some had their trysting-place in these holy woods.[1252]
380Diana and the oak. The idea that, at least in later times, the King of the Wood took on the role of the oak god Jupiter is supported by looking at his divine partner, Diana. Diana, the goddess linked to the King of the Wood at Nemi, seems to have been especially connected to the oak tree. Two separate lines of reasoning show that while Diana was a queen of the woods in general, she was specifically a goddess of the oak at Nemi. First, she held the title of Vesta and presided over a perpetual fire, which we believe was fueled by oak wood.[1248] But a goddess of fire is closely linked to a goddess of the fuel that burns in the fire; early thought probably didn’t make a clear distinction between the flame and the wood that fuels it. Second, the nymph Egeria at Nemi seems to have been just another form of Diana, and Egeria is definitely described as a Dryad, a nymph of the oak.[1249] Elsewhere in Italy, the goddess was associated with oak-covered mountains. For instance, Mount Algidus, a part of the Alban hills, was once thick with dark oak forests, both evergreen and deciduous. In winter, snow lingered on these cold hills, and people believed that Diana often roamed these gloomy oak woods, just as bandits have in more recent times.[1250] Additionally, Mount Tifata, a long and steep ridge of the Apennines overlooking the Campanian plain behind Capua, was once filled with evergreen oaks where Diana had a temple. Here, Sulla thanked the goddess for his victory over the Marians in the plain below, expressing his gratitude with inscriptions that were visible in the temple long afterward.[1251] Overall, we conclude that at Nemi, the King of the Wood represented the oak-god Jupiter and joined with the oak-goddess Diana in the sacred grove. A remnant of their mystical union is evident in the legend of the loves of Numa and Egeria, who, according to some, met in these sacred woods.[1252]
381|In nature and in name Dianus (Janus) and Diana seem to be only dialectically different forms of Jupiter and Juno.| To this theory it may naturally be objected that the divine consort of Jupiter was not Diana but Juno, and that if Diana had a mate at all he might be expected to bear the name not of Jupiter, but of Dianus or Janus, the latter of these forms being merely a corruption of the former. All this is true, but the objection may be parried by observing that the two pairs of deities, Jupiter and Juno on the one side, and Dianus and Diana, or Janus and Jana, on the other side, are merely duplicates of each other, their names and their functions being in substance and origin identical. With regard to their names, all four of them come from the same Aryan root DI, meaning “bright,” which occurs in the names of the corresponding Greek deities, Zeus and his old female consort Dione.[1253] In regard to their functions, Juno and Diana were both goddesses of fecundity and childbirth, and both were sooner or later identified with the moon.[1254] As to the true nature and functions of Janus the ancients themselves were puzzled;[1255] and where they hesitated, it is not for us confidently to decide. But the view mentioned by Varro that Janus was the god of the sky[1256] is supported not only by the etymological identity of his name with that of the 382sky-god Jupiter, but also by the relation in which he appears to have stood to Jupiter’s two mates, Juno and Juturna. For the epithet Junonian bestowed on Janus[1257] points to a marriage union between the two deities; and according to one account Janus was the husband of the water-nymph Juturna,[1258] who according to others was beloved by Jupiter.[1259] Moreover, Janus, like Jove, was regularly invoked, and commonly spoken of, under the title of Father.[1260] Indeed, he was identified with Jupiter not merely by the logic of a Christian doctor,[1261] but by the piety of a pagan worshipper who dedicated an offering to Jupiter Dianus.[1262] A trace of his relation to the oak may be found in the oak-woods of the Janiculum, the hill on the right bank of the Tiber, where Janus is said to have reigned as a king in the remotest ages of Italian history.[1263]
381In both nature and name, Dianus (Janus) and Diana seem to be just different versions of Jupiter and Juno. One could argue against this theory by noting that Jupiter's divine partner was not Diana but Juno. If Diana had a partner at all, one would expect him to be named not Jupiter, but Dianus or Janus, with the latter name being just a variation of the former. While this is true, it's worth mentioning that the two sets of deities—Jupiter and Juno, and Dianus and Diana, or Janus and Jana—are basically duplicates of each other, sharing the same names and roles in essence and origin. Regarding their names, all four derive from the same Aryan root DI, meaning "bright," which is also found in the names of the related Greek gods, Zeus and his ancient consort Dione.[1253] When it comes to their roles, both Juno and Diana were goddesses of fertility and childbirth, and in time, both were associated with the moon.[1254] As for the true nature and roles of Janus, the ancients were themselves confused;[1255] where they hesitated, we shouldn't rush to conclusions. However, the idea mentioned by Varro that Janus was the god of the sky[1256] is backed not just by the name connection with the sky god Jupiter but also by the relationship he seemed to have with Jupiter's two partners, Juno and Juturna. The title Junonian given to Janus[1257] suggests a marriage bond between the two deities, and according to one account, Janus was the husband of the water-nymph Juturna,[1258] who, in other stories, was loved by Jupiter.[1259] Furthermore, Janus, like Jove, was regularly called upon and commonly referred to as Father.[1260] In fact, he was identified with Jupiter not just by the reasoning of a Christian thinker,[1261] but also by the devotion of a pagan worshipper who offered a gift to Jupiter Dianus.[1262] Evidence of his connection to the oak can be found in the oak groves of the Janiculum, the hill on the right bank of the Tiber, where Janus is said to have ruled as a king in the earliest times of Italian history.[1263]
|Zeus and Dione, Jupiter and Juno, Dianus (Janus) and Diana represent a single original pair of Aryan deities, which through purely dialectical differences of nomenclature gradually diverged from each other and came to be regarded as separate pairs of deities.| Thus, if I am right, the same ancient pair of deities was variously known among the Greek and Italian peoples as Zeus and Dione, Jupiter and Juno, or Dianus (Janus) and Diana (Jana), the names of the divinities being identical in substance, though varying in form with the dialect of the particular tribe which worshipped them. At first, when the peoples dwelt near each other, the difference between the deities would be hardly more than one of name; in other words, it would be almost purely dialectical. But the gradual dispersion of the tribes, and their consequent isolation from each other, would favour the growth of divergent modes of conceiving and worshipping the gods whom they had carried 383with them from their old home, so that in time discrepancies of myth and ritual would tend to spring up and thereby to convert a nominal into a real distinction between the divinities. Accordingly when, with the slow progress of culture, the long period of barbarism and separation was passing away, and the rising political power of a single strong community had begun to draw or hammer its weaker neighbours into a nation, the confluent peoples would throw their gods, like their dialects, into a common stock; and thus it might come about that the same ancient deities, which their forefathers had worshipped together before the dispersion, would now be so disguised by the accumulated effect of dialectical and religious divergencies that their original identity might fail to be recognised, and they would take their places side by side as independent divinities in the national pantheon.[1264]
Zeus and Dione, Jupiter and Juno, Dianus (Janus) and Diana represent a single original pair of Aryan gods. Over time, due to differences in language, they gradually became distinct and were viewed as separate pairs of deities. So, if I'm correct, the same ancient pair of gods was known among the Greek and Italian peoples as Zeus and Dione, Jupiter and Juno, or Dianus (Janus) and Diana (Jana), the names of the deities being essentially the same, although differing in form based on the dialect of the particular tribe that worshipped them. Initially, when the peoples lived close together, the difference between the deities would have been nothing more than a matter of name; in other words, it would have been almost purely dialectical. But as the tribes gradually dispersed, and became isolated from one another, it would encourage the development of different ways of thinking about and worshipping the gods they had carried 383with them from their homeland, so that over time variations in myth and ritual would likely arise, creating a real distinction between the deities. Consequently, when, with the slow progress of culture, the long era of barbarism and separation began to wane, and the political power of a single strong community started to unite its weaker neighbors into a nation, the coming-together of these people would merge their gods, just like their dialects, into a common pool; and thus it could happen that the same ancient deities, which their ancestors had worshipped together before the dispersion, would now be so transformed by the combined effects of dialectical and religious differences that their original identity might become unrecognizable, and they would stand side by side as independent deities in the national pantheon.[1264]
|This explanation of Janus as equivalent to Jupiter is more probable than the view that Janus was originally nothing but the god of the door (janua); for the door (janua) seems rather to have been named after Janus than he after it.| This duplication of deities, the result of the final fusion of kindred tribes who had long lived apart, would account for the appearance of Janus beside Jupiter, and of Diana or Jana beside Juno in the Roman religion.[1265] At least this appears to be a more probable theory than the opinion, which has found favour with some modern scholars, that Janus was originally nothing but the god of doors.[1266] That a deity of his dignity and importance, whom the Romans revered as a god of gods[1267] and the father of his people, 384should have started in life as a humble, though doubtless respectable, doorkeeper appears to me, I confess, very unlikely. So lofty an end hardly consorts with so lowly a beginning. It is more probable that the door (janua) got its name from Janus than that he got his name from it. This view is strengthened by a consideration of the word janua itself. The regular word for door is the same in all the languages of the Aryan family from India to Ireland. It is dur in Sanscrit, thura in Greek, Tür in German, door in English, dorus in old Irish, and foris in Latin.[1268] Yet besides this ordinary name for door, which the Latins shared with all their Aryan brethren, they had also the name janua, to which there is no corresponding term in any Indo-European speech. The word has the appearance of being an adjectival form derived from the noun Janus. I conjecture that it may have been customary to set up an image or symbol of Janus at the principal door of the house in order to place the entrance under the protection of the great god. A door thus guarded might be known as a janua foris, that is, a Januan door, and the phrase might in time be abridged into janua, the noun foris being understood but not expressed. From this to the use of janua to designate a door in general, whether guarded by an image of Janus or not, would be an easy and natural transition.[1269]
This explanation of Janus being similar to Jupiter seems more plausible than the notion that Janus was simply the god of the door (janua); it seems that the door (janua) was named after Janus, not the other way around. This duplication of deities, resulting from the eventual merging of similar tribes that had lived separately for a long time, explains the presence of Janus alongside Jupiter, and Diana or Jana alongside Juno in Roman religion.[1265] At least this seems to be a more plausible theory than the belief, which some modern scholars support, that Janus was originally just the god of doors.[1266] A deity of such dignity and significance, whom the Romans honored as a god of gods[1267] and the father of his people, 384having started as a simple, though likely respectable, doorkeeper seems, I must admit, very unlikely. Such a high position doesn’t quite match such a humble beginning. It’s more likely that the door (janua) got its name from Janus rather than the reverse. This view is supported by an examination of the word janua itself. The common word for door is consistent across all languages in the Aryan family from India to Ireland. It is dur in Sanskrit, thura in Greek, Tür in German, door in English, dorus in old Irish, and foris in Latin.[1268] However, in addition to this usual term for door, which the Latins shared with all their Aryan counterparts, they also had the term janua, which doesn’t have a corresponding term in any Indo-European language. The word seems to be an adjectival form derived from the noun Janus. I speculate that it was common to place an image or symbol of Janus at the main door of the house to protect the entrance with the great god’s presence. A door protected in this way might be referred to as a janua foris, meaning a Januan door, and over time, the phrase might have been shortened to janua, with the noun foris being understood but not stated. From there, transitioning to use janua to refer to any door, regardless of whether it was guarded by an image of Janus, would be an easy and natural shift.[1269]
|The double-headed figure of Janus may have originated in a custom of placing his image as guardian of doorways so as to face both ways, outwards and inwards, at the same time.| If there is any truth in this conjecture, it may explain very simply the origin of the double head of Janus, which has so long exercised the ingenuity of mythologists. When it had become customary to guard the entrance of houses and towns by an image of Janus, it might well be deemed necessary to make the sentinel god look both ways, before and behind, at the same time, in order that nothing should escape his vigilant eye. For if the divine watchman always faced in one direction, it is easy to imagine what mischief might have been wrought with impunity behind his back.
The two-faced figure of Janus likely began as a tradition of putting his image at doorways, allowing him to see both outside and inside at the same time. If there’s any truth to this idea, it could simply explain the origin of Janus’s two heads, which have puzzled mythologists for so long. Once it became common to guard the entrances of houses and towns with an image of Janus, it would make sense to have the sentinel god watching both directions, in front and behind, at the same time, so that nothing could slip past his watchful eye. Because if the divine guard only looked one way, it’s easy to picture the trouble that could happen unchecked behind him.
385|This explanation is confirmed by the double-headed idols which the Bush negroes of Surinam set to guard the entrances of their villages.| This explanation of the double-headed Janus at Rome is confirmed by the double-headed idol which the Bush negroes in the interior of Surinam regularly set up as a guardian at the entrance of a village. The idol consists of a block of wood with a human face rudely carved on each side; it stands under a gateway composed of two uprights and a cross-bar. Beside the idol generally lies a white rag intended to keep off the devil; and sometimes there is also a stick which seems to represent a bludgeon or weapon of some sort. Further, from the cross-bar hangs a small log which serves the useful purpose of knocking on the head any evil spirit who might attempt to pass through the gateway.[1270] Clearly this double-headed fetish at the gateway of the negro villages in Surinam bears a close resemblance to the double-headed images of Janus which, grasping a stick in one hand and a key in the other, stood sentinel at Roman gates and doorways;[1271] and we can hardly doubt that in both cases the heads facing two ways are to be similarly explained as expressive of the vigilance of the guardian god, who kept his eye on spiritual foes behind and before, and stood ready to bludgeon them on the spot. We may, therefore, dispense with the tedious and unsatisfactory explanations which the wily Janus himself fobbed off an anxious Roman enquirer.[1272] In the interior of Borneo the Kenyahs generally place before the main entrance of their houses the wooden image of Balli Atap, that is, the Spirit or God (Balli) of the Roof, who protects the household from harm of all kinds.[1273] But it does not appear that this divine watchman is provided with more than one face.
385This explanation is backed by the double-headed idols that the Bush people of Surinam put at the entrances of their villages. This explanation of the double-headed Janus in Rome is supported by the double-headed idol that the Bush people in the interior of Surinam regularly set up as a protector at the entrance of a village. The idol consists of a block of wood with a human face crudely carved on each side; it stands under a gateway made up of two uprights and a cross-bar. Next to the idol, there is usually a white rag meant to ward off evil; and sometimes there is also a stick that looks like a bludgeon or some kind of weapon. Additionally, from the cross-bar hangs a small log that serves the practical purpose of knocking on the head of any evil spirit that might try to pass through the gateway.[1270] Clearly, this double-headed figure at the entrance of the Black villages in Surinam is very similar to the double-headed images of Janus that, holding a stick in one hand and a key in the other, stood guard at Roman gates and doorways;[1271] and we can hardly doubt that in both cases the heads facing in different directions are similarly explained as representing the vigilance of the guardian god, who kept an eye on spiritual enemies from both behind and in front, and was ready to strike them down on the spot. Therefore, we can avoid the tedious and unsatisfactory explanations that the clever Janus himself offered to a worried Roman inquirer.[1272] In the interior of Borneo, the Kenyahs usually place the wooden image of Balli Atap, which means the Spirit or God (Balli) of the Roof, in front of the main entrance of their houses to protect the household from all kinds of harm.[1273] But it seems that this divine guardian only has one face.
386|Thus the King of the Wood at Nemi seems to have personated the great Aryan god of the oak, Jupiter or Janus, and to have mated with the oak-goddess Diana.| To apply these conclusions to the priest of Nemi, we may suppose that as the mate of Diana he represented originally Dianus or Janus rather than Jupiter, but that the difference between these deities was of old merely superficial, going little deeper than the names, and leaving practically unaffected the essential functions of the god as a power of the sky, the thunder, and the oak. If my analysis of this great divinity is correct, the original element in his composite nature was the oak. It was fitting, therefore, that his human representative at Nemi should dwell, as we have seen reason to believe he did, in an oak grove. His title of King of the Wood clearly indicates the sylvan character of the deity whom he served; and since he could only be assailed by him who had plucked the bough of a certain tree in the grove, his own life might be said to be bound up with that of the sacred tree. Thus he not only served but embodied the great Aryan god of the oak; and as an oak-god he would mate with the oak-goddess, whether she went by the name of Egeria or Diana. Their union, however consummated, would be deemed essential to the fertility of the earth and the fecundity of man and beast. Further, as the oak-god had grown into a god of the sky, the thunder, and the rain, so his human representative would be required, like many other divine kings, to cause the clouds to gather, the thunder to peal, and the rain to descend in due season, that the fields and orchards might bear fruit and the pastures be covered with luxuriant herbage. The reputed possessor of powers so exalted must have been a very important personage; and the remains of buildings and of votive offerings which have been found on the site of the sanctuary combine with the testimony of classical writers to prove that in later times it was one of the greatest and most popular shrines in Italy. Even in the old days when the champaign country around was still parcelled out among the petty tribes who composed the Latin League, the sacred grove is known to have been an object of their common reverence and care. And just as the kings of Cambodia used to send offerings to the mystic kings of Fire and Water far in the dim depths of the tropical forest, so, we may well believe, from all sides of the broad Latian plain the 387eyes and footsteps of Italian pilgrims turned to the quarter where, standing sharply out against the faint blue line of the Apennines or the deeper blue of the distant sea, the Alban Mountain rose before them, the home of the mysterious priest of Nemi, the King of the Wood. There, among the green woods and beside the still waters of the lonely hills the ancient Aryan worship of the god of the oak, the thunder, and the dripping sky lingered in its early, almost Druidical form, long after a great political and intellectual revolution had shifted the capital of Latin religion from the forest to the city, from Nemi to Rome.
386So, the King of the Woods at Nemi appears to have symbolized the major Aryan god of the oak, Jupiter or Janus, and was associated with the oak-goddess Diana. To connect these thoughts to the priest of Nemi, we can assume that as Diana's partner, he initially represented Dianus or Janus rather than Jupiter, but the distinction between these deities was likely only surface-level, not going much deeper than their names. This left the core attributes of the god—being a power of the sky, thunder, and oak—mostly unchanged. If my interpretation of this significant deity is correct, the oak was the primary element of his mixed identity. It was appropriate, therefore, that his human representative at Nemi should live, as we believe he did, in an oak grove. His title of King of the Wood clearly shows the woodland nature of the deity he served; and since he could only be challenged by someone who had picked a branch from a specific tree in the grove, his life could be said to be connected to that sacred tree. Thus, he not only served but also embodied the great Aryan god of the oak; and as an oak-god, he would pair with the oak-goddess, whether she was called Egeria or Diana. Their union, however it happened, would be considered vital for the fertility of the earth and the prosperity of humans and animals. Additionally, as the oak-god evolved into a god of the sky, thunder, and rain, his human representative would also be expected, like many other divine kings, to bring clouds together, cause thunder to roar, and rain to fall at the right times so that fields and orchards could produce fruit and pastures would be lush with grass. The person believed to have such elevated powers must have been a very important figure; and the remains of structures and offerings discovered at the sanctuary, along with accounts from classical writers, show that in later times it was one of the largest and most popular shrines in Italy. Even back when the surrounding countryside was still divided among the small tribes of the Latin League, the sacred grove is known to have been a shared object of respect and care. Similarly, as the kings of Cambodia used to send offerings to the mystical kings of Fire and Water deep in the tropical forest, we can also believe that pilgrims from all over the vast Latian plain directed their attention and steps to where, standing sharply against the faint blue outline of the Apennines or the deeper blue of the distant sea, the Alban Mountain rose before them, home to the mysterious priest of Nemi, the King of the Wood. There, among the green woods and beside the still waters of the quiet hills, the ancient Aryan worship of the god of the oak, the thunder, and the pouring sky lingered in its early, almost Druidic form, long after a significant political and intellectual shift had moved the center of Latin religion from the forest to the city, from Nemi to Rome.
INDEX
- Abbas Effendi, i. 402
- Abchases of the Caucasus, the, ii. 370
- Abolition of the kingship at Rome, ii. 289 sqq.
- Abraham and Sarah, ii. 114
- Acacia-tree worshipped, ii. 16
- Achelous and Dejanira, ii. 161 sq.
- Achilles, ii. 278
- Acorns as food, ii. 353, 355 sq.;
- Adam of Bremen, ii. 364
- Adonis at Byblus, i. 30
- —— and Venus (Aphrodite), i. 21, 25, 40, 41
- —— or Tammuz, ii. 346
- Adoption, pretence of birth at, i. 74 sq.
- Adultery supposed to blight the fruits of the earth, ii. 107 sq., 114
- Aeacus, ii. 278, 359
- Aegira, priestess of Earth at, i. 381 sq.
- Aegisthus, ii. 281
- Aeneas and the Golden Bough, i. 11, ii. 379;
- his disappearance in a thunderstorm, 181
- Aeolus, i. 326
- Aeschines, spurious epistles of, ii. 162 n. 2
- Aesculapius brings Hippolytus to life, i. 20;
- at Cos, ii. 10
- Africa, rise of magicians, especially rain-makers, to chieftainship and kingship in, i. 342 sqq., 352;
- human gods in, 392 sqq.
- —— North, magical images in, i. 65 sq.
- Afterbirth (placenta), contagious magic of, i. 182-201;
- placed in tree, 182, 187, 190, 191, 194, 199;
- part of child’s spirit in, 184;
- regarded as brother or sister of child, 189, 191, 192, 193;
- regarded as a second child, 195;
- seat of external soul, 200 sq.
- Agamemnon, ii. 279;
- sceptre of, i. 365
- Agni, the fire-god, ii. 249
- Agnihotris, Brahman fire-priests, ii. 247 sqq.
- Agriculture of the Nabataeans, ii. 100
- Ainos, i. 60
- Akamba, the, ii. 317
- Akikuyu, the, ii. 44, 150, 316, 317;
- pretence of new birth among the, i. 75 sq., 96 sq.
- Alba Longa, the kings of, ii. 178 sqq., 268 sq.
- Alban Hills, i. 2
- —— Mountain, the, ii. 187 sq., 202
- Albigenses, the, i. 407
- Alcheringa, legendary time, i. 98
- Alfai, priesthood of the, ii. 3
- Algidus, Mount, ii. 187, 380
- Algonquins, the, ii. 147
- Amata, “Beloved,” title of Vestals, ii. 197;
- Amata, wife of King Latinus, 197
- Amboyna, ii. 28
- Amenophis III., birth of, ii. 131 sqq.
- American Indians, power of medicine-men among the, i. 355 sqq.
- Amethyst, i. 165
- Ammon, the god, married to the Queen of Egypt, ii. 130 sqq.;
- Ammonite, black fossil, ii. 26, 27 n. 2
- Amphictyon, ii. 277
- Amulius Sylvius, ii. 180
- Anaitis, Oriental goddess, i. 16 sq., 37 n. 2
- Anatomie of Abuses, ii. 66
- Anazarbus, the olives of, ii. 107
- Ancestor-worship among the Bantu peoples, ii. 221;
- in relation to fire-worship, 221
- Ancestors, prayers to, i. 285, 287, 345, 352;
- Ancestral spirits worshipped at the hearth, ii. 221 sq.
- 390Ancestral tree, fire kindled from, ii. 221, 233 sq.
- Ancus Martius, his death, ii. 320
- Andaman Islanders, ii. 253
- Andania, ii. 122
- Anderida, forest of, ii. 7
- Andromeda and Perseus, ii. 163
- Animals, homoeopathic magic of, i. 150 sqq.;
- rain-making by means of, 287 sqq.
- Animism passing into polytheism, ii. 45
- Anitos, spirits of ancestors, ii. 30
- Anjea, mythical being, who causes conception in women, i. 100, 184
- Annals of Tigernach and Ulster, ii. 286
- Annandale, Nelson, ii. 237 n.
- Anointing weapon which caused wound, i. 202 sqq.
- Antaeus, ii. 300
- Antigone, death of, ii. 228 n. 5
- Antigonus, i. 391 n. 1
- Antimores of Madagascar, i. 354
- Apaches, land of the, i. 306
- Apepi, Egyptian fiend, i. 67
- Apes thought to be related to twins, i. 265
- Ap-hi, god of thunder and lightning, ii. 370
- Aphrodite and Adonis, i. 25
- —— Askraia, i. 26
- Apollo, i. 384, 386;
- —— and Artemis, birthdays of, i. 32
- —— Diradiotes, i. 381
- Apologies offered to trees for cutting them down, ii. 18 sq., 36 sq.
- Apples at festival of Diana, i. 14, 16
- April 15th, sacrifice on, ii. 229, 326
- —— 21st, date of the Parilia, ii. 325, 326
- —— 23rd, St. George’s Day, ii. 330 sqq.
- —— 24th, in some places St. George’s Day, ii. 337, 343
- Arab charms, i. 152, 153, 157, 165 sq., 181, 303
- Arabs of Moab, i. 276
- Aratus, sacrifices to, i. 105
- Araucanians of Chili, the, ii. 183
- Arden, forest of, ii. 7
- Ardennes, goddess of the, ii. 126
- Aren palm-tree, ii. 22
- Ariadne and Dionysus, ii. 138
- Aricia, i. 3, 4, 10, ii. 2;
- “many Manii at,” i. 22
- Arician grove, the sacred, i. 20, 22, ii. 115;
- horses excluded from, i. 20
- Arikara Indians, i. 115
- Aristotle, ii. 137
- Arkon, in Rügen, ii. 241 n. 4
- Armenia, rain-making in, i. 275 sq.
- Arrephoroi at Athens, the, ii. 199
- Arrian, on sacrifices to Artemis, ii. 125 sq.
- Arrows shot at sacred trees, ii. 11;
- fire-tipped, shot at sun during an eclipse, i. 311
- Artemis, temple dedicated to her by Xenophon, i. 7;
- —— and Apollo, birthdays of, i. 32;
- and Hippolytus, 19 sq., 24 sqq.
- —— Parthenos, i. 36
- Arunta, the, of Central Australia, i. 98;
- magical ceremonies among, 85 sqq.;
- burial customs of the, 102
- Arval Brothers, the, ii. 203
- Aryan god of the oak and thunder, ii. 356 sqq.;
- god of the sky, 374 sq.
- Aryans, magical powers ascribed to kings among the, i. 366 sqq.;
- Ascanius or Julus, ii. 197
- Ascension Day, ii. 69, 166
- Ashantee, licence accorded to king’s sisters in, ii. 274 sq.
- Ashes scattered as rain-charm, i. 304;
- Asia Minor, pontiffs in, i. 47
- Assimilation of rain-maker to water, i. 269 sqq.
- Association of ideas, magic based on a misapplication of the, i. 221 sq.
- Assumption of the Virgin in relation to the festival of Diana, i. 14-16
- Astarte at Byblus, i. 30
- Atalante, ii. 301
- Athenian sacrifices to the Seasons, i. 310
- Athens, barrow of Hippolytus at, i. 25;
- Atkinson, J. C., i. 199
- Atreus, ii. 279
- Attacking the wind, i. 327 sqq.
- Attica, traces of female kinship in, ii. 284
- Attis and Cybele (Mother of the Gods), i. 18, 21, 40, 41
- Atua, Polynesian term for god, i. 387 n. 1
- August, the Ides (13th) of, Diana’s day, i. 12, 14-17
- —— 15th, the day of the Assumption of the Virgin, i. 14-16
- Augustine on the one God, i. 121 n. 1
- 391Australia, aboriginal paintings in, i. 87 n. 1;
- magic universally practised but religion nearly unknown among the aborigines of, 234;
- government of old men in aboriginal, 334 sq.;
- influence of magicians in aboriginal, 334 sqq.
- —— Central, magical ceremonies for the supply of food in, i. 85 sqq.
- Australian aborigines, magical images among the, i. 62;
- ceremonies of initiation among the, 92 sqq.;
- contagious magic of teeth among the, 176;
- magic of navel-string and afterbirth among the, 183 sq.
- Autun, procession of goddess at, ii. 144
- Auxesia and Damia, i. 39
- Avebury, Lord, i. 225 n.
- Aventine, Diana on the, ii. 128
- Baal, prophets of, cutting themselves, i. 258
- Baalim, the, lords of underground waters, ii. 159
- Babar Archipelago, i. 72, 131
- Babaruda, i. 273
- Babylon, magical images in ancient, i. 66 sq.;
- sanctuary of Bel at, ii. 129 sq.
- Babylonian kings, divinity of the early, i. 417
- Bacchanals chew ivy, i. 384
- Bachofen, J. J., ii. 313 n. 1, 314 n. 1
- Bacon, Francis, on anointing weapon that caused wound, i. 202
- Badonsachen, King of Burma, i. 400
- Baganda, the, i. 395;
- Bagba, a fetish, i. 327
- Bagishu, i. 103
- Bahaus or Kayans of Borneo, ii. 40, 109
- Bakers, Roman, required to be chaste, ii. 115 sq., 205
- Balli Atap, ii. 385
- Baloi, mythical beings, i. 177
- Bambaras, the, ii. 42
- Banana-tree, wild, supposed to fertilise barren women, ii. 318
- Bandicoot in rain-charm, i. 288
- Bangalas, the, ii. 293
- Banks’ Islanders, i. 314
- Bantu peoples, ancestor-worship among the, ii. 221
- Banyai, chieftainship among the, ii. 292
- Banyoro, the, ii. 322;
- king of the, as rain-maker, i. 348
- Baobab-trees, ii. 47
- Baptist, St. John the, i. 277
- Bar-tree (Ficus Indica), ii. 25, 43
- Barea, the, ii. 3
- Barenton, fountain of, i. 306, 307
- Bari, rain-making among the, i. 346 sq.
- Barotse, the, i. 392 sq.
- Barren women, charms to procure offspring for, i. 70 sqq.;
- Basilai at Olympia, i. 46 n. 4
- Basoga, the, ii. 19, 112
- Basutos, the, i. 71, 177
- Bath before marriage, intention of, ii. 162
- Bathing as a rain-charm, i. 277 sq.
- Battas or Bataks of Sumatra, i. 71, 398 sq., ii. 108
- Battus, King, i. 47
- Bayfield, M. A., ii. 228 n. 5
- Bean, sprouting of, in superstitious ceremony, i. 266
- Beasts, sacred, in Egypt held responsible for failure of crops, i. 354
- Bechuana charms, i. 150 sq.
- Bechuanas, the, i. 313
- Bedouins, fire-drill of the ancient, ii. 209
- Beech-woods of Denmark, ii. 351
- Beena marriage, ii. 271
- Bees, the King Bees (Essenes) at Ephesus, ii. 135 sq.
- Bel of Babylon, ii. 129
- Belep, the, of New Caledonia, i. 150
- Bell-ringing as a charm to dispel evil influences, ii. 343 sq.
- Benefits conferred by magic, i. 218 sq.
- Benin, king of, as a god, i. 396
- Benvenuto Cellini, ii. 197 n. 6
- Benzoni, G., i. 57 n.
- Bes, the god, ii. 133
- Betsileo, the, i. 397
- Bevan, Professor A. A., ii. 210 n.
- Bezoar stone in rain-charms, i. 305
- Bhagavati, goddess of Cochin, i. 280
- Birch, crowns of, ii. 64;
- Birth, pretence of, at adoption, i. 74 sq.;
- at return of supposed dead man, 75;
- at circumcision, 75 sq.;
- simulation of a new, 380 sq.;
- from the fire, ii. 195 sqq.
- Birthday, Greek custom of sacrificing to a dead man on his, i. 105
- Birthdays of Apollo and Artemis, i. 32
- “Birthplace of Rainy Zeus,” ii. 360
- Black animals in rain-charms, i. 250, 290 sqq.;
- colour in magic, 83;
- in rain-making ceremonies, 269 sq.
- 392Blackfoot Indians, i. 116, 150;
- their worship of the sun, ii. 146 sq.
- Bleeding trees, ii. 18, 20, 33
- Blighting effect of illicit love on the fruits of the earth, ii. 107 sqq.
- Blindness, charm to cause, i. 147
- Blood drawn from virgin bride, i. 94;
- shed at circumcision and subincision, uses of, 92, 94 sq.;
- sympathetic connexion between wounded person and his shed blood, 205;
- used to imitate rain, 256, 257 sq.;
- as a means of inspiration, 381 sqq.;
- offered to trees, ii. 13, 16, 34, 44, 47;
- of pigs in purificatory rites, 107, 108, 109;
- of incestuous persons, blighting effects attributed to the, 110 sq.;
- reluctance to spill royal, 228;
- smeared on sacred trees, 367
- Blood, human, in intichiuma ceremonies, i. 85, sqq. 90, sqq.;
- offered at grave, 90 sq.;
- given to sick people, 91;
- used to knit men together, 92
- Blood-stone, i. 165
- Bloomfield, Professor M., i. 229
- Boanerges, i. 266
- Bodio, fetish king, i. 353
- Bogomiles, the, i. 407
- Boiled meat offered to the Seasons, i. 310
- Bones of dead in magic, i. 148;
- human, buried as rain-charm, 287;
- burned as a charm against sorcery, ii. 330
- Bonfires at midsummer, ii. 65
- Bongo, the, i. 347
- Boni, G., ii. 186 n. 1
- Borewell, the, ii. 161
- Borlase, W., ii. 67
- Born thrice, said of Brahmans, i. 381
- Borneo, i. 59, 73;
- beliefs as to the blighting effect of sexual crime in, ii. 108 sqq.
- Bororos, the, ii. 298
- Bough, the Golden, plucked by Aeneas, i. 11, ii. 379;
- Boughs, green, a charm against witches, ii. 52-55, 127.
- See also Branches
- Bovillae, ii. 179
- Bradbury, Professor J. B., ii. 139 n. 1
- Brahman, derivation of name, i. 229
- —— fire-priests, ii. 247 sqq.;
- marriage ceremony, i. 160;
- householder, temporary inspiration of, i. 380 sq.
- Brahmans deemed superior to the gods, i 226;
- divinity of the, 403 sq.;
- thrice-born, 381
- Branches dipped in water as a rain-charm, i. 248, 250, 309.
- See also Boughs
- Brazil, Indians of, power of medicine-men among the, i. 358 sq.
- Breath, holy fire not to be blown upon with the, ii. 241
- Brethren of the Free Spirit, i. 408;
- of the Tilled Fields (Fratres Arvales), ii. 122
- Brhaspati, as a magician, i. 241
- Bride tied to tree at marriage, ii. 57;
- —— of God, the, i. 276
- —— race among Teutonic peoples, ii. 303 sqq.
- Bridegroom of May, ii. 91, 93
- Bridget in Scotland and the Isle of Man, ii. 94 sq.
- Brigit, a Celtic goddess, ii. 95, 240 sqq.
- Brimo and Brimos, ii. 139
- Brincker, Dr. P. H., ii. 224 n. 4
- Brooke, Rajah, i. 361
- Brotherhood formed with trees by sucking their sap, ii. 19 sq.
- Brothers reviled by sisters for good luck, i. 279
- Brown, A. R., ii. 254 n.
- Brown, Dr. George, i. 340
- Brunhild, Queen of Iceland, ii. 306
- Brutus, L. Junius, ii. 290, 291
- Bryant, Jacob, i. 334
- Buckthorn, a protection against witches, ii. 54, 191
- Buddha, images of, drenched as a rain-charm, i. 308
- Buddhas, living, i. 410 sq.
- Buddhist animism not a philosophical theory, ii. 13 sq.
- Bühler, G., ii. 367 n. 3, 369
- Bulgaria, rain-making in, i. 274
- Bull, the thunder-god compared to a, ii. 368
- Bull-roarer used as a wind-charm, i. 324
- Bull’s blood drunk as means of inspiration, i. 381 sq.;
- as ordeal, i. 382 n. 1
- Bulls, white, sacrificed, ii. 188 sq.
- Bunjil Kraura, i. 324
- Bunsen, on St. Hippolytus, i. 21 n. 2
- Burglars, charms employed by, to cause sleep, i. 148 sq.
- Burgundians and their kings, i. 366
- Burial alive, punishment of unfaithful virgins, ii. 244
- —— customs intended to ensure re-incarnation, i. 101 sqq.
- Burma, magical images in, i. 62 sq.
- Burning of sacred trees or poles, ii. 141 sq.
- Burning-glass or mirror, fire kindled by, ii. 243, 244 n. 1
- Buryats, the, ii. 32
- Bush negroes of Surinam, ii. 385
- Bushmen, i. 123
- 393Butlers, Roman, required to be chaste, ii. 115 sq., 205
- Buttmann, P., i. 40 n. 2
- Büttner, C. G., ii. 218
- Byblus, Astarte at, i. 30
- Cabbages, charm to make cabbages grow, i. 136 sq.
- Cactus, sacred, telepathy in search for, i. 123 sq.
- Cadys, ii. 281
- Caeculus born from the fire, ii. 197
- Caelian hill at Rome, ii. 185
- Caesar, Julius, his villa at Nemi, i. 5
- Caesars, their name derived from caesaries, ii. 180
- Caingua Indians, the, ii. 258
- Calah, ancient capital of Assyria, ii. 130
- Caland, Dr. W., i. 229
- Caldwell, Bishop R., i. 382
- Calica Puran, i. 63
- Caligula, his barges on the lake of Nemi, i. 5;
- and the priest of Nemi, 11
- Calmucks, race for a bride among the, ii. 301 sq.
- Cambodia, the regalia in, i. 365;
- Kings of Fire and Water in, ii. 3 sqq.
- Cambridge, May Day custom at, ii. 62
- Camden, W., ii. 53.
- Camillus, his triumph, ii. 174 n. 2
- Camphor, taboos observed in search for, i. 114 sq.;
- telepathy in search for, 124 sq.
- Candaules, ii. 281, 282
- Candlemas, ii. 94
- Cannibalism in Australia, i. 106 sq.
- Cantabrians, mother-kin among the, ii. 285
- Canute, King of England, his marriage with Emma, ii. 282 sq.
- Cape York Peninsula in Queensland, i. 99, 100
- Capena, the Porta, at Rome, i. 18
- Capitol, temple of Jupiter on the, ii. 174, 176, 184
- Caprificatio, ii. 314 n. 2
- Caprificus, the wild fig-tree, ii. 314 sq.
- Car Nicobar, i. 314
- Caribs, war custom of the, i. 134
- Carna, nymph, ii. 190
- Carpenter, son of, as a human god, i. 376
- Carpet-snakes, magical ceremony for the multiplication of, i. 90
- Castor and Pollux, i. 49 sq.
- Cat in rain-charm, i. 289, 291, 308 sq.
- Cat’s cradle as a charm to catch the sun, i. 316 sq.
- Catlin, G., i. 356
- Cato the Elder on dedication of Arician grove to Diana, i. 22, 23
- Cato, on expiation, ii. 122
- Cattle crowned, ii. 75, 126 sq., 339, 341;
- charm to recover strayed, i. 212;
- influence of tree-spirits on, ii. 55
- —— stall, the, at Athens, ii. 137
- Caul, superstitions as to, i. 187 sq., 190 sq., 199 sq.
- Caves, prehistoric paintings of animals in, i. 87 n. 1
- Cecrops, ii. 277;
- said to have instituted marriage, 284
- Cedar, sacred, ii. 49, 50 sq.;
- smoke of, inhaled as mode of inspiration, i. 383 sq.
- —— tree, girl annually sacrificed to, ii. 17
- —— wood burned as a religious rite, ii. 130
- Celebes, i. 109;
- magical virtue of regalia in, 362 sqq.
- Celtic divinity akin to Artemis, ii. 126
- —— and Italian languages akin, ii. 189
- —— Vestals, ii. 241 n. 1
- Celts, their worship of the Huntress Artemis, ii. 125 sq.;
- Ceos, funeral customs in, i. 105
- Ceremonies, initiatory, of Central Australian aborigines, i. 92 sqq.
- Chadwick, H. M., ii. 278 n. 1, 283 n. 1
- Chaka, the Zulu despot, i. 350
- Champion at English coronation ceremony, ii. 322
- Chams, the, i. 120, 131, 144
- Chariot in rain-charm, i. 309
- —— and horses dedicated to the sun, i. 315
- Charles II. touches for scrofula, i. 368 sq.
- Charms to ensure long life, i. 168 sq.;
- to prevent the sun from going down, 316 sqq.
- See also Magic
- Chastity observed for sake of absent persons, i. 123, 124, 125, 131;
- practised to make the crops grow, ii. 104 sqq.;
- required of persons who handle dishes and food, 115 sq., 205;
- Milton on, 118 n. 1;
- as a virtue not understood by savages, 118;
- observed by sacred men, perhaps the husbands of a goddess, 135, 136;
- observed by sacred women, 137;
- required in those who make fire by friction, 238 sq.
- See also Continence
- Chauci, the, ii. 353
- Cheremiss, the, ii. 44, 49
- Cherokees, homoeopathic magic of plants among the, i. 144, 146 sq.;
- homoeopathic magic of animals among the, i. 155 sq.
- 394Chibchas, the, i. 416
- Chi-chi Mama, i. 276
- Chiefs, supernatural power of, in Melanesia, i. 338 sqq.;
- Chilcotin Indians, i. 312
- Child’s Well at Oxford, ii. 161
- Childbirth, Diana as goddess of, i. 12, ii. 128
- Children, newborn, brought to the hearth, ii. 232
- Chili, sacred cedar, ii. 49, 50 sq.
- China, emperors of, i. 47;
- homoeopathic magic of city sites in, 169 sq.;
- the Emperor of, superior to the gods, 416 sq.
- See also Chinese
- Chinchvad, human gods at, i. 405 sq.
- Chinese, magical images among the, i. 60 sq.
- —— belief in spirits of plants, ii. 14
- —— charms to ensure long life, i. 168 sq.
- —— emperor responsible for drought, i. 355
- —— empire, incarnate human gods in the, i. 412 sqq.
- —— modes of compelling the rain-god to give rain, i. 297 sqq.
- —— superstition as to placenta (after-birth), i. 194
- Chingilli, the, i. 99
- Chios, kings of, i. 45
- Chissumpe, the, i. 393
- Chitomé, the, a pontiff of Congo, ii. 261
- Christians, pretenders to divinity among, i. 407 sqq.
- Christs, Russian sect of the, i. 407 sq.
- Chuckchees, sacred fire-boards of the, ii. 225 sq.
- Churinga, in Australia, i. 88, 199, 335
- Cimbrians, the, i. 331 n. 2
- Ciminian forest, ii. 8
- Circassians, their custom as to pear-trees, ii. 55 sq.
- Circumcision, pretence of new birth at, i. 76, 96 sq.;
- uses of blood shed at, 92, 94 sq.;
- suggested origin of, 96 sq.
- Cithaeron, Mount, ii. 140
- Clans, paternal and maternal, of the Herero, ii. 217
- Cleanliness promoted by contagious magic, i. 175, 342
- Clisthenes and Hippoclides, ii. 307 sq.
- Clitus and Pallene, ii. 307
- Clothes, sympathetic connexion between a person and his, i. 205-207
- Clouds imitated by smoke, i. 249;
- by stones, i. 256;
- by rain-maker, 261, 262, 263
- Clouds, magicians painted in imitation of, i. 323
- Clove-trees in blossom treated like pregnant women, ii. 28
- Cloves, ceremony to make cloves grow ii. 100
- Clown in spring ceremonies, ii. 82, 89
- Clytaemnestra, ii. 279
- Cockatoos, ceremony for the magical multiplication of, i. 89
- Coco-nut sacred, ii. 51
- —— palms worshipped, ii. 16
- Codrington, Dr. R. H., quoted, i. 227 sq., 338
- Coligny calendar, i. 17 n. 2
- Collatinus, L. Tarquinius, ii. 290
- Columella, ii. 314;
- quoted, 205
- Combat, mortal, for the kingdom, ii. 322
- Communism, tradition of sexual, ii. 284
- Compelling rain-gods to give rain, i. 296 sqq.
- Complexity of social phenomena, i. 332
- Comrie, ii. 161
- Con or Cun, a thunder-god, ii. 370
- Conception in women, supposed cause of, i. 100;
- Concord, temple of, at Rome, i. 11, 21 n. 2
- Concordia, nurse of St. Hippolytus, i. 21 n. 2
- Condor, the bird of the thunder-god, ii. 370
- Confession of sins, i. 266
- Conflicts, sanguinary, as rain-charm, i. 258
- Conquerors sometimes leave a nominal kingship to the conquered, ii. 288 sq.
- “Consort, the divine,” ii. 131, 135
- Consuls, the first, ii. 290
- Consulship at Rome, institution of, ii. 290 sq.
- Contact or contagion in magic, law of, i. 52, 53
- Contagious Magic, i. 174-214;
- of teeth, 176-182;
- of navel-string and afterbirth (placenta), 182-201;
- of wound and weapon, 201 sqq.;
- of footprints, 207-212;
- of other impressions, 213 sq.
- —— taboos, i. 117
- Contest for the kingship at Whitsuntide, ii. 89
- Contests for a bride, ii. 305 sqq.
- Continence required in magical ceremonies, i. 88;
- 395Conway, Professor R. S., ii. 379 n. 5
- Conybeare, F. C., i. 407 n. 3
- Cook, A. B., i. 23 n., 40 n. 3 and 4, 42 n. 1, ii. 172 n. 3, 173 n. 2, 177 n. 6, 178 n. 3, 187 n. 4, 220 n. 3, 290 n. 3, 307 n. 2, 321 n. 1, 358 n. 4, 379 n. 4 and n. 5, 380 n. 4, 383 n. 2
- Cooks, Roman, required to be chaste, ii. 115 sq., 205
- Cora Indians, i. 55 sq.
- Corc, his purification, ii. 116
- Corn, defiled persons kept from the, ii. 112;
- reaped ear of, displayed at mysteries of Eleusis, 138 sq.
- —— -mother, the, at Eleusis, ii. 139
- —— -reaping in Greece, date of, i. 32
- Cornel-tree, sacred, ii. 10
- Cornish customs on May Day, ii. 52, 67
- Corp chre, i. 68, 69
- Corpus Christi Day, ii. 163
- Cos, King of, i. 45
- Crab in rain-charm, i. 289
- Crannogs, ii. 352
- Crannon in Thessaly, i. 309
- Crawley, E., i. 201 n. 1
- Crocodiles, girls sacrificed to, ii. 152
- Cronus and Zeus, ii. 323
- Crooke, W., i. 406 n. 1, ii. 57 n. 4, 288 n. 1
- Cross River, i. 349
- Crossbills in magic, i. 81 sq.
- Crown of oak leaves, ii. 175, 176 sq., 184
- Crowning cattle, ii. 75, 126 sq., 339, 341
- —— dogs, custom of, i. 14, ii. 125 sq., 127 sq.
- Crowns, magical virtue of royal, i. 364 sq.;
- Crows in magic, i. 83
- Crystals, magic of, i. 176;
- used in rain-making, 254, 255, 304, 345, 346
- Cumont, Professor Franz, ii. 310
- Cup-and-ball as a charm to hasten the return of the sun, i. 317
- Curses, public, i. 45;
- supposed beneficial effects of, i. 279 sqq.
- Cursing at sowing, i. 281
- —— fishermen and hunters for good luck, i. 280 sq.
- Curtiss, Professor S. I., i. 402
- Cuzco, ii. 243
- Cybele, ii. 144 sq.;
- and Attis, i. 18, 21, 40, 41
- Cyrene, kingship at, i. 47
- Daedala, festival of the, ii. 140 sq.
- Dainyal or Sibyl, i. 383
- Dalai Lama of Lhasa, i. 411 sq.
- Damaras or Herero, their fire-customs, ii. 211 sqq.
- Damia and Auxesia, i. 39
- Danaus, ii. 301
- Dance at giving of oracles, i. 379;
- of milkmaids on May-day, ii. 52
- Dances of women while men are away fighting, i. 131-134;
- Dancing as a fertility charm, i. 137 sqq., ii. 106
- Danes, female descent of the kingship among the, ii. 282 sq.
- Daphnephoria, ii. 63 n. 2
- Date-month, the, ii. 25
- —— -palm, artificial fertilisation of the, ii. 24 sq.
- Dawn, the rosy, i. 334
- Day of Stones, i. 279
- De Groot, J. J. M., i. 416 sq., ii. 14
- Dead, hair offered to the, i. 31;
- pretence of new birth at return of supposed dead man, 75;
- homoeopathic magic of the, 147 sqq.;
- sacrifices to, 163;
- making rain by means of the, 284 sqq.;
- trees animated by the souls of the, ii. 29 sqq.;
- the illustrious, represented by masked men, 178;
- thunder and lightning made by the, 183;
- spirits of the, in wild fig-trees, 317
- Death, pretence of, in magic, i. 84;
- infection of, 143;
- at ebb tide, 167 sq.;
- puppet called, carried out of village, ii. 73 sq.
- Deceiving the spirits of plants and trees, ii. 22 sqq.
- Deir el Bahari, paintings at, ii. 131, 133
- Deities duplicated through dialectical differences in their names, ii. 380 sq.
- Dejanira and Achelous, ii. 161 sq.
- Delivery, easy, granted to women by trees, ii. 57 sq.
- Delos, graves of Hyperborean maidens in, i. 28, 33 sqq.;
- Apollo and Artemis at, 28, 32-35
- Delphi, Apollo at, i. 28;
- new fire sent from, 32 sq.;
- King of, 45 sq.
- Demeter and Zeus, their marriage at Eleusis, ii. 138 sq.
- Demetrius Poliorcetes deified at Athens, i. 390 sq.
- Denmark, Whitsun bride in, ii. 91 sq.;
- the beech-woods of, 351
- Dennett, R. E., ii. 277 n. 1
- Deòce, a divine spirit, i. 410
- Departmental kings of nature, ii. 1 sqq.
- Derry, the oaks of, ii. 242 sq.
- Devil-dancers, i. 382
- Dew on May morning, custom of washing in the, ii. 54, 67, 327, 339;
- rolling in the, 333
- “Dew-treading” in Holland, ii. 104 n. 2
- Dhurma Rajah, i. 410
- 396DI, Aryan root meaning “bright,” ii. 381
- Dia, grove of the goddess, ii. 122
- Dialectical differences a cause of the duplication of deities, ii. 382 sq.
- Diana, her sanctuary at Nemi, i. 2 sqq.;
- as huntress at Nemi, 6;
- as patroness of cattle, 7, ii. 124;
- her priest at Nemi, i. 8 sqq.;
- the Tauric, 10 sq., 24;
- as goddess of childbirth, 12, ii. 128;
- as Vesta at Nemi, i. 13, ii. 380;
- in relation to vines, i. 15 sq.;
- the mate of the King of the Wood at Nemi, 40, 41, ii. 380;
- as a goddess of fertility, 120 sqq.;
- in relation to animals of the woods, 124, 125 sqq.;
- as the moon, 128;
- the goddess of fruits, 128;
- as a goddess of the oak at Nemi, 380
- —— and Dianus, ii. 376 sqq.
- —— (Jana), a double of Juno, ii. 190 sq., 381 sq.
- “Diana’s Mirror,” i. 1
- Dianus (Janus), a double of Jupiter, ii. 190 sq., 381 sq.
- Diels, Professor H., i. 390 n. 2
- Dieri, the, i. 90, 177, ii. 29;
- rain-making ceremonies of the, i. 255 sqq.
- Dinka or Denka nation, i. 347
- Diodorus Siculus, i. 74
- Diomede, ii. 278;
- at Troezen, i. 27;
- sacred grove of, 27
- Dione, wife of Zeus at Dodona, ii. 189;
- Dionysius of Halicarnassus, quoted, ii. 202 sq.
- Dionysus, marriage of, to the Queen of Athens, ii. 136 sq.;
- and Ariadne, 138
- Discovery of fire, ii. 255 sqq.
- Disease-makers in Tana, i. 341 sq.
- “Divine consort, the,” ii. 131
- Divinity of kings, i. 48 sqq.;
- among the Hovas, 397;
- among the Malays, 398;
- in great historical empires, 415 sqq.;
- growth of the conception of the, ii. 376 sqq.
- —— of the Brahmans, i. 403 sq.
- Division of labour in relation to social progress, i. 420
- Diwali, the feast of lamps, ii. 160
- Dixon, Dr. W. E., ii. 139 n. 1
- Djakuns, their mode of making fire, ii. 236
- Djuldjul, i. 274
- Dodola, the, i. 273
- Dodona, oracular spring at, ii. 172;
- Dog, black, sacrificed for rain, i. 291;
- used to stop rain, 303
- Dogs crowned, i. 14, ii. 125 sq., 127 sq.
- Dollar-bird associated with rain, i. 287 sq.
- Domalde, a Swedish king, i. 366 sq.
- Donar or Thunar, the German thunder god, ii. 364
- Doors, Janus as a god of, ii. 383 sq.
- Doreh, in New Guinea, i. 125
- Dos Santos, J., i. 392
- Double-headed fetish among the Bush negroes of Surinam, ii. 385;
- Janus, explanation of, ii. 384 sq.
- Dragon, rain-god represented as, i. 297;
- Dramas, magical, to promote vegetation, ii. 120
- Dramatic exhibitions sometimes originate in magical rites, ii. 142;
- weddings of gods and goddesses, ii. 121
- Draupadi or Krishna, ii. 306
- Dreams, modes of counteracting evil, i. 172 sq.
- Drenching people with water as a rain-charm, i. 250, 251, 269 sq., 272, 273, 274, 275, 277 sq., ii. 77
- Dropsy, ancient Greek mode of preventing, i. 78
- Drought supposed to be caused by unburied dead, i. 287;
- Drowning as a punishment, ii. 109, 110, 111;
- sacrifice by, 364
- Druids, oak-worship of the, ii. 9;
- Drums, homoeopathic magic at the making of, i. 134 sq.;
- beaten as a charm against a storm, 328
- Drynemetum, ii. 363
- Du Pratz, ii. 263 n. 1
- Dudulé, the, i. 274
- Duplication of deities an effect of dialectical differences, ii. 382 sq.
- Durostorum, martyrdom of St. Dasius at, ii. 310 n. 1
- Dwarf tribes of Central Africa, ii. 255
- Dyaks of Borneo, the, i. 73, 127, ii. 13;
- the Sea, 127
- Ea, the inventor of magic, i. 240
- Eagle hunters, taboos observed by, i. 116;
- charms employed by, 149 sq.
- —— -wood, telepathy in search for, i. 120
- Eagles, sacred, ii. 11
- Earth and Sun, marriage of the, ii. 98 sq., 148
- —— goddess, pregnant cows sacrificed to, ii. 229
- 397Earthquakes supposed to be caused by incest, ii. 111
- Ebb tide, death at, i. 167 sq.
- Eclipse, ceremonies at an, i. 311 sq.
- Economic progress a condition of intellectual progress, i. 218
- Egeria, water nymph at Nemi, i. 17-19, 41, ii. 171 sq.;
- Egerius Baebius or Laevius, i. 22
- Eggs collected at spring ceremonies, ii. 65, 78, 81, 84, 85;
- Egypt, magical images in ancient, i. 66, 67 sq.;
- Egyptian kings and queens, their begetting and birth depicted on the monuments, ii. 131 sqq.
- —— worship of sacred beasts, i. 29 sq.
- Egyptians, the ancient, worshipped men and animals, i. 389 sq.;
- sycamores worshipped by the ancient, ii. 15
- Eiresione, ii. 48
- Elder-tree, ii. 43
- Elective and hereditary monarchy, combination of the two, ii. 292 sqq.
- Electric lights on mast-heads, spears, etc., i. 49 sq.
- Elephant-hunters, telepathy of, i. 123
- Eleusis, mysteries of, ii. 138 sq.
- Elipandus of Toledo, i. 407
- Elizabeth, Queen, i. 368
- Emblica officinalis, a sacred tree, ii. 51
- Emin Pasha, ii. 297 n. 7
- Empedocles, his claim to divinity, i. 390
- Emus, ceremony for the multiplication of, i. 85 sq.
- Endymion, ii. 299
- Ephesian Artemis, ii. 128
- Ephesus, Artemis of, i. 37 sq.;
- nominal kings at, 47;
- the Essenes or King Bees at, ii. 135 sq.
- Epicurus, sacrifices offered to, i. 105
- Erechtheum, the, ii. 199
- Erechtheus and Erichthonius, ii. 199
- Erhard, Professor A., ii. 310 n. 1
- Erichthonius, i. 21;
- and Erechtheus, ii. 199
- Eruptions of volcanoes supposed to be caused by incest, ii. 111
- Esquiline hill at Rome, ii. 185
- Esquimaux, i. 70, 113, 121, 316, 327
- Essenes or King Bees at Ephesus, i. 47 n. 2, ii. 135 sq.
- Esthonian folk-tale of a tree-elf, ii. 71 sqq.;
- marriage custom, 234
- Esthonians, St. George’s Day among the, ii. 330 sqq.;
- their thunder-god Taara, 367
- Etruscans, female kinship among the, ii. 286 sq.
- Eudanemi, the, at Athens, i. 325 n. 1
- Europe, contagious magic of footprints in, i. 210 sq.;
- —— South-Eastern, rain-making ceremonies in, i. 272 sqq.
- Euros, magical ceremony for the multiplication of, i. 89
- Evelyn, John, i. 369
- Evergreen oak, the Golden Bough grew on, ii. 379
- —— trees in Italy, i. 8
- Evolution of kings out of magicians or medicine-men, i. 420 sq.;
- industrial, from uniformity to diversity of function, 421;
- political, from democracy to despotism, 421
- Exaggerations of anthropological theories, i. 333
- Exogamy, ii. 271
- Expiation for adultery or fornication, ii. 107 sq.;
- External soul in afterbirth or navel-string, i. 200 sq.
- Extinction of fires at king’s death, ii. 261 sqq., 267;
- in houses after any death, 267 sq.
- Ezekiel, i. 87 n. 1
- Falerii, Juno at, ii. 190 n. 2
- Falstaff, death of, i. 168
- Families, royal, kings chosen from several, ii. 292 sqq.
- Fan tribe, i. 349
- Farnell, Dr. L. R., i. 36, ii. 379 n. 5
- Fasting obligatory, i. 124, 131
- Father Jove and Mother Vesta, ii. 227 sqq.
- Fattest men chosen kings, ii. 297
- February, first of, St. Bride’s day, i. 94 sq.
- Fehrle, E., ii. 199 n. 5
- Female descent of the kingship in Rome, ii. 270 sqq.;
- —— kinship in descent of the Roman kingship, ii. 271;
- indifference to paternity of kings under female kinship, 274 sqq.;
- 398at Athens, 277;
- indifference to paternity in general under, 282;
- among the Aryans, 283 sqq.
- See also Mother-kin
- Female slaves, licence accorded to them on the Nonae Caprotinae, ii. 313 sq.
- Feng and Wiglet, ii. 281, 283
- Fennel, fire carried in giant, ii. 260
- Fertilisation, artificial, of the date palm, ii. 24 sq.;
- of the fig-tree, 314 sq.
- —— of women by the wild fig-tree, ii. 316;
- by the wild banana-tree, 318
- Fertilising virtue attributed to trees, ii. 49 sqq., 316 sqq.
- Fertility, Diana as a goddess of, ii. 120 sqq.;
- the thunder-god conceived as a deity of fertility, 368 sqq.
- Fictores Vestalium, fictores Pontificum, ii. 204
- Ficus Ruminalis, ii. 318
- Fierte or shrine of St. Romain, ii. 167, 168, 170 n. 1
- Fig, as an article of diet, ii. 315 sq.
- Fig-tree of Romulus (ficus Ruminalis), ii. 10, 318
- —— artificial fertilisation (caprificatio) of the, ii. 314 sq.
- —— sacred, ii. 44, 99, 249, 250
- —— the wild, a male, ii. 314 sq.;
- Fiji, catching the sun in, i. 316
- Fijians, gods of the, i. 389
- Finnish-Ugrian peoples, sacred groves of the, ii. 10 sq.
- Finnish wizards and witches, i. 325
- Fire in the worship of Diana, i. 12 sq.;
- supposed to be subject to Catholic priests, 231;
- used to stop rain, 252 sq.;
- as a charm to rekindle the sun, 311, 313;
- of Vesta at Rome fed with oak wood, ii. 186;
- birth from the, 195 sqq.;
- the king’s, 195 sqq.;
- impregnation of women by, 195 sqq., 230 sqq., 234;
- taken from sacred hearth to found a new village, 216;
- on the hearth, souls of ancestors in the, 232;
- reasons for attributing a procreative virtue to, 233 sq.;
- made jointly by man and woman or boy and girl, 235 sqq.;
- custom of extinguishing fire and rekindling it by the friction of wood, 237 sq.;
- need-fire made by married men, 238;
- holy, not to be blown upon with the breath, 240, 241;
- tribes reported to be ignorant of the art of kindling, 253 sqq.;
- discovery of, by mankind, 255 sqq.;
- carried about by savages, 257 sqq.;
- kept burning in houses of chiefs and kings, 260 sqq.;
- carried before king or chief, 263 sq.;
- a symbol of life, 265;
- leaping over a, 327, 329
- Fire and Water, Kings of, ii. 3 sqq.
- —— -bearer, the, i. 33
- —— -boards, sacred, of the Chuckchees and Koryaks, ii. 225 sq.
- —— customs of the Herero or Damaras, ii. 211 sqq.;
- compared to those of the Romans, ii. 227 sqq.
- —— -drill, the, ii. 207 sqq., 248 sqq., 258 sq., 263;
- —— -god married to a human virgin, ii. 195 sqq.
- —— kindled by the friction of wood, ii. 207 sqq., 235 sqq., 243, 248 sqq., 258 sq., 262, 263, 336, 366, 372;
- —— “living,” ii. 237;
- a charm against witchcraft, 336
- —— “new,” ii. 237;
- —— -priests (Agnihotris) of the Brahmans, ii. 247 sqq.
- —— -sticks of fire-drill regarded as male and female, ii. 208 sqq., 235, 238, 239, 248 sqq.
- —— -worship a form of ancestor-worship, ii. 221
- Fires ceremonially extinguished, i. 33;
- —— perpetual, of Vesta, i. 13 sq.;
- First-fruits, dedication of, i. 32
- Fish, magical ceremony for the multiplication of, i. 90;
- in rain-charm, 288 sq.
- Fishermen, Shetland, i. 69
- —— and hunters cursed for good luck, i. 280 sq.
- Fishing and hunting, homoeopathic magic in, i. 108 sqq.;
- telepathy in, 120 sqq.
- Fison, Rev. Lorimer, i. 316, 331 n. 2, 378, 389 n. 3, ii. 13 n. 1
- Fladda’s chapel, i. 322
- Flamen, derivation of the name, ii. 235, 247
- —— Dialis, the, ii. 179, 235, 246, 247, 248;
- an embodiment of Jupiter, 191 sq.
- 399Flaminica, the, ii. 191, 235
- Flax, charms to make flax grow tall, i. 138 sq., ii. 86, 164
- Flight of the king (Regifugium) at Rome, ii. 308 sqq., 311 n. 4;
- Flint implements supposed to be thunderbolts, ii. 374
- Floquet, A., ii. 168, 169
- Flowers, divination from, ii. 345
- Food, homoeopathic magic for the supply of, i. 85 sqq.
- Foods tabooed, i. 117 sqq.
- Footprints, contagious magic of, i. 207-212
- “Forced fire” or need-fire, ii. 238
- Foreigners marry princesses and receive the kingdom with them, ii. 270 sqq.
- Foreskins removed at circumcision, uses of, i. 92 sq., 95;
- used in rain-making, 256 sq.
- Forests of ancient Europe, ii. 7 sq.
- Fortuna and Servius Tullius, ii. 193 n. 1, 272
- Forum at Rome, prehistoric cemetery in the, ii. 186, 202
- Foucart, P., ii. 139 n. 1
- Fowler, W. Warde, ii. 311 n. 4, 319 n. 1, 327 n. 2, 329 n. 6, 383 n. 3
- Fox in magic, i. 151
- Fratres Arvales, ii. 122
- Free Spirit, Brethren of the, i. 408
- French peasants ascribe magical powers to priests, i. 231-233
- Frey, the god of fertility and his human wife, ii. 143 sq.;
- his image and festival at Upsala, 364 sq.
- Friction of wood, fire kindled by, ii. 207 sqq., 235 sqq., 243, 248 sqq., 258 sq., 262, 263, 336, 366, 372
- Frog, magic of, i. 151;
- worshipped, 294 sq.;
- love-charm made from the bone of a, ii. 345
- —— flayer, the, ii. 86
- Frogs in relation to rain, i. 292 sqq.
- Froth from a mill-wheel as a charm against witches, ii. 340
- Fruit-trees fertilised by women, i. 140 sq.
- Fruits blessed on day of Assumption of the Virgin, i. 14 sqq.;
- Artemis and Diana as patronesses of, 15 sq.
- Fuegians, the, ii. 258
- Fumigating flocks and herds as a charm against witchcraft, ii. 327, 330, 335, 336, 339, 343
- Furth in Bavaria, the Slaying of the Dragon at, ii. 163 sqq.
- Furtwängler, A., i. 309 n. 6
- Futuna, i. 388
- Fylgia or guardian spirit in Iceland, i. 200
- Galatians, their Celtic language, ii. 126 n. 2
- Galelareesc, the, i. 110, 113, 131, 143, 145, ii. 22
- Gallas, kings of the, i. 48;
- sacred trees of the, ii. 34
- Garcilasso de la Vega, ii. 244 n. 1
- Gardiner, Professor J. Stanley, ii. 154
- Gargouille or dragon destroyed by St. Romain, ii. 167
- Garlands on May Day, ii. 60 sqq., 90 sq.
- Gaul, the Druids of, ii. 189
- Gauri, harvest-goddess, ii. 77 sq.
- Gayos, the, ii. 125
- Gennep, A. van, ii. 385 n. 1
- Geomancy in China, i. 170
- George, Green, ii. 75, 76, 79
- Germans, worship of women among the ancient, i. 391;
- Gerontocracy in Australia, i. 335
- Gervasius of Tilbury, i. 301
- Getae, the, i. 392
- Ghosts in Melanesia, supposed powers of, i. 338 sq.
- Gilyaks, the, i. 122, ii. 38
- Girl annually sacrificed to cedar-tree, ii. 17
- Girls married to nets, ii. 147;
- sacrificed to crocodiles, 152
- Glory, the Hand of, i. 149
- Glover, T. R., ii. 231 n. 6
- Goat, blood of, drunk as means of inspiration, i. 382, 383
- God, Bride of, i. 276;
- savage ideas of, different from those of civilised men, 375 sq.
- “God-boxes,” i. 378
- Gods viewed as magicians, i. 240 sqq., 375;
- sacrifice themselves by fire, 315 n. 1;
- conception of, slowly evolved, 373 sq.;
- incarnate human, 373 sqq.;
- gods and men, no sharp line of distinction between, in Fiji, 389;
- and goddesses, dramatic weddings of, ii. 121;
- the marriage of the, 129 sqq.;
- married to women, 129 sqq., 143 sq., 146 sq., 149 sqq.
- Gold in magic, i. 80 sq.
- Golden Bough plucked by Aeneas, i. 11, ii. 379;
- the breaking of it not a piece of bravado, i. 123 sq.;
- grew on an evergreen oak, ii. 379
- Golden lamb of Mycenae, i. 365
- “Golden summer,” the, i. 32
- Gonds, their belief in reincarnation, i. 104 sq.
- Gongs beaten in a storm, i. 328 sq.;
- at Dodona, ii. 358
- 400Government of old men in aboriginal Australia, i. 334 sq.
- Grafting, superstitious ceremony at, ii. 100
- Granger, Professor F., i. 42 n. 1
- Grasausläuten, ii. 344
- Grass King, the, ii. 85 sq.
- —— seed, magical ceremony for the multiplication of, i. 87 sq.;
- continence at magical ceremony for growth of, ii. 105
- Graveclothes, homoeopathic magic of, in China, i. 168 sq.
- Graves, rain-charms at, i. 268, 286, 291;
- Great Sun, the, title of chief, ii. 262, 263
- Greece, priestly kings in, i. 44 sqq.;
- Greek kings called Zeus, ii. 177, 361
- Greeks, the modern, rain-making ceremonies among, i. 272 sq.;
- and Romans, rain-charms among the ancient, 309 sq.
- Green boughs a charm against witches, ii. 52-55, 127, 342 sq.
- —— George, ii. 75, 76, 79, 343
- —— Thursday, ii. 333
- Greenwich-hill, custom of rolling down, ii. 103
- Gregory of Tours, ii. 144
- Grimm, J., ii. 8, 362 n. 6, 364
- Grizzly bears supposed to be related to human twins, i. 264 sq.
- Groves, sacred, ii. 10 sq., 44;
- Grunau, Simon, ii. 366 n. 2
- Guanches of Teneriffe, i. 303
- Guardian spirit associated with caul, i. 199 sq.
- Guaycurus, the, i. 330
- Gunkel, H., i. 101 n. 2
- Gunnar Helming, ii. 144
- Gunputty, elephant-headed god, human incarnation of, i. 405 sq.
- Gyges, ii. 281, 282
- Gypsies, Green George among the, ii. 75 sq.
- Gypsy ceremonies for stopping rain, i. 295 sq.
- Hack-thorn sacred, ii. 48
- Haddon, Dr. A. C., i. 262
- Hahn, Dr. C. H., ii. 213 n. 2
- Haida Indians, i. 70, 133
- Hair offered to gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines, i. 28 sq.;
- offered to the dead, 31, 102;
- offered to rivers, 31;
- clippings of, used in magic, 57, 64, 65, 66;
- charms to make hair grow, 83, 145, 153 sq., 154;
- loose as a charm, 136;
- human, used in rain-making, 251 sq.;
- long, a symbol of royalty, ii. 180
- Hakea flowers, ceremony for the multiplication of, i. 86
- Hakim Singh, i. 409
- Halford in Warwickshire, May Day customs at, ii. 88 sq.
- Hamlet, ii. 281, 291
- Hammer worshipped, i. 317 sq.
- Hammurabi, code of, ii. 130
- Hand of Glory, i. 149
- Hardy, Thomas, i. 136
- Hares as witches, i. 212, ii. 53
- Harran, the heathen of, i. 383, ii. 25, 100 n. 2
- Harris, J. Rendel, i. 15 n. 1, 21 n. 2
- Harrison, Miss J. E., ii. 137 n. 1, 139 n. 1
- Hartland, E. S., i. 52 n. 1, ii. 156 n. 2
- Harvest in Greece, date of, i. 32
- —— May, the, ii. 47 sq.
- Hatshopsitou, birth of Queen, ii. 131 sqq.
- Hawaii, insignia of royal family of, i. 388 n. 3
- Hawthorn on May Day, ii. 52, 60;
- Head-hunters, rules observed by people at home in absence of, i. 129
- Headmen of totem clans in Central Australia, i. 335
- Heads, custom of moulding heads artificially, ii. 297 sq.
- Hearn, Dr. W. E., ii. 283 n. 5
- Hearth, the king’s, at Rome, ii. 195, 200, 206;
- Hearts of men and animals offered to the sun, i. 315
- Heaven, vault of, imitated in rain-charm, i. 261, 262
- Heavenly Master, the, i. 413
- Hebrew prohibition of images, i. 87 n. 1
- —— prophets, their ethical religion, i. 223
- Hebrews, their notion of the blighting effect of sexual crime, ii. 114 sq.
- Hegel on magic and religion, i. 235 n. 1, 423 sqq.
- Hehn, V., on evergreens in Italy, i. 8 n. 4
- Heimskringla, ii. 280
- Heine, H., Pilgrimage to Kevlaar, i. 77
- Hekaerge and Hekaergos, i. 33, 34, 35
- Helaga, taboo, ii. 106 n. 2
- 401Helbig, W., i. 20 n. 5
- Helernus, grove of, ii. 190 sq.
- Hellebore, curses at cutting black, i. 281
- Hemlock as an anaphrodisiac, ii. 138, 139 n. 1
- Hemp, charms to make hemp grow tall, i. 137 sq.
- Heno, the thunder-spirit of the Iroquois, ii. 369 sq.
- Hera and Hercules, i. 74
- Hercules, sacrifice to, i. 281
- —— and Achelous, ii. 162
- —— and Hera, i. 74
- —— and Omphale, ii. 281
- Hercynian forest, the, ii. 7, 354;
- etymology of the name, 354 n. 2
- Hereditary and elective monarchy, combination of the two, ii. 292 sqq.
- Herero or Damaras, their fire-customs, ii. 211 sqq.
- Hermutrude, legendary queen of Scotland, ii. 281
- Herodotus, i. 49, 331
- Hersilia, a Sabine goddess, ii. 193 n. 1
- Heyne, C. G., ii. 329 n. 1
- Hidatsa Indians, ii. 12
- Hierapolis, i. 29
- Hierophant at Eleusis temporarily deprived of his virility, ii. 138
- Highlands of Scotland, St. Bride’s day in, ii. 94
- Hindoo Koosh, sacred cedar of the, i. 383;
- the Kafirs of the, 385
- —— Trinity, i. 225
- Hindoos, magical images among the, i. 63 sqq.
- Hippoclides and Clisthenes, ii. 307 sq.
- Hippocrates, sacrifices offered to, i. 105
- Hippodamia and Pelops, ii. 279, 299 sq.
- Hippolytus in relation to Virbius at Nemi, i. 19 sq.;
- offerings of hair to, 28
- —— and Artemis, i. 19 sq., 24 sqq.
- —— Saint, martyrdom of, i. 21
- Hirn, Y., i. 52 n. 1, 54 n. 1
- Hirt, Professor H., ii. 367 n. 3
- Hobby Horse at Padstow, ii. 68
- Hobley, C. W., ii. 316
- Hog’s blood, purifying virtue of, i. 107
- Holed stone in magic, i. 313
- Holland, Whitsuntide customs in, ii. 104
- Holy Basil, ii. 26
- Homoeopathic taboos, i. 116;
- magic for the making of rain, 247 sqq.
- See also Magic
- Hopi Indians, the, ii. 208 sq.
- Horse, sacred, i. 364;
- Horses excluded from Arician grove, i. 20;
- Horus, the golden, i. 418
- Hos, the, of Togoland, i. 396 sq., ii. 19, 370
- Hot water drunk as a charm, i. 129
- House-timber, homoeopathic magic of, i. 146
- Housebreakers, charms employed by, to cause sleep, i. 148 sq.
- Hovas, divinity of kings among the, i. 397
- Howitt, A. W., i. 176, 207, 208
- Hubert and Mauss, Messrs., i. 111 n. 2
- Huichol Indians, i. 71, 123
- Human gods, i. 373 sqq.
- —— victims sacrificed to water-spirits, ii. 157 sqq.
- Humboldt, A. von, i. 416
- Hunters employ contagious magic of footprints, i. 211 sq.
- Huntin, a tree-god, ii. 15
- Hunting and fishing, homoeopathic magic in, i. 108 sqq.;
- telepathy in, 120 sqq.
- “Hurling” for a bride, ii. 305 sq.
- Hurons, the, ii. 147;
- reincarnation among the, i. 105;
- their mode of counteracting an evil dream, 172 sq.
- Husbands, spiritual, ii. 316 sq.
- Hut-urns of ancient Latins, ii. 201 sq.
- Huts, round, of the ancient Latins, ii. 200 sqq.;
- in Africa, 227 n. 3
- Huzuls, the, i. 113, 137;
- their precautions against witches, ii. 336
- Hymettus, ii. 360
- Hyperborean maidens at Delos, i. 33
- Ibn Batutah, ii. 153
- Icarius, ii. 300
- Iceland, superstitions as to the caul in, i. 199 sqq.
- Iddah, king of, i. 396
- Igaras, succession to the kingship among the, ii. 294
- Illicit love supposed to blight the fruits of the earth, ii. 107 sqq.
- Images, Hebrew prohibition of, i. 87 n. 1
- —— magical, to injure people, i. 55 sqq.;
- to procure offspring, 70-74;
- to win love, 77
- Impressions, bodily, contagious magic of, i. 213 sq.
- Incarnate human gods, i. 373 sqq.
- Incarnation of gods in human form temporary or permanent, i. 376;
- examples of temporary incarnation, 376 sqq.;
- examples of permanent incarnation, 386 sqq.;
- mystery of, 396 n. 5
- 402Incas, the children of the Sun, i. 415
- Incense, fumes of, inhaled to produce inspiration, i. 379, 384
- —— -gatherers, chastity of, ii. 106 sq.
- Incest, blighting effects attributed to, ii. 108, 110 sq., 113, 115 sqq.;
- India, ancient, confusion of magic and religion in, i. 228 sq.;
- magical power of kings in, 366;
- incarnate human gods in, 376, 402 sqq.
- Indifference to paternity of kings under female kinship, ii. 274 sqq.
- Indra, thunderbolt of, i. 269
- Industrial evolution from uniformity to diversity of function, i. 421
- Infidelity of wife disastrous to absent husband, i. 123, 131
- Influence of the sexes on vegetation, ii. 97 sqq.
- Initiatory ceremonies of Central Australian aborigines, i. 92 sqq.
- —— rites of Australian aborigines, suggested explanation of, i. 106.
- Inquisition, the, i. 407, 408
- Insects, homoeopathic magic of, i. 152
- Inspiration, i. 376 sqq.;
- by incense, 379;
- by blood, 381 sqq.;
- by sacred plant or tree, 383 sqq.;
- of victims, 384 sqq.
- Inspired or religious type of man-god, i. 244
- —— priests and priestesses, i. 377 sqq.
- Intellectual progress dependent on economic progress, i. 218
- Intercourse of the sexes practised to make the crops and fruits grow, ii. 98 sqq.
- Intichiuma, magical totemic ceremonies in Central Australia, i. 85
- Invulnerability, charm to produce, i. 146 sq.
- Ireland, perpetual fires in, ii. 240 sqq.
- —— sacred oak groves in ancient, 242 sq.
- Irish kings, magical virtues attributed to, i. 367
- Irle, J., ii. 223 n. 2
- Iron, homoeopathic magic of, i. 159 sq.
- Iroquois, the, ii. 12;
- their thunder-god, 369 sq.
- Isle of Man, St. Bridget in the, ii. 94 sq.
- —— of May, ii. 161
- Ivy chewed by Bachanals, i. 384;
- in fire-making, ii. 251 sq.
- Jack-in-the-Green, ii. 82
- Jana, another form of Diana, ii. 381, 382, 383
- Jangam, priest of the Lingayats, i. 404
- Janiculum hill, the, ii. 186
- Janua, derived from Janus, ii. 384
- Janus, as a god of doors, ii. 383 sq.;
- explanation of the two-headed, 384 sq.
- —— and Carna, ii. 190
- —— (Dianus) and Diana, doubles of Jupiter and Juno, ii. 190 sq., 381 sq.
- Jaundice treated by homoeopathic magic, i. 79 sqq.
- Java, ceremonies to procure offspring in, i. 73;
- ceremonies for preventing rain in, 270 sq.
- Jerome of Prague, i. 317
- Jevons, F. B., i. 105, 225 n.
- Jewitt, J. R., i. 264
- Jinnee of the sea, virgins married to, ii. 153 sq.
- Job’s protest, ii. 114
- Johnson, Dr. S., i. 368, 370
- Johnston, Sir H. H., ii. 227 n. 3
- Jordan, H., ii. 321 n. 3
- Joubert, quoted, i. 223 n. 2
- Jove (Father) and Mother Vesta, ii. 227 sqq.
- Jubainville, H. d’Arbois de, ii. 362 n. 6
- Judah, idolatrous kings of, i. 315
- Jukagirs, the, i. 122
- Julian, the Emperor, ii. 7
- Julii, the, ii. 179, 192
- Julus, the Little Jupiter, ii. 179, 197
- July the 7th, the Nonae Caprotinae, a Roman festival, ii. 313 sqq.
- June, the first of, a Roman festival, ii. 190
- Juno on the Capitol, ii. 184;
- —— Caprotina, ii. 313, 317
- —— Moneta, ii. 189
- Jupiter, costume of, ii. 174 sq.;
- —— and Juno, doubles of Janus and Diana, ii. 190 sq.;
- sacred marriage of, 190
- —— Dianus, ii. 382
- —— Elicius, ii. 183
- —— Indiges, ii. 181
- Jupiters, many local, in Latium, ii. 184
- Juturna, a nymph, ii. 382
- Kachins of Burma, the, ii. 237
- Kafirs of the Hindoo Koosh, i. 133 sq., 385
- Kaitish tribe of Central Australia, i. 87
- Kali, the goddess, i. 383
- Kamilaroi, the, i. 101
- Kangaroos, ceremony for the multiplication of, i. 87 sq.
- Kara-Kirghiz, ii. 57
- 403Karens of Burma, i. 209;
- their custom in regard to fornication and adultery, ii. 107 sq.
- Karo-Bataks, the, of Sumatra, i. 277
- Kausika Sutra, i. 209, 229
- Kayans or Bahaus of Borneo, i. 328, ii. 109
- Kei Islands, i. 126, 131, 145
- Kenyahs of Borneo, i. 59, ii. 385
- Keremet, a god of the Wotyaks, ii. 145 sq.
- Kevlaar, Virgin Mary of, i. 77
- “Key-race,” ii. 304
- Keys, the golden, ii. 333
- Khasis of Assam, succession to the kingdom among the, ii. 294 sq.
- Khnoumou, the god, ii. 132
- Kidd, Dudley, i. 49 n. 3, 350, ii. 211, 224 n. 4
- Kildare, fire and nuns of St. Brigit at, ii. 240 sq.
- Kimbugwe, high official in Uganda, i. 196
- King, J. E., i. 105 n. 4
- King gives oracles, i. 377;
- —— and Queen at Athens, i. 44 sq.
- —— of Sacred Rites at Rome, i. 44, ii. 201;
- his flight, 309
- —— of the Saturnalia, ii. 311
- —— of the Wood at Nemi, i. 1 sqq., ii. 1;
- a mate of Diana, i. 40, 41, ii. 380;
- a personification of the oak-god Jupiter, 378 sqq.
- See also Priest of Nemi
- —— Bees (Essenes) at Ephesus, ii. 135 sq.
- Kingdom, mortal combat for the, ii. 322;
- in ancient Latium, succession to, 266 sqq.
- Kings, priestly, i. 44 sqq.;
- titular or sacred, in Greece, 44 sqq.;
- Teutonic, 47;
- magicians as, 332 sqq.;
- as rain-makers in Africa, 348, 350 sqq.;
- punished for drought and dearth, 353 sqq.;
- among the Aryans, magical powers attributed to, 366 sqq.;
- divinity of, in great historical empires, 415 sqq.;
- of nature, ii. 1 sqq.;
- of rain, 2;
- Roman, as deities in a Sacred Marriage, 172 sq., 192, 193 sq.;
- Greek, called Zeus, 177, 361;
- expected to make thunder, 180 sq.;
- the Latin, thought to be the sons of the fire-god by mortal mothers, 195 sqq.;
- perpetual fire in houses of, 261 sq.;
- Roman, as personifications of Jupiter, 266 sq.;
- paternity of, a matter of indifference under female kinship, 274 sqq.;
- sometimes of a different race from their subjects, 288 sq.;
- chosen from several royal families in rotation, 292 sqq.;
- fat, 297;
- handsomest men, 297;
- long-headed, 297;
- sacred or divine, development of, 376 sqq.
- See also Latin and Roman
- Kings’ Evil (scrofula), touching for the, i. 368 sqq.
- —— fire, the, ii. 195 sqq.
- —— Race, the, ii. 84
- —— sisters, licence accorded to, ii. 274 sqq.
- Kingship, annual, in ancient Greece, i. 46
- —— contest for the, at Whitsuntide, ii. 89
- —— descent of the, in the female line, at Rome, ii. 270 sqq.;
- —— evolution of the sacred, i. 420 sq.
- —— nominal, left by conquerors to indigenous race, ii. 288 sq.
- —— Roman, abolition of the, ii. 289 sqq.
- —— the old Roman, a religious office, ii. 289
- Kingsley, Miss Mary H., i. 411 n. 1
- Kintu, ii. 261
- Kirghiz, “Love Chase” among the, ii. 301
- Knocking out of teeth as initiatory ceremony in Australia, i. 97 sqq.
- Knots, tying up the wind in, i. 326
- Kolkodoons, the, i. 93
- Kondhs, their belief in reincarnation, i. 104
- Koniags, the, i. 121
- Koryaks, sacred fire-boards of the, ii. 225;
- race for a bride among the, 302
- Krishna, i. 406;
- marriage of, to the Holy Basil, ii. 26
- Kunama, the, ii. 3
- Kvasir, i. 241
- Kwakiutl Indians, their superstitions as to twins, i. 263
- Lac, taboos observed in gathering, i. 115
- Lacueva, Father, ii. 205 n.
- Ladder to facilitate the descent of the sun, ii. 99
- Laetare Sunday, ii. 63
- Laibon, i. 343
- Lake-dwellings of prehistoric Europe, ii. 352 sq.
- Lakes, gods of lakes married to women, ii. 150 sq.
- Lakshmi, wife of Vishnu, ii. 26
- Lamas, transmigrations of the Grand, i. 410 sqq.
- Lamb of Mycenae, the golden, i. 365
- 404Lamb, blood of, as means of inspiration, i. 381
- Lambing, time of, ii. 328 n. 4
- Lamps, dedication of burning, i. 12 sq.
- Lane, E. W., ii. 209 n. 4
- Language, special, for kings and persons of blood royal, i. 401
- Lapis manalis at Rome, i. 310
- Larch-tree, sacred, ii. 20
- Lares, the, ii. 206
- Latin confederacy, the, in relation to sacred Arician grove, i. 22 sq.
- —— kings thought to be the sons of the fire-god by mortal mothers, ii. 195 sqq.;
- Latinus, changed into Latian Jupiter, ii. 187;
- his wife a Vestal, 235
- Latium, many local Jupiters in, ii. 184;
- Latuka, rain-makers among the, i. 346, 354
- Laurel chewed as means of inspiration, i. 384;
- in fire-making, ii. 251 sq.
- Lavinium, worship of Vesta at, i. 14
- Lazy Man, the, ii. 83
- Leaf-clad mummers, ii. 74 sqq., 78 sqq.;
- mock marriage of, ii. 97
- Leaf King, the, ii. 85
- —— Man, the Little, ii. 80 sq.
- Leafy bust at Nemi, portrait of the King of the Wood, i. 41 sq.
- Leaping over a fire, ii. 327, 329
- —— and dancing to make the crops grow high, i. 137 sqq.
- Lemnos, new fire brought to, i. 32
- Lengua Indians, i. 313, 330, 359
- Lent, fourth Sunday in, ii. 73, 87
- Lerons of Borneo, i. 59
- Leschiy, a woodland spirit, ii. 124 sq.
- Leto, ii. 58
- Lévi, Professor Sylvain, i. 228
- Lhasa, i. 411 sq.
- Licence accorded to slaves at the Saturnalia, ii. 312;
- to female slaves at the Nonae Caprotinae, 313 sq.
- Lightning, charm against, i. 82;
- Lime-trees sacred, ii. 366, 367
- Lindus in Rhodes, i. 281
- Lingayats, the, i. 404
- Lithuanians, the heathen, i. 317, ii. 46;
- Little Jupiter, the, ii. 179, 192
- —— Leaf Man, ii. 80 sq.
- “Living fire,” ii. 237;
- as a charm against witchcraft, 336
- Lo Bengula, i. 351, 352, 394
- Loango, king of, revered as a god, i. 396;
- fights all rivals for his crown, ii. 322
- —— licence of princesses in, ii. 276 sq.
- Lobo, spirit-house, ii. 39
- Local totem centres, i. 96
- Locrians, the Epizephyrian, ii. 284 sq.
- “Longevity garments,” i. 169
- Long-headed men chosen kings, ii. 297
- Loon, the bird, associated with rain, i. 288
- Lord of the Wood, ii. 36;
- of Misrule, 319 n. 1
- —— and Lady of the May, ii. 90 sq.
- Loucheux, the, i. 356
- Love, cure for, i. 161;
- illicit, thought to blight the fruits of the earth, ii. 107 sqq.
- Love-charms practised on St. George’s Day, ii. 345 sq.
- “Love Chase” among the Kirghiz, ii. 301
- Lovers of goddesses, their unhappy ends, i. 39 sq.
- Low, Sir Hugh, ii. 30, 31
- Lubare, god, i. 395
- Lucian on hair offerings, i. 28
- Lucius, E., i. 13 n. 1
- Luxor, paintings at, ii. 131, 133
- Lyall, Sir A. C., i. 224 n. 1
- Lycaeus, Mount, ii. 359
- Lycurgus, king of Thrace, i. 366
- Lydia, female descent of kingship in, ii. 281 sq.
- Mabuiag, i. 59, 263, 323
- Macdonald, Rev. J., i. 110, ii. 210 sq.
- “Macdonald’s disease, the,” i. 370 n. 3
- MacGregor, Sir William, i. 337
- “Macleod’s Fairy Banner,” i. 368
- Macrobius, ii. 385 n. 2
- Madagascar, King of, i. 47 sq.;
- foods tabooed in, 117 sq.;
- custom of women in Madagascar while men are at war, 131;
- modes of counteracting evil omens in, 173 sq.
- Madness, cure of, i. 161
- Maeander, the river, supposed to take the virginity of brides, ii. 162
- Magian priests, ii. 241 n. 4
- Magic, principles of, i. 52 sqq.;
- negative, 111 sqq.;
- public and private, 214 sq.;
- benefits conferred by, 218 sq.;
- its analogy to science, 220 sq.;
- attraction of, 221;
- fatal flaw of, 221 sq.;
- based on a misapplication of the association of ideas, 221 sq.;
- 405opposed in principle to religion, 224;
- older than religion, 233 sqq.;
- universality of belief in, 234-236;
- transition from magic to religion, 237 sqq., ii. 376 sq.;
- the fallacy of, not easy to detect, i. 242 sq.
- Magic, Contagious, i. 52-54, 174-214;
- of teeth, 176-182;
- of navel-string and afterbirth (placenta), 182-201;
- ofwound and weapon, 201 sqq.;
- of foot-prints, 207-212;
- of other impressions, 213 sq.
- —— Homoeopathic or Imitative, i. 52 sqq.;
- in medicine, 78 sqq.;
- for the supply of food, 85 sqq.;
- in fishing and hunting, 108 sqq.;
- to make plants grow, 136 sqq.;
- of the dead, 147 sqq.;
- of animals, 150 sqq.;
- of inanimate things, 157 sqq.;
- to annul evil omens, 170-174;
- for the making of rain, 247 sqq.
- —— Sympathetic, i. 51 sqq.;
- the two branches of, 54;
- examples of, 55 sqq.
- —— and religion, i. 220-243, 250, 285, 286, 347, 352;
- confused together, 226 sqq.;
- their historical antagonism comparatively late, 226;
- Hegel on, 423 sqq.
- Magical control of rain, i. 247 sqq.;
- of the sun, 311 sqq.;
- of the wind, 319 sqq.
- —— dramas to promote vegetation, ii. 120
- —— origin of certain religious dramas, ii. 142 sq.
- —— type of man-god, i. 244
- Magician, public, his rise to power, i. 215 sqq.
- Magician’s progress, the, i. 214 sqq., 335 sqq.
- Magicians claim to compel the gods, i. 225;
- gods viewed as, 240 sqq.;
- importance of rise of professional magicians, 245 sqq.;
- as kings, 332 sqq.;
- develop into kings, 420 sq.
- See also Medicine-men
- Mahabharata, the, ii. 306
- Maharajas, a Hindoo sect, i. 406, ii. 160
- Maidu Indians, i. 122, 357
- Maillotins, ii. 63
- Maimonides, i. 140, ii. 100 n. 2
- Maize, continence at sowing, ii. 105
- Makalakas, the, i. 394
- Makatisses, the, i. 71
- Makrizi, i. 252, ii. 151 n. 2
- Malay charms, i. 57 sq.
- —— magic, i. 110 sq., 114 sq., 127
- —— Peninsula, the wild tribes of the, i. 360
- —— region, divinity of kings in, i. 398
- Malays, their superstitious veneration for their rajahs, i. 361;
- regalia among the, 362
- Maldive Islands, ii. 153, 154
- Malecki (Maeletius, Menecius), J., ii. 366 n. 2
- Man, E. H., ii. 253
- “Man, the True,” i. 413
- —— -god, the two types of, i. 244 sq.;
- notion of a man-god belongs to early period of religious history, 374 sq.
- Mana, supernatural or magical power in Melanesia, i. 111 n. 2, 227, 228 n. 1, 339
- Mangaia, i. 378
- Mania, a bogey, i. 22
- Manii at Aricia, i. 22
- Manius Egerius, i. 22
- Manna, ceremony for the magical multiplication of, i. 88 sq.
- Mannhardt, W., i. 140 n. 6, ii. 47, 78 sq., 84, 87
- Mantras, sacred texts, i. 403 sq.
- Manu, the Laws of, i. 366, 402
- Maoris, the, i. 71;
- magic of navel-string and afterbirth among the, 182 sq.;
- their belief as to fertilising virtue of trees, ii. 56
- Maraves, the, i. 393, ii. 31
- Marcellus of Bordeaux, i. 84
- Marduk, chief Babylonian god, as a magician, i. 240 sq.;
- his wives, ii. 130
- Marett, R. R., i. 111 n. 2
- Marigolds, magic of, i. 211
- Marquesas or Washington Islands, human gods in the, i. 386 sq.
- Marriage to trees, i. 40 sq., ii. 57;
- Marsh-marigolds, a protection against witches, ii. 54;
- on May Day, 63
- Martius, C. F. Phil. von, i. 359
- Martyrdom of St. Hippolytus, i. 21
- Masai, power of medicine-men among the, i. 343 sq.
- Mashona, the, i. 393
- Maskers, representing the dead, ii. 178
- Maspéro, Sir Gaston, i. 230, ii. 133 sq.
- “Mass of the Holy Spirit,” i. 231 sq.
- Mass of Saint Sécaire, i. 232 sq.
- Master, the Heavenly, i. 413
- —— of Sorrows, i. 280
- Matabeles, king of the, i. 48;
- as rain-maker, 351 sq.
- —— magical effigies among the, i. 63
- Maternal uncle preferred to father, mark of mother-kin, ii. 285
- Maurer, K., ii. 280 n. 1
- Mauss and Hubert, Messrs., i. 111 n. 2
- May Bride, the, ii. 95, 96
- 406May bridegroom, ii. 91, 93
- —— -bush, ii. 84, 85, 89, 90, 142
- —— Day, celebration of, ii. 59 sqq.;
- —— Fools, ii. 91
- —— garlands, ii. 60 sqq., 90 sq.
- —— King, ii. 85 sq.
- —— Lady, the, ii. 62
- —— -poles, ii. 59, 65 sqq.
- —— Queen, ii. 84, 87 sq.
- —— Rose, the Little, ii. 74
- —— -trees, ii. 59 sq., 64, 68 sq.;
- or may-poles, fertilising virtue of, 52
- Mayos or Mayes, ii. 80
- Medicine-men (magicians, sorcerers), power of, among African tribes, i. 342 sqq.;
- power of, among the American Indians, 355 sqq.;
- progressive differentiation of, 420 sq.;
- develop into kings, 420 sq.;
- the oldest professional class, 420.
- See also Magicians
- Melampus and Iphiclus, i. 158
- Melanesia, homoeopathic magic of stones in, i. 164;
- supernatural power of chiefs in, 338 sqq.
- Merker, Captain M., i. 343
- Merlin, i. 306
- Messiah, pretended, i. 409
- Metsik, a forest spirit, ii. 55
- Mexican kings, their oath, i. 356
- Mexicans, human sacrifices of the ancient, i. 314 sq.
- Micah, quoted, i. 223
- Mice and rats, teeth of, in magic, i. 178 sqq.
- Midsummer, new fire made at, ii. 242;
- festival of, 272 sq.
- —— bonfires, ii. 65, 141
- —— Bride, ii. 92
- —— customs, ii. 127;
- in Sweden, ii. 65
- —— Eve, a witching time, ii. 127
- Mikado, the, an incarnation of the sun goddess, i. 417
- Miklucho-Maclay, Baron von, ii. 253 sq.
- Milk, witches steal milk on Walpurgis Night or May Day, ii. 52 sqq.;
- —— -pails wreathed with flowers, ii. 338, 339
- —— -stones, i. 165
- Milkmen of the Todas sacred or divine, i. 402 sq.
- Milton on chastity, ii. 118 n. 1
- Minangkabauers of Sumatra, i. 58, 140
- Miris of Assam, the, ii. 39
- Mirror or burning-glass, fire made by means of, ii. 243, 245 n.
- Mistletoe venerated by the Druids, ii. 358, 362
- Moab, Arabs of, i. 276
- Mock sun, i. 314
- Moffat, Dr. R., i. 351
- Mohammed, on the fig, ii. 316
- Mommsen, Th., i. 23 n. 3, ii. 174 n. 1, 175 n. 1, 296
- Monarchy in ancient Greece and Rome, tradition of its abolition, i. 46;
- rise of, 216 sqq.;
- essential to emergence of mankind from savagery, 217;
- hereditary and elective, combination of the two, ii. 292 sqq.
- Money, old Italian, i. 23
- Montanus, the Phrygian, i. 407
- Montezuma, i. 416
- Moon, singing to the, i. 125;
- Morbus regius, jaundice, i. 371 n. 4
- Morgan, Professor M. H., ii. 207 n. 1
- “Mother of Kings,” ii. 277
- —— of the Gods, i. 21
- —— of the Rain, i. 276
- Mother-kin, ii. 271;
- in succession to Roman kingship, 271;
- among the Aryans, 283 sqq.;
- superiority of maternal uncle to father under mother-kin, 285.
- See also Female Kinship
- Mother’s brother preferred to father, mark of mother-kin, ii. 285
- Motu, the, i. 317, ii. 106
- Motumotu, the, i. 317, 327, 337;
- or Toaripi, the, in New Guinea, 125
- Moulton, Professor J. H., ii. 182 n. 2, 189 n. 3, 247 n. 5
- Moxos Indians, i. 123
- Muata Jamwo, the, ii. 262
- Mukasa, god of the Baganda, ii. 150
- Müller, Max, i. 333 sq.
- Mulongo, “twin,” name applied by the Baganda to the navel-string, i. 195, 196
- Mummers dressed in leaves, branches, and flowers, ii. 74 sqq., 78 sqq.
- Mundaris, the, ii. 39, 46
- Mundas, the, ii. 57
- Munro, Dr. R., ii. 352
- Mura-muras, i. 255 sq.
- Mycenae, golden lamb of, i. 365
- Mysteries of Eleusis, ii. 138 sq.
- Mytilene, kings at, i. 45
- Nabataeans, Agriculture of the, ii. 100
- Nabu, marriage of the god, ii. 130
- Nahak, rubbish used in magic, i. 341
- Nails knocked into trees, ii. 36, 42;
- a charm against witchcraft, 339 sq.
- —— pegs, or pins knocked into images, i. 61, 64, 65, 68, 69
- 407Nails, parings of, used in magic, i. 57, 64, 65, 66
- Names of kings changed to procure rain, i. 355
- Nandi, power of medicine-men among the, i. 344
- Nanja spots or local totem centres, i. 96, 97
- Nat, spirit, ii. 46
- Natchez, the, i. 249;
- their perpetual fires, ii. 262 sq.
- “Nativity of the sun’s walking-stick,” i. 312
- Navarre, rain-making in, i. 307 sq.
- Navel-string, contagious magic of, i. 182-201;
- regarded as brother or sister of child, 186, 189;
- called the “twin,” 195;
- seat of external soul, 200 sq.
- Navel-strings hung on trees, ii. 56
- Negative magic or taboo, i. 111 sqq.
- Nemi, the lake of, i. 1 sqq.;
- Neoptolemus, ii. 278
- Nerthus, procession of, ii. 144 n. 1
- Nets, marriage of girls to, ii. 147
- New birth, simulation of, i. 380 sq.
- —— -born children brought to the hearth, ii. 232
- —— Caledonia, i. 78;
- homoeopathic magic of stones in, 162 sqq.
- —— Caledonians, the, i. 312, 313, 314
- —— fire, ii. 237;
- —— Guinea, influence of magicians in, i. 337 sq.
- —— Year festival, i. 251
- Ngai, god, ii. 44, 150
- Nias, i. 109, 143
- Nicholson, General, worshipped, i. 404
- Niebuhr, B. G., ii. 269
- Nightingale in magic, i. 154
- Nile, the Upper, rain-makers on the, i. 345 sqq.;
- the bride of the, ii. 151
- Nine animals sacrificed daily at a festival, ii. 365
- —— years’ festival at Upsala, ii. 364 sq.
- Noah’s ark, i. 334
- Nonae Caprotinae, ii. 314
- Nootkas, superstitions as to twins among the, i. 263 sq.
- Norse trinities, ii. 364
- Noses bored, i. 94
- Numa, his birthday, ii. 273;
- a priestly king, 289
- —— and Egeria, i. 18, ii. 172 sq., 193, 380
- Numa’s birthday, ii. 325, 348;
- “Numa’s crockery,” ii. 202
- Numbering the herds on St. George’s Day, ii. 338
- Numicius, the river, ii. 181
- Nuns of St. Brigit, ii. 240 sq.
- Nurin, i. 275, 276
- Nusku, Babylonian fire-god, i. 67
- Nyanza, Lake, god of, i. 395
- Oak, its diffusion in Europe, ii. 349 sqq.;
- —— and thunder, the Aryan god of the, ii. 356 sqq.;
- sky, rain, and thunder, god of the, 349 sq.
- —— evergreen, in making fire, ii. 251;
- the Golden Bough grew on an, 379
- —— branch in rain charm, i. 309
- —— -god married to the oak-goddess, ii. 142;
- —— groves in ancient Ireland, ii. 242 sq.
- —— leaves, crown of, ii. 175, 176 sq., 184
- —— -nymphs at Rome, ii. 172, 185
- —— -tree guarded by the King of the Wood at Nemi, i. 42
- —— -trees, sacrifices to, ii. 366
- —— -wood, Vesta’s fire at Rome fed with, ii. 186;
- —— -woods on the site of ancient Rome, ii. 184 sqq.
- —— -worship of the Druids, ii. 9
- Oaken image dressed as a bride, ii. 140 sq.
- Oaks at Troezen, i. 26;
- Oaths on stones, i. 160 sq.
- Ocrisia, ii. 195
- Octopus in magic, i. 156
- Odin as a magician, i. 241 sq.;
- the Norse god of war, ii. 364
- Oedipus, ii. 115
- Oenomaus, ii. 300
- Oesel, island of, i. 329
- Offspring, charms to procure, i. 70 sqq.
- Ojebways, magical images among the, i. 55
- Olaf, King, i. 367
- Old men, government by, in aboriginal Australia, i. 334 sq.
- Oldenberg, Professor H., i. 225 n., 228, 235 n. 1, 269, 270
- Olives planted and gathered by pure boys and virgins, ii. 107
- Olympia, races for the kingdom at, ii. 299 sq.
- Omahas, the, i. 249, 320
- Omens, homoeopathic magic to annul evil omens, i. 170-174
- 408Omphale and Hercules, ii. 281
- Omumborombonga (Combretum primigenum), the sacred tree of the Herero, ii. 213 sq., 218, 219 sq., 233
- Omuwapu tree (Grevia spec.), ii. 219
- Opprobrious language levelled at goddess to please her, i. 280
- Oracles given by king, i. 377
- Oraons, marriage of Sun and Earth among the, ii. 148;
- spring festival of the, 76 sq.
- Oracular spring at Dodona, ii. 172
- Ordeal of battle among the Umbrians, ii. 321
- Orestes at Nemi, i. 10 sq., 21 n. 2, 24;
- at Troezen, 26;
- cured of his madness, 161
- Orgies, sexual, as fertility charms, ii. 98 sqq.
- Orontes, the river, ii. 160
- Osiris threatened by magicians, i. 225
- Ostyaks, tree-worship among the, ii. 11
- Ovambo, the, i. 63, 209, ii. 46
- Ovid, ii. 176, 177, 191;
- on Nemi, i. 4, 17
- Pacific, human gods in the, i. 386 sqq.
- Padstow, custom of the Hobby Horse at, ii. 68
- Pages, medicine-men, i. 358
- Paint-house, the, ii. 111
- Paintings, prehistoric, of animals in caves, i. 87 n. 1
- Pais, E., i. 23 n.
- Pales, ii. 326, 327, 328, 329, 348
- Pallades, female consorts of Ammon, ii. 135
- Palladius, ii. 314
- Pallene, daughter of Sithon, ii. 307
- Palm-tree, ceremony of tapping it for wine, ii. 100 sq.
- See also Date-palm
- Panamara in Caria, i. 29
- Paparuda, i. 273
- Parasitic plants, superstitions as to, ii. 250, 251 sq.
- Parilia, the, ii. 123, 229, 273;
- a shepherds’ festival, 325 sqq.
- Parjanya, the ancient Hindoo god of thunder and rain, i. 270, ii. 368 sq.
- Parkinson, R., i. 175
- Parricide, Roman punishment of, ii. 110 n. 2
- Parsees, the, ii. 241
- Partheniai, i. 36 n. 2
- Parthenos as applied to Artemis, i. 36
- Parthian monarchs brothers of the Sun, i. 417 sq.
- Partridge, C., ii. 394 n. 2
- Patara, Apollo at, ii. 135
- Paternity, uncertainty of, a ground for a theological distinction, ii. 135;
- Patriarchal family at Rome, ii. 283
- Paulicians, the, i. 407
- Payaguas, the, i. 330
- Payne, E. J., i. 415 n. 2
- Pear-tree as protector of cattle, ii. 55
- Peat-bogs of Europe, ii. 350 sqq.
- Peking Gazette, i. 355
- Peleus, ii. 278
- Pelew Islands, human gods in, i. 389
- Pelopidae, the, ii. 279
- Pelops, ii. 279
- —— and Hippodamia, ii. 299 sq.
- Penates, the, ii. 205 sq.
- Pennefather River in Queensland, i. 99, 100
- Peoples said to be ignorant of the art of kindling fire, ii. 253 sqq.
- Peperuga, i. 274
- Pepys, S., i. 369, ii. 52, 333
- Pergrubius, a Lithuanian god of the spring, ii. 347 sq.
- Periphas, king of Athens, ii. 177
- Perkunas or Perkuns, the Lithuanian god of thunder and lightning, ii. 365 sqq.;
- derivation of his name, 367 n. 3
- Perperia, i. 273
- Perpetual fires, origin of, ii. 253 sqq.;
- associated with royal dignity, ii. 261 sqq.
- Perseus and Andromeda, ii. 163
- Peru, Indians of, i. 265, ii. 146;
- the Incas of, 243 sq.
- Perun, the thunder-god of the Slavs, ii. 365
- Peruvian Indians, i. 56
- —— Vestals, ii. 243 sqq.
- Pessinus, i. 47
- Peter of Dusburg, ii. 366 n. 2
- Phaedra and Hippolytus, i. 25
- Pheneus, lake of, ii. 8
- Phigalia, i. 31
- Philostratus, i. 167
- Phosphorescence of the sea, superstitions as to the, ii. 154 sq.
- Picts, female descent of kingship among the, ii. 280 sq., 286
- Piers, Sir Henry, ii. 59
- Pig, blood of, drunk as a means of inspiration, i. 382;
- Pigeon used in a love-charm, ii. 345 sq.
- Pile-villages in the valley of the Po, ii. 8;
- of Europe, 352 sq.
- Pipal-tree (ficus religiosa), ii. 43
- Pipiles, the, of Central America, ii. 98
- Pity of rain-gods, appeal to, i. 302 sq.
- Placenta (afterbirth) and navel-string, contagious magic of, i. 182-201
- Plantain-trees, navel-strings of Baganda buried at foot of, i. 195
- Plants, homoeopathic magic to make plants grow, i. 136 sqq.;
- Plataea, festival of the Daedala at, ii. 140 sq.
- Plato, i. 45, 104
- Plebeians, the Roman kings, ii. 289
- Pleiades, rising of the, i. 32
- Pliny the Elder, i. 49;
- on sacredness of woods, ii. 123;
- the Younger, i. 6
- Ploughing by women as a rain-charm, i. 282 sq.
- Plover in connexion with rain, i. 259, 261
- Plutarch, i. 28, 80, ii. 172, 196, 320 n. 3, 325 n. 3;
- on Numa and Egeria, i. 18
- Pole-star, homoeopathic magic of the, i. 166
- Political evolution from democracy to despotism, i. 421
- Polybius, ii. 354
- Polydorus, ii. 31
- Poplar, the white, at Olympia, a substitute for the oak, ii. 220
- Porphyry, i. 390, ii. 12
- Porta Capena at Rome, i. 18
- Porta Querquetulana, ii. 185 n. 3
- Poso in Celebes, i. 379, ii. 29
- Potrimpo, old Prussian god, ii. 248
- Pottery, primitive, employed in Roman ritual, ii. 202 sqq.;
- superstitions as to the making of, 204 sq.
- Pramantha, ii. 249
- Prayers for rain, ii. 359, 362;
- Precautions against witches, ii. 52 sqq.
- Precious stones, homoeopathic magic of, i. 164 sq.
- Pregnancy, ceremony in seventh month of, i. 72 sq.
- Pregnant cows sacrificed to the Earth goddess, ii. 229;
- victims sacrificed to ensure fertility, i. 141;
- women employed to fertilise crops and fruit-trees, i. 140 sq.
- Pretenders to divinity among Christians, i. 407 sqq.
- Priest drenched with water as a rain-charm, ii. 77;
- rolled on fields as fertility charm, 103;
- of Diana at Nemi, i. 8 sqq.
- —— of Nemi, i. 8 sqq., 40, 41, ii. 376, 386, 387.
- See also King of the Wood
- Priestesses, inspired, i. 379 sq., 381 sq.
- Priestly kings, i. 44 sqq.
- Priests, magical powers attributed to priests by French peasants, i. 231-233;
- inspired, 377 sqq.
- Princesses married to foreigners or men of low birth, ii. 274 sqq.
- Private magic, i. 214 sq.
- Procopius, ii. 365
- Procreative virtue attributed to fire, ii. 233
- Proculus Julius, ii. 182
- Progress, intellectual, dependent on economic progress, i. 218;
- social, 421
- Promathion’s History of Italy, ii. 196, 197
- Prometheus, ii. 260
- Prophetic powers conferred by certain springs, ii. 172
- Prophets, the Hebrew, their ethical religion, i. 223
- Propitiation essential to religion, i. 222
- Prostitution before marriage, practice of, ii. 282, 285, 287
- Prothero, G. W., ii. 71 n. 1
- Provence, magical powers attributed to priests in, i. 232
- Prpats, i. 274
- Prunus Padus, L., ii. 344
- Prussians, the old, their worship of trees, ii. 43
- Prytaneum, fire in the, ii. 260
- Psylli, the, i. 331
- Public magic, i. 215
- Purification by fire, ii. 327, 329
- Purificatory rites for sexual crimes, ii. 107 sqq., 115, 116
- Pururavas and Urvasi, ii. 250
- Pythagoras, maxims of, i. 211, 213 sq.
- Pythaists at Athens, i. 33
- Python, sacred, ii. 150
- Quack, the, ii. 81
- Quartz-crystals used in rain-making, i. 254, 255, 304
- Queen of Egypt married to the god Ammon, ii. 131 sqq.;
- Queensland, rain-making in, i. 254 sq.
- Querquetulani, Men of the Oak, ii. 188
- Quirinal hill, the, ii. 182, 185
- Quirinus, ii. 182, 185, 193 n. 1
- Quiteve, the, i. 392
- Quivering of the body in a rain-charm, i. 260, 361
- Ra, the Egyptian sun-god, i. 418, 419
- Race, the King’s, ii. 84;
- Races at Whitsuntide, ii. 69, 84
- Raccoons in rain-charm, i. 288
- Rain, extraction of teeth in connexion with, i. 98 sq.;
- Rain-bird, i. 287
- “Rain-bush,” ii. 46
- —— -charm by ploughing, i. 282 sq.
- —— Country, i. 259
- —— -doctor, i. 271
- —— -god as dragon, i. 297
- —— -gods compelled to give rain by threats and violence, i. 296 sqq.;
- appeal to the pity of the, 302 sq.
- Rain King, i. 275, ii. 2
- —— -maker among the Arunta, costume of the, i. 260;
- assimilates himself to water, 269 sqq.
- —— makers, their importance in savage communities, i. 247;
- in Africa, their rise to political power, 342 sqq., 352;
- on the Upper Nile, 345 sqq.;
- unsuccessful, punished or killed, 345, 352 sqq.
- —— -making by means of the dead, i. 284 sqq.;
- by means of animals, 287 sqq.;
- by means of stones, 304 sqq.
- “Rain-stick,” i. 254
- “Rain-stones,” i. 254, 305, 345, 346
- —— -temple, i. 250
- —— totem, i. 258
- Rainbow in rain-charm, picture of, i. 258
- Rajahs among the Malays, supernatural powers attributed to, i. 361
- Ramsay, Sir W. M., i. 36 n. 2
- Rats and mice, teeth of, in magic, i. 178 sqq.
- Raven in wind-charm, i. 320
- Raven’s eggs in magic, i. 154
- Ray, S. H., ii. 208 n. 3
- Red colour in magic, i. 79, 81, 83
- —— Karens of Burma, ii. 69
- —— woollen threads, a charm against witchcraft, ii. 336
- Reddening the faces of gods, custom of, ii. 175 sq.
- Regalia of Malay kings, i. 362 sq.;
- supernatural powers of, 398
- Regia, the king’s palace at Rome, ii. 201
- Regifugium at Rome, ii. 290;
- perhaps a relic of a contest for the kingdom, 308 sqq.
- Regillus, battle of Lake, i. 50
- Reinach, Salomon, i. 27 n. 6, 87 n. 1, ii. 232 n. 2, 241 n. 1
- Reincarnation, belief of the aboriginal Australians in, i. 96, 99 sq.;
- certain funeral rites perhaps intended to ensure, 101 sqq.
- Religion defined, i. 222;
- two elements of, a theoretical and a practical, 222 sq.;
- opposed in principle to science, 224;
- transition from magic to, 237 sqq., ii. 376 sq.
- —— and magic, i. 220-243, 250, 285, 286, 347;
- Hegel on, 423 sqq.
- Religious dramas sometimes originate in magical rites, ii. 142 sq.
- Remulus, ii. 180
- Renan, E., i. 236 n. 1
- Renouf, Sir P. le P., i. 418
- Rex Nemorensis, i. 11
- Rhetra, i. 383
- Rheumatism caused by magic, i. 207 sq., 213
- Rhodians worship the sun, i. 315
- Rhys, Sir John, i. 17 n. 2, ii. 363 n. 4
- Ribald songs in rain-charm, i. 267
- Rice, charm to make rice grow, i. 140;
- Ridgeway, Professor W., ii. 103
- Rig Veda, i. 294;
- quoted, ii. 368 sq.
- “Ringing out the grass,” ii. 344
- Rivers as lovers of women in Greek mythology, ii. 161 sq.
- Rivers, Dr. W. H. R., i. 230 n., 403 n. 1, 421 n. 1
- Rivos, harvest-god of Celts in Gaul, i. 17
- Rivros, a Celtic month, i. 17 n. 2
- Robertson, Sir George Scott, i. 133
- Rock-crystals in rain-charms, i. 345
- Rogations, Monday of, ii. 166
- Rolling on the fields as a fertility charm, ii. 103;
- at harvest, ii. 104
- —— cakes on the ground for omens, ii. 338
- Roman fire-customs compared to those of the Herero, ii. 227 sqq.
- —— kings as deities in a Sacred Marriage, ii. 172 sq., 192, 193 sq.;
- —— kingship, descent of, in the female line, ii. 270 sq.;
- —— punishment of parricide, 110 n. 2
- Rome, the kings of, ii. 171 sqq.;
- oak woods on the site of ancient, 184 sqq.
- Romove, Romow, or Romowo, ii. 366 n. 2
- Romulus, fig-tree of, ii. 10, 318;
- Roscher, W. H., ii. 137 n. 1, 383 n. 3
- Roscoe, Rev. J., ii. 276 n. 2, 318 n. 1, 322 n. 2
- 411Rose, the Little May, ii. 74
- Rostowski, S., ii. 366 n. 2.
- Rouen, St. Romain at, ii. 164 sqq.
- Roumania, rain-making ceremonies in, i. 273 sq.
- Round huts of the ancient Latins, ii. 200 sqq.
- Rouse, Dr. W. H. D., i. 15 n. 3, ii. 82
- Rowan or mountain-ash used as a charm, ii. 331
- —— tree, a protection against witches, ii. 53, 54
- Royalty conservative of old customs, ii. 288
- Rukmini, wife of Krishna, ii. 26
- Runaway slave, charm to bring back a, i. 317
- Runes, the magic, i. 241
- Russia, St. George’s Day in, ii. 332 sqq.
- Russian celebration of Whitsuntide, ii. 64, 93
- —— sect of the Christs, i. 407 sq.
- Sacred beasts in Egypt, i. 29 sq.
- —— groves in ancient Greece and Rome, ii. 121 sqq.
- —— Marriage, the, ii. 120 sqq.
- —— men, i. 386
- —— sticks representing ancestors, ii. 222 sqq.
- —— women, i. 391
- Sacrifices offered to regalia, i. 363, 365;
- to trees, 366
- Sacrificial King at Rome, i. 44
- St. Anthony’s fire treated by homoeopathic magic, i. 81 sq.
- —— Bride in the Highlands of Scotland, ii. 94
- —— Bridget, ii. 94 sq., 242.
- See St. Brigit
- —— Brigit, holy fire and nuns of, at Kildare, ii. 240 sqq.
- —— Columba, i. 407, ii. 242 sq.
- —— Dasius, ii. 310 n. 1
- —— Eany’s Well, ii. 161
- —— Fillan, well of, ii. 161
- —— Francis of Paola, i. 300
- —— George and the Dragon, ii. 163 sq.;
- —— George’s Day (23rd April), ii. 56, 75, 79, 103, 164 n. 1, 330 sqq.;
- eve of, a time when witches steal milk from the cows, 334 sqq.
- —— Gervais, spring of, i. 307
- —— Hippolytus, i. 21
- —— James, i. 266;
- quoted, 223, 224
- St. John, Eve of, in Sweden, ii. 65;
- Sweethearts of, 92
- —— John the Baptist, day of, i. 377;
- his Midsummer festival, ii. 273
- —— Leonhard, i. 7 sq.
- —— Mary, Wells of, ii. 161;
- in Araceli, 184
- —— Ouen, ii. 165, 168
- —— Paul, i. 407
- —— Peter, as giver of rain, i. 307
- —— Peter’s Day (29th June), ii. 141
- —— Romain and the dragon of Rouen, ii. 164 sqq.;
- —— Sécaire, Mass of, i. 232 sq.
- Saints, violence done to images of saints in Sicily to procure rain, i. 300;
- images of saints dipped in water as a rain-charm, 307 sq.
- Sakai, the, i. 360
- Sakkalava, the, i. 397
- Ṣakvarī song, i. 269 sq.
- Sâl trees, ii. 41;
- and flowers, 76 sq.
- Salagrama, fossil ammonite, ii. 26, 27 n. 2
- Salic law, re-marriage of widow under, ii. 285
- Salmon, twins thought to be, i. 263
- Salmoneus, King of Elis, i. 310, ii. 177, 181
- Salt, abstinence from, i. 124, 266, ii. 98, 105, 149;
- as a charm, 331
- Samagitians, the, ii. 125;
- their sacred groves, 43
- Sami wood (Prosopis spicigera), ii. 248, 249, 250 n.
- Samnites, marriage custom of the, ii. 305
- Samoa, gods of, in animal and human form, i. 389
- Sandwich Islands, King of, i. 377.
- See also Hawaii
- Santiago, the horse of, i. 267
- Sarah and Abraham, ii. 114
- Sardinia, Midsummer customs in, ii. 92
- Satapatha-Brâhmana, i. 380
- Saturn personified at the Saturnalia, ii. 310 sq.
- —— and Jupiter, ii. 323
- Saturnalia, ii. 272;
- Savile, Lord, his excavations at Nemi, i. 3 n. 2
- Saxo Grammaticus, i. 160, ii. 280
- Saxons, marriage with a stepmother among the, ii. 283;
- of Transylvania, 337
- Scaloi, i. 274
- Scamander, the river, supposed to take the virginity of brides, ii. 162
- 412Scandinavia, female descent of the kingship in, ii. 279 sq.
- Sceptre of Agamemnon, i. 365
- Schinz, Dr. H., ii. 213 n. 2, 218
- Scotland, magical images in, i. 68-70
- Scott, Sir Walter, i. 326
- Scratching the person with the fingers forbidden, i. 254
- Scrofula, kings thought to heal scrofula by their touch, i. 368 sqq.
- Scythian kings, their regalia, i. 365
- Scythians put their kings in bonds, i. 354
- Sea, virgins married to the jinnee of the, ii. 153 sq.;
- phosphorescence of the, 154 sq.
- Seasons, Athenian sacrifices to the, i. 310
- Secret societies, i. 340
- Semiramis, ii. 275
- Sena, island of, ii. 241 n. 1
- Seneca, on sacred groves, ii. 123
- Serpent, dried, in ceremony for stopping rain, i. 295 sq.;
- or dragon of water, 155 sqq.
- Serpents in relation to St. George, ii. 344 n. 4
- Servia, rain-making ceremony in, i. 273
- Servius on Virbius, i. 20 sq., 40
- —— Tullius, laws of, ii. 115, 129;
- Sewing forbidden, i. 121, 128
- Sexes, influence of the, on vegetation, ii. 97 sqq.;
- of plants, 24
- Sexual communism, tradition of, ii. 284
- —— crime, blighting effects attributed to, ii. 107 sqq.
- —— intercourse practised to make the crops and fruits grow, ii. 98 sqq.
- —— orgies as a fertility charm, ii. 98 sqq.
- Shaking of victim as sign of its acceptance, i. 384 sq.
- Shans of Burma, i. 128
- Sheaf of oats made up to represent St. Bride or Bridget, ii. 94 sq.;
- the last, 94 n. 2
- Sheep, black, sacrificed for rain, i. 290
- —— driven through fire, ii. 327
- Shepherd’s prayer, ii. 327 sq.
- Shepherds’ festival, ancient Italian, ii. 326 sqq.
- Shetland, witches in, i. 326
- Shrew-mouse in magic, i. 83
- Shuswap Indians, i. 265
- Siam, King of, ii. 262;
- divinity of, i. 401
- Sibyl, the, and the Golden Bough, i. 11
- Sicily, attempts to compel the saints to give rain in, i. 299 sq.
- Sick people passed through a hole in an oak, ii. 371
- Sickness, homoeopathic magic for the cure of, i. 78 sqq.
- Silesia, Whitsuntide customs in, ii. 89
- Silk-cotton trees reverenced, ii. 14 sq.
- Silvanus, forest god, ii. 121, 124
- Silver poplar a charm against witchcraft, ii. 336
- Silvii, the family name of the kings of Alba, ii. 178 sqq., 192
- Silvius, first king of Alba, ii. 179
- Similarity in magic, law of, i. 52, 53
- Simplification, danger of excessive simplification in science, i. 332 sq.
- Singer, the best, chosen chief, ii. 298 sq.
- Sins, confession of, i. 266
- Sinuessa, waters of, ii. 161
- Sister’s children preferred to man’s own children, mark of mother-kin, ii. 285
- Sisters of king, licence accorded to, ii. 274 sqq.
- Siva, i. 404, ii. 77, 78
- Skeat, W. W., i. 360 sq.
- Skeleton in rain-charm, i. 284
- Skene, W. F., ii. 286 n. 2
- Skoptsy, the, a Russian sect, ii. 145 n. 2
- Skulls, ancestral, used in magical ceremonies, i. 163;
- in rain-charm, 285
- Sky, twins called the children of the, i. 267, 268;
- Aryan god of the, ii. 374 sq.
- Slave, charm to bring back a runaway, i. 152, 317
- —— priests at Nemi, i. 11
- Slaves, licence granted to, at Saturnalia, ii. 312;
- female, licence accorded to, at the Nonae Caprotinae, 313 sq.
- Slavs, tree-worship among the heathen, ii. 9;
- the thunder-god Perun, of the, 365
- Sleep, charms employed by burglars to cause, i. 148 sq.
- “Sleep of war,” ii. 147
- Smith, W. Robertson, i. 301 n. 2
- Smiths sacred, i. 349
- Smoke made as a rain-charm, i. 249;
- of cedar inhaled as means of inspiration, 383 sq.;
- as a charm against witchcraft, ii. 330
- Snake-bites, charms against, i. 152 sq.
- —— skin a charm against witchcraft, ii. 335
- Snakes, human wives of, ii. 149, 150
- “Sober” sacrifices, i. 311 n. 1
- Social progress, i. 420
- Sodza, a lightning goddess, ii. 370
- Sofala, King of, i. 392
- Sogamozo, the pontiff of, i. 416
- Sogble, a lightning god, ii. 370
- Solar myth theory, i. 333
- Somerville, Professor W., ii. 328 n. 4
- Sophocles, ii. 115, 161
- Sorcerers. See Magicians, Medicine-men
- 413Sorcery. See Magic
- Sorrows, Master of, i. 280
- Soul, external, in afterbirth (placenta) or navel-string, i. 200 sq.
- Souls ascribed to trees, ii. 12 sqq.;
- of ancestors supposed to be in fire on the hearth, 232
- Sowing, curses at, i. 281;
- Sparks of fire supposed to impregnate women, ii. 197, 231
- Sparta, the two kings of, i. 46 sq.;
- their relation to Castor and Pollux, 48-50
- Spartan sacrifice of horses to the sun, i. 315 sq.
- Spencer and Gillen, i. 89, 107 n. 4
- Spieth, J., i. 397
- Spinning forbidden, i. 113 sq.
- Spirit, Brethren of the Free, i. 408
- Spiritual husbands, ii. 316 sq.
- Spittle, divination by, i. 99;
- used in magic, 57
- Spring, oracular at Dodona, ii. 172
- Springs troubled to procure rain, i. 301;
- which confer prophetic powers, ii. 172
- Squirting water as a rain-charm, i. 249 sq., 277 sq.
- Star, falling, in magic, i. 84
- Stepmother, marriage with a, among the Saxons, ii. 283
- Stewart, C. S., i. 387 n. 1
- Sticks, sacred, representing ancestors, ii. 222 sqq.
- Stone, holed, in magic, i. 313
- —— curlew in magic, i. 80
- —— throwing as a fertility charm, i. 39
- Stones tied to trees to make them bear fruit, i. 140;
- oaths upon, 160 sq.;
- homoeopathic magic of, 160 sqq.;
- employed to make fruits and crops grow, 162 sqq.;
- precious, homoeopathic magic of, 164 sq.;
- the Day of, 279;
- rain-making by means of, 304 sqq.;
- in charms to make the sun shine, 312, 313, 314;
- put in trees to prevent sun from setting, 318;
- in wind charms, 319, 322 sq.
- Storeroom (penus), sacred, ii. 205 sq.
- Strabo, ii. 305
- Stubbes, P., ii. 66
- Subincision, use of blood shed at, i. 92, 94 sq.
- Succession to the chieftainship or kingship alternating between several families, ii. 292 sqq.
- —— to the kingdom, in ancient Latium, ii. 266 sqq.;
- Sulka, the, of New Britain, ii. 148
- Sumatra, i. 58, 71
- Summer, bringing in the, ii. 74
- Sun, homoeopathic magic of setting, i. 165 sq.;
- supposed to send new teeth, 181;
- magical control of the, 311 sqq.;
- charms to cause the sun to shine, 311 sqq.;
- eclipse of, ceremonies at 311, 312;
- human sacrifices to the 314 sq.;
- chief deity of the Rhodians, 315;
- supposed to drive in chariot, 315;
- caught by net or string, 316;
- charms to prevent the sun from going down, 316 sqq.;
- the father of the Incas, 415;
- Parthian monarchs the brothers of the, 417 sq.;
- sanctuary of the, ii. 107;
- high priest of the, 146 sq.;
- marriage of a woman to the, 146 sq.;
- worshipped by the Blackfoot Indians, 146;
- round temple of the, 147;
- temple of the Sun at Cuzco, 243;
- virgins of the Sun in Peru, 243 sqq.;
- the Great, title of chief, 262, 263
- —— and Earth, marriage of the, ii. 98 sq., 148
- —— -god, no wine offered to the, i. 311
- —— -god Ra in Egypt, i. 418, 419
- —— goddess, i. 417
- Superstitions as to the making of pottery, ii. 204 sq.
- Svayamvara, ii. 306
- Swami Bhaskaranandaji Saraswati, i. 404
- Swearing on stones, i. 160 sq.
- Sweden, midsummer customs in, ii. 65;
- Swedes sacrifice their kings, i. 366 sq.
- Sweethearts of St. John, ii. 92
- Swine, herds of, in ancient Italy, ii. 354
- Sycamores worshipped, ii. 15;
- sacred among the Gallas, 34
- Sylvii or Woods, the kings of Alba, ii. 379
- Sympathetic Magic, i. 51 sqq.;
- its two branches, 54;
- examples of, 55 sqq.
- See also Magic
- Syria, St. George in, ii. 346
- Taara, the thunder-god of the Esthonians, ii. 367
- Taboo, a negative magic, i. 111 sqq.
- Taboos, homoeopathic, i. 116;
- contagious, 117;
- on food, 117 sqq.;
- laid on the parents of twins, 262, 263 sq., 266;
- observed after house-building, ii. 40
- Tacitus, ii. 285
- Tagales, the, ii. 36
- Tahiti, kings of, deified, i. 388
- “Tail-money,” ii. 331
- 414Tāli, tying the, ii. 57 n. 4
- Tamarinds, sacred, ii. 42, 44
- Tammuz or Adonis, ii. 346
- Tana, power of the disease-makers in, i. 341
- Tanaquil, the Queen, ii. 195
- Taoism, religious head of, i. 413 sqq.
- Tapio, woodland god, ii. 124
- Tarahumares of Mexico, i. 249
- Tarquin the Elder, ii. 195
- —— the Proud, his attempt to shift the line of descent of the kingship, ii. 291 sq.
- Tasmanians, the, ii. 257
- Tatius, death of, ii. 320
- Tauric Diana, i. 10 sq., 24
- Taylor, Isaac, ii. 189 n. 3
- Teeth, ceremony of knocking out teeth at initiation, i. 97 sqq.;
- extraction of teeth in connexion with rain, 98 sq.;
- charms to strengthen, 153, 157;
- contagious magic of, 176-182;
- of rats and mice in magic, 178 sqq.
- Telamon, ii. 278
- Telchines, the, of Rhodes, i. 310
- Telepathy, magical, i. 119 sqq.;
- in hunting and fishing, 120 sqq.;
- in war, 126 sqq.;
- in voyages, 126
- Tertullian, i. 407;
- on the Etruscan crown, ii. 175 n. 1
- Teucer, ii. 278
- Teutonic kings, i. 47;
- thunder god, ii. 364
- Thargelion, Greek harvest month, i. 32
- Thebes, the Egyptian, ii. 130, 134;
- high priests of Ammon at, 134
- Theocritus, witch in, i. 206
- Theogamy, divine marriage, ii. 121
- Theophrastus, on the woods of Latium, ii. 188
- Theopompus, ii. 287
- Thevet, F. A., i. 358
- Thieves’ candles, i. 148, 149
- Things, homoeopathic magic of inanimate, i. 157 sqq.
- Thistles, a charm against witchcraft, ii. 339, 340
- Thompson Indians, i. 70, 132;
- the fire-drill of the, ii. 208
- Thor, the Norse thunder god, ii. 364
- Thorn-bushes as charms against witches, ii. 338
- Thoth, Egyptian god, ii. 131
- Threatening the thunder god, ii. 183 n. 2
- Thrice born, said of Brahmans, i. 381
- Thrones, sanctity of, i. 365
- Thunder, imitation of, i. 248;
- —— and oak, the Aryan god of the, ii. 356 sqq.
- Thunder-bird, i. 309
- —— god, threatening the, ii. 183 n. 2;
- conceived as a deity of fertility, 368 sqq.
- Thunderbolt of Indra, i. 269
- —— Zeus, ii. 361
- Thunderbolts, kings killed by, ii. 181;
- flint implements regarded as, 374
- Thunderstorms, disappearance of Roman kings in, ii. 181 sqq.
- Thurston, E., i. 56 n. 3
- Thyiads, the, i. 46
- Tibet, the Grand Lamas of, i. 411 sq.
- Tides, homoeopathic magic of the, i. 166 sqq.
- Tiele, C. P., i. 419 sq.
- Tifata, Mount, ii. 380
- Timber, homoeopathic magic of house timber, i. 146;
- of houses, tree-spirits propitiated in, ii. 39 sq.
- Timor, telepathy of high-priest of, in war, i. 128 sq.
- Tinneh Indians, the, i. 357
- Toad in charm against storms, i. 325
- Toaripi or Motumotu, the, in New Guinea, i. 125, 337
- Toboongkoos, the, ii. 35
- Todas, the, i. 56;
- divine milkmen of the, 402 sq.;
- magic and medicine among the, 421 n. 1
- Togoland, i. 265
- Tomori, the, of Celebes, ii. 29, 35, 110
- Tonga, chiefs of, believed to heal scrofula, i. 371
- Tonquin, kings of, responsible for drought and dearth, i. 355
- Töppen, M., ii. 365 n. 5
- Toradjas, the, i. 109, 114, 129, 159
- Torres Straits, i. 59
- Tortoise, magic of, i. 151, 170
- Totem, confusion between a man and his totem, i. 107 sq.
- Totemism in Central Australia not a religion, i. 107 sq.
- Totems in Central Australia, magical ceremonies for the multiplication of, i. 85 sqq.;
- custom of eating the, 107
- Touch-me-not (Impatiens sp.), ii. 77
- Touching for the King’s Evil (scrofula), i. 368 sqq.
- Transmigrations of human deities, i. 410 sqq.
- Tree, life of child connected with, i. 184;
- —— -spirits, ii. 7 sqq.;
- Tree-worship among the European families of the Aryan stock, ii. 9 sqq.;
- in modern Europe, relics of, 59 sqq.
- Trees, marriage to, i. 40 sq., ii. 57;
- extracted teeth placed in, i. 98;
- burial in, 102;
- navel-strings placed in, 182, 183, 185, 186;
- afterbirth (placenta) placed in, 182, 187, 190, 191, 194, 199;
- worship of, ii. 7 sqq.;
- regarded as animate, 12 sqq.;
- sacrifices to, 15, 16 sq., 34, 44, 46, 47;
- sensitive, 18;
- apologies offered to trees for cutting them down, 18 sq., 36 sq.;
- bleeding, 18, 20, 33;
- threatened to make them bear fruit, 20 sqq.;
- married to each other, 24 sqq.;
- animated by the souls of the dead, 29 sqq.;
- planted on graves, 31;
- as the abode of spirits, 33 sqq.;
- ceremonies at cutting down, 34 sqq.;
- drenched with water as a rain-charm, 47;
- grant women an easy delivery, 57 sq.
- —— and plants, attempts to deceive the spirits of, ii. 22 sqq.
- —— sacred, ii. 40 sqq.;
- smeared with blood, 367
- Trinity, the Hindoo, i. 225, 404;
- the Norse, ii. 364
- Triumph, the Roman, ii. 174
- Troezen, sanctuary of Hippolytus at, i. 24 sq.
- Troy, sanctuary of Athena at, ii. 284
- “True Man, the,” i. 413
- Trumpets, sacred, ii. 24
- Tshi-speaking peoples of Gold Coast, i. 132
- Tullius Hostilius, killed by lightning, ii. 181, 320
- Tumleo, i. 213
- Turner, Dr. George, i. 341
- Turner’s picture of “The Golden Bough,” i. 1
- Turning or whirling round, custom of, observed by mummers, i. 273, 275, ii. 74, 80, 81, 87
- “Twin,” name applied by the Baganda to the navel-string, i. 195, 196
- Twins, i. 145;
- in war, 49 n. 3;
- taboos laid on parents of, 262, 263 sq.;
- supposed to possess magical powers, especially over the weather and rain, 262-269;
- supposed to be salmon, 263;
- thought to be related to grizzly-bears, 264 sq.;
- thought to be related to apes, 265;
- thought to be the sons of lightning, 266;
- called the children of the sky, 267, 268;
- water poured on graves of twins as a rain-charm, 268;
- customs of the Baganda in regard to, ii. 102 sq.
- Two-headed bust at Nemi, portrait of the King of the Wood, i. 41 sq.
- Tydeus, ii. 278
- Tylor, E. B., i. 53 n. 1, ii. 208, 244 n. 1, 374 n. 2;
- on fertilisation of date-palm, 25 n.
- Tyndarids (Castor and Pollux), i. 49
- Uganda, Queen Dowager and Queen Sister in, ii. 275 sq.
- Ulysses and Aeolus, i. 326;
- and Penelope, ii. 300
- Umbrians, ordeal of battle among the, ii. 321
- Uncle, maternal, preferred to father, mark of mother-kin, ii. 285
- Upsala, sacred grove at, ii. 9;
- Urns, funereal, in shape of huts, ii. 201 sq.
- Urvasi and Pururavas, ii. 250
- Vallabhacharyas, the, Hindoo sect, ii. 160
- Varro, ii. 185, 200, 326, 381
- Vatican hill, the, ii. 186
- Vaughan Stevens, H., ii. 236 n. 1
- Vegetation, influence of the sexes on, ii. 97 sqq.;
- spirit of, represented by a king or queen, ii. 84, 87, 88;
- newly awakened in spring, ii. 70;
- brought to houses, 74;
- represented by mummers dressed in leaves, branches, and flowers, 74 sqq., 78 sqq.;
- represented by a tree and a living man, 76;
- represented in duplicate by a girl and an effigy, 78;
- men and women masquerading as, 120
- Vejovis, the Little Jupiter, ii. 179
- Veleda, deified woman, i. 391
- Veneti, the, ii. 353;
- breeders of horses, i. 27
- Ventriloquism a basis of political power, i. 347
- Venus (Aphrodite) and Adonis, i. 21, 25, 40, 41
- Verrall, A. W., ii. 25 n. 2
- Vesta, her sacred fires in Latium, i. 13 sq.;
- Vestal fire at Rome a successor of the fire on the king’s hearth, ii. 200 sqq.;
- Vestals, house of the, ii. 201;
- of the Herero, 213, 214;
- custom of burying alive unfaithful Vestals, 228;
- adore the male organ, 229;
- rites performed by them for the fertility of the earth and the fecundity of cattle, 229, 326;
- African, 150;
- at Rome the wives or daughters of the kings, 228;
- Celtic, 241 n. 1;
- Peruvian, 243 sqq.;
- in Yucatan, 245 sq.
- Victims give signs of inspiration by shaking themselves, i. 384 sq.
- Victoria, the late Queen, worshipped in Orissa, i. 404
- Victoria Nyanza, god of the, ii. 150
- Viehe, Rev. G., ii. 213 n. 2, 223 sq.
- Vines blessed on the Assumption of the Virgin (15th August), i. 14 sq.
- Violent deaths of the Roman kings, ii. 313 sqq.
- Viracocha, i. 56
- Virbius, the slope of, i. 4 n. 5, ii. 321;
- the mate of Diana at Nemi, i. 19-21, 40 sq., ii. 129;
- etymology of the name, 379 n. 5
- Virgil, ii. 184, 186, 379;
- an antiquary as well as a poet, 178
- Virgin, the Assumption of the, in relation to Diana, i. 14-16;
- festival of the, in the Armenian Church, 16;
- Mary of Kevlaar, i. 77;
- priestesses in Peru, Mexico, and Yucatan, ii. 243 sqq.
- Virginity offered to rivers, ii. 162
- Virility, hierophant at Eleusis temporarily deprived of his, ii. 130;
- sacrifice of, to a goddess, 144 sq.
- Vishnu, ii. 26
- Vitellius at Nemi, i. 5
- Vituperation thought to cause rain, i. 278
- Votive offerings at Nemi, i. 4, 6, 12, 19, 23
- Voyages, telepathy in, i. 126
- Vulcan, father of Caeculus, ii. 197
- Vulture, magic of, i. 151
- Wagogo, the, i. 123
- Wagtail, the yellow, in magic, i. 79
- Walber, the, ii. 75
- Waldemar, I., King of Denmark, i. 367
- Wallace, Sir D. Mackenzie, i. 407 sq.
- Walos, the, of Senegal, i. 370
- Walpurgis Night, ii. 52, 54, 55, 127
- Walton, Izaak, i. 326 n. 2
- War, telepathy in, i. 126 sqq.
- “War, the sleep of,” ii. 147
- Ward, Professor H. Marshall, ii. 252, 315 n. 1
- Ward, Professor James, i. 423
- Warramunga, the, i. 93, 95, 99
- Wasps in magic, i. 152
- Water sprinkled as rain-charm, i. 248 sqq.;
- serpent or dragon of, ii. 155 sqq.
- —— and Fire, kings of, ii. 3 sqq.
- —— -lilies, charms to make water-lilies grow, i. 95, 97, 98
- —— nymphs, fertilising virtue of, ii. 162
- —— -spirits, propitiation of, ii. 76;
- —— totem, i. 259
- Waterfalls, spirits of, ii. 156, 157
- Wax melted in magic, i. 77
- Wealth acquired by magicians, i. 347, 348, 351, 352
- Weapon and wound, contagious magic of, i. 201 sqq.
- Weaving and twining thread forbidden, i. 131
- Wellhausen, J., i. 303
- Wells cleansed as rain-charm, i. 267;
- Wends, their superstition as to oaks, ii. 55
- Werner, Miss A., ii. 317 n. 1
- Wernicke, quoted, i. 35 sq.
- Wetting people with water as a rain-charm, i. 250, 251, 269 sq., 272, 273, 274, 275, 277 sq., ii. 77
- Whale-fishing, telepathy in, i. 121
- Whirling or turning round, custom of, observed by mummers, i. 273, 275, ii. 74, 80, 81, 87
- Whirlwind, attacking the, i. 329 sqq.
- White bulls sacrificed, ii. 188 sq.
- —— horses, sacred, ii. 174 n. 2
- —— poplar, the, at Olympia, ii. 220
- —— thorn, a charm against witches, ii. 191
- —— victims sacrificed for sunshine, i. 291, 292
- Whitekirk, ii. 161
- Whit-Monday, the king’s game on, ii. 89, 103
- Whitsun-bride in Denmark, ii. 91 sq.
- Whitsunday customs in Russia, ii. 64, 93;
- —— Bride, the, ii. 89, 96
- —— Basket, the, ii. 83
- —— Flower, ii. 80
- —— King, ii. 84, 89, 90
- —— -lout, the, ii. 81
- —— Man, the Little, ii. 81
- —— Queen, ii. 87, 90
- Widow, re-marriage of, in Salic law, ii. 285 sq.
- Wiedemann, A., i. 230 sq.
- 417Wiglet and Feng, ii. 281, 283
- Wilhelmina, a Bohemian woman, worshipped, i. 409
- Wilkinson, R. J., ii. 383 n. 1
- William the Third, i. 369
- Willow tree on St. George’s Day, ii. 76
- Wind, magical control of the, i. 319 sqq.;
- charms to make the wind drop, 320;
- fighting and killing the spirit of the, 327 sqq.
- —— clan, i. 320
- —— of the Cross, i. 325
- —— doctor, i. 321
- Winds tied up in knots, i. 326
- Wine not offered to the sun-god, i. 311
- Wiradjuri tribe, i. 335
- Wissowa, Professor G., i. 22 n. 5, 23 n., ii. 382 n. 1
- Witches raising the wind, i. 322, 326;
- Witches’ sabbath on the Eve of St. George, ii. 335, 338
- Witchetty grubs, ceremony for the multiplication of, i. 85
- “Wives of Marduk,” ii. 130
- Wizards who raise winds, i. 323 sqq.;
- Finnish, 325
- Wolves in relation to horses, i. 27;
- Women, fruitful, supposed to fertilise crops and fruit-trees, i. 140 sq.;
- —— barren, thought to sterilise gardens, i. 142;
- fertilised by trees, ii. 316 sqq.
- Wood, fire kindled by the friction of, ii. 207 sqq., 235 sqq., 243, 248 sqq., 258 sq., 262, 263, 336, 366, 372
- Wood, the King of the, i. 1 sqq.;
- Lord of the, ii. 36
- Woods, species of, used in making fire by friction, ii. 248-252
- Wordsworth, W., i. 104
- Worship of trees, ii. 7 sqq.;
- of the oak, 349 sqq.
- Wotyaks, the, ii. 43, 145, 146
- Wound and weapon, contagious magic of, i. 201 sqq.
- Wyse, Miss A., ii. 88 n. 1
- Wyse, William, i. 101 n. 2, 105 n. 5, ii. 356 n. 3
- Yakuts, the, i. 319
- Yam vines, continence at training, ii. 105 sq.
- Yegory or Yury (St. George), ii. 332, 333
- Yellow birds in magic, i. 79 sq.
- —— colour in magic, i. 79 sqq.
- —— River, girls married to the, ii. 152
- Ynglingar family, ii. 279
- Yorubas, the, i. 364;
- Yucatan, Vestals in, ii. 245 sq.
- Yuracares, the, of Bolivia, ii. 204
- Zela, i. 47
- Zeus, Greek kings called, ii. 177, 361;
- —— and Demeter, their marriage at Eleusis, ii. 138 sq.
- —— and Dione, at Dodona, ii. 189
- —— and Hera, sacred marriage of, ii. 140 sq., 142 sq.
- —— at Dodona, ii. 177;
- priests of, 248
- —— at Panamara in Caria, i. 28
- —— Dictaean, ii. 122
- —— Lightning, i. 33
- —— Lycaeus, i. 309
- —— Panhellenian, ii. 359
- —— Rainy, ii. 376
- —— Showery, ii. 360
- —— the Descender, ii. 361
- Zimmer, H., ii. 286 n. 2
- Zulus, foods tabooed among the, i. 118 sq.
THE END
THE END
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419Works by Sir J. G. FRAZER, D.C.L., LL.D.
419Works by Sir J. G. FRAZER, D.C.L., LL.D.
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1. A. Bastian, Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango-Küste, ii. 230.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Bastian, The German Expedition at the Loango Coast, ii. 230.
2. “Excursion de M. Brun-Rollet dans la région supérieure du Nil,” Bulletin de la Société de Géographie (Paris), IVme Série, iv. (1852) pp. 421-423; ib. viii. (1854) pp. 387 sq.; Brun-Rollet, Le Nil Blanc et le Soudan (Paris, 1855), pp. 227 sqq. As to the rain-making chiefs of this region see above, vol. i. pp. 345 sqq. As to the distress and privations endured by these people in the dry season, see E. de Pruyssenaere, “Reisen und Forschungen im Gebiete des Weissen und Blauen Nil,” Petermann’s Mittheilungen, Ergänzungsheft No. 50 (Gotha, 1877), p. 23.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Mr. Brun-Rollet's Trip in the Upper Nile Region,” Geography Society Bulletin (Paris), 4th Series, iv. (1852) pp. 421-423; ib. viii. (1854) pp. 387 sq.; Brun-Rollet, The White Nile and Sudan (Paris, 1855), pp. 227 sqq.. For information about the rain-making leaders of this area, see above, vol. i. pp. 345 sqq.. Regarding the hardships and suffering faced by these people during the dry season, refer to E. de Pruyssenaere, “Travels and Researches in the Areas of the White and Blue Nile,” Petermann’s Mittheilungen, Supplementary Issue No. 50 (Gotha, 1877), p. 23.
3. W. Munzinger, Ostafrikanische Studien (Schaffhausen, 1864), p. 474.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Munzinger, East African Studies (Schaffhausen, 1864), p. 474.
4. Mgr. Cuénot, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xiii. (1841) p. 143; H. Mouhot, Travels in the Central Parts of Indo-China (London, 1864), ii. 35; A. Bastian, “Beiträge zur Kenntniss der Gebirgsstämme in Kambodia,” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, i. (1866) p. 37; J. Moura, Le Royaume du Cambodge (Paris, 1883), i. 432-436; E. Aymonier, “Notes sur les coutumes et croyances superstitieuses des Cambodgiens,” in Cochinchine Française: Excursions et reconnaissances, No. 16 (Saigon, 1883), pp. 172 sq.; id., Notes sur le Laos (Saigon, 1885), p. 60; Le Capitaine Cupet, “Chez les populations sauvages du Sud de l’Annam,” Tour du monde, No. 1682, April 1, 1893, pp. 193-204; id., in Mission Pavie, Indo-Chine 1879-1895, Géographie et voyages, iii. (Paris, 1900) pp. 297-318; Tournier, Notice sur le Laos Français (Hanoi, 1900), pp. 111 sq.; A. Lavallée, “Notes ethnographiques sur diverses tribus du Sud-Est de l’Inde-Chine,” Bulletin de l’École Française d’Extrême-Orient, i. (Hanoi, 1901) pp. 303 sq. Mgr. Cuénot mentions only the King of Fire. Bastian speaks as if the King of Fire was also the King of Water. Both writers report at second hand.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mgr. Cuénot, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xiii. (1841) p. 143; H. Mouhot, Travels in the Central Parts of Indo-China (London, 1864), ii. 35; A. Bastian, “Beiträge zur Kenntniss der Gebirgsstämme in Kambodia,” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, i. (1866) p. 37; J. Moura, Le Royaume du Cambodge (Paris, 1883), i. 432-436; E. Aymonier, “Notes sur les coutumes et croyances superstitieuses des Cambodgiens,” in Cochinchine Française: Excursions et reconnaissances, No. 16 (Saigon, 1883), pp. 172 sq.; id., Notes sur le Laos (Saigon, 1885), p. 60; Le Capitaine Cupet, “Chez les populations sauvages du Sud de l’Annam,” Tour du monde, No. 1682, April 1, 1893, pp. 193-204; id., in Mission Pavie, Indo-Chine 1879-1895, Géographie et voyages, iii. (Paris, 1900) pp. 297-318; Tournier, Notice sur le Laos Français (Hanoi, 1900), pp. 111 sq.; A. Lavallée, “Notes ethnographiques sur diverses tribus du Sud-Est de l’Inde-Chine,” Bulletin de l’École Française d’Extrême-Orient, i. (Hanoi, 1901) pp. 303 sq. Mgr. Cuénot only mentions the King of Fire. Bastian suggests that the King of Fire is also the King of Water. Both authors are reporting secondhand.
5. Caesar, Bell. Gall. vi. 25.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Caesar, Bell. Gall. VI. 25.
6. Julian, Fragm. 4, ed. Hertlein, pp. 608 sq. On the vast woods of Germany, their coolness and shade, see also Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Julian, Fragm. 4, ed. Hertlein, pp. 608 sq. For the extensive forests of Germany, their coolness and shade, check out Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 5.
7. Ch. Elton, Origins of English History (London, 1882), pp. 3, 106 sq., 224.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ch. Elton, Origins of English History (London, 1882), pp. 3, 106 sq., 224.
8. W. Helbig, Die Italiker in der Poebene (Leipsic, 1879), pp. 25 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Helbig, The Italians in the Po Valley (Leipzig, 1879), pp. 25 sq.
9. H. Nissen, Italische Landeskunde, i. (Berlin, 1883) pp. 431 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Nissen, Italische Landeskunde, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1883) pp. 431 and following.
10. Livy, ix. 36-38. The Ciminian mountains (Monte Cimino) are still clothed with dense woods of majestic oaks and chestnuts. Modern writers suppose that Livy has exaggerated the terrors and difficulties of the forest. See G. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 3rd Ed., i. 146-149.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, ix. 36-38. The Ciminian mountains (Monte Cimino) are still covered with thick woods of impressive oaks and chestnuts. Modern authors believe that Livy may have overstated the fears and challenges of the forest. See G. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 3rd Ed., i. 146-149.
11. C. Neumann und J. Partsch, Physikalische Geographie von Griechenland (Breslau, 1885), pp. 357 sqq. I am told that the dark blue waters of the lake of Pheneus, which still reflected the sombre pine-forests of the surrounding mountains when I travelled in Arcadia in the bright unforgetable autumn days of 1895, have since disappeared, the subterranean chasms which drain this basin having been, whether accidentally or artificially, cleared so as to allow the pent-up waters to escape. The acres which the peasants have thereby added to their fields will hardly console future travellers for the loss of the watery mirror, which was one of the most beautiful, as it was one of the rarest, scenes in the parched land of Greece.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Neumann and J. Partsch, Physical Geography of Greece (Breslau, 1885), pp. 357 sqq. I I’ve heard that the dark blue waters of the lake of Pheneus, which still reflected the gloomy pine forests of the surrounding mountains when I visited Arcadia during the bright, unforgettable autumn days of 1895, have since vanished. The underground chasms that drain this basin have been, whether by accident or intentionally, opened up to let the trapped waters flow away. The acres that the farmers have gained for their fields will hardly make up for the loss of the water surface, which was one of the most beautiful and rare sights in the dry land of Greece.
12. J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th Ed., i. 53 sqq.; O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indo-germanischen Altertumskunde (Strasburg, 1901), s.v. “Tempel,” pp. 855 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, German Mythology, 4th Ed., i. 53 et seq.; O. Schrader, Encyclopedia of Indo-European Antiquity (Strasburg, 1901), s.v. “Temple,” pp. 855 et seq.
13. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 249 sqq.; Maximus Tyrius, Dissert. viii. 8.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 249 sqq.; Maximus Tyrius, Dissert. viii. 8.
14. O. Schrader, op. cit. pp. 857 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. O. Schrader, op. cit. pp. 857 sq.
15. Tacitus, Germania, 9, 39, 40, 43; id., Annals, ii. 12, iv. 73; id., Hist. iv. 14; J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th Ed., pp. 541 sqq.; Bavaria Landes- und Volkeskunde des Königreichs Bayern, iii. 929 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tacitus, Germania, 9, 39, 40, 43; id., Annals, ii. 12, iv. 73; id., Hist. iv. 14; J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th Ed., pp. 541 sqq.; Bavaria Landes- und Volkeskunde des Königreichs Bayern, iii. 929 sq.
16. J. Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer, pp. 519 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus (Berlin, 1875), pp. 26 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, German Legal Antiquities, pp. 519 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult (Berlin, 1875), pp. 26 sqq.
17. Adam of Bremen, Descriptio insularum Aquilonis, 27 (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, vol. cxlvi. col. 644).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Adam of Bremen, Descriptio insularum Aquilonis, 27 (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, vol. 146, col. 644).
18. L. Leger, La Mythologie slave (Paris, 1901), pp. 73-75, 188-190.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Leger, La Mythologie slave (Paris, 1901), pp. 73-75, 188-190.
19. Mathias Michov, “De Sarmatia Asiana atque Europea,” in Simon Grynaeus’s Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum (Paris, 1532), pp. 455 sq. [wrongly numbered 445, 446]; Martin Cromer, De origine et rebus gestis Polonorum (Basel, 1568), p. 241; Fabricius, Livonicae historiae compendiosa series (Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, ii. (Riga and Leipsic, 1848) p. 441).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mathias Michov, “On Asian and European Sarmatia,” in Simon Grynaeus’s New World of Regions and Islands Not Known to Ancients (Paris, 1532), pp. 455 sq. [incorrectly numbered 445, 446]; Martin Cromer, On the Origin and Deeds of the Poles (Basel, 1568), p. 241; Fabricius, A Brief History of Livonia (Writers of Livonian Affairs, ii. (Riga and Leipsic, 1848) p. 441).
20. See C. Bötticher, Der Baumkultus der Hellenen (Berlin, 1856); L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd. Ed., i. 105-114.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See C. Bötticher, The Tree Cult of the Greeks (Berlin, 1856); L. Preller, Roman Mythology, 3rd Ed., i. 105-114.
21. The Classical Review, xix. (1905) p. 331, referring to an inscription found in Cos some years ago.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Classical Review, xix. (1905) p. 331, referring to an inscription found in Cos some years ago.
22. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xv. 77; Tacitus, Ann. xiii. 58. The fig-tree is represented on Roman coins and on the great marble reliefs which stand in the Forum. See E. Babelon, Monnaies de la République romaine, ii. 336 sq.; R. Lanciani, Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome (London, 1897), p. 258; E. Petersen, Vom alten Rom (Leipsic, 1900), pp. 26, 27.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. xv. 77; Tacitus, Ann. xiii. 58. The fig tree is shown on Roman coins and on the large marble reliefs that are found in the Forum. See E. Babelon, Monnaies de la République romaine, ii. 336 sq.; R. Lanciani, Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome (London, 1897), p. 258; E. Petersen, Vom alten Rom (Leipsic, 1900), pp. 26, 27.
23. Plutarch, Romulus, 20.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Plutarch, Romulus, 20.
24. K. Rhamm, “Der heidnische Gottesdienst des finnischen Stammes,” Globus, lxvii. (1895) pp. 343, 348. This article is an abstract of a Finnish book Suomen suvun pakanillinen jumalen palvelus, by J. Krohn (Helsingfors, 1894).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.K. Rhamm, “The Pagan Worship of the Finnish Tribe,” Globus, lxvii. (1895) pp. 343, 348. This article is a summary of a Finnish book The Pagan Worship of the Finnish Clan, by J. Krohn (Helsinki, 1894).
25. “Heilige Haine und Bäume der Finnen,” Globus, lix. (1891) pp. 350 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Sacred groves and trees of the Finns,” Globus, lix. (1891) pp. 350 sq.
26. P. S. Pallas, Reise durch verschiedene Provinzen des russischen Reichs (St. Petersburg, 1771-1776), iii. 60 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. S. Pallas, Journey Through Various Provinces of the Russian Empire (St. Petersburg, 1771-1776), iii. 60 sq.
27. Porphyry, De abstinentia, i. 6. This was an opinion of the Stoic and Peripatetic philosophy.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Porphyry, De abstinentia, i. 6. This was a viewpoint from Stoic and Peripatetic philosophy.
28. Washington Matthews, Ethnography and Philology of the Hidatsa Indians (Washington, 1877), pp. 48 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Washington Matthews, Ethnography and Philology of the Hidatsa Indians (Washington, 1877), pp. 48 sq.
29. L. H. Morgan, League of the Iroquois (Rochester, 1851), pp. 162, 164.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. H. Morgan, League of the Iroquois (Rochester, 1851), pp. 162, 164.
30. J. L. Krapf, Travels, Researches, and Missionary Labours during an Eighteen Years’ Residence in Eastern Africa (London, 1860), p. 198.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. L. Krapf, Travels, Researches, and Missionary Labours during an Eighteen-Year Stay in Eastern Africa (London, 1860), p. 198.
31. Rev. Lorimer Fison, in a letter to the author dated November 3, 1898.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. Lorimer Fison, in a letter to the author dated November 3, 1898.
32. J. Teit, “The Thompson Indians of British Columbia,” p. 349 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. i. part iv.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Teit, “The Thompson Indians of British Columbia,” p. 349 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. i. part iv.).
33. C. Hupe, “Over de godsdienst, zeden enz. der Dajakkers,” Tijdschrift voor Neêrlands Indië, 1846 (Batavia), dl. iii. p. 158.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Hupe, “On the Religion, Customs, etc. of the Dajaks,” Journal of Dutch India, 1846 (Batavia), vol. iii, p. 158.
34. De la Loubere, Du royaume de Siam (Amsterdam, 1691), i. 382. Compare Mgr. Bruguière, in Annales de l’Association de la Propagation de la Foi, v. (1831) p. 127.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.De la Loubere, Of the Kingdom of Siam (Amsterdam, 1691), p. 382. Compare Mgr. Bruguière, in Annals of the Association for the Propagation of the Faith, vol. (1831) p. 127.
35. The Buddhist conception of trees as animated often comes out in the Jatakas. For examples see H. Oldenberg, Die Religion des Veda, pp. 259 sqq.; The Jātaka, bk. xii. No. 465, vol. iv. pp. 96 sqq. (English translation edited by E. B. Cowell).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Buddhist idea of trees as living beings is often expressed in the Jatakas. For examples, see H. Oldenberg, Die Religion des Veda, pp. 259 sqq.; The Jātaka, bk. xii. No. 465, vol. iv. pp. 96 sqq. (English translation edited by E. B. Cowell).
36. J. J. M. de Groot, The Religious System of China, iv. (Leyden, 1901) pp. 272 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. J. M. de Groot, The Religious System of China, iv. (Leyden, 1901) pp. 272 sqq.
37. J. J. M. de Groot, The Religious System of China, v. (Leyden, 1907) p. 663.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. J. M. de Groot, The Religious System of China, v. (Leyden, 1907) p. 663.
38. F. S. Krauss, Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Südslaven (Münster i. W., 1890), p. 33.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. Krauss, Popular Beliefs and Religious Customs of the South Slavs (Münster, 1890), p. 33.
39. A. B. Ellis, The Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast (London, 1890), pp. 49 sqq. Compare id., The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast (London, 1887), pp. 34 sqq.; Missions Catholiques, ix. (1877) p. 71.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. B. Ellis, The Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast (London, 1890), pp. 49 sqq. Compare id., The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast (London, 1887), pp. 34 sqq.; Missions Catholiques, ix. (1877) p. 71.
40. G. Maspero, Histoire ancienne des peuples de l’Orient classique: les origines (Paris, 1895), pp. 121 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Maspero, Ancient History of the Classical Eastern Peoples: The Origins (Paris, 1895), pp. 121 sq.
41. Merolla, “Voyage to Congo,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, xvi. 236.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Merolla, “Voyage to Congo,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, xvi. 236.
42. C. C. von der Decken, Reisen in Ost-Afrika (Leipsic and Heidelberg, 1869-1871), i. 216. The writer does not describe the mode of appeasing the tree-spirit in the case mentioned. As to the Wanika beliefs, see above, p. 12.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. C. von der Decken, Traveling in East Africa (Leipzig and Heidelberg, 1869-1871), i. 216. The author doesn't explain how to appease the tree spirit in the mentioned case. For the Wanika beliefs, see above, p. 12.
43. Sir Harry Johnston, The Uganda Protectorate (London, 1902), ii. 832.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir Harry Johnston, The Uganda Protectorate (London, 1902), ii. 832.
44. J. B. L. Durand, Voyage au Sénégal (Paris, 1802), p. 119.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. B. L. Durand, Voyage to Senegal (Paris, 1802), p. 119.
45. S. J. Curtiss, Primitive Semitic Religion To-day (Chicago, 1902), p. 94.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.S. J. Curtiss, Primitive Semitic Religion Today (Chicago, 1902), p. 94.
46. A. d’Orbigny, Voyage dans l’Amérique Méridionale (Paris and Strasburg, 1839-1843), ii. 157, 159 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. d’Orbigny, Voyage dans l’Amérique Méridionale (Paris and Strasburg, 1839-1843), ii. 157, 159 sq.
47. A. W. Nieuwenhuis, In Centraal-Borneo (Leyden, 1900), i. 146.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. W. Nieuwenhuis, In Central Borneo (Leyden, 1900), i. 146.
48. H. H. Romilly, From my Verandah in New Guinea (London, 1889), p. 86.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. H. Romilly, From my Verandah in New Guinea (London, 1889), p. 86.
49. D. C. J. Ibbetson, Outlines of Panjab Ethnography (Calcutta, 1883), p. 120.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.D. C. J. Ibbetson, Outlines of Panjab Ethnography (Calcutta, 1883), p. 120.
50. W. von Schulenberg, “Volkskundliche Mittheilungen aus der Mark,” Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte (1896), p. 189. Compare A. Kuhn und W. Schwartz, Nord-deutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche, p. 407, § 142; E. Meier, Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Schwaben, p. 463, § 208; A. Kuhn, Sagen, Gebräuche und Märchen aus Westfalen, ii. pp. 108 sq., §§ 326, 327, p. 116, §§ 356, 358; A. Birlinger, Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, i. pp. 464 sq., § 6; K. Bartsch, Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Meklenburg, ii. 228 sq.; W. Kolbe, Hessische Volks-Sitten und Gebräuche, 2nd Ed., p. 29; R. Andree, Braunschweiger Volkskunde (Brunswick, 1896), p. 234; R. Wuttke, Sächsische Volkskunde 2nd Ed., (Dresden, 1901), p. 370. The custom has been discussed by U. Jahn, Die deutschen Opfergebräuche bei Ackerbau und Viehzucht (Breslau, 1884), pp. 214-220. He comes to the conclusion, which I cannot but regard as erroneous, that the custom was in origin a rational precaution to keep the caterpillars from the trees. Compare the marriage of trees, below, pp. 24 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. von Schulenberg, “Folklore Communications from the Mark,” Proceedings of the Berlin Society for Anthropology, Ethnology and Prehistory (1896), p. 189. Compare A. Kuhn and W. Schwartz, Northern German Legends, Tales, and Customs, p. 407, § 142; E. Meier, German Legends, Customs, and Traditions from Swabia, p. 463, § 208; A. Kuhn, Legends, Customs, and Tales from Westphalia, ii. pp. 108 sq., §§ 326, 327, p. 116, §§ 356, 358; A. Birlinger, Folklore from Swabia, i. pp. 464 sq., § 6; K. Bartsch, Legends, Tales, and Customs from Mecklenburg, ii. 228 sq.; W. Kolbe, Hessian Folk Customs, 2nd Ed., p. 29; R. Andree, Brunswick Folklore (Brunswick, 1896), p. 234; R. Wuttke, Saxon Folklore 2nd Ed., (Dresden, 1901), p. 370. The custom has been discussed by U. Jahn, The German Offering Customs in Agriculture and Animal Husbandry (Breslau, 1884), pp. 214-220. He concludes, which I can only view as incorrect, that the custom originally served as a rational measure to prevent caterpillars from attacking the trees. Compare the marriage of trees, below, pp. 24 sqq.
51. J. Aubrey, Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme (London, 1881), p. 247.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Aubrey, Remains of Gentilism and Judaism (London, 1881), p. 247.
52. Peter Jones, History of the Ojebway Indians, p. 104.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Peter Jones, History of the Ojebway Indians, p. 104.
53. J. J. M. de Groot, Religious System of China, iv. 274.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. J. M. de Groot, Religious System of China, iv. 274.
54. A. Peter, Volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-Schlesien (Troppau, 1865-67), ii. 30.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Peter, Popular Traditions from Austrian Silesia (Troppau, 1865-67), ii. 30.
55. P. Wagler, Die Eiche in alter und neuer Zeit, ii. (Berlin, 1891) p. 56 note 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Wagler, The Oak in Ancient and Modern Times, ii. (Berlin, 1891) p. 56 note 1.
56. A. Bastian, Indonesien, i. 154; compare id., Die Völker des östlichen Asien, ii. 457 sq., iii. 251 sq., iv. 42 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Bastian, Indonesia, p. 154; compare id., The Peoples of Eastern Asia, vol. II, p. 457 and following, vol. III, p. 251 and following, vol. IV, p. 42 and following.
57. J. de los Reyes y Florentino, “Die religiosen Anschauungen der Ilocanen (Luzon),” Mittheilungen der k. k. Geograph. Gesellschaft in Wien, xxxi. (1888) p. 556.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. de los Reyes y Florentino, “The Religious Beliefs of the Ilocanos (Luzon),” Communications of the Imperial and Royal Geographical Society in Vienna, xxxi. (1888) p. 556.
58. F. Gardner, “Philippine (Tagalog) Superstitions,” Journal of American Folk-lore, xix. (1906) p. 191. These superstitions are translated from an old and rare work La Pratica del ministerio, by Padre Tomas Ortiz (Manila, 1713).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Gardner, “Philippine (Tagalog) Superstitions,” Journal of American Folk-lore, xix. (1906) p. 191. These superstitions are translated from an old and rare work La Pratica del ministerio, by Padre Tomas Ortiz (Manila, 1713).
59. Th. Nöldeke, “Tigre-Texte,” Zeitschrift für Assyriologie, xxiv. (1910) p. 298, referring to E. Littmann, Publications of the Princeton Expedition to Abyssinia (Leyden, 1910).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Th. Nöldeke, “Tigre Texts,” Journal of Assyriology, vol. xxiv. (1910) p. 298, referencing E. Littmann, Publications of the Princeton Expedition to Abyssinia (Leyden, 1910).
60. J. Spieth, Die Ewe-Stämme (Berlin, 1906), pp. 394-396.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Spieth, The Ewe Tribes (Berlin, 1906), pp. 394-396.
61. J. H. Neumann, “De tĕndi in verband met Si Dajang,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xlviii. (1904) pp. 124 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. H. Neumann, “On tĕndi related to Si Dajang,” Communications from the Dutch Missionary Society, xlviii. (1904) pp. 124 sq.
62. From a letter of the Rev. J. Roscoe, written in Busoga, 21st May, 1908.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.From a letter by Rev. J. Roscoe, written in Busoga, May 21, 1908.
63. Satapatha-Brâhmana, translated by J. Eggeling, Part II. pp. 165 sq. (Sacred Books of the East, vol. xxvi.); H. Oldenberg, Die Religion des Veda, pp. 256 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Satapatha-Brâhmana, translated by J. Eggeling, Part II. pp. 165 sq. (Sacred Books of the East, vol. xxvi.); H. Oldenberg, Die Religion des Veda, pp. 256 sq.
64. De la Loubere, Du royaume de Siam (Amsterdam, 1691), i. 383.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.De la Loubere, The Kingdom of Siam (Amsterdam, 1691), i. 383.
65. G. Turner, Samoa, p. 63.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. G. Turner, Samoa, p. 63.
66. I. v. Zingerle, “Der heilige Baum bei Nauders,” Zeitschrift für deutsche Mythologie und Sittenkunde, iv. (1859), pp. 33 sqq. According to Lucan (Pharsal. iii. 429-431), the soldiers whom Caesar ordered to cut down the sacred oak-grove of the Druids at Marseilles believed that the axes would rebound from the trees and wound themselves.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.I. v. Zingerle, “The Sacred Tree at Nauders,” Journal of German Mythology and Customs, iv. (1859), pp. 33 and following. According to Lucan (Pharsal. iii. 429-431), the soldiers that Caesar ordered to chop down the sacred oak grove of the Druids at Marseilles thought that the axes would bounce back from the trees and injure themselves.
67. W. W. Skeat, Malay Magic, pp. 198 sq. As to the durian-tree and its fruit, see A. R. Wallace, The Malay Archipelago 6th Ed., (London, 1877), pp. 74 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. W. Skeat, Malay Magic, pp. 198 sq. For information about the durian tree and its fruit, refer to A. R. Wallace, The Malay Archipelago 6th Ed., (London, 1877), pp. 74 sqq.
68. W. G. Aston, Shinto (London, 1905), p. 165.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. G. Aston, Shinto (London, 1905), p. 165.
69. F. S. Krauss, Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Südslaven, p. 34; A. Strausz, Die Bulgaren (Leipsic, 1898), p. 352. Compare R. F. Kaindl, “Aus der Volksüberlieferung der Bojken,” Globus, lxxix. (1901) p. 152.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. Krauss, Popular Beliefs and Religious Customs of the South Slavs, p. 34; A. Strausz, The Bulgarians (Leipzig, 1898), p. 352. Compare R. F. Kaindl, “From the Folk Tradition of the Bojkins,” Globus, lxxix. (1901) p. 152.
70. G. Pitrè, Spettacoli e feste popolari (Palermo, 1881), p. 221; id., Usi e costumi, credenze e pregiudizi del popolo siciliano, iii. (Palermo, 1889) p. 111; G. Vuillier, “Chez les magiciens et les sorciers de la Corrèze,” Tour du monde, N.S. v. (1899) p. 512.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Pitrè, Spettacoli e feste popolari (Palermo, 1881), p. 221; id., Usi e costumi, credenze e pregiudizi del popolo siciliano, iii. (Palermo, 1889) p. 111; G. Vuillier, “Chez les magiciens et les sorciers de la Corrèze,” Tour du monde, N.S. v. (1899) p. 512.
71. M. Tchéraz, “Notes sur la mythologie Arménienne,” Transactions of the Ninth International Congress of Orientalists (London, 1893), ii. 827. Compare M. Abeghian, Der armenische Volksglaube (Leipsic, 1899), p. 60.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. Tchéraz, “Notes on Armenian Mythology,” Transactions of the Ninth International Congress of Orientalists (London, 1893), ii. 827. Compare M. Abeghian, The Armenian Folk Belief (Leipzig, 1899), p. 60.
72. G. Finamore, Credenze, usi, e costumi abruzzesi (Palermo, 1890), pp. 162 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Finamore, Beliefs, Customs, and Traditions of Abruzzo (Palermo, 1890), pp. 162 sq.
73. Georgeakis et Pineau, Folk-lore de Lesbos (Paris, 1894), p. 354.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Georgeakis and Pineau, Folk-lore of Lesbos (Paris, 1894), p. 354.
74. Boecler-Kreutzwald, Der Ehsten abergläubische Gebräuche, Weisen und Gewohnheiten (St. Petersburg, 1854), p. 134.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Boecler-Kreutzwald, The Most Superstitious Customs, Practices, and Habits (St. Petersburg, 1854), p. 134.
75. M. J. van Baarda, “Fabelen, Verhalen, en Overleveringen der Galelareezen,” Bijdragen tot de Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië, xlv. (1895) p. 511.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. J. van Baarda, “Fables, Stories, and Traditions of the Galelareez,” Contributions to the Language, Geography, and Anthropology of the Dutch East Indies, xlv. (1895) p. 511.
76. A. G. Vorderman, “Planten-animisme op Java,” Teysmannia, No. 2, 1896, pp. 59 sq.; Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, ix. (1896) p. 175.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. G. Vorderman, “Plant Animism in Java,” Teysmannia, No. 2, 1896, pp. 59 sq.; International Archives for Ethnography, ix. (1896) p. 175.
77. A. G. Vorderman, op. cit. p. 60; Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, ix. (1896) p. 176.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. G. Vorderman, op. cit. p. 60; Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, ix. (1896) p. 176.
78. A. G. Vorderman, op. cit. pp. 61-63.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. A. G. Vorderman, same source. pp. 61-63.
79. A. de Humboldt, Voyage aux régions équinoxiales du Nouveau Continent, ii. (Paris, 1819) pp. 369 sq., 429 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. de Humboldt, Voyage to the Equatorial Regions of the New Continent, ii. (Paris, 1819) pp. 369 sq., 429 sq.
80. Elsdon Best, “Maori Nomenclature,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) p. 197.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Elson Best, “Māori Names,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, XXXII. (1902) p. 197.
81. Herodotus, i. 193; Theophrastus, Historia plantarum, ii. 8. 4; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xiii. 31, 34 sq. In this passage Pliny states that naturalists distinguished the sexes of all trees and plants. On Assyrian monuments a winged figure is often represented holding an object which looks like a pine-cone to a palm-tree. The scene has been ingeniously and with great probability explained by Professor E. B. Tylor as the artificial fertilisation of the date-palm by means of the male inflorescence. See his paper in Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology, xii. (1890) pp. 383-393. On the artificial fertilisation of the date-palm, see C. Ritter, Vergleichende Erdkunde von Arabien (Berlin, 1847), ii. 811, 827 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Herodotus, i. 193; Theophrastus, Historia plantarum, ii. 8. 4; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xiii. 31, 34 sq. In this passage, Pliny states that naturalists recognized the male and female of all trees and plants. On Assyrian monuments, a winged figure is often shown holding an object that resembles a pine cone next to a palm tree. This scene has been cleverly and convincingly interpreted by Professor E. B. Tylor as the artificial fertilization of the date palm using the male flowers. See his paper in Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology, xii. (1890) pp. 383-393. For more on the artificial fertilization of the date palm, refer to C. Ritter, Vergleichende Erdkunde von Arabien (Berlin, 1847), ii. 811, 827 sq.
82. D. Chwolsohn, Die Ssabier und der Ssabismus (St. Petersburg, 1856), ii. 36, 251. Mohammed forbade the artificial fertilisation of the palm, probably because of the superstitions attaching to the ceremony. But he had to acknowledge his mistake. See D. S. Margoliouth, Mohammed and the Rise of Islam, p. 230 (a passage pointed out to me by Dr. A. W. Verrall).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.D. Chwolsohn, Die Ssabier und der Ssabismus (St. Petersburg, 1856), ii. 36, 251. Mohammed prohibited the artificial fertilization of the palm, likely due to the superstitions surrounding the process. However, he eventually had to admit he was wrong. See D. S. Margoliouth, Mohammed and the Rise of Islam, p. 230 (a passage pointed out to me by Dr. A. W. Verrall).
83. Sir W. H. Sleeman, Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official (Westminster, 1893), i. 38 sq.; compare Census of India, 1901, vol. xiii., Central Provinces, part i. p. 92.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir W. H. Sleeman, Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official (Westminster, 1893), i. 38 sq.; compare Census of India, 1901, vol. xiii., Central Provinces, part i. p. 92.
84. Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxxii., part iii. (Calcutta, 1904) p. 42.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxxii., part iii. (Calcutta, 1904) p. 42.
85. J. A. Dubois, Mœurs, institutions et cérémonies des peuples de l’Inde (Paris, 1825), ii. 448 sq.; Monier Williams, Religious Life and Thought in India, pp. 333-335; W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folklore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 110 sq. According to another account, it is Vishnu, not Krishna, to whom the holy plant is annually married in every pious Hindoo family. See Census of India, 1901, vol. xviii., Baroda, p. 125.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. A. Dubois, Customs, Institutions, and Ceremonies of the Peoples of India (Paris, 1825), ii. 448 sq.; Monier Williams, Religious Life and Thought in India, pp. 333-335; W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folklore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 110 sq. According to another account, it is Vishnu, not Krishna, to whom the sacred plant is married each year in every devout Hindu family. See Census of India, 1901, vol. xviii., Baroda, p. 125.
86. Sir Henry M. Elliot, Memoirs on the History, Folklore, and Distribution of the Races of the North-western Provinces of India, edited by J. Beames (London, 1869), i. 233 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir Henry M. Elliot, Memoirs on the History, Folklore, and Distribution of the Races of the North-western Provinces of India, edited by J. Beames (London, 1869), i. 233 sq.
87. W. Crooke, op. cit. i. 49.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Crooke, cited work i. 49.
88. Sir W. H. Sleeman, Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official (Westminster, 1893), i. 147-149, 175. The Salagrama is commonly perforated in one or more places by worms or, as the Hindoos believe, by the legendary insect Vajrakita or by Vishnu himself. The value of the fossil shell depends on its colour, and the number of its convolutions and holes. The black are prized as gracious embodiments of Vishnu; the violet are shunned as dangerous avatars of the god. He who possesses a black Salagrama keeps it wrapped in white linen, washes and adores it daily. A draught of the water in which the shell has been washed is supposed to purge away all sin and to secure the temporal and eternal welfare of the drinker. These fossils are found in Nepaul, in the upper course of the river Gandaka, a northern tributary of the Ganges. Hence the district goes by the name of Salagrami, and is highly esteemed for its sanctity; a visit to it confers great merit on a man. See Sonnerat, Voyage aux Indes Orientales et à la Chine (Paris, 1782), i. 173 sq.; J. A. Dubois, Mœurs, institutions et cérémonies des peuples de l’Indie (Paris, 1825), ii. 446-448; Sir W. H. Sleeman, op. cit. i. 148 sq., with the editor’s notes; Monier Williams, Religious Thought and Life in India, pp. 69 sq.; G. Watt, Dictionary of the Economic Products of India, vi. Part II. (London and Calcutta, 1893) p. 384; W. Crooke, op. cit. ii. 164 sq.; Indian Antiquary, xxv. (1896) p. 146; G. Oppert, On the Original Inhabitants of Bharatavarsa or India (Westminster and Leipsic, 1893), pp. 337-359; id., “Note sur les Sālagrāmas,” Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (Paris, 1900), pp. 472-485. The shell derives its name of ammonite from its resemblance to a ram’s horn, recalling the ram-god Ammon.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir W. H. Sleeman, Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official (Westminster, 1893), i. 147-149, 175. The Salagrama is often perforated in one or more places by worms or, as the Hindus believe, by the mythical insect Vajrakita or by Vishnu himself. The value of the fossil shell depends on its color, as well as the number of its spirals and holes. The black ones are valued as gracious representations of Vishnu; the violet ones are avoided as dangerous forms of the god. Anyone who owns a black Salagrama keeps it wrapped in white linen, washes it, and worships it daily. Drinking the water in which the shell has been washed is believed to cleanse all sins and ensure the drinker's worldly and spiritual well-being. These fossils are found in Nepal, in the upper part of the Gandaka river, which is a northern tributary of the Ganges. Thus, the area is known as Salagrami and is highly regarded for its holiness; visiting it brings great merit to a person. See Sonnerat, Voyage aux Indes Orientales et à la Chine (Paris, 1782), i. 173 sq.; J. A. Dubois, Mœurs, institutions et cérémonies des peuples de l’Indie (Paris, 1825), ii. 446-448; Sir W. H. Sleeman, op. cit. i. 148 sq., with the editor’s notes; Monier Williams, Religious Thought and Life in India, pp. 69 sq.; G. Watt, Dictionary of the Economic Products of India, vi. Part II. (London and Calcutta, 1893) p. 384; W. Crooke, op. cit. ii. 164 sq.; Indian Antiquary, xxv. (1896) p. 146; G. Oppert, On the Original Inhabitants of Bharatavarsa or India (Westminster and Leipsic, 1893), pp. 337-359; id., “Note sur les Sālagrāmas,” Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (Paris, 1900), pp. 472-485. The shell gets its name ammonite from its resemblance to a ram’s horn, evoking the ram-god Ammon.
89. Die gestriegelte Rockenphilosophie (Chemnitz, 1759), pp. 239 sq.; U. Jahn, Die deutschen Opfergebräuche bei Ackerbau und Viehzucht, pp. 214 sqq. See above, p. 17.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Groomed Rock Philosophy (Chemnitz, 1759), pp. 239 sq.; U. Jahn, The German Sacrificial Practices in Agriculture and Livestock, pp. 214 sqq. See above, p. 17.
90. Van Schmid, “Aanteekeningen nopens de zeden, gewoonten en gebruiken, etc., der bevolking van de eilanden Saparoea, etc.” Tijdschrift voor Neêrlands Indië, 1843 (Batavia), dl. ii. p. 605; A. Bastian, Indonesien, i. 156.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Van Schmid, “Notes on the customs, habits, and practices, etc., of the inhabitants of the Saparua Islands, etc.” Journal of the Netherlands Indies, 1843 (Batavia), vol. ii, p. 605; A. Bastian, Indonesia, i. 156.
91. G. W. W. C. Baron van Hoëvell, Ambon en meer bepaaldelijk de Oeliasers (Dordrecht, 1875), p. 62.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. W. W. C. Baron van Hoëvell, Ambon and specifically the Oeliasers (Dordrecht, 1875), p. 62.
92. G. A. Wilken, “Het animisme bij de volken van het Indischen archipel,” De Indische Gids, June 1884, p. 958; id., Handleiding voor de vergelijkende Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch Indië (Leyden, 1893), pp. 549 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. A. Wilken, “Animism Among the Peoples of the Indonesian Archipelago,” The Indonesian Guide, June 1884, p. 958; id., Guide to Comparative Ethnology of Dutch India (Leiden, 1893), pp. 549 sq.
93. E. L. M. Kühr, “Schetsen uit Borneo’s Westerafdeeling,” Bijdragen tot de Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië, xlvii. (1897) pp. 58 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. L. M. Kühr, “Sketches from Borneo’s Western Division,” Contributions to the Language, Geography, and Ethnology of the Netherlands Indies, xlvii. (1897) pp. 58 sq.
94. A. C. Kruijt, “Eenige ethnografische aanteekeningen omtrent de Toboengkoe en de Tomori,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xliv. (1900) p. 221.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “Some Ethnographic Notes on the Toboengkoe and the Tomori,” Communications from the Dutch Missionary Society, xliv. (1900) p. 221.
95. D. Grangeon, “Les Cham et leur superstitions,” Missions Catholiques, xxviii. (1896) p. 83.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.D. Grangeon, “The Cham and Their Superstitions,” Catholic Missions, xxviii. (1896) p. 83.
96. Indian Antiquary, i. (1872) p. 170.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Indian Antiquary, i. (1872) p. 170.
97. A. C. Kruijt, “Een en ander aangaande het geestelijk en maatschappelijk leven van den Poso-Alfoer,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xxxix. (1895) pp. 22, 138.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “Some Thoughts on the Spiritual and Social Life of the Poso-Alfoer,” Reports from the Dutch Missionary Society, xxxix. (1895) pp. 22, 138.
98. Id., “Eenige ethnografische aanteekeningen omtrent de Toboengkoe en Tomori,” ib., xliv. (1900) p. 227.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Id., “Some ethnographic notes about the Toboengkoe and Tomori,” ib., xliv. (1900) p. 227.
99. C. Snouck Hurgronje, Het Gajōland en zijne Bewoners (Batavia, 1903), pp. 344, 345.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Snouck Hurgronje, The Gajōland and its Inhabitants (Batavia, 1903), pp. 344, 345.
100. S. Gason, “The Dieyerie Tribe,” Native Tribes of South Australia, p. 280; A. W. Howitt, “The Dieri and other kindred Tribes of Central Australia,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xx. (1891) p. 89.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.S. Gason, “The Dieyerie Tribe,” Native Tribes of South Australia, p. 280; A. W. Howitt, “The Dieri and other related Tribes of Central Australia,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xx. (1891) p. 89.
101. F. Blumentritt, “Der Ahnencultus und die religiöse Anschauungen der Malaien des Philippinen-Archipels,” Mittheilungen der Wiener Geogr. Gesellschaft (1882), pp. 159 sq.; id., Versuch einer Ethnographie der Philippinen (Gotha, 1882), pp. 13, 29 (Petermann’s Mittheilungen, Ergänzungsheft, No. 67); J. Mallat, Les Philippines (Paris, 1846), i. 63 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Blumentritt, “The Ancestor Cult and the Religious Views of the Malays of the Philippine Archipelago,” Bulletin of the Vienna Geographical Society (1882), pp. 159 et seq.; id., An Attempt at an Ethnography of the Philippines (Gotha, 1882), pp. 13, 29 (Petermann’s Communications, Supplement Issue, No. 67); J. Mallat, The Philippines (Paris, 1846), i. 63 et seq.
102. A. Schadenberg, “Beiträge zur Kenntnis der im Innern Nordluzons lebenden Stämme,” Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte (1888), p. 40.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Schadenberg, “Contributions to the Knowledge of the Tribes Living in the Interior of North Luzon,” Proceedings of the Berlin Society for Anthropology, Ethnology and Prehistory (1888), p. 40.
103. F. Grabowsky, “Der Tod, etc., bei den Dajaken,” Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, ii. (1889) p. 181.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Grabowsky, “Death, etc., among the Dayaks,” International Archive of Ethnography, ii. (1889) p. 181.
104. H. Low, Sarawak (London, 1848), p. 264.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Low, Sarawak (London, 1848), p. 264.
105. Mrs. Bishop, Korea and her Neighbours (London, 1898), i. 106 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mrs. Bishop, Korea and her Neighbours (London, 1898), p. 106 and following
106. J. J. M. de Groot, Religious System of China, ii. 462 sqq., iv. 277 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. J. M. de Groot, Religious System of China, ii. 462 sqq., iv. 277 sq.
107. La Mission lyonnaise d’exploration commerciale en Chine 1895-1897 (Lyons, 1898), p. 361.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Lyon Mission for Commercial Exploration in China 1895-1897 (Lyon, 1898), p. 361.
108. “Der Muata Cazembe und die Völkerstämme der Maravis, Chevas, Muembas, Lundas und andere von Süd-Afrika,” Zeitschrift für allgemeine Erdkunde, vi. (1856) p. 273.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“The Muata Cazembe and the tribes of the Maravis, Chevas, Muembas, Lundas, and others from South Africa,” Journal of General Geography, vi. (1856) p. 273.
109. Major A. G. Leonard, The Lower Niger and its Tribes (London, 1906), pp. 298 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Major A. G. Leonard, The Lower Niger and its Tribes (London, 1906), pp. 298 sqq.
110. Ch. Partridge, Cross River Natives (London, 1905), pp. 272 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ch. Partridge, Cross River Natives (London, 1905), pp. 272 sq.
111. Ch. Partridge, op. cit. pp. 5, 194, 205 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ch. Partridge, op. cit. pp. 5, 194, 205 sq.
112. F. S. A. de Clercq, “De Westen Noordkust van Nederlandsch Nieuw-Guinea,” Tijdschrift van het kon. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, Tweede Serie, x. (1893) p. 199.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. A. de Clercq, “The West North Coast of Dutch New Guinea,” Journal of the Royal Dutch Geographical Society, Second Series, x. (1893) p. 199.
113. “Shamanism in Siberia and European Russia,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxiv. (1895) p. 136.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Shamanism in Siberia and European Russia,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxiv. (1895) p. 136.
114. Fr. Boas, in Sixth Report on the North-Western Tribes of Canada, p. 28 (separate reprint from the Report of the British Association for 1890).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Fr. Boas, in Sixth Report on the North-Western Tribes of Canada, p. 28 (separate reprint from the Report of the British Association for 1890).
115. F. S. Krauss, Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Südslaven, p. 36.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. Krauss, Popular Beliefs and Religious Customs of the South Slavs, p. 36.
116. F. S. Krauss, loc. cit.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. F. S. Krauss, here cited
117. Aeneid, iii. 22 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Aeneid, iii. 22 etc.
118. Philostratus, Imagines, ii. 29.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Philostratus, Imagines, ii. 29.
119. A. Landes, “Contes et légendes annamites,” No. 9, in Cochinchine française: excursions et reconnaissances, No. 20 (Saigon, 1885), p. 310.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Landes, “Tales and Legends of Annam,” No. 9, in French Cochinchina: Excursions and Reconnaissances, No. 20 (Saigon, 1885), p. 310.
120. A. B. Ellis, The Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast of West Africa, pp. 134-136.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. B. Ellis, The Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast of West Africa, pp. 134-136.
121. B. C. A. J. van Dinter, “Eenige geographische en ethnographische aanteekeningen betreffende het eiland Siaoe,” Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde, xli. (1899) pp. 379 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.B. C. A. J. van Dinter, “Some Geographic and Ethnographic Notes about the Island of Siaoe,” Journal of Indian Language, Geography, and Ethnography, xli. (1899) pp. 379 sq.
122. E. Modigliani, Un Viaggio a Nías (Milan, 1890), p. 629.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Modigliani, A Trip to Nías (Milan, 1890), p. 629.
123. O. Baumann, Usambara und seine Nachbargebiete (Berlin, 1891), pp. 57 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.O. Baumann, Usambara and Its Neighboring Areas (Berlin, 1891), pp. 57 sq.
124. Spencer and Gillen, Northern Tribes of Central Australia, pp. 162, 330 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Spencer and Gillen, Northern Tribes of Central Australia, pp. 162, 330 sq.
125. Ph. Paulitschke, Ethnographie Nordost-Afrikas: Die geistige Cultur der Danâkil, Galla und Somâl (Berlin, 1896), pp. 34 sq. On the Galla worship of trees, see further Mgr. Massaja, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xxx. (1858) p. 50; Coulbeaux, “Au pays de Menelik,” Missions Catholiques, xxx. (1898) p. 418.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ph. Paulitschke, Ethnography of Northeast Africa: The Spiritual Culture of the Danâkil, Galla, and Somali (Berlin, 1896), pp. 34 sq. For more on the Galla tree worship, see Mgr. Massaja in Annals of the Propagation of the Faith, xxx. (1858) p. 50; Coulbeaux, “In the Land of Menelik,” Catholic Missions, xxx. (1898) p. 418.
126. J. Kubary, “Die Religion der Pelauer,” in A. Bastian’s Allerlei aus Volks- und Menschenkunde, i. 52; id., Beiträge zur Kenntnis des Karolinen Archipels, iii. (Leyden, 1895) p. 228.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Kubary, “The Religion of the Pelau,” in A. Bastian’s Various Studies in Folklore and Anthropology, vol. 1, p. 52; id., Contributions to the Knowledge of the Caroline Islands, vol. 3 (Leiden, 1895), p. 228.
127. A. B. Ellis, The Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, p. 115.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. B. Ellis, The Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, p. 115.
128. A. C. Kruijt, “Een en ander aangaande het geestelijk en maatschappelijk leven van den Poso-Alfoer,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xl. (1896) pp. 28 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “Some Thoughts on the Spiritual and Social Life of the Poso-Alfoer,” Reports from the Dutch Missionary Society, xl. (1896) pp. 28 sq.
129. A. C. Kruijt, “Eenige ethnografische aanteekeningen omtrent de Toboengkoe en de Tomori,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xliv. (1900) pp. 220 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “Some Ethnographic Notes on the Toboengkoe and Tomori,” Communications from the Dutch Missionary Society, xliv. (1900) pp. 220 sq.
130. A. C. Kruijt, op. cit. p. 242.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. A. C. Kruijt, same source p. 242.
131. J. Habbema, “Bijgeloof in de Preanger-Regentschappen,” Bijdragen tot de Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië, xli. (1900) pp. 113, 115.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Habbema, “Superstition in the Preanger Regentships,” Contributions to the Language, Geography, and Ethnology of the Dutch Indies, xli. (1900) pp. 113, 115.
132. G. Heijmering, “Zeden en Gewoonten op het eiland Rottie,” Tijdschrift voor Neêrlands Indië (1844), dl. i. p. 358.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Heijmering, “Customs and Traditions on the Island of Rottie,” Journal for the Netherlands Indies (1844), vol. i. p. 358.
133. C. Snouck Hurgronje, Het Gajōland en zijne Bewoners (Batavia, 1903), p. 351.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Snouck Hurgronje, Het Gajōland en zijne Bewoners (Batavia, 1903), p. 351.
134. Th. A. L. Heyting, “Beschrijving der onder-afdeeling Groot-mandeling en Batang-natal,” Tijdschrift van het Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, Tweede Serie, xiv. (1897) pp. 289 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Th. A. L. Heyting, “Description of the Subdivision Groot-mandeling and Batang-natal,” Journal of the Dutch Geographic Society, Second Series, xiv. (1897) pp. 289 sq.
135. F. Blumentritt, Versuch einer Ethnographie der Philippinen (Gotha, 1882), p. 13 (Petermanns Mittheilungen, Ergänzungheft, No. 67). See above, pp. 18 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Blumentritt, Attempt at an Ethnography of the Philippines (Gotha, 1882), p. 13 (Petermann's Communications, Supplementary Issue, No. 67). See above, pp. 18 sq.
136. Crossland, quoted by H. Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 286; compare Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxi. (1892) p. 114.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Crossland, cited by H. Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 286; see also Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxi. (1892) p. 114.
137. “Lettre du curé de Santiago Tepehuacan à son évêque,” Bulletin de la Société de Géographie (Paris), IIme. Série, ii. (1834) pp. 182 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Letter from the priest of Santiago Tepehuacan to his bishop,” Bulletin of the Geography Society (Paris), II Series, ii. (1834) pp. 182 sq.
138. J. T. Bent, The Cyclades, p. 37.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. T. Bent, The Cyclades, p. 37.
139. A. L. Van Hasselt, Volksbeschrijving van Midden-Sumatra (Leyden, 1882), p. 156.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. L. Van Hasselt, Volksbeschrijving van Midden-Sumatra (Leiden, 1882), p. 156.
140. W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 87.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 87.
141. I. M. van Baarda, “Île de Halma-heira,” Bulletins de la Société d’Anthropologie de Paris, iv. (1893) p. 547.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.I. M. van Baarda, “Île de Halma-heira,” Bulletins de la Société d’Anthropologie de Paris, iv. (1893) p. 547.
142. L. Sternberg, “Die Religion der Gilyak,” Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, viii. (1905) p. 246.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Sternberg, “The Religion of the Gilyak,” Archive for the Study of Religion, viii. (1905) p. 246.
143. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 83.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cultures, p. 83.
144. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, vii. (1843) p. 29.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, vii. (1843) p. 29.
145. A. Bastian, Indonesien, i. 17.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. A. Bastian, Indonesia, p. 17.
146. J. Perham, “Sea Dyak Religion,” Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 10 (Dec. 1882), p. 217; H. Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 184.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Perham, “Sea Dyak Religion,” Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 10 (Dec. 1882), p. 217; H. Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 184.
147. W. Kükenthal, Forschungsreise in den Molukken und in Borneo (Frankfort, 1896), pp. 265 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Kükenthal, Research Journey in the Moluccas and Borneo (Frankfurt, 1896), pp. 265 and following.
148. Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxv. (1896) p. 170.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxv. (1896) p. 170.
149. E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, pp. 186, 188; compare A. Bastian, Völkerstämme am Brahmaputra, p. 9.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, pp. 186, 188; see also A. Bastian, Völkerstämme am Brahmaputra, p. 9.
150. E. T. Dalton, op. cit. p. 33; A. Bastian, op. cit. p. 16. Compare L. A. Waddell, “The Tribes of the Brahmaputra Valley,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxix. (1901) Part III. p. 16; W. Robertson Smith, The Religion of the Semites, 2nd Ed., pp. 132 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. T. Dalton, op. cit. p. 33; A. Bastian, op. cit. p. 16. Compare L. A. Waddell, “The Tribes of the Brahmaputra Valley,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxix. (1901) Part III. p. 16; W. Robertson Smith, The Religion of the Semites, 2nd Ed., pp. 132 sq.
151. E. T. Dalton, op. cit. p. 25; A. Bastian, op. cit. p. 37.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. T. Dalton, reference cited. p. 25; A. Bastian, reference cited. p. 37.
152. A. C. Kruijt, “Het koppensnellen der Toradja’s van Midden-Celebes en zijne beteekenis,” Verslagen en Mededeelingen der konink. Akademie van Wetenschappen, Afdeeling Letterkunde, IV. Reeks, iii. (1899) p. 195.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “The Head-Hunting of the Toradjas in Central Celebes and Its Significance,” Reports and Communications from the Royal Academy of Sciences, Section of Literature, IV. Series, iii. (1899) p. 195.
153. A. W. Niewenhuis, In Centraal-Borneo (Leyden, 1900), i. 146; id., Quer durch Borneo, i. (Leyden, 1904) p. 107.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. W. Niewenhuis, In Central Borneo (Leiden, 1900), vol. 1, p. 146; id., Across Borneo, vol. 1 (Leiden, 1904) p. 107.
154. Id., “Tweede Reis van Pontianak naar Samarinda,” Tijdschrift van het konink. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, II. Serie, xvii. (1900) p. 427.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Id., “Second Journey from Pontianak to Samarinda,” Journal of the Royal Dutch Geographical Society, II. Series, xvii. (1900) p. 427.
155. J. Perham, “Sea Dyak Religion,” Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 10 (December 1882), p. 217; H. Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 184.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Perham, “Sea Dyak Religion,” Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 10 (December 1882), p. 217; H. Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 184.
156. B. Hagen, “Beiträge zur Kenntniss der Battareligion,” Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde, xxviii. 530, note.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.B. Hagen, “Contributions to the Knowledge of the Battareligion,” Journal of Indian Language, Geography, and Ethnology, xxviii. 530, note.
157. W. W. Skeat, Malay Magic, p. 202.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. W. Skeat, Malay Magic, p. 202.
158. E. Young, The Kingdom of the Yellow Robe (Westminster, 1898), pp. 192 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Young, The Kingdom of the Yellow Robe (Westminster, 1898), pp. 192 sq.
159. J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, Part I. vol. i. (Rangoon, 1900) pp. 518 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, Part I. vol. i. (Rangoon, 1900) pp. 518 sq.
160. Captain Macpherson, in North Indian Notes and Queries, ii. 112 § 428.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Captain Macpherson, in North Indian Notes and Queries, ii. 112 § 428.
161. W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 91.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 91.
162. A. Bastian, Die Völker des östlichen Asien, i. 134. The authority quoted by Bastian calls the people Curka Coles. As to the Larka Kols, see E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, pp. 177 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Bastian, The Peoples of Eastern Asia, i. 134. The source Bastian cites refers to the people as Curka Coles. For information on the Larka Kols, see E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, pp. 177 et seq.
163. W. Crooke, Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, iv. 130.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, iv. 130.
164. S. Mateer, The Land of Charity (London, 1871), p. 206.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.S. Mateer, The Land of Charity (London, 1871), p. 206.
165. B. A. Hely, in Annual Report on British New Guinea for 1894-95, p. 57.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.B. A. Hely, in Annual Report on British New Guinea for 1894-95, p. 57.
166. T. J. Hutchinson, Impressions of Western Africa (London, 1858), pp. 130 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. J. Hutchinson, Impressions of Western Africa (London, 1858), pp. 130 sq.
167. Gallieni, “Mission dans le Haut Niger et à Ségou,” Bulletin de la Société de Géographie (Paris), viiime Série, v. (1883) pp. 577 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Gallieni, “Mission in the Upper Niger and at Ségou,” Bulletin of the Geographic Society (Paris), eighth Series, vol. (1883) pp. 577 sq.
168. Ch. M. Doughty, Travels in Arabia Deserta (Cambridge, 1888), i. 365.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ch. M. Doughty, Travels in Arabia Deserta (Cambridge, 1888), i. 365.
169. Th. Bent, “The Yourouks of Asia Minor,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xx. (1891) p. 275.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Th. Bent, “The Yourouks of Asia Minor,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xx. (1891) p. 275.
170. Erasmus Stella, “De Borussiae antiquitatibus,” in Simon Grynaeus’s Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum (Paris, 1532), p. 510; J. Lasicius (Lasiczki), “De diis Samagitarum caeterorumque Sarmatarum,” in Respublica sive Status regni Poloniae, Lituaniae, Prussiae, Livoniae, etc. (Leyden, 1627), pp. 299 sq.; M. C. Hartknoch, Alt und neues Preussen (Frankfort and Leipsic, 1684), p. 120. Lasiczki’s work has been reprinted by W. Mannhardt, in Magazin herausgegeben von der lettisch-lite-rärischen Gesellschaft, xiv. 82 sqq. (Mitau, 1868).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Erasmus Stella, “On the Antiquities of Prussia,” in Simon Grynaeus’s New World of Unknown Regions and Islands (Paris, 1532), p. 510; J. Lasicius (Lasiczki), “On the Gods of the Samagitians and Other Sarmatians,” in Republic or Status of the Kingdom of Poland, Lithuania, Prussia, Livonia, etc. (Leyden, 1627), pp. 299 sq.; M. C. Hartknoch, Old and New Prussia (Frankfort and Leipsic, 1684), p. 120. Lasiczki’s work has been reprinted by W. Mannhardt, in Magazine published by the Latvian-Literary Society, xiv. 82 sqq. (Mitau, 1868).
171. Mathias Michov, in Simon Grynaeus’s Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum (Paris, 1532), p. 457.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mathias Michov, in Simon Grynaeus’s New World of Regions and Islands Never Known Before (Paris, 1532), p. 457.
172. J. G. Kohl, Die deutsch-russischen Ostseeprovinzen (Dresden and Leipsic, 1841), ii. 277.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Kohl, The German-Russian Baltic Provinces (Dresden and Leipsic, 1841), ii. 277.
173. Capt. E. C. Luard, in Census of India, 1901, xix. (Lucknow, 1902) p. 76.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Capt. E. C. Luard, in Census of India, 1901, xix. (Lucknow, 1902) p. 76.
174. J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 497; compare id. ii. 540, 541.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, German Mythology, 4th ed., i. 497; see also id. ii. 540, 541.
175. Max Buch, Die Wotjäken (Stuttgart, 1882), p. 124.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Max Buch, Die Wotjäken (Stuttgart, 1882), p. 124.
176. P. v. Stenin, “Ein neuer Beitrag zur Ethnographie der Tscheremissen,” Globus, lviii. (1890) p. 204.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. v. Stenin, “A New Contribution to the Ethnography of the Tscheremisses,” Globus, lviii. (1890) p. 204.
177. J. G. Dalyell, Darker Superstitions of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1834), p. 400.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Dalyell, Darker Superstitions of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1834), p. 400.
178. J. G. Dalyell, loc. cit.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. G. Dalyell, loc. cit.
179. J. Biddulph, Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh, p. 116.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Biddulph, Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh, p. 116.
180. H. R. Tate, “Further Notes on the Kikuyu Tribe of British East Africa,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxiv. (1904) p. 263; id. “The Native Law of the Southern Gikuyu of British East Africa,” Journal of the African Society, No. 35 (April 1910), pp. 242 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. R. Tate, “Further Notes on the Kikuyu Tribe of British East Africa,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, vol. 34 (1904) p. 263; id. “The Native Law of the Southern Gikuyu of British East Africa,” Journal of the African Society, No. 35 (April 1910), pp. 242 sq.
181. On the representations of Silvanus, the Roman wood-god, see H. Jordan in L. Preller’s Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 393 note; A. Baumeister, Denkmäler des classischen Altertums, iii. 1665 sq. A good representation of Silvanus bearing a pine branch is given in the Sale Catalogue of H. Hoffmann, Paris, 1888, pt. ii.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For information on representations of Silvanus, the Roman god of the woods, see H. Jordan in L. Preller’s Roman Mythology, 3rd Ed., i. 393 note; A. Baumeister, Monuments of Classical Antiquity, iii. 1665 sq. A good depiction of Silvanus holding a pine branch can be found in the Sale Catalogue of H. Hoffmann, Paris, 1888, pt. ii.
182. Aeneas Sylvius, Opera (Bâle, 1571), p. 418 [wrongly numbered 420]; compare Erasmus Stella, “De Borussiae antiquitatibus,” in Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum, p. 510.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aeneas Sylvius, Opera (Basel, 1571), p. 418 [incorrectly numbered 420]; see also Erasmus Stella, “On the Antiquities of Borussia,” in New World of Regions and Islands Unknown to Ancients, p. 510.
183. E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 186.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 186.
184. J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, Gazetteer of Upper Burmah and the Shan States, Part II. vol. iii. (Rangoon, 1901), pp. 63 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, Gazetteer of Upper Burmah and the Shan States, Part II. vol. iii. (Rangoon, 1901), pp. 63 sq.
185. E. Aymonier, in Cochinchine française: excursions et reconnaissances, No. 16 (Saigon, 1883), pp. 175 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Aymonier, in French Cochinchina: Excursions and Reconnaissances, No. 16 (Saigon, 1883), pp. 175 sq.
186. L. Decle, Three Years in Savage Africa (London, 1898), p. 489.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Decle, Three Years in Savage Africa (London, 1898), p. 489.
187. H. Schinz, Deutsch-Südwest-Afrika, pp. 295 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Schinz, German South West Africa, pp. 295 sq.
188. See above, vol. i. pp. 248, 250, 309.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. 1, pp. 248, 250, 309.
189. Above, vol. i. p. 284.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Above, vol. 1, p. 284.
190. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus (Berlin, 1875), pp. 158, 159, 170, 197, 214, 351, 514.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus (Berlin, 1875), pp. 158, 159, 170, 197, 214, 351, 514.
191. E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 188.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 188.
192. Villault, Relation des costes appellées Guinée (Paris, 1669), pp. 266 sq.; Labat, Voyage du chevalier des Marchais en Guinée, isles voisines, et à Cayenne (Paris, 1730), i. 338.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Villault, Relation of the Coasts Called Guinea (Paris, 1669), pp. 266 sq.; Labat, Voyage of the Knight des Marchais to Guinea, Nearby Islands, and Cayenne (Paris, 1730), i. 338.
193. O. Baumann, Usambara und seine Nachbargebiete (Berlin, 1891), p. 142.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.O. Baumann, Usambara and Its Neighboring Areas (Berlin, 1891), p. 142.
194. C. E. X. Rochet d’Hericourt, Voyage sur la côte orientale de la Mer Rouge dans le pays d’Adel et le royaume de Choa (Paris, 1841), pp. 166 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. E. X. Rochet d’Hericourt, Journey on the Eastern Coast of the Red Sea in the Land of Adel and the Kingdom of Choa (Paris, 1841), pp. 166 sq.
195. L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden (London, 1870), p. 266.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden (London, 1870), p. 266.
196. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 190 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cults, pp. 190 and following
197. W. Mannhardt, Antike Wald- und Feldkulte (Berlin, 1877), pp. 212 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Ancient Forest and Field Cults (Berlin, 1877), pp. 212 and following
198. H. Low, Sarawak, p. 274; id., in Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxv. (1896) p. 111.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Low, Sarawak, p. 274; id., in Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxv. (1896) p. 111.
199. T. H. Lewin, Wild Races of South-Eastern India (London, 1870), p. 270.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. H. Lewin, Wild Races of South-Eastern India (London, 1870), p. 270.
200. J. Mackenzie, Ten Years North of the Orange River (Edinburgh, 1871), p. 385.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Mackenzie, Ten Years North of the Orange River (Edinburgh, 1871), p. 385.
201. J. Campbell, Travels in South Africa, Second Journey (London, 1822), ii. 203.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Campbell, Travels in South Africa, Second Journey (London, 1822), ii. 203.
202. Rev. J. Macdonald, MS. notes; compare id., Light in Africa, p. 210; id., in Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xx. (1891) p. 140. The Nubas will not cut shoots of the nabac (a thorn-tree) during the rainy season (Missions Catholiques, xiv. (1882) p. 460). Among some of the hill-tribes of the Punjaub no one is allowed to cut grass or any green thing with an iron sickle till the festival of the ripening grain has been celebrated; otherwise the field-god would be angry and send frost to destroy or injure the harvest (D. C. J. Ibbetson, Outlines of Panjab Ethnography, p. 121).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. J. Macdonald, MS. notes; compare id., Light in Africa, p. 210; id., in Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xx. (1891) p. 140. The Nubas won't cut shoots of the nabac (a thorn tree) during the rainy season (Missions Catholiques, xiv. (1882) p. 460). Among some of the hill tribes of the Punjab, no one is allowed to cut grass or any green thing with an iron sickle until the festival of the ripening grain has been celebrated; otherwise, the field god would be angry and send frost to destroy or harm the harvest (D. C. J. Ibbetson, Outlines of Panjab Ethnography, p. 121).
203. “Ueber die Religion der heidnischen Tscheremissen im Gouvernement Kasan,” Zeitschrift für allgemeine Erdkunde, N. F. iii. (1857) p. 150.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“On the Religion of the Pagan Tscheremisses in the Kasan Province,” Journal of General Geography, N. F. iii. (1857) p. 150.
204. J. Biddulph, Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh, pp. 103 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Biddulph, Tribes of the Hindoo Koosh, pp. 103 sq.
205. J. Biddulph, op. cit. pp. 106 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Biddulph, op. cit. pp. 106 and following
206. W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 102. See also Sir H. M. Elliot, Memoirs on the History, Folk-lore, and Distribution of the Races of the North-Western Provinces of India, edited by J. Beames, ii. 217, where, however, the object of the prayers is said to be the fruitfulness of the tree itself, not the fruitfulness of women, animals, and cattle.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 102. See also Sir H. M. Elliot, Memoirs on the History, Folk-lore, and Distribution of the Races of the North-Western Provinces of India, edited by J. Beames, ii. 217, where, however, the aim of the prayers is said to be the fertility of the tree itself, not the fertility of women, animals, and cattle.
207. W. Crooke, op. cit. ii. 106.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Crooke, same source. ii. 106.
208. Th. J. Hutchinson, Impressions of Western Africa, p. 128.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Th. J. Hutchinson, Impressions of Western Africa, p. 128.
209. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 161; E. Meier, Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Schwaben, p. 397; A. Peter, Volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-Schlesien, ii. 286.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult, p. 161; E. Meier, German Legends, Customs, and Traditions from Swabia, p. 397; A. Peter, Popular Traditions from Austrian Silesia, ii. 286.
210. W. Camden, Britannia, ed. R. Gough (London, 1779), iii. 659. Camden’s authority is Good, a writer of the sixteenth century.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Camden, Britannia, ed. R. Gough (London, 1779), iii. 659. Camden’s authority is solid, a writer from the sixteenth century.
211. County Folk-lore: Suffolk, collected and edited by Lady Eveline Camilla Gurdon (London, 1893), p. 117.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.County Folk-lore: Suffolk, collected and edited by Lady Eveline Camilla Gurdon (London, 1893), p. 117.
212. Mr. E. F. Benson, in a letter to the author dated December 15, 1892.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mr. E. F. Benson, in a letter to the author dated December 15, 1892.
213. Memoirs of Samuel Pepys, Esq., edited by Lord Braybrooke, Second Edition (London, 1828), ii. 209, under May 1st, 1667.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Memoirs of Samuel Pepys, Esq., edited by Lord Braybrooke, Second Edition (London, 1828), ii. 209, under May 1st, 1667.
214. Lady Wilde, Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland (London, 1887), i. 196 sq. If an Irish housewife puts a ring of rowan-tree or quicken, as it is also called, on the handle of the churn-dash when she is churning, no witch can steal her butter (P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland (London, 1903), i. 236 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Lady Wilde, Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland (London, 1887), i. 196 sq. If an Irish housewife places a ring made of rowan tree, or quicken as it's also known, on the handle of the churn while she’s churning, no witch can take her butter (P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland (London, 1903), i. 236 sq.).
215. W. Camden, loc. cit.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Camden, same source
216. W. Gregor, Folk-lore of the North-east of Scotland (London, 1881), p. 188.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Gregor, Folk-lore of the North-east of Scotland (London, 1881), p. 188.
217. J. G. Campbell, Witchcraft and Second Sight in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, p. 270, compare ib., pp. 7 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Campbell, Witchcraft and Second Sight in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, p. 270, see ib., pp. 7 and following
218. J. G. Campbell, op. cit. pp. 11 sq. In Germany also the rowan-tree is a charm against witchcraft (A. Wuttke, Der deutsche Volksaberglaube, 2nd Ed., p. 106, § 145).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Campbell, op. cit. pp. 11 sq. In Germany, the rowan tree is also considered a protective charm against witchcraft (A. Wuttke, Der deutsche Volksaberglaube, 2nd Ed., p. 106, § 145).
219. Sir John Rhys, “The Coligny Calendar,” Proceedings of the British Academy, vol. iv. pp. 55 sq. of the offprint.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir John Rhys, “The Coligny Calendar,” Proceedings of the British Academy, vol. iv. pp. 55 sq. of the offprint.
220. A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers 2nd Ed., (Gütersloh, 1886), pp. 178 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Germanische Mythen (Berlin, 1858), pp. 17 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers 2nd Ed., (Gütersloh, 1886), pp. 178 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Germanische Mythen (Berlin, 1858), pp. 17 sq.
221. J. D. H. Temme, Die Volkssagen der Altmark (Berlin, 1839), p. 85; E. Sommer, Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Sachsen und Thüringen (Halle, 1846), p. 149; A. Kuhn, Sagen, Gebräuche und Märchen aus Westfalen, ii. p. 154, § 432, p. 155, § 436; A. Schleicher, Volkstümliches aus Sonnenberg (Weimar, 1858), p. 139; A. Peter, Volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-Schlesien (Troppau, 1865-67), ii. 252; R. Eisel, Sagenbuch des Voigtlandes (Gera, 1871), p. 210; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen, p. 210; P. Drechsler, Sitte, Brauch und Volksglaube in Schlesien, i. (Leipsic, 1903) p. 109.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. D. H. Temme, Die Volkssagen der Altmark (Berlin, 1839), p. 85; E. Sommer, Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Sachsen und Thüringen (Halle, 1846), p. 149; A. Kuhn, Sagen, Gebräuche und Märchen aus Westfalen, ii. p. 154, § 432, p. 155, § 436; A. Schleicher, Volkstümliches aus Sonnenberg (Weimar, 1858), p. 139; A. Peter, Volksthümliches aus Österreichisch-Schlesien (Troppau, 1865-67), ii. 252; R. Eisel, Sagenbuch des Voigtlandes (Gera, 1871), p. 210; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen, p. 210; P. Drechsler, Sitte, Brauch und Volksglaube in Schlesien, i. (Leipsic, 1903) p. 109.
222. A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., p. 166.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., p. 166.
223. P. Drechsler, op. cit. i. 109 sq. Compare A. Peter, loc. cit.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Drechsler, op. cit. i. 109 sq. Compare A. Peter, loc. cit.
224. W. Müller, Beiträge zur Volkskunde der Deutschen in Mähren (Vienna and Olmütz, 1893), p. 324.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Müller, Contributions to the Folklore of the Germans in Moravia (Vienna and Olomouc, 1893), p. 324.
225. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen, p. 210.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Festival Calendar from Bohemia, p. 210.
226. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 174.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cultures, p. 174.
227. J. B. Holzmayer, “Osiliana,” Verhandlungen der gelehrten Estnischen Gesellschaft zu Dorpat, vii. No. 2 (Dorpat, 1872), pp. 10 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 407 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. B. Holzmayer, “Osiliana,” Transactions of the Learned Estonian Society in Dorpat, vii. No. 2 (Dorpat, 1872), pp. 10 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult, pp. 407 sq.
228. Potocki, Voyage dans les steps d’Astrakhan et du Caucase (Paris, 1829), i. 309.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Potocki, Journey Through the Lands of Astrakhan and the Caucasus (Paris, 1829), i. 309.
229. W. Foy, in Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, x. (1907) p. 551. For details of the evidence see W. H. Goldie, M.D., “Maori Medical Lore,” Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute, xxxvii. (1904) pp. 93-95.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Foy, in Archiv für Religionswissenschaft, x. (1907) p. 551. For details of the evidence see W. H. Goldie, M.D., “Maori Medical Lore,” Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute, xxxvii. (1904) pp. 93-95.
230. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 163 sqq. To his authorities add for France, A. Meyrac, Traditions, coutumes, légendes et contes des Ardennes, pp. 84 sqq.; L. F. Sauvé, Folk-lore des Hautes-Vosges, pp. 131 sq.; Bérenger-Féraud, Superstitions et survivances, v. 309 sq.; Ch. Beauquier, Les Mois en Franche-Comté (Paris, 1900), pp. 69-72; F. Chapiseau, Le Folk-lore de la Beauce et du Perche (Paris, 1902), ii. 109-111; for Silesia, F. Tetzner, “Die Tschechen und Mährer in Schlesien,” Globus, lxxviii. (1900) p. 340; P. Drechsler, Sitte, Brauch und Volksglaube in Schlesien, i. 112 sq.; for Moravia, W. Müller, Beiträge zur Volkskunde der Deutschen in Mähren, p. 26; for Sardinia, R. Tennant, Sardinia and its Resources (Rome and London, 1885), pp. 185 sq. In Brunswick the custom is observed at Whitsuntide (R. Andree, Braunschweiger Volkskunde, p. 248).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 163 sqq. To his sources, add for France: A. Meyrac, Traditions, coutumes, légendes et contes des Ardennes, pp. 84 sqq.; L. F. Sauvé, Folk-lore des Hautes-Vosges, pp. 131 sq.; Bérenger-Féraud, Superstitions et survivances, v. 309 sq.; Ch. Beauquier, Les Mois en Franche-Comté (Paris, 1900), pp. 69-72; F. Chapiseau, Le Folk-lore de la Beauce et du Perche (Paris, 1902), ii. 109-111; for Silesia, F. Tetzner, “Die Tschechen und Mährer in Schlesien,” Globus, lxxviii. (1900) p. 340; P. Drechsler, Sitte, Brauch und Volksglaube in Schlesien, i. 112 sq.; for Moravia, W. Müller, Beiträge zur Volkskunde der Deutschen in Mähren, p. 26; for Sardinia, R. Tennant, Sardinia and its Resources (Rome and London, 1885), pp. 185 sq. In Brunswick, the custom is observed at Whitsuntide (R. Andree, Braunschweiger Volkskunde, p. 248).
231. Bavaria, Landes- und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern, i. 373.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Bavaria, Regional and Folk Studies of the Kingdom of Bavaria, i. 373.
232. F. S. Krauss, Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Südslaven, p. 35.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. Krauss, Popular Beliefs and Religious Customs of the South Slavs, p. 35.
233. W. Radloff, Proben der Volkslitteratur der nördlichen Türkischen Stämme, v. 2 (St. Petersburg, 1885).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Radloff, Samples of Folk Literature from the Northern Turkish Tribes, vol. 2 (St. Petersburg, 1885).
234. E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 194; a similar custom is practised among the Kurmis, ibid., p. 319. Among the Mundas the custom seems now to have fallen into disuse (H. H. Risley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal: Ethnographic Glossary, ii. 102).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 194; a similar custom is practiced among the Kurmis, ibid., p. 319. Among the Mundas, this custom appears to have largely disappeared (H. H. Risley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal: Ethnographic Glossary, ii. 102).
235. The explanation has been suggested by Mr. W. Crooke (Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxviii. (1899) p. 243). There are other facts, however, which point to a different explanation, namely, that the practice is intended to avert possible evil consequences from bride or bridegroom. For example, “the superstition regarding a man’s third marriage, prevalent in Barār and, I believe in other parts of India, is not despised by the Vēlamās. A third marriage is unlucky. Should a man marry a third wife, it matters not whether his former wives be alive or not, evil will befall either him or that wife. No father would give his girl to a man whose third wife she would be. A man therefore, who has twice entered the married state and wishes to mate yet once again, cannot obtain as a third wife any one who has both the wit and the tongue to say no; a tree has neither, so to a tree he is married. I have not been able to discover why the tree, or rather shrub, called in Marāthī ru’i and in Hindūstānī madar (Asclepias gigantea), is invariably the victim selected in Barār, nor do I know whether the shrub is similarly favoured in other parts of India. The ceremony consists in the binding of a mangal sūtra round the selected shrub, by which the bridegroom sits, while turmeric-dyed rice (akṣata) is thrown over both him and the shrub. This is the whole of the simple ceremony. He has gone through his unlucky third marriage, and any lady whom he may favour after this will be his fourth wife” (Captain Wolseley Haig, “Notes on the Vēlamā Caste in Bārār,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxx. part iii. (1901) p. 28). Again, the Vellalas of Southern India “observe a curious custom (derived from Brāhmans) with regard to marriage, which is not unknown in other communities. A man marrying a second wife after the death of his first has to marry a plantain tree, and cut it down before tying the tāli, and, in case of a third marriage, a man has to tie a tāli first to the erukkan (arka: Calotropis gigantea) plant. The idea is that second and fourth wives do not prosper, and the tree and the plant are accordingly made to take their places.” (Mr. Hemingway, quoted by E. Thurston, Castes and Tribes of Southern India, vii. 387). Tying the tali to the bride is the common Hindoo symbol of marriage, like giving the ring with us. As to these Indian marriages to trees see further my Totemism and Exogamy, i. 32 sq., iv. 210 sqq.; Panjab Notes and Queries, ii. § 252, iii. §§ 12, 90, 562, iv. § 396; North Indian Notes and Queries, i. § 110; D. C. J. Ibbetson, Settlement Report of the Karnal District, p. 155; H. H. Risley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal, i. 531; Capt. E. C. Luard, in Census of India, 1901, vol. xix. 76; W. Crooke, Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, ii. 363; id., Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 115-121. I was formerly disposed to connect the custom with totemism, but of this there seems to be no sufficient evidence.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mr. W. Crooke suggested this explanation in the Journal of the Anthropological Institute (xxviii. (1899) p. 243). However, there are other facts that point to a different explanation: that the practice is meant to prevent any potential bad outcomes for the bride or groom. For instance, the superstition surrounding a man's third marriage is common in Barār and, I believe, in other regions of India, and the Vēlamās take it seriously. A third marriage is considered unlucky. If a man takes a third wife, it doesn’t matter whether his previous wives are alive or not; misfortune will come to either him or his new wife. No father would give his daughter to a man who would make her his third wife. Therefore, a man who has been married twice and wants to marry again cannot find a third wife who can say no; a tree can’t say no, so he marries a tree. I haven’t figured out why the shrub known as ru’i in Marāthī and madar in Hindūstānī (Asclepias gigantea) is always chosen in Barār, nor do I know if this shrub is similarly selected in other areas of India. The ceremony involves tying a mangal sūtra around the chosen shrub, with the bridegroom sitting by it, while turmeric-dyed rice (akṣata) is sprinkled over both him and the shrub. That’s all there is to the simple ceremony. He has completed his unfortunate third marriage, and any woman he chooses after this will be his fourth wife” (Captain Wolseley Haig, “Notes on the Vēlamā Caste in Bārār,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxx. part iii. (1901) p. 28). Additionally, the Vellalas of Southern India observe an interesting custom (originating from Brāhmans) regarding marriage, which is also found in other communities. A man marrying a second wife after his first wife’s death has to marry a plantain tree and cut it down before tying the tāli, and in the case of a third marriage, a man must first tie a tāli to the erukkan (arka: Calotropis gigantea) plant. The belief is that second and fourth wives do not thrive, so the tree and the plant are made to take their place.” (Mr. Hemingway, quoted by E. Thurston, Castes and Tribes of Southern India, vii. 387). Tying the tali to the bride is the common Hindu symbol of marriage, similar to giving a ring in our culture. For more information on these Indian marriages to trees, see my Totemism and Exogamy, i. 32 sq., iv. 210 sqq.; Panjab Notes and Queries, ii. § 252, iii. §§ 12, 90, 562, iv. § 396; North Indian Notes and Queries, i. § 110; D. C. J. Ibbetson, Settlement Report of the Karnal District, p. 155; H. H. Risley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal, i. 531; Capt. E. C. Luard, in Census of India, 1901, vol. xix. 76; W. Crooke, Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, ii. 363; id., Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 115-121. I used to think this custom might be linked to totemism, but there doesn’t seem to be enough evidence for that.
236. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 51 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Worship, pp. 51 sq.
237. Merolla, “Voyage to Congo,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, xvi. 236 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Merolla, “Voyage to Congo,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, xvi. 236 sq.
238. C. Bötticher, Der Baumkultus der Hellenen (Berlin, 1856), pp. 30 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Bötticher, The Tree Cult of the Greeks (Berlin, 1856), pp. 30 sq.
239. Quoted by J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 246 (ed. Bohn).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Quoted by J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 246 (ed. Bohn).
240. T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs (London, 1876), p. 254.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs (London, 1876), p. 254.
241. W. Borlase, The Natural History of Cornwall (Oxford, 1758), p. 294.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Borlase, The Natural History of Cornwall (Oxford, 1758), p. 294.
242. J. Brand, op. cit. i. 212 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Brand, op. cit. i. 212 sq.
243. T. F. Thiselton Dyer, Popular British Customs, p. 233.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. F. Thiselton Dyer, Popular British Customs, p. 233.
244. R. Chambers, Book of Days (London and Edinburgh, 1886), i. 578; T. F. Thiselton Dyer, op. cit. pp. 237 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Chambers, Book of Days (London and Edinburgh, 1886), i. 578; T. F. Thiselton Dyer, op. cit. pp. 237 sq.
245. W. Hone, Every Day Book (London, N.D.), ii. 615 sq.; T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 251 sq. At Polebrook in Northamptonshire the verses sung by the children on their rounds include two which are almost identical with those sung at Abingdon in Berkshire. See Dyer, op. cit. pp. 255 sq. The same verses were formerly sung on May Day at Hitchin in Hertfordshire (Hone, Every Day Book, i. 567 sq.; Dyer, op. cit. pp. 240 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Hone, Every Day Book (London, N.D.), ii. 615 sq.; T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 251 sq. In Polebrook, Northamptonshire, the verses that children sing during their rounds include two that are almost the same as those sung in Abingdon, Berkshire. See Dyer, op. cit. pp. 255 sq. The same verses were also sung on May Day in Hitchin, Hertfordshire (Hone, Every Day Book, i. 567 sq.; Dyer, op. cit. pp. 240 sq.).
246. Dyer, op. cit. p. 263.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Dyer, same source p. 263.
247. Percy Manning, in Folk-lore, iv. (1893) pp. 403 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Percy Manning, in Folk-lore, iv. (1893) pp. 403 sq.
248. Id., in Folk-lore, viii. (1897) p. 308. Customs of the same sort are reported also from Combe, Headington, and Islip, all in Oxfordshire (Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 261 sq.). See below, pp. 90 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Id., in Folk-lore, viii. (1897) p. 308. Similar customs have also been reported from Combe, Headington, and Islip, all in Oxfordshire (Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 261 sq.). See below, pp. 90 sq.
249. Dyer, op. cit. p. 243.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Dyer, same source p. 243.
250. W. H. D. Rouse, in Folk-lore, iv. (1893) p. 53. I have witnessed the ceremony almost annually for many years. Many of the hoops have no doll, and ribbons or rags of coloured cloth are more conspicuous than flowers in their decoration.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. H. D. Rouse, in Folk-lore, iv. (1893) p. 53. I've seen the ceremony almost every year for many years. A lot of the hoops don’t have dolls, and ribbons or scraps of colored fabric stand out more than flowers in their decoration.
251. J. P. Emslie, in Folk-lore, xi. (1900) p. 210.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. P. Emslie, in Folk-lore, xi. (1900) p. 210.
252. Memoirs of Anna Maria Wilhelmina Pickering, edited by her son, Spencer Pickering (London, 1903), pp. 160 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Memoirs of Anna Maria Wilhelmina Pickering, edited by her son, Spencer Pickering (London, 1903), pp. 160 sq.
253. Lady Wilde, Ancient Cures, Charms, and Usages of Ireland (London, 1890), pp. 101 sq. At the ancient Greek festival of the Daphnephoria or “Laurel-bearing” a staff of olive-wood, decked with laurels, purple ribbons, and many-coloured flowers, was carried in procession, and attached to it were two large globes representing the sun and moon, together with a number of smaller globes which stood for the stars. See Proclus, quoted by Photius, Bibliotheca, p. 321, ed. Bekker.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Lady Wilde, Ancient Cures, Charms, and Usages of Ireland (London, 1890), pp. 101 sq. During the ancient Greek festival of the Daphnephoria, or "Laurel-bearing," a staff made of olive wood, adorned with laurels, purple ribbons, and various colored flowers, was carried in a procession. Attached to it were two large globes representing the sun and moon, along with several smaller globes symbolizing the stars. See Proclus, quoted by Photius, Bibliotheca, p. 321, ed. Bekker.
254. E. Cortet, Essai sur les fêtes religieuses (Paris, 1867) pp. 167 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Cortet, Essay on Religious Festivals (Paris, 1867) pp. 167 and following
255. Revue des traditions populaires, ii. (1887) p. 200.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Review of Popular Traditions, ii. (1887) p. 200.
256. W. Müller, Beiträge zur Volkskunde der Deutschen in Mähren (Wien und Olmütz, 1893), pp. 319 sq., 355-359.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Müller, Contributions to the Folklore of the Germans in Moravia (Vienna and Olomouc, 1893), pp. 319 sq., 355-359.
257. Folk-lore, i. (1890) pp. 518 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Folklore, i. (1890) pp. 518 sqq.
258. W. R. S. Ralston, Songs of the Russian People 2nd Ed., (London, 1872), pp. 234 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. R. S. Ralston, Songs of the Russian People 2nd Ed., (London, 1872), pp. 234 sq.
259. A. Kuhn, Märkische Sagen und Märchen (Berlin, 1843), p. 315.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Kuhn, Märkische Sagen und Märchen (Berlin, 1843), p. 315.
260. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 162.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cultures, p. 162.
261. L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden, p. 235.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden, p. 235.
262. L. Lloyd, op. cit. pp. 257 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. L. Lloyd, op. cit. pp. 257 et seq.
263. H. Pröhle, Harzbilder (Leipsic, 1855), pp. 19 sq. Compare id., in Zeitschrift für deutsche Mythologie und Sittenkunde, i. (1853) pp. 81 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Germanische Mythen, pp. 512 sqq.; A. Kuhn und W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche (Leipsic, 1848), p. 390, § 80.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Pröhle, Harzbilder (Leipzig, 1855), pp. 19 sq. Compare id., in Zeitschrift für deutsche Mythologie und Sittenkunde, i. (1853) pp. 81 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Germanische Mythen, pp. 512 sqq.; A. Kuhn and W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche (Leipzig, 1848), p. 390, § 80.
264. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen (Prague, N.D.), pp. 308 sq. A fuller description of the ceremony will be given later.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen (Prague, N/A), pp. 308 sq. A more detailed description of the ceremony will be provided later.
265. For the evidence see J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 234 sqq.; W. Hone, Every Day Book, i. 547 sqq., ii. 574 sqq.; R. Chambers, Book of Days, i. 574 sqq.; T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 228 sqq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 168 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For the evidence, see J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 234 sqq.; W. Hone, Every Day Book, i. 547 sqq., ii. 574 sqq.; R. Chambers, Book of Days, i. 574 sqq.; T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 228 sqq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 168 sqq.
266. Phillip Stubbes, The Anatomie of Abuses, p. 149 (F. J. Furnivall’s reprint). In later editions some verbal changes were made.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Phillip Stubbes, The Anatomy of Abuses, p. 149 (F. J. Furnivall’s reprint). In later editions, some wording was updated.
267. W. Borlase, Natural History of Cornwall (Oxford, 1758), p. 294.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Borlase, Natural History of Cornwall (Oxford, 1758), p. 294.
268. W. Hutchinson, View of Northumberland (Newcastle, 1778), ii. Appendix, pp. 13 sq.; Dyer, British Popular Customs, p. 257.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Hutchinson, View of Northumberland (Newcastle, 1778), ii. Appendix, pp. 13 sq.; Dyer, British Popular Customs, p. 257.
269. “Padstow ‘Hobby Hoss,’” Folklore, xvi. (1905) pp. 59 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Padstow ‘Hobby Hoss,’” Folklore, xvi. (1905) pp. 59 sq.
270. E. Meier, Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Schwaben (Stuttgart, 1852), p. 396.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Meier, German Legends, Customs, and Traditions from Swabia (Stuttgart, 1852), p. 396.
271. E. Mogk, in R. Wuttke’s Sächsische Volkskunde 2nd Ed., (Dresden, 1901), pp. 309 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Mogk, in R. Wuttke’s Saxon Folklore 2nd Ed., (Dresden, 1901), pp. 309 seq.
272. M. Rentsch, in R. Wuttke’s op. cit. p. 359.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. Rentsch, in R. Wuttke’s op. cit. p. 359.
273. A. De Nore, Coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de France (Paris and Lyons, 1846), p. 137.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. De Nore, Customs, Myths, and Traditions of the Provinces of France (Paris and Lyons, 1846), p. 137.
274. Bérenger-Féraud, Superstitions et survivances (Paris, 1896), v. 308 sq. Compare id., Reminiscences populaires de la Provence, pp. 21 sq., 26, 27.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Bérenger-Féraud, Superstitions and Survivals (Paris, 1896), v. 308 sq. Compare id., Popular Memories of Provence, pp. 21 sq., 26, 27.
275. J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, part i. vol. i. (Rangoon, 1900) p. 529.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, part i. vol. i. (Rangoon, 1900) p. 529.
276. W. Hone, Every Day Book, i. 547 sqq.; R. Chambers, Book of Days, i. 571.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Hone, Every Day Book, i. 547 sqq.; R. Chambers, Book of Days, i. 571.
277. Bavaria, Landes- und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern, i. 372.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Bavaria, Regional and Folklore Studies of the Kingdom of Bavaria, i. 372.
278. W. Hone, Every Day Book, ii. 597 sq. Mr. G. W. Prothero tells me that about the year 1875 he saw a permanent May-pole decked with flowers on May Day on the road between Cambridge and St. Neot’s, not far from the turning to Caxton.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Hone, Every Day Book, ii. 597 sq. Mr. G. W. Prothero told me that around 1875, he saw a permanent May-pole decorated with flowers on May Day on the road between Cambridge and St. Neot’s, not far from the turnoff to Caxton.
280. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, p. 217; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 566.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Festival Calendar from Bohemia, p. 217; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cults, p. 566.
281. A. Birlinger, Volksthümliches aus Schwaben (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1861-1862), ii. 74 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 566.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Birlinger, Folk Traditions from Swabia (Freiburg im Breisgau, 1861-1862), ii. 74 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cultures, p. 566.
282. Aristophanes, Plutus, 1054; W. Mannhardt, Antike Wald- und Feldkulte, pp. 222 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aristophanes, Plutus, 1054; W. Mannhardt, Ancient Forest and Field Cults, pp. 222 sq.
283. Boecler-Kreutzwald, Der Ehsten abergläubische Gebräuche, Weisen und Gewohnheiten, pp. 112-114. Some traits in this story seem to suggest that the return of the trooper to his old home was, like that of the war-broken veteran in Campbell’s poem, only a soldier’s dream.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Boecler-Kreutzwald, The Old Superstitious Customs, Ways, and Habits, pp. 112-114. Some aspects in this story seem to imply that the trooper's return to his old home was, similar to the war-scarred veteran in Campbell’s poem, merely a soldier’s dream.
284. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, pp. 86 sqq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 156.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar from Bohemia, pp. 86 and following; W. Mannhardt, Cult of Trees, p. 156.
286. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 312.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cultures, p. 312.
287. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 313.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Worship, p. 313.
288. Ibid. p. 314.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Same source. p. 314.
289. Bavaria, Landes- und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern, iii. 357; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 312 sq. The word Walber probably comes from Walburgis, which is doubtless only another form of the better known Walpurgis. The second of May is called Walburgis Day, at least in this part of Bavaria.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Bavaria, Landes- und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern, iii. 357; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 312 sq. The term Walber likely originates from Walburgis, which is probably just another variation of the more familiar Walpurgis. The second of May is referred to as Walburgis Day, at least in this part of Bavaria.
290. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 313 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 313 sq.
291. H. von Wlislocki, Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Zigeuner (Münster i. W., 1891), pp. 148 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. von Wlislocki, Folklore Beliefs and Religious Customs of the Gypsies (Münster i. W., 1891), pp. 148 sq.
292. E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 261.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. T. Dalton, Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, p. 261.
293. B. A. Gupte, “Harvest Festivals in honour of Gauri and Ganesh,” Indian Antiquary, xxxv. (1906) p. 61.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.B. A. Gupte, “Harvest Festivals in Honor of Gauri and Ganesh,” Indian Antiquary, xxxv. (1906) p. 61.
294. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 315 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cultures, pp. 315 sq.
296. W. R. S. Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, p. 234.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. R. S. Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, p. 234.
297. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 318; J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., ii. 657.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 318; J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., ii. 657.
298. A. de Nore, Coutumes, mythes et traditions des provinces de France, pp. 17 sq.; Bérenger-Féraud, Réminiscences populaires de la Provence, pp. 1 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. de Nore, Custome, Myths, and Traditions of the Provinces of France, pp. 17 sq.; Bérenger-Féraud, Popular Memories of Provence, pp. 1 sq.
299. A. Meyrac, Traditions, coutumes, légendes et contes des Ardennes (Charleville, 1890), pp. 79-82. The girl was called the Trimouzette. A custom of the same general character was practised down to recent times in the Jura (Bérenger-Féraud, Réminiscences populaires de la Provence, p. 18).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Meyrac, Traditions, Customs, Legends, and Stories of the Ardennes (Charleville, 1890), pp. 79-82. The girl was called the Trimouzette. A similar custom continued to be practiced until recently in the Jura (Bérenger-Féraud, Popular Memories of Provence, p. 18).
300. F. A. Reimann, Deutsche Volksfeste im neunzehnten Jahrhundert (Weimar, 1839), pp. 159 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 320; A. Witzschel, Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Thüringen, p. 211.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. A. Reimann, German Folk Festivals in the Nineteenth Century (Weimar, 1839), pp. 159 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult, p. 320; A. Witzschel, Tales, Customs, and Traditions from Thuringia, p. 211.
301. W. Kolbe, Hessische Volks-Sitten und Gebräuche im Lichte der heidnischen Vorzeit (Marburg, 1888), p. 70.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Kolbe, Hessian Folk Customs and Traditions in the Light of Pagan Antiquity (Marburg, 1888), p. 70.
302. Bavaria, Landes- und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern, iv. 2, pp. 359 sq. Similarly in the Département de l’Ain (France) on the first of May eight or ten boys unite, clothe one of their number in leaves, and go from house to house begging (W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 318).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Bavaria, Landes- und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern, iv. 2, pp. 359 sq. Similarly, in the Département de l’Ain (France) on the first of May, eight or ten boys gather, dress one of their group in leaves, and go from house to house asking for donations (W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 318).
303. E. Hoffmann-Krayer, “Fruchtbarkeitsriten im schweizerischen Volksbrauch,” Schweizerisches Archiv für Volkskunde, xi. (1907) p. 252.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Hoffmann-Krayer, “Fertility Rites in Swiss Folk Customs,” Swiss Archive for Folklore, xi. (1907) p. 252.
304. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 322; W. Hone, Every-Day Book, i. 583 sqq.; T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 230 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 322; W. Hone, Every-Day Book, i. 583 sqq.; T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 230 sq.
305. W. H. D. Rouse, “May-Day in Cheltenham,” Folk-lore, iv. (1893) pp. 50-53. On May Day 1891 I saw a Jack-in-the-Green in the streets of Cambridge.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. H. D. Rouse, “May-Day in Cheltenham,” Folk-lore, iv. (1893) pp. 50-53. On May Day 1891, I saw a Jack-in-the-Green in the streets of Cambridge.
306. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 323.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cultures, p. 323.
307. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 323; H. Herzog, Schweizerische Volksfeste, Sitten und Gebräuche (Aarau, 1884), pp. 248 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Tree Worship, p. 323; H. Herzog, Swiss Folk Festivals, Customs, and Traditions (Aarau, 1884), pp. 248 sq.
308. A. Birlinger, Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, ii. 114 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 325.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Birlinger, Folklore from Swabia, ii. 114 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Tree Worship, p. 325.
309. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 314 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 314 sq.
310. A. Kuhn und W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche, p. 380.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Kuhn and W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche, p. 380.
311. F. Tetzner, “Die Tschechen und Mährer in Schlesien,” Globus, lxviii (1900) p. 340.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Tetzner, “The Czechs and Moravians in Silesia,” Globus, lxviii (1900) p. 340.
312. A. Kuhn und W. Schwartz, op. cit. pp. 383 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 342.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Kuhn and W. Schwartz, op. cit. pp. 383 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 342.
313. R. Andree, Braunschweiger Volkskunde (Brunswick, 1896), pp. 249 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Andree, Braunschweiger Volkskunde (Brunswick, 1896), pp. 249 sq.
314. K. Seifart, Sagen, Märchen, Schwänke und Gebräuche aus Stadt und Stift Hildesheim, Zweite Auflage (Hildesheim, 1889), pp. 180 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.K. Seifart, Legends, Tales, Jokes, and Customs from the City and Abbey of Hildesheim, Second Edition (Hildesheim, 1889), pp. 180 sq.
315. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, pp. 260 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 342 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, pp. 260 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 342 sq.
316. F. A. Reimann, Deutsche Volksfeste im neunzehnten Jahrhundert, pp. 157-159; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 347 sq.; A. Witzschel, Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Thüringen (Vienna, 1878), p. 203.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. A. Reimann, German Folk Festivals in the Nineteenth Century, pp. 157-159; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult, pp. 347 et seq.; A. Witzschel, Legends, Customs, and Traditions from Thuringia (Vienna, 1878), p. 203.
317. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, pp. 253 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest Calendar from Bohemia, pp. 253 sqq.
318. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, p. 262; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 353 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, p. 262; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 353 sq.
319. Baumkultus, p. 355.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Tree Worship, p. 355.
320. Above, vol. i. pp. 292, 293.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Above, vol. i. pp. 292, 293.
321. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, p. 93; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 344.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest Kalendar from Bohemia, p. 93; W. Mannhardt, Cult of Trees, p. 344.
322. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 343 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 343 and following.
323. T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 270 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, pp. 270 sq.
324. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 344 sqq.; E. Cortet, Fêtes religieuses, pp. 160 sqq.; D. Monnier, Traditions populaires comparées, pp. 282 sqq.; Bérenger-Féraud, Réminiscences populaires de la Provence, pp. 17 sq.; Ch. Beauquier, Les Mois en Franche-Comté (Paris, 1900), pp. 65-69. In Franche-Comté she seems to be generally known as l’épousée, “the spouse.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Tree Cults, pp. 344 and following; E. Cortet, Religious Festivals, pp. 160 and following; D. Monnier, Comparative Folk Traditions, pp. 282 and following; Bérenger-Féraud, Popular Reminiscences of Provence, pp. 17 and following; Ch. Beauquier, The Months in Franche-Comté (Paris, 1900), pp. 65-69. In Franche-Comté, she seems to be generally known as l’épousée, “the spouse.”
325. From information given me by Mabel Bailey, in the service of Miss A. Wyse of Halford. My informant’s father is a native of Stourton, and she herself has spent much of her life there. I conjecture that the conical flower-bedecked structure may once have been borne by a mummer concealed within it. Compare the customs described above, pp. 82 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.According to what Mabel Bailey told me, who works for Miss A. Wyse of Halford. Mabel's father is from Stourton, and she has lived there for a significant part of her life. I suspect that the conical, flower-covered structure may have once been carried by a performer hidden inside it. See the customs mentioned above, pp. 82 sq.
327. From information given me by Miss A. Wyse of Halford.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Based on the information provided to me by Miss A. Wyse of Halford.
328. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, pp. 265 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 422.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalendar aus Böhmen, pp. 265 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 422.
329. P. Drechsler, Sitte, Brauch und Volksglaube in Schlesien, i. (Leipsic, 1903) pp. 125-129.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Drechsler, Traditions, Customs, and Folk Beliefs in Silesia, i. (Leipzig, 1903) pp. 125-129.
330. D. Monnier, Traditions populaires comparées (Paris, 1854), p. 304; E. Cortet, Fêtes religieuses, p. 161; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 423.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.D. Monnier, Comparative Folk Traditions (Paris, 1854), p. 304; E. Cortet, Religious Festivals, p. 161; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult, p. 423.
331. J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 233 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 424. We have seen (p. 62) that a custom of the same sort used to be observed at Bampton-in-the-Bush in Oxfordshire.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 233 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 424. We have seen (p. 62) that a similar custom was once practiced at Bampton-in-the-Bush in Oxfordshire.
332. E. Hoffmann-Krayer, “Fruchtbarkeitsriten im schweizerischen Volksbrauch,” Schweizerisches Archiv für Volkskunde, xi. (1907) pp. 257 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Hoffmann-Krayer, “Fertility Rites in Swiss Folk Customs,” Swiss Archive for Folklore, vol. xi (1907), pp. 257 sq.
333. E. Sommer, Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus Sachsen und Thüringen (Halle, 1843), pp. 151 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 431 sq. The custom is now obsolete (E. Mogk, in R. Wuttke’s Sächsische Volkskunde, 2nd Ed., Dresden, 1901, p. 309).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Sommer, Legends, Fairy Tales, and Customs from Saxony and Thuringia (Halle, 1843), pp. 151 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult, pp. 431 sq. The custom is now outdated (E. Mogk, in R. Wuttke’s Saxon Folklore, 2nd Ed., Dresden, 1901, p. 309).
334. H. F. Feilberg, in Folk-lore, vi. (1895) pp. 194 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. F. Feilberg, in Folk-lore, vi. (1895) pp. 194 sq.
336. L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden, p. 257.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden, p. 257.
337. Mr. W. C. Crofts, in a letter to me dated February 3, 1901, 9 Northwich Terrace, Cheltenham.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mr. W. C. Crofts, in a letter to me dated February 3, 1901, 9 Northwich Terrace, Cheltenham.
338. For details see Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 202 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For details see Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 202 sq.
339. This custom was told to W. Mannhardt by a French prisoner in the war of 1870-71 (Baumkultus, p. 434).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A French prisoner from the war of 1870-71 shared this custom with W. Mannhardt (Baumkultus, p. 434).
340. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 434 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 434 and following
341. Ibid. p. 435.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Same source. p. 435.
343. M. Martin, Description of the Western Islands of Scotland (London, 1673 [1703]), p. 119; id. in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 613; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 436. According to Martin, the ceremony took place on Candlemas Day, the second of February. But this seems to be a mistake. See J. G. Campbell, Witchcraft and Second Sight in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, pp. 247 sq. The Rev. James Macdonald, of Reay in Caithness, was assured by old people that the sheaf used in making Briid’s bed was the last sheaf cut at harvest (J. Macdonald, Religion and Myth, p. 141). Later on we shall see that the last sheaf is often regarded as embodying the spirit of the corn, and special care is therefore taken of it.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. Martin, Description of the Western Islands of Scotland (London, 1673 [1703]), p. 119; id. in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 613; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 436. According to Martin, the ceremony happened on Candlemas Day, February 2nd. However, this seems to be an error. See J. G. Campbell, Witchcraft and Second Sight in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, pp. 247 sq. The Rev. James Macdonald, from Reay in Caithness, was told by older people that the sheaf used to make Briid’s bed was the last sheaf cut during harvest (J. Macdonald, Religion and Myth, p. 141). Later on, we will see that the last sheaf is often seen as representing the spirit of the corn, and it is therefore treated with special care.
344. John Ramsay of Ochtertyre, Scotland and Scotsmen in the Eighteenth Century, edited by Alex. Allardyce (Edinburgh, 1888), ii. 447. At Ballinasloe in County Galway it is customary to fasten a cross of twisted corn in the roof of the cottages on Candlemas Day. The cross is fastened by means of a knife stuck through a potato, and remains in its place for months, if not for a year. This custom (of which I was informed by Miss Nina Hill in a letter dated May 5, 1898) may be connected with the Highland one described in the text.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.John Ramsay of Ochtertyre, Scotland and Scotsmen in the Eighteenth Century, edited by Alex. Allardyce (Edinburgh, 1888), ii. 447. In Ballinasloe, County Galway, it's a tradition to hang a cross made of twisted corn in the roofs of cottages on Candlemas Day. The cross is secured using a knife pushed through a potato, and it stays there for several months, sometimes up to a year. This tradition (which I learned about from Miss Nina Hill in a letter dated May 5, 1898) might be related to the Highland custom mentioned in the text.
345. J. Train, Historical and Statistical Account of the Isle of Man (Douglas, Isle of Man, 1845), ii. 116.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Train, Historical and Statistical Account of the Isle of Man (Douglas, Isle of Man, 1845), ii. 116.
346. See below, pp. 240 sqq. Brigit is the true original form of the name, which has been corrupted into Breed, Bride, and Bridget. See Douglas Hyde, A Literary History of Ireland (London, 1899), p. 53, note 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See below, pp. 240 sqq. Brigit is the authentic original form of the name, which has been changed into Breed, Bride, and Bridget. See Douglas Hyde, A Literary History of Ireland (London, 1899), p. 53, note 2.
347. A. Kuhn, Märkische Sagen und Märchen, pp. 318 sqq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 437.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Kuhn, Märkische Sagen und Märchen, pp. 318 sqq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 437.
348. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 438.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult, p. 438.
349. R. Andree, Braunschweiger Volkskunde (Brunswick, 1896), p. 248.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Andree, Braunschweiger Volkskunde (Brunswick, 1896), p. 248.
350. D. Monnier, Traditions populaires comparées, pp. 283 sq.; E. Cortet, Fêtes religieuses, pp. 162 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 439 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.D. Monnier, Comparative Folk Traditions, pp. 283 sq.; E. Cortet, Religious Festivals, pp. 162 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Cult of Trees, pp. 439 sq.
352. Brasseur de Bourbourg, Histoire des nations civilisées du Mexique et de l’Amérique Centrale (Paris, 1857-1859), ii. 565; H. H. Bancroft, Native Races of the Pacific States, ii. 719 sq., iii. 507; O. Stoll, Die Ethnologie der Indianerstämme von Guatemala (Leyden, 1889), p. 47.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Brasseur de Bourbourg, History of the Civilized Nations of Mexico and Central America (Paris, 1857-1859), ii. 565; H. H. Bancroft, Native Races of the Pacific States, ii. 719 sq., iii. 507; O. Stoll, The Ethnology of the Indian Tribes of Guatemala (Leyden, 1889), p. 47.
353. P. J. de Arriaga, Extirpacion de la idolatria del Piru (Lima, 1621), pp. 36 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. J. de Arriaga, Eradication of Idolatry in Peru (Lima, 1621), pp. 36 sq.
354. G. A. Wilken, “Het animisme bij de volken van den Indischen Archipel,” De Indische Gids, June 1884, p. 958.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. A. Wilken, “Animism Among the Peoples of the Indonesian Archipelago,” The Indonesian Guide, June 1884, p. 958.
355. J. G. F. Riedel, De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua, pp. 337, 372-375, 410 sq.; G. W. W. C. Baron van Hoëvell, in Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde, xxxiii. (1890) pp. 204 sq., 206 sq.; id., in Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, viii. (1895) p. 134; J. A. Jacobsen, Reisen in die Inselwelt des Banda-Meeres (Berlin, 1896), pp. 123, 125; J. H. de Vries, “Reis door eenige eilandgroepen der Residentie Amboina,” Tijdschrift van het konink. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, Tweede Serie, xvii. (1900) pp. 594, 612, 615 sq. The name of the festival is variously given as porĕke, porĕka, porka, and purka. In the island of Timor the marriage of the Sun-god with Mother Earth is deemed the source of all fertility and growth. See J. S. G. Gramberg, “Eene maand in de Binnenlanden van Timor,” Verhandelingen van het Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en Wetenschappen, xxxvi. 206 sq.; H. Sondervan, “Timor en de Timoreezen,” Tijdschriftvan het Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, Tweede Serie, dl. v. (1888), Afdeeling meer uitgebreide artikelen, p. 397.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. F. Riedel, De sluik-en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua, pp. 337, 372-375, 410 sq.; G. W. W. C. Baron van Hoëvell, in Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde, xxxiii. (1890) pp. 204 sq., 206 sq.; id., in Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, viii. (1895) p. 134; J. A. Jacobsen, Reisen in die Inselwelt des Banda-Meeres (Berlin, 1896), pp. 123, 125; J. H. de Vries, “Reis door eenige eilandgroepen der Residentie Amboina,” Tijdschrift van het konink. Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, Tweede Serie, xvii. (1900) pp. 594, 612, 615 sq. The festival is referred to as porĕke, porĕka, porka, and purka. In Timor, the marriage of the Sun-god with Mother Earth is considered the source of all fertility and growth. See J. S. G. Gramberg, “Eene maand in de Binnenlanden van Timor,” Verhandelingen van het Bataviaasch Genootschap van Kunsten en Wetenschappen, xxxvi. 206 sq.; H. Sondervan, “Timor en de Timoreezen,” Tijdschriftvan het Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, Tweede Serie, dl. v. (1888), Afdeeling meer uitgebreide artikelen, p. 397.
356. T. C. Hodson, “The Native Tribes of Manipur,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxi. (1901) p. 307.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. C. Hodson, “The Native Tribes of Manipur,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxi. (1901) p. 307.
357. Maimonides, translated by D. Chwolsohn, Die Ssabier und der Ssabismus, ii. 475. It is not quite clear whether the direction, which Maimonides here attributes to the heathen of Harran, is taken by him from the beginning of The Agriculture of the Nabataeans, which he had referred to a few lines before. The first part of that work appears to be lost, though other parts of it exist in manuscript at Paris, Oxford, and elsewhere. See D. Chwolsohn, op. cit. i. 697 sqq. The book is an early Mohammedan forgery; but the superstitions it describes may very well be genuine. See A. von Gutschmid, Kleine Schriften, ii. 568-713.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Maimonides, translated by D. Chwolsohn, Die Ssabier und der Ssabismus, ii. 475. It's not completely clear whether the information that Maimonides attributes to the pagans of Harran comes from the beginning of The Agriculture of the Nabataeans, which he mentioned a few lines earlier. The first part of that work seems to be lost, although other sections exist in manuscripts in Paris, Oxford, and other places. See D. Chwolsohn, op. cit. i. 697 sqq. The book is an early Muslim forgery, but the superstitions it describes might be authentic. See A. von Gutschmid, Kleine Schriften, ii. 568-713.
358. G. W. W. C. Baron van Hoëvell, Ambon en meer bepaaldelijk de Oeliasers (Dordrecht, 1875), pp. 62 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. W. W. C. Baron van Hoëvell, Ambon and specifically the Oeliasers (Dordrecht, 1875), pp. 62 sq.
359. J. Kreemer, “Tiang-dèrès” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xxvi. (1882), pp. 128-132. This and the preceding custom have been already quoted by G. A. Wilken (“Het animisme bij de volken van den Indischen Archipel,” De Indische Gids, June 1884, pp. 962 sq.; and Handleiding voor de vorgelijkende Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië (Leyden, 1893), p. 550).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Kreemer, “Tiang-dèrès” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xxvi. (1882), pp. 128-132. This and the earlier custom have already been referenced by G. A. Wilken (“Het animisme bij de volken van den Indischen Archipel,” De Indische Gids, June 1884, pp. 962 sq.; and Handleiding voor de vorgelijkende Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië (Leyden, 1893), p. 550).
361. W. Svoboda, “Die Bewohner des Nikobaren-Archipels,” Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, v. (1892) pp. 193 sq. For other examples of a fruitful woman making trees fruitful, see above, vol. i. pp. 140 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Svoboda, “The Inhabitants of the Nicobar Archipelago,” International Archive of Ethnography, vol. (1892) pp. 193 sq. For more examples of a productive woman making trees fruitful, see above, vol. i. pp. 140 sq.
362. J. Roscoe, “Further Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) pp. 32-35, 38, 80. The Peruvian custom described above (vol. i. p. 266) may in like manner have been intended to promote the growth of beans through the fertilising influence of the parents of twins. On the contrary among the Bassari of Togo, in Western Africa, women who have given birth to twins may not go near the farm at the seasons of sowing and reaping, lest they should destroy the crop. Only after the birth of another child does custom allow them to share again the labour of the fields. See H. Klose, Togo unter deutscher Flagge (Berlin, 1899), p. 510.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Roscoe, “Further Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) pp. 32-35, 38, 80. The Peruvian custom described above (vol. i. p. 266) might also have been meant to encourage the growth of beans by leveraging the fertilizing effect of the parents of twins. In contrast, among the Bassari people of Togo in Western Africa, women who have given birth to twins are not allowed to approach the farm during planting and harvesting seasons, as their presence could harm the crop. They can only return to fieldwork after the birth of another child. See H. Klose, Togo unter deutscher Flagge (Berlin, 1899), p. 510.
363. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 480 sq.; id., Mythologische Forschungen (Strasburg, 1884), p. 341.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 480 sq.; id., Mythologische Forschungen (Strasburg, 1884), p. 341.
364. J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 181.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, vol. 1, p. 181.
365. My informant is Prof. W. Ridgeway. The place was a field at the head of the Dargle vale, near Enniskerry.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.My source is Prof. W. Ridgeway. The location was a field at the top of the Dargle valley, near Enniskerry.
367. G. W. W. C. Baron van Hoëvell, in Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, viii. (1895) p. 134 note. The custom seems to go by the name of dauwtroppen or “dew-treading.” As districts or places in which the practice is still kept up the writer names South Holland, Dordrecht, and Rotterdam.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. W. W. C. Baron van Hoëvell, in International Archive for Ethnography, viii. (1895) p. 134 note. The custom is known as dauwtroppen or “dew-treading.” The author mentions that this practice is still observed in South Holland, Dordrecht, and Rotterdam.
368. L. Strackerjan, Aberglaube und Sagen aus dem Herzogthum Oldenburg (Oldenburg, 1867), ii. p. 78, § 361; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 481; id., Mythologische Forschungen, p. 340. Compare Th. Siebs, “Das Saterland,” Zeitschrift für Volkskunde, iii. (1893) p. 277.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Strackerjan, Superstitions and Legends from the Duchy of Oldenburg (Oldenburg, 1867), ii. p. 78, § 361; W. Mannhardt, Tree Cult, p. 481; id., Mythological Research, p. 340. Compare Th. Siebs, “The Saterland,” Journal of Folklore Studies, iii. (1893) p. 277.
369. A. C. Kruijt, “Een en ander aangaande het geestelijk en maatschappelijk leven van den Poso-Alfoer,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xxxix. (1895) p. 138, ibid. xl. (1896) pp. 16 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “Some Thoughts on the Spiritual and Social Life of the Poso-Alfoer,” Reports from the Dutch Mission Society, xxxix. (1895) p. 138, ibid. xl. (1896) pp. 16 sq.
370. G. F. Oviedo y Valdes, Histoire du Nicaragua (published in Ternaux-Compans’ Voyages, relations et mémoires originaux, etc.), Paris, 1840, pp. 228 sq.; A. de Herrera, General History of the Vast Continent and Islands called America (Stevens’s translation, London, 1725-26), iii. 298.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. F. Oviedo y Valdes, History of Nicaragua (published in Ternaux-Compans’ Original Travels, Accounts, and Memoirs, etc.), Paris, 1840, pp. 228 et seq.; A. de Herrera, General History of the Vast Continent and Islands known as America (Stevens’s translation, London, 1725-26), iii. 298.
371. C. Sapper, “Die Gebräuche und religiösen Anschauungen der Kekchi-Indianer,” Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, viii. (1895) p. 203. Abstinence from women for several days is also practised before the sowing of beans and of chilis, but only by Indians who do a large business in these commodities (ibid. p. 205).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Sapper, “The Customs and Religious Beliefs of the Kekchi Indians,” International Archives of Ethnography, viii. (1895) p. 203. Abstaining from women for several days is also practiced before planting beans and chilis, but only by Indians who are heavily involved in these commodities (ibid. p. 205).
372. A. Heinrich, Agrarische Sitten und Gebräuche unter den Sachsen Siebenbürgens (Hermannstadt, 1880), p. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Heinrich, Agricultural Customs and Traditions among the Saxons of Transylvania (Hermannstadt, 1880), p. 7.
373. R. Temesvary, Volksbräuche und Aberglauben in der Geburtshilfe und der Pflege der Neugebornen in Ungarn (Leipsic, 1900), p. 16.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Temesvary, Folk Customs and Superstitions in Childbirth and the Care of Newborns in Hungary (Leipzig, 1900), p. 16.
374. Spencer and Gillen, Northern Tribes of Central Australia, p. 293. See above, vol. i. p. 88.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Spencer and Gillen, Northern Tribes of Central Australia, p. 293. See above, vol. i. p. 88.
375. R. H. Codrington, The Melanesians, p. 134.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. H. Codrington, The Melanesians, p. 134.
376. J. Chalmers, Pioneering in New Guinea (London, 1887), p. 181. The word which I have taken to mean “holy or taboo” is helaga. Mr. Chalmers does not translate or explain it. Dr. C. G. Seligmann says that the word “conveys something of the idea of ‘sacred,’ ‘set apart,’ ‘charged with virtue’” (The Melanesians of British New Guinea, p. 101, note 2).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Chalmers, Pioneering in New Guinea (London, 1887), p. 181. The word I interpret as “holy or taboo” is helaga. Mr. Chalmers doesn't translate or explain it. Dr. C. G. Seligmann states that the word “implies something of the idea of ‘sacred,’ ‘set apart,’ ‘charged with virtue’” (The Melanesians of British New Guinea, p. 101, note 2).
377. A. C. Haddon, Head-hunters (London, 1901), pp. 270-272, 275 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Haddon, Head-hunters (London, 1901), pp. 270-272, 275 sq.
378. T. C. Hodson, “The Native Tribes of Manipur,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxi. (1901) p. 307.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. C. Hodson, “The Native Tribes of Manipur,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, vol. 31 (1901), p. 307.
379. T. C. Hodson, “The genna amongst the Tribes of Assam,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxvi. (1906) p. 94.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. C. Hodson, “The genna among the Tribes of Assam,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxvi. (1906) p. 94.
380. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xii. 54; Solinus, xxxiii. 6 sq., p. 166, ed. Th. Mommsen (first edition).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. xii. 54; Solinus, xxxiii. 6 sq., p. 166, ed. Th. Mommsen (first edition).
381. Theophrastus, Histor. plant. ix. 4. 5 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Theophrastus, Hist. of Plants ix. 4. 5 sq.
382. Palladius, De re rustica, i. 6. 14; Geoponica, ix. 3. 5 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Palladius, De re rustica, i. 6. 14; Geoponica, ix. 3. 5 sq.
383. With what follows compare Psyche’s Task, chapter iv. pp. 31 sqq., where I have adduced the same evidence to some extent in the same words.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Compare what follows with Psyche’s Task, chapter iv, pages 31 sqq., where I presented the same evidence to some degree using the same phrasing.
384. F. Mason, “On dwellings, works of art, laws, etc., of the Karens,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, xxxvii. (1868) Part ii. pp. 147 sq. Compare A. R. M’Mahon, The Karens of the Golden Chersonese (London, 1876), pp. 334 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Mason, “On homes, artworks, laws, etc., of the Karens,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, xxxvii. (1868) Part ii. pp. 147 sq. Compare A. R. M’Mahon, The Karens of the Golden Chersonese (London, 1876), pp. 334 sq.
385. J. B. Neumann, “Het Pane- en Bila-stroomgebied op het eiland Sumatra,” Tijdschrift van het Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, Tweede Serie, dl. iii. Afdeeling, meer uitgebreide artikelen, No. 3 (1886), pp. 514 sq.; M. Joustra, “Het leven, de zeden en gewoonten der Bataks,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xlvi. (1902) p. 411.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. B. Neumann, “The Panel and Bila River Basin on the Island of Sumatra,” Journal of the Dutch Geography Society, Second Series, Vol. III, Section, more extensive articles, No. 3 (1886), pp. 514 sq.; M. Joustra, “The Life, Customs, and Traditions of the Bataks,” Communications from the Dutch Missionary Society, XLVI (1902) p. 411.
386. H. Ling Roth, “Low’s natives of Borneo,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxi. (1892) pp. 113 sq., 133, xxii. (1893) p. 24; id., Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 401. Compare Rev. J. Perham, “Petara, or Sea Dyak Gods,” Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 8, December 1881, p. 150; H. Ling Roth, Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 180. According to Archdeacon Perham, “Every district traversed by an adulterer is believed to be accursed of the gods until the proper sacrifice has been offered.” In respectable Dyak families, when an unmarried girl is found with child and the father is unknown, they sacrifice a pig and sprinkle the doors with its blood to wash away the sin (Spenser St. John, Life in the Forests of the Far East, 2nd Ed., i. 64). In Ceram a person convicted of unchastity has to expiate his guilt by smearing every house in the village with the blood of a pig and a fowl. See A. Bastian, Indonesien, i. (Berlin, 1884) p. 144.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Ling Roth, “Low’s natives of Borneo,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxi. (1892) pp. 113 sq., 133, xxii. (1893) p. 24; id., Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 401. Compare Rev. J. Perham, “Petara, or Sea Dyak Gods,” Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, No. 8, December 1881, p. 150; H. Ling Roth, Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 180. According to Archdeacon Perham, “Every area crossed by someone committing adultery is thought to be cursed by the gods until the proper sacrifice has been made.” In respectable Dyak families, when an unmarried girl is found to be pregnant and the father is unknown, they sacrifice a pig and sprinkle its blood on the doors to cleanse the sin (Spenser St. John, Life in the Forests of the Far East, 2nd Ed., i. 64). In Ceram, someone found guilty of infidelity has to atone for their guilt by smearing the blood of a pig and a fowl on every house in the village. See A. Bastian, Indonesien, i. (Berlin, 1884) p. 144.
387. A. W. Nieuwenhuis, Quer durch Borneo (Leyden, 1904-1907), i. 367.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. W. Nieuwenhuis, Traversing Borneo (Leyden, 1904-1907), i. 367.
388. A. W. Nieuwenhuis, Quer durch Borneo, ii. 99; id., In Centraal Borneo (Leyden, 1900), ii. 278.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. W. Nieuwenhuis, Across Borneo, ii. 99; id., In Central Borneo (Leyden, 1900), ii. 278.
389. B. F. Matthes, “Over de âdá’s of gewoonten der Makassaren en Boegineezen,” Verslagen en Mededeelingen der koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen, Afdeeling Letterkunde, Derde Reeks, II. (Amsterdam, 1885) p. 182. The similar Roman penalty for parricide (Digest, xlviii. 9. 9; Valerius Maximus, i. 1. 13; J. E. B. Mayor’s note on Juvenal Sat. viii. 214) may have been adopted for a similar reason. But in that case the scourging which preceded the drowning can hardly have been originally a part of the punishment.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.B. F. Matthes, “On the âdá’s or customs of the Makassarese and Bugis,” Reports and Communications of the Royal Academy of Sciences, Section of Literature, Third Series, II. (Amsterdam, 1885) p. 182. The comparable Roman punishment for parricide (Digest, xlviii. 9. 9; Valerius Maximus, i. 1. 13; J. E. B. Mayor’s note on Juvenal Sat. viii. 214) may have been adopted for a similar reason. However, in that case, the flogging that occurred before the drowning can hardly have originally been part of the punishment.
390. A. C. Kruijt, “Eenige ethnografische aanteekeningen omtrent de Toboengkoe en de Tomori,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xliv. (1900) p. 235.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “Some Ethnographic Notes on the Toboengkoe and Tomori,” Reports from the Dutch Missionary Society, xliv. (1900) p. 235.
391. A. C. Kruijt, “Van Posso naar Mori,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xliv. (1900) p. 162.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “From Posso to Mori,” Reports from the Dutch Missionary Society, xliv. (1900) p. 162.
392. M. J. van Baarda, “Fabelen, Verhalen en Overleveringen der Galelareezen,” Bijdragen tot de Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië, xlv. (1895) p. 514. In the Banggai Archipelago, to the east of Celebes, earthquakes are explained as punishments inflicted by evil spirits for indulgence in illicit love (F. S. A. de Clercq, Bijdragen tot de Kennis der Residentie Ternate (Leyden, 1890), p. 132).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. J. van Baarda, “Fables, Stories, and Traditions of the Galelarese,” Contributions to the Language, Land, and Ethnology of the Dutch East Indies, xlv. (1895) p. 514. In the Banggai Archipelago, located east of Celebes, earthquakes are seen as punishments from evil spirits for engaging in forbidden love (F. S. A. de Clercq, Contributions to the Knowledge of the Residency of Ternate (Leyden, 1890), p. 132).
393. O. Dapper, Description de l’Afrique (Amsterdam, 1686), p. 326; R. E. Dennett, At the Back of the Black Man’s Mind (London, 1906), pp. 53, 67-71.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.O. Dapper, Description de l’Afrique (Amsterdam, 1686), p. 326; R. E. Dennett, At the Back of the Black Man’s Mind (London, 1906), pp. 53, 67-71.
394. R. E. Dennett, op. cit. p. 52.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. R. E. Dennett, same source p. 52.
395. A. C. Hollis, The Nandi, their Language and Folk-lore (Oxford, 1909), p. 76.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Hollis, The Nandi, their Language and Folklore (Oxford, 1909), p. 76.
396. Rev. E. Casalis, The Basutos (London, 1861), p. 252.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. E. Casalis, The Basutos (London, 1861), p. 252.
397. Sir Harry Johnston, The Uganda Protectorate (London, 1902), ii. 718 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir Harry Johnston, The Uganda Protectorate (London, 1902), ii. 718 sq.
398. A. C. Kruijt, “Regen lokken en regen verdrijven bij de Toradja’s van Midden Celebes,” Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde, xliv. (1901) p. 4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Kruijt, “Attracting Rain and Driving Away Rain among the Toradja of Central Celebes,” Journal of Indonesian Language, Geography, and Ethnology, xliv. (1901) p. 4.
399. Probably a similar extension of the superstition to animal life occurs also among savages, though the authorities I have consulted do not mention it. A trace, however, of such an extension appears in a belief entertained by the Khasis of Assam, that if a man defies tribal custom by marrying a woman of his own clan, the women of the tribe will die in childbed and the people will suffer from other calamities. See Colonel P. R. T. Gurdon, The Khasis (London, 1907), pp. 94, 123.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.It's likely that a similar extension of superstition to animal life exists among primitive cultures, although the sources I've looked at don't mention it. However, there's some evidence of this in a belief held by the Khasis of Assam, which states that if a man breaks tribal customs by marrying a woman from his own clan, the women of the tribe will die during childbirth, and the community will face other misfortunes. See Colonel P. R. T. Gurdon, The Khasis (London, 1907), pp. 94, 123.
400. Job xxxi. 11 sq. (Revised Version).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Job 31:11 sq. (Revised Version).
401. תבואה. See Hebrew and English Lexicon, by F. Brown, S. R. Driver, and Ch. A. Briggs (Oxford, 1906), p. 100.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Grain. See Hebrew and English Lexicon, by F. Brown, S. R. Driver, and Ch. A. Briggs (Oxford, 1906), p. 100.
402. Genesis xii. 10-20, xx. 1-18.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Genesis 12:10-20, 20:1-18.
403. Leviticus xviii. 24 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Leviticus 18:24 sq.
404. Sophocles, Oedipus Tyrannus, 22 sqq., 95 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Sophocles, Oedipus Tyrannus, 22 sqq., 95 sqq.
405. Tacitus, Annals, xii. 4 and 8.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Tacitus, Annals, 12.4 and 12.8.
406. Columella, De re rustica, xii. 2 sq., appealing to the authority of M. Ambivius, Maenas Licinius, and C. Matius. See on this subject below, p. 205.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Columella, De re rustica, xii. 2 sq., referencing the expertise of M. Ambivius, Maenas Licinius, and C. Matius. For more on this topic, see below, p. 205.
407. G. Keating, History of Ireland, translated by J. O’Mahony (New York, 1857), pp. 337 sq.; P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland (London, 1903), ii. 512 sq.; J. Rhys, Celtic Heathendom (London and Edinburgh, 1888), pp. 308 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Keating, History of Ireland, translated by J. O’Mahony (New York, 1857), pp. 337 sq.; P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland (London, 1903), ii. 512 sq.; J. Rhys, Celtic Heathendom (London and Edinburgh, 1888), pp. 308 sq.
408. Compare Totemism and Exogamy, iv. 153 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Compare Totemism and Exogamy, iv. 153 and following
409. “Next (for hear me out now, readers) that I may tell ye whither my younger feet wandered; I betook me among those lofty fables and romances which recount in solemn cantos the deeds of knighthood founded by our victorious kings, and from hence had in renown over all Christendom. There I read it in the oath of every knight that he should defend to the utmost expense of his best blood, or of his life, if it so befell him, the honour and chastity of virgin or matron; from whence even then I learned what a noble virtue chastity sure must be, to the defence of which so many worthies, by such a dear adventure of themselves, had sworn; and if I found in the story afterward any of them by word or deed breaking that oath, I judged it the same fault of the poet as that which is attributed to Homer, to have written indecent things of the gods. Only this my mind gave me, that every free and gentle spirit, without that oath, ought to be born a knight, nor needed to expect the gilt spur or the laying of a sword upon his shoulder to stir him up both by his counsel and his arm, to secure and protect the weakness of any attempted chastity” (Milton, “Apology for Smectymnuus,” Complete Collection of the Historical, Political, and Miscellaneous Works of John Milton (London, 1738), vol. i. p. 111).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Next (listen closely, readers) I’ll share where my younger feet took me; I immersed myself in those grand tales and romances that tell, in serious verses, about the heroic deeds of knighthood established by our victorious kings, and which gained fame throughout all of Christendom. There I discovered it in the vow of every knight that he would protect to the utmost expense of his own blood, or even his life, if necessary, the honor and purity of any virgin or married woman; from this, I realized what an incredible virtue chastity must be, for so many great heroes, through such significant sacrifices, had vowed to defend it; and if later I found any of them breaking that vow by word or action, I deemed it the poet's fault, much like the criticism attributed to Homer for writing inappropriate things about the gods. My belief was that every free and noble spirit, without needing that oath, should be born a knight and did not require the gold spur or the ceremonial laying of a sword on his shoulder to motivate him, both in advice and in action, to secure and protect the vulnerability of any chastity that was threatened.” (Milton, “Apology for Smectymnuus,” Complete Collection of the Historical, Political, and Miscellaneous Works of John Milton (London, 1738), vol. i. p. 111).
410. For examples of chastity observed at home by the friends of the absent warriors, see above, vol. i. pp. 128, 131, 133. Examples of chastity observed by the warriors themselves in the field will be given in the second part of this work. Meanwhile see The Golden Bough, 2nd Ed., i. 328, note 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For examples of chastity practiced at home by the friends of the absent warriors, see above, vol. i. pp. 128, 131, 133. Examples of chastity observed by the warriors themselves in the field will be provided in the second part of this work. In the meantime, see The Golden Bough, 2nd Ed., i. 328, note 2.
411. Speaking of the one God who reveals himself in many forms and under many names, Augustine says: “Ipse in aethere sit Jupiter, ipse in aëre Juno, ipse in mare Neptunus ... Liber in vineis, Ceres in frumentis, Diana in silvis,” etc. (De civitate Dei, iv. 11).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Speaking of the one God who reveals Himself in many forms and under many names, Augustine says: “He is Jupiter in the sky, Juno in the air, Neptune in the sea ... Liber in the vineyards, Ceres in the grains, Diana in the woods,” etc. (De civitate Dei, iv. 11).
412. Servius on Virgil, Georg. iii. 332: “Nam, ut diximus, et omnis quercus Jovi est consecrata, et omnis lucus Dianae.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Servius on Virgil, Georg. iii. 332: “As we mentioned, every oak tree is dedicated to Jupiter, and every grove is sacred to Diana.”
413. W. H. Roscher, Lexikon der griech. und röm. Mythologie, i. 1005; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, Nos. 3266-3268.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. H. Roscher, Dictionary of Greek and Roman Mythology, i. 1005; H. Dessau, Selected Latin Inscriptions, Nos. 3266-3268.
414. Dittenberger, Sylloge inscriptionum Graecarum, 2nd Ed., No. 568; Ch. Michel, Recueil d’inscriptions grecques, No. 686; E. S. Roberts, Introduction to Greek Epigraphy, ii., No. 139.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dittenberger, Sylloge inscriptionum Graecarum, 2nd Ed., No. 568; Ch. Michel, Recueil d’inscriptions grecques, No. 686; E. S. Roberts, Introduction to Greek Epigraphy, ii., No. 139.
415. Dittenberger, op. cit. No. 653, lines 79 sqq.; Ch. Michel, op. cit., No. 694. As to the grove see Pausanias, iv. 33. 4 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dittenberger, op. cit. No. 653, lines 79 et seq.; Ch. Michel, op. cit., No. 694. Regarding the grove, see Pausanias, iv. 33. 4 et seq.
416. Dittenberger, op. cit., No. 929, lines 80 sqq. Compare id. No. 569; Pausanias, ii. 28. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dittenberger, op. cit., No. 929, lines 80 sqq. Compare id. No. 569; Pausanias, ii. 28. 7.
417. H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 4911.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 4911.
418. Cato, De agri cultura, 139.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Cato, On Agriculture, 139.
419. Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 85, ed. C. O. Müller; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xviii. 6.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 85, ed. C. O. Müller; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xviii. 6.
420. G. Henzen, Acta Fratrum Arvalium (Berlin, 1874), pp. 136-143; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, ii., Nos. 5042, 5043, 5045, 5046, 5048.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Henzen, Acta Fratrum Arvalium (Berlin, 1874), pp. 136-143; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, ii., Nos. 5042, 5043, 5045, 5046, 5048.
421. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 749-755.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, Book 4, lines 749-755.
422. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xii. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, Natural History xii. 3.
423. Seneca, Epist. iv. 12. 3. See further L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 108 sqq. For evidence of the poets he refers to Virgil, Georg. iii. 332 sqq.; Tibullus, i. 1. 11; Ovid, Amores, iii. 1. 1 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Seneca, Epist. iv. 12. 3. See also L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 108 sqq. For references to poets, he mentions Virgil, Georg. iii. 332 sqq.; Tibullus, i. 1. 11; Ovid, Amores, iii. 1. 1 sq.
424. On Diana as a huntress see H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, Nos. 3257-3266. For indications of her care for domestic cattle see Livy, i. 45; Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanae, 4; and above, vol. i. p. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For information on Diana as a huntress, see H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, Nos. 3257-3266. For details about her care for domestic cattle, refer to Livy, i. 45; Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanae, 4; and above, vol. i. p. 7.
425. Virgil, Aen., viii. 600 sq., with Servius’s note.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Virgil, Aen., viii. 600 sq., with Servius’s note.
426. M. A. Castren, Vorlesungen über die finnische Mythologie (St. Petersburg, 1853), pp. 92-99.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. A. Castren, Lectures on Finnish Mythology (St. Petersburg, 1853), pp. 92-99.
427. P. v. Stenin, “Über den Geisterglauben in Russland,” Globus, lvii. (1890), p. 283.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. v. Stenin, “On the Belief in Spirits in Russia,” Globus, lvii. (1890), p. 283.
428. J. Abercromby, The Pre- and Proto-historic Finns (London, 1898), i. 161.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Abercromby, The Pre- and Proto-historic Finns (London, 1898), i. 161.
429. Mathias Michov, “De Sarmatia Asiana atque Europea,” in Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum, p. 457.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mathias Michov, “On Asian and European Sarmatia,” in New World of Regions and Islands Previously Unknown, p. 457.
430. C. Snouck Hurgronje, Het Gajōland en zijne Bewoners (Batavia, 1903), pp. 351, 359.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Snouck Hurgronje, The Gajōland and Its Inhabitants (Batavia, 1903), pp. 351, 359.
431. See vol. i. p. 14.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. See vol. 1, p. 14.
432. Arrian, Cynegeticus, 33 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Arrian, Cynegeticus, 33 sq.
433. The Galatians retained their Celtic speech as late as the fourth century of our era, for Jerome says that in his day their language hardly differed from that of the Treveri, a Celtic tribe on the Moselle, whose name survives in Treves. See Jerome, Commentar. in Epist. ad Galatas, lib. ii. praef. (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, vol. xxvi. col. 357).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Galatians kept speaking their Celtic language until at least the fourth century AD, because Jerome mentioned that during his time, their language was hardly different from that of the Treveri, a Celtic tribe near the Moselle, whose name is still found in Treves. See Jerome, Commentar. in Epist. ad Galatas, lib. ii. praef. (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, vol. xxvi. col. 357).
435. H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 4633; Ihm, in Pauly-Wissowa’s Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, ii. 616, s.v. “Arduinna”; compare id. i. 104, s.v. “Abnoba.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Dessau, Selected Latin Inscriptions, No. 4633; Ihm, in Pauly-Wissowa’s Real Encyclopedia of Classical Antiquity, ii. 616, under “Arduinna”; see also id. i. 104, under “Abnoba.”
436. F. S. Krauss, Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Südslaven (Münster i. W., 1890), p. 125.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. Krauss, Popular Beliefs and Religious Customs of the South Slavs (Münster i. W., 1890), p. 125.
437. J. H. Schmitz, Sitten und Bräuche, Lieder, Sprüchwörter und Räthsel des Eifler Volkes (Treves, 1856-1858), i. 42 sq.; A. Kuhn und W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche, pp. 393 sq.; Ch. Beauquier, Les Mois en Franche-Comté (Paris, 1900), p. 90. In Sweden and parts of Germany cattle are crowned on the day in spring when they are first driven out to pasture, which is sometimes at Whitsuntide (A. Kuhn, Die Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 163 sq.; L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden, pp. 246 sq.; A. Kuhn, Märkische Sagen und Märchen, pp. 315 sq., 327 sq.; P. Drechsler, Sitte, Brauch und Volksglaube in Schlesien, i. 123). Amongst the Romans cattle were crowned at the Ambarvalia (Tibullus, ii. 1. 7 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, i. 663); and asses and mill-stones were crowned at Vesta’s festival on the ninth of June (Propertius, v. 1. 21; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 311 sq.). The original motive of all these customs may have been the one indicated in the text. Perhaps the same explanation might be found to apply to certain other cases of wearing wreaths or crowns.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. H. Schmitz, Sittens and Customs, Songs, Proverbs and Riddles of the Eifel People (Treves, 1856-1858), i. 42 sq.; A. Kuhn and W. Schwartz, North German Legends, Fairy Tales, and Customs, pp. 393 sq.; Ch. Beauquier, The Months in Franche-Comté (Paris, 1900), p. 90. In Sweden and parts of Germany, cattle are crowned on the spring day when they are first taken out to pasture, which sometimes occurs at Whitsun (A. Kuhn, The Descent of Fire, 2nd Ed., pp. 163 sq.; L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden, pp. 246 sq.; A. Kuhn, Markish Legends and Fairy Tales, pp. 315 sq., 327 sq.; P. Drechsler, Customs, Traditions and Folk Beliefs in Silesia, i. 123). Among the Romans, cattle were crowned during the Ambarvalia (Tibullus, ii. 1. 7 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, i. 663); and donkeys and millstones were crowned at Vesta’s festival on June 9th (Propertius, v. 1. 21; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 311 sq.). The original reason behind all these customs may be the one mentioned in the text. Perhaps the same explanation could apply to other instances of wearing wreaths or crowns.
438. Tettau und Temme, Die Volkssagen Ostpreussens, Litthauens und Westpreussens, pp. 263 sq.; A. Kuhn und W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche, p. 392; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Das festliche Jahr, p. 181; id., Calendrier belge, i. 423 sq.; A. Birlinger, Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, i. p. 278, § 437; R. Eisel, Sagenbuch des Voigtlandes, p. 210; F. J. Wiedemann, Aus dem inneren und äusseren Leben der Ehsten, p. 363; F. S. Krauss, Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Südslaven, p. 128.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tettau and Temme, The Folk Legends of East Prussia, Lithuania, and West Prussia, pp. 263 sq.; A. Kuhn and W. Schwartz, North German Legends, Fairy Tales, and Customs, p. 392; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, The Festive Year, p. 181; id., Belgian Calendar, i. 423 sq.; A. Birlinger, Folk Traditions from Swabia, i. p. 278, § 437; R. Eisel, Book of Legends from Vogtland, p. 210; F. J. Wiedemann, From the Inner and Outer Life of the Estonians, p. 363; F. S. Krauss, Popular Beliefs and Religious Customs of the South Slavs, p. 128.
440. In Nepaul a festival known as Khichâ Pûjâ is held, at which worship is offered to dogs, and garlands of flowers are placed round the necks of every dog in the country (W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India, Westminster, 1896, ii. 221). But as the custom is apparently not limited to hunting dogs, the explanation suggested above would hardly apply.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.In Nepal, there’s a festival called Khichâ Pûjâ, where people worship dogs and put garlands of flowers around the necks of every dog in the country (W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India, Westminster, 1896, ii. 221). However, since this custom doesn’t seem to be limited to hunting dogs, the explanation suggested above might not be accurate.
441. Catullus, xxxiv. 9-20; Cicero, De natura deorum, ii. 26. 68 sq.; Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 68 sq. It deserves to be remembered that Diana’s day was the thirteenth of August, which in general would be the time when the splendid harvest moon was at the full. Indian women in Peru used to pray to the moon to grant them an easy delivery. See P. J. de Arriaga, Extirpacion de la idolatria del Piru (Lima, 1621), p. 32.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Catullus, xxxiv. 9-20; Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods, ii. 26. 68 sq.; Varro, On the Latin Language, v. 68 sq. It's worth noting that Diana’s day was August 13th, which generally coincides with the time when the beautiful harvest moon was full. Indigenous women in Peru used to pray to the moon for a safe childbirth. See P. J. de Arriaga, Extirpation of Idolatry in Peru (Lima, 1621), p. 32.
442. See above, vol. i. p. 12.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. 1, p. 12.
443. In like manner the Greeks conceived of the goddess Earth as the mother not only of corn but of cattle and of human offspring. See the Homeric Hymn to Earth (No. 30).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Similarly, the Greeks viewed the goddess Earth as the mother not just of grain but also of livestock and humanity. Check out the Homeric Hymn to Earth (No. 30).
444. Strabo, iv. 1. 4 and 5, pp. 179 sq. The image on the Aventine was copied from that at Marseilles, which in turn was copied from the one at Ephesus.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, iv. 1. 4 and 5, pp. 179 sq. The statue on the Aventine was taken from the one in Marseilles, which itself was based on the one in Ephesus.
445. Tacitus, Annals, xii. 8. The Romans feared that the marriage of Claudius with his paternal cousin Agrippina, which they regarded as incest, might result in some public calamity (Tacitus, Annals, xii. 5).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tacitus, Annals, xii. 8. The Romans were worried that the marriage of Claudius to his cousin Agrippina, which they considered incestuous, could lead to a public disaster (Tacitus, Annals, xii. 5).
447. See above, vol. i. pp. 20 sq., 40.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. i. pp. 20 sq., 40.
448. Herodotus, i. 181 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Herodotus, i. 181 and following
449. M. Jastrow, Religion of Babylonia and Assyria, pp. 117 sq.; L. W. King, Babylonian Mythology and Religion, pp. 18, 21.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. Jastrow, Religion of Babylonia and Assyria, pp. 117 sq.; L. W. King, Babylonian Mythology and Religion, pp. 18, 21.
450. H. Winckler, Die Gesetze Hammurabis 2nd Ed., (Leipsic, 1903), p. 31 § 182. The expression is translated “votary of Marduk” by Mr C. H. W. Johns (Babylonian and Assyrian Laws, Contracts, and Letters, Edinburgh, 1904, p. 60). “The votary of Marduk is the god’s wife vowed to perpetual chastity, and is therefore distinct from the devotees of Ištar. Like the ordinary courtesan, these formed a separate class and enjoyed special privileges” (S. A. Cook, The Laws of Moses and the Code of Hammurabi, London, 1903, p. 148).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Winckler, The Laws of Hammurabi 2nd Ed., (Leipzig, 1903), p. 31 § 182. The term is translated as “votary of Marduk” by Mr. C. H. W. Johns (Babylonian and Assyrian Laws, Contracts, and Letters, Edinburgh, 1904, p. 60). “The votary of Marduk is the god’s wife who is committed to perpetual chastity, and is therefore different from the followers of Ištar. Like common courtesans, these women formed a separate class and had special privileges” (S. A. Cook, The Laws of Moses and the Code of Hammurabi, London, 1903, p. 148).
451. M. Jastrow, op. cit. pp. 42 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. M. Jastrow, op. cit. pp. 42 and following
452. C. Johnston in Journal of the American Oriental Society, xviii. First Half (1897), pp. 153-155; R. F. Harper, Assyrian and Babylonian Literature (New York, 1901), p. 249. For the equivalence of Iyyar or Airu with May see Encyclopaedia Biblica, s.v. “Months,” iii. coll. 3193 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Johnston in Journal of the American Oriental Society, xviii. First Half (1897), pp. 153-155; R. F. Harper, Assyrian and Babylonian Literature (New York, 1901), p. 249. For the equivalence of Iyyar or Airu with May see Encyclopaedia Biblica, s.v. “Months,” iii. coll. 3193 sq.
453. Herodotus, i. 182.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Herodotus, vol. 1, p. 182.
454. G. Maspero, in Journal des Savants, année 1899, pp. 401-406; A. Moret, Du caractère religieux de la royauté Pharaonique (Paris, 1902), pp. 48-73; A. Wiedemann, Herodots zweites Buch (Leipsic, 1890), pp. 268 sq. M. Moret shares the view of Prof. Maspero that the pictures, or rather painted reliefs, were copied from masquerades in which the king and other men and women figured as gods and goddesses. As to the Egyptian doctrine of the spiritual double or external soul (Ka), see A. Wiedemann, The Ancient Egyptian Doctrine of the Immortality of the Soul (London, 1895), pp. 10 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Maspero, in Journal des Savants, year 1899, pp. 401-406; A. Moret, On the Religious Nature of Pharaonic Kingship (Paris, 1902), pp. 48-73; A. Wiedemann, Herodotus' Second Book (Leipsic, 1890), pp. 268 sq. M. Moret agrees with Prof. Maspero that the images, or more accurately, the painted reliefs, were inspired by masquerades where the king and various men and women represented gods and goddesses. For more on the Egyptian concept of the spiritual double or external soul (Ka), see A. Wiedemann, The Ancient Egyptian Doctrine of the Immortality of the Soul (London, 1895), pp. 10 sqq.
455. A. Erman, Die ägyptische Religion (Berlin, 1905), pp. 75, 165 sq.; compare id., Ägypten und ägyptisches Leben im Altertum, pp. 400 sq. As to the ghostly rule of the high priests of Ammon at Thebes see further G. Maspero, Histoire ancienne des peuples de l’Orient classique, les premières mêlées des peuples (Paris, 1897), pp. 559 sqq.; J. H. Breasted, A History of the Ancient Egyptians (London, 1908), pp. 350 sq., 357 sq.; C. P. Tiele, Geschichte der Religion im Altertum, i. (Gotha, 1896), p. 66.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Erman, The Egyptian Religion (Berlin, 1905), pp. 75, 165 sq.; compare id., Egypt and Egyptian Life in Ancient Times, pp. 400 sq.. For more on the mystical authority of the high priests of Ammon in Thebes, see G. Maspero, Ancient History of the Classical Oriental Peoples, the First Conflicts of Peoples (Paris, 1897), pp. 559 sqq.; J. H. Breasted, A History of the Ancient Egyptians (London, 1908), pp. 350 sq., 357 sq.; C. P. Tiele, History of Religion in Ancient Times, i. (Gotha, 1896), p. 66.
456. Strabo, xvii. 1. 46, p. 816.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, xvii. 1. 46, p. 816.
457. Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca, i. 47.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca, Book 1, 47.
458. Plutarch, Quaestiones conviviales, viii. 1. 6 sq.; id., Numa, 4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Plutarch, Dining Questions, viii. 1. 6 sq.; id., Numa, 4.
459. Servius on Virgil, Aen. iv. 143. Compare Horace, Odes, iii. 62 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Servius on Virgil, Aen. iv. 143. Compare Horace, Odes, iii. 62 sqq.
460. Herodotus, i. 182.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Herodotus, vol. 1, p. 182.
461. Pausanias, viii. 13. 1. As to the meaning of the title Essen see Callimachus, Hymn to Zeus, 16; Hesychius, Suidas, and Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. Ἕσσην. The ancients mistook the Queen bee for a male, and hence spoke of King bees. See Aristotle, Histor. animal. v. 21 sq., ix. 40, pp. 553, 623 sqq., ed. Bekker; id., De animalium generatione, iii. 10, p. 760, ed. Bekker; Aelian, Nat. animal. i. 10, v. 10 sq.; Virgil, Georg. iv. 21, 68; W. Walter-Tornow, De apium mellisque apud veteres significatione (Berlin, 1894), pp. 30 sqq. The Essenes or King Bees are not to be confounded with the nominal kings (Basileis) of Ephesus, who probably held office for life. See above, vol. i. p. 47.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, viii. 13. 1. For the meaning of the title Essen, see Callimachus, Hymn to Zeus, 16; Hesychius, Suidas, and Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. Ἕσσην. The ancients mistakenly identified the Queen bee as male, which is why they referred to King bees. See Aristotle, Histor. animal. v. 21 sq., ix. 40, pp. 553, 623 sqq., ed. Bekker; id., De animalium generatione, iii. 10, p. 760, ed. Bekker; Aelian, Nat. animal. i. 10, v. 10 sq.; Virgil, Georg. iv. 21, 68; W. Walter-Tornow, De apium mellisque apud veteres significatione (Berlin, 1894), pp. 30 sqq. The Essenes or King Bees should not be confused with the nominal kings (Basileis) of Ephesus, who likely served for life. See above, vol. i. p. 47.
462. J. T. Wood, Discoveries at Ephesus, Inscriptions from the Temple of Diana, pp. 2, 14; Inscriptions from the Augusteum, p. 4; Inscriptions from the City and Suburbs, p. 38.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. T. Wood, Discoveries at Ephesus, Inscriptions from the Temple of Diana, pp. 2, 14; Inscriptions from the Augusteum, p. 4; Inscriptions from the City and Suburbs, p. 38.
463. See B. V. Head, Coins of Ephesus (London, 1880), and above, vol. i. pp. 37 sq. Modern writers sometimes assert that the priestesses of the Ephesian Artemis were called Bees. Certain other Greek priestesses were undoubtedly called Bees, and it seems not improbable that the priestesses of the Ephesian Artemis bore the same title and represented the goddess in her character of a bee. But no ancient writer, so far as I know, affirms it. See my note on Pausanias, viii. 13. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See B. V. Head, Coins of Ephesus (London, 1880), and above, vol. i. pp. 37 sq. Modern authors sometimes claim that the priestesses of the Ephesian Artemis were called Bees. Some other Greek priestesses were definitely called Bees, and it seems likely that the priestesses of the Ephesian Artemis had the same title and represented the goddess in her role as a bee. However, no ancient writer, as far as I know, states this. See my note on Pausanias, viii. 13. 1.
464. Demosthenes, Contra Neaer. 73-78, pp. 1369-1371; Aristotle, Constitution of Athens, iii. 5; Hesychius, s.vv. Διονύσου γάμος and γεραραί; Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. γεραῖραι; Pollux, viii. 108; K. F. Hermann, Gottesdienstliche Alterthümer, 2nd Ed., § 32. 15, § 58. 11 sqq.; Aug. Mommsen, Feste der Stadt Athen im Altertum (Leipsic, 1898), pp. 391 sqq. From Demosthenes, l.c., compared with Thucydides, ii. 15, it seems certain that the oath was administered by the Queen at the time and place mentioned in the text. Formerly it was assumed that her marriage to Dionysus was celebrated at the same place and time; but the assumption as to the place was disproved by the discovery of Aristotle’s Constitution of Athens, and with it the assumption as to the time falls to the ground. As the Greek months were commonly named after the festivals which were held in them, it is tempting to conjecture that the sacred marriage took place in the Marriage Month (Gamelion), answering to our January. But more probably that month was named after the sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera, which was celebrated at Athens and elsewhere. See below, p. 143. This is the view of W. H. Roscher (Juno und Hera, p. 73, n. 217) and Aug. Mommsen (Feste der Stadt Athen, p. 383). From the name Cattle-stall, applied to the scene of the marriage, Miss J. E. Harrison ingeniously conjectured that in the rite Dionysus may have been represented as a bull (Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, p. 537). The conjecture was anticipated by Prof. U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Aristoteles und Athen (Berlin, 1893), ii. 42. Dionysus was often conceived by the Greeks in the form of a bull.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Demosthenes, Contra Neaer. 73-78, pp. 1369-1371; Aristotle, Constitution of Athens, iii. 5; Hesychius, s.vv. Διονύσου γάμος and γεραραί; Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. γεραῖραι; Pollux, viii. 108; K. F. Hermann, Gottesdienstliche Alterthümer, 2nd Ed., § 32. 15, § 58. 11 sqq.; Aug. Mommsen, Feste der Stadt Athen im Altertum (Leipzig, 1898), pp. 391 sqq. From Demosthenes, l.c., compared with Thucydides, ii. 15, it seems clear that the oath was administered by the Queen at the time and place mentioned in the text. It was previously thought that her marriage to Dionysus was celebrated at the same location and time; but this assumption about the place was disproven by the discovery of Aristotle’s Constitution of Athens, which also invalidates the assumption about the time. Since Greek months were often named after the festivals held during them, it’s tempting to speculate that the sacred marriage took place in the Marriage Month (Gamelion), which corresponds to our January. However, it is more likely that that month was named after the sacred marriage of Zeus and Hera, which was celebrated in Athens and other locations. See below, p. 143. This perspective is supported by W. H. Roscher (Juno und Hera, p. 73, n. 217) and Aug. Mommsen (Feste der Stadt Athen, p. 383). From the name Cattle-stall, used for the site of the marriage, Miss J. E. Harrison cleverly suggested that in the ritual, Dionysus may have been represented as a bull (Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, p. 537). This idea was anticipated by Prof. U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Aristoteles und Athen (Berlin, 1893), ii. 42. Dionysus was often envisioned by the Greeks in the form of a bull.
466. L. Preller, Ausgewählte Aufsätze (Berlin, 1864), pp. 293-296; compare his Griechische Mythologie, 4th ed., ed. C. Robert, i. 681 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Preller, Selected Essays (Berlin, 1864), pp. 293-296; compare his Greek Mythology, 4th ed., ed. C. Robert, i. 681 and following
467. Hyginus, Astronomica, i. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Hyginus, Astronomica, Book 1, Section 5.
468. Tertullian, Ad nationes, ii. 7, “Cur rapitur sacerdos Cereris si non tale Ceres passa est?” Asterius Amasenus, Encomium in sanctos martyres, in Migne’s Patrologia Graeca, xl. col. 324, Οὐκ ἐκεῖ (at Eleusis) τὸ καταβάσιον τὸ σκοτεινόν, καὶ αἱ σεμναὶ τοῦ ἱεροφάντου πρὸς τὴν ἱερείαν συντυχίαι, μόνου πρὸς μόνην; Οὐχ αἱ λαμπάδες σβέννυνται, καὶ ὁ πολὺς καὶ ἀναρίθμητος δῆμος τὴν σωτηρίαν αὐτῶν εἶναι νομίζουσι τὰ ἐν τῷ σκότῳ παρὰ τῶν δύο πραττόμενα; Psellus, Quaenam sunt Graecorum opiniones de daemonibus, p. 39. ed. J. F. Boissonade, τὰ δέ γε μυστήρια τούτων, οἷα αὐτίκα τὰ Ἐλευσίνια, τὸν μυθικὸν ὑποκρίνεται Δία μιγνύμενον τῇ Δηοῖ, ἤγουν τῇ Δήμητρι ... Ὕποκρίνεται δὲ καὶ τὰς τῆς Δηοῦς ὠδῖνας. Ἱκετηρίαι γοῦν αὐτίκα Δηοῦς καὶ χολῆς πόσις καὶ καρδιαλγίαι. Ἐφ’ οἷς καί τι τραγοσκελὲς μίμημα παθαινόμενον περὶ τοῖς διδύμοις, ὅτιπερ ὁ Ζεύς, δίκας ἀποτιννὺς τῆς βίας τῇ Δήμητρι, τράγου ὄρχεις ἀποτεμών, τῷ κόλπῳ ταύτης κατέθετο ὥσπερ δὴ καὶ ἑαυτοῦ (compare Arnobius, Adversus nationes, v. 20-23); Schol. on Plato, Gorgias, p. 497 c, Ἐτελεῖτο δὲ ταῦτα (the Eleusinian mysteries) καὶ Δηοῖ καὶ Κορῇ, ὅτι ταύτην μὲν Πλούτων ἁρπάξειε, Δηοῖ δὲ μιγείη Ζεύς; Hippolytus, Refutatio omnium haeresium, v. 8, pp. 162, 164, ed. Duncker and Schneidewin, Λέγουσι δὲ αύτον (God), φησί, Φρύγες καὶ χλοερὸν στάχυν τεθερισμένον, καὶ μετὰ τοὺς Φρύγας Ἀθηναῖοι μυοῦντες Ἐλευσίνια, καὶ ἐπιδεικνύντες τοῖς ἐποπτεύουσι τὸ μέγα καὶ θαυμαστὸν καὶ τελειότατον ἐποπτικὸν ἐκεῖ μυστήριον ἐν σιωπῇ, τεθερισμένον στάχυν. Ὁ δὲ στάχυς οὗτός ἐστι καὶ παρὰ Ἀθηναίοις ὁ παρὰ τοῦ ἀχαρακτηρίστου φωστὴρ τέλειος μέγας, καθάπερ αὐτὸς ὁ ἱεροφάντης, οὐκ ἀποκεκομμένος μέν, ὡς ὁ Ἄττις, εὐνουχισμένος δὲ διὰ κωνείου καὶ πᾶσαν παρῃτημένος τὴν σαρκικὴν γένεσιν, νυκτὸς ἐν Ἐλευσῖνι ὑπὸ πολλῷ πυρὶ τελῶν τὰ μεγάλα καὶ ἄρρητα μυστήρια βοᾷ καὶ κέκραγε λέγων· ἱερὸν ἔτεκε πότνια κοῦρον Βριμὼ Βριμόν, τουτέστιν ἰσχυρὰ ἰσχυρόν. In combining and interpreting this fragmentary evidence I have followed Mr. P. Foucart (Recherches sur l’origine et la nature des mystères d’Eleusis, Paris, 1895, pp. 48 sq.; id., Les Grands Mystères d’Eleusis, Paris, 1900, p. 69), and Miss J. E. Harrison (Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, pp. 549 sqq.). In antiquity it was believed that an ointment or plaster of hemlock applied to the genital organs prevented them from discharging their function. See Dioscorides, De materia medica, iv. 79; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxv. 154. Dr. J. B. Bradbury, Downing Professor of Medicine in the University of Cambridge, informs me that this belief is correct. “Although conium [hemlock] is not used as an anaphrodisiac at the present day, there can be no doubt that it has this effect. When rubbed into the skin it depresses sensory nerve-endings and is absorbed. After absorption it depresses all sympathetic nerve-cells. Both these effects would tend to diminish organic reflexes such as aphrodisia” (Dr. W. E. Dixon, Pharmacological Laboratory, Cambridge). Pausanias seems to imply that the hierophant was forbidden to marry (ii. 14. 1). It may have been so in his age, the second century of our era; but an inscription of the first century B.C. shews that at that time it was lawful for him to take a wife. See P. Foucart, Les Grands Mystères d’Eleusis, pp. 26 sqq. (extract from the Mémoires de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, vol. xxxvii.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tertullian, Ad nationes, ii. 7, “Why is the priest of Ceres taken away if Ceres has not suffered such things?” Asterius Amasenus, Encomium in sanctos martyres, in Migne’s Patrologia Graeca, xl. col. 324, It was not there (at Eleusis) that the descent into the dark occurred, and the solemn rites of the hierophant were only for the priestly duties; nor do the torches go out, and the numerous and countless crowd believes their salvation is found in what occurs in the darkness from the two? Psellus, Quaenam sunt Graecorum opiniones de daemonibus, p. 39. ed. J. F. Boissonade, and indeed these mysteries are like those of Eleusis, where the mythic Zeus mingles with Demeter... In fact, he mimics the pains of Demeter. Their supplications indeed are immediately to Demeter and the drink of bile and heartaches. Upon which there is also some goat-like imitation happening regarding the twins, just as Zeus repays the violence to Demeter, cutting off the testicles of a goat, placing them in her lap just as he did with his own (compare Arnobius, Adversus nationes, v. 20-23); Schol. on Plato, Gorgias, p. 497 c, These things (the Eleusinian mysteries) were performed for both Demeter and Persephone, because she (Persephone) would be seized by Hades, and Zeus would mingle with Demeter; Hippolytus, Refutatio omnium haeresium, v. 8, pp. 162, 164, ed. Duncker and Schneidewin, They say that he (God), he asserts, the Phrygians and the harvested green grain, and along with the Phrygians the Athenians initiate the Eleusinian rites, and show the great, marvelous, and most complete ceremony in silence, with the harvested grain. This grain is also, according to the Athenians, that coming from the uncharacterizable light, perfectly great, just like the hierophant himself, not cut off, as Attis, but castrated through hemlock and completely avoiding any physical nature, at night in Eleusis through much fire they perform the great and arcane mysteries calling and proclaiming saying: “A sacred offspring is born, revered Brimo Brimon,” that is, “strong power.” In combining and interpreting this fragmentary evidence I have followed Mr. P. Foucart (Recherches sur l’origine et la nature des mystères d’Eleusis, Paris, 1895, pp. 48 sq.; id., Les Grands Mystères d’Eleusis, Paris, 1900, p. 69), and Miss J. E. Harrison (Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion, pp. 549 sqq.). In antiquity it was believed that an ointment or plaster of hemlock applied to the genital organs prevented them from discharging their function. See Dioscorides, De materia medica, iv. 79; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxv. 154. Dr. J. B. Bradbury, Downing Professor of Medicine in the University of Cambridge, informs me that this belief is correct. “Although conium [hemlock] is not used as an anaphrodisiac at the present day, there can be no doubt that it has this effect. When rubbed into the skin it depresses sensory nerve-endings and is absorbed. After absorption it depresses all sympathetic nerve-cells. Both these effects would tend to diminish organic reflexes such as aphrodisia” (Dr. W. E. Dixon, Pharmacological Laboratory, Cambridge). Pausanias seems to imply that the hierophant was forbidden to marry (ii. 14. 1). It may have been so in his age, the second century of our era; but an inscription from the first century BCE shows that at that time it was lawful for him to take a wife. See P. Foucart, Les Grands Mystères d’Eleusis, pp. 26 sqq. (extract from the Mémoires de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, vol. xxxvii.).
469. Pausanias, ix. 3; Plutarch, quoted by Eusebius, Praepar. Evang. iii. 1 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, ix. 3; Plutarch, cited by Eusebius, Preparing for the Gospel iii. 1 and following
472. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 177.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Worship, p. 177.
473. W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, pp. 177 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Mannhardt, Tree Cults, pp. 177 et seq.
474. J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 318 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 178.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, i. 318 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 178.
475. W. Hone, Every Day Book, ii. 595 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 178.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Hone, Every Day Book, ii. 595 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Baumkultus, p. 178.
476. With regard to Zeus as an oak-god see below, pp. 358 sq. Hera appears with an oak-tree and her sacred bird the peacock perched on it in a group which is preserved in the Palazzo degli Conservatori at Rome. In the same group Pallas is represented with her olive-tree and her owl; so that the conjunction of the oak with Hera cannot be accidental. See W. Helbig, Führer durch die öffentlichen Sammlungen klassischen Altertümer in Rom 2nd Ed., (Leipsic, 1899), i. 397, No. 587.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Regarding Zeus as an oak god, see below, pp. 358 sq. Hera is depicted with an oak tree and her sacred bird, the peacock, perched on it in a group displayed in the Palazzo degli Conservatori in Rome. In the same group, Pallas is shown with her olive tree and her owl, indicating that the connection of the oak with Hera is not coincidental. See W. Helbig, Führer durch die öffentlichen Sammlungen klassischen Altertümer in Rom 2nd Ed., (Leipsic, 1899), i. 397, No. 587.
477. Pausanias, viii. 42.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pausanias, 8.42.
478. At Cnossus in Crete, Diodorus Siculus, v. 72; at Samos, Lactantius, Instit. i. 17 (compare Augustine, De civitate Dei, vi. 7); at Athens, Photius, Lexicon, s.v. ἱερὸν γάμον; Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. ἱερομνήμονες, p. 468. 52. A fragment of Pherecydes relating to the marriage of Zeus and Hera came to light some years ago. See Grenfell and Hunt, New Classical and other Greek and Latin Papyri (Oxford, 1897), p. 23; H. Weil, in Revue des Études grecques, x. (1897) pp. 1-9. The subject has been discussed by W. H. Roscher (Juno und Hera, Leipsic, 1875, pp. 72 sqq.). From the wide prevalence of the rite he infers that the custom of the sacred marriage was once common to all the Greek tribes.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.In Cnossus, Crete, Diodorus Siculus mentions it, v. 72; at Samos, Lactantius talks about it in Instit. i. 17 (see Augustine, De civitate Dei, vi. 7); in Athens, Photius notes it in Lexicon, s.v. ἱερὸν γάμον; and Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. ἱερομνήμονες, p. 468. 52. A fragment from Pherecydes about the marriage of Zeus and Hera was discovered a few years ago. Check Grenfell and Hunt, New Classical and other Greek and Latin Papyri (Oxford, 1897), p. 23; H. Weil in Revue des Études grecques, x. (1897) pp. 1-9. W. H. Roscher has discussed this topic in Juno und Hera, Leipsic, 1875, pp. 72 sqq.. Given the widespread occurrence of the ritual, he concludes that the practice of sacred marriage was once common among all Greek tribes.
479. Iliad, xiv. 347 sqq. Hera was worshipped under the title of Flowery at Argos (Pausanias, ii. 22. 1; compare Etymol. Magn. s.v. Ἄνθεια, p. 108, line 48), and women called Flower-bearers served in her sanctuary (Pollux, iv. 78). A great festival of gathering flowers was celebrated by Peloponnesian women in spring (Hesychius, s.v. ἠροσάνθεια, compare Photius, Lexicon, s.v. Ἠροάνθια). The first of May is still a festival of flowers in Peloponnese. See Folk-lore, i. (1890) pp. 518 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Iliad, xiv. 347 sqq. Hera was worshipped by the name of Flowery in Argos (Pausanias, ii. 22. 1; see also Etymol. Magn. s.v. Ἄνθεια, p. 108, line 48), and women known as Flower-bearers served in her sanctuary (Pollux, iv. 78). A significant flower-picking festival was held by women in the Peloponnese during spring (Hesychius, s.v. ἠροσάνθεια, see also Photius, Lexicon, s.v. Ἠροάνθια). The first of May continues to be a flower festival in the Peloponnese. See Folk-lore, i. (1890) pp. 518 sqq.
480. J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 176; P. Herrmann, Nordische Mythologie (Leipsic, 1903), pp. 198 sqq., 217, 520, 529; E. H. Meyer, Mythologie der Germanen (Strasburg, 1903), pp. 366 sq. The procession of Frey and his wife in the waggon is doubtless the same with the procession of Nerthus in a waggon which Tacitus describes (Germania, 40). Nerthus seems to be no other than Freya, the wife of Frey. See the commentators on Tacitus, l.c., and especially K. Müllenhoff, Deutsche Altertumskunde, iv. (Berlin, 1900) pp. 468 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, German Mythology, 4th ed., i. 176; P. Herrmann, Nordic Mythology (Leipzig, 1903), pp. 198 sqq., 217, 520, 529; E. H. Meyer, Mythology of the Germans (Strasburg, 1903), pp. 366 sq. The parade of Frey and his wife in the wagon is likely the same as the procession of Nerthus in a wagon described by Tacitus (Germania, 40). Nerthus appears to be another name for Freya, Frey's wife. See the commentaries on Tacitus, l.c., and particularly K. Müllenhoff, German Antiquities, iv. (Berlin, 1900) pp. 468 sq.
481. Gregory of Tours, De gloria confessorum, 77 (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, lxxi. col. 884). Compare Sulpicius Severus, Vita S. Martini, 12: “Quia esset haec Gallorum rusticis consuetudo, simulacra daemonum candido tecta velamine misera per agros suos circumferre dementia.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Gregory of Tours, De gloria confessorum, 77 (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, lxxi. col. 884). Compare Sulpicius Severus, Vita S. Martini, 12: “Because this was the custom among the rural people of Gaul, their foolishness led them to carry around sad representations of demons covered with a white veil throughout their fields.”
482. “Passio Sancti Symphoriani,” chs. 2 and 6 (Migne’s Patrologia Graeca, v. 1463, 1466).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“The Passion of Saint Symphorinus,” chs. 2 and 6 (Migne’s Patrologia Graeca, v. 1463, 1466).
483. These crazy wretches castrate men and mutilate women. Hence they are known as the Skoptsy (“mutilated”). See N. Tsakni, La Russie sectaire, pp. 74 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.These insane individuals castrate men and mutilate women. That's why they are called the Skoptsy (“mutilated”). See N. Tsakni, La Russie sectaire, pp. 74 sqq.
484. As to this feature in the ritual of Cybele, see Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 219 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For more about this aspect of the Cybele ritual, refer to Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 219 sqq.
485. Max Buch, Die Wotjäken (Stuttgart, 1882), p. 137.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Max Buch, Die Wotjäken (Stuttgart, 1882), p. 137.
486. E. A. Gait, in Census of India, 1901, vol. vi. part i. p. 190.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. A. Gait, in Census of India, 1901, vol. vi. part i. p. 190.
487. P. J. de Arriaga, Extirpacion de la idolatria del Piru (Lima, 1621), p. 20.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. J. de Arriaga, Extirpation of Idolatry in Peru (Lima, 1621), p. 20.
488. Father Lacombe, in Missions Catholiques, ii. (1869) pp. 359 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Father Lacombe, in Missions Catholiques, ii. (1869) pp. 359 sq.
489. Relations des Jésuites, 1636, p. 109, and 1639, p. 95 (Canadian reprint); Charlevoix, Histoire de la Nouvelle France, v. 225; Chateaubriand, Voyage en Amérique (Paris, 1870), pp. 140-142.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Relations of the Jesuits, 1636, p. 109, and 1639, p. 95 (Canadian reprint); Charlevoix, History of New France, v. 225; Chateaubriand, Journey in America (Paris, 1870), pp. 140-142.
490. Rev. F. Hahn, “Some Notes on the Religion and Superstitions of the Orāos,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxxii. part iii. (Calcutta, 1904) p. 12. For another account of the ceremonies held by the Oraons in spring see above, pp. 76 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. F. Hahn, “Some Notes on the Religion and Superstitions of the Orāos,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxxii. part iii. (Calcutta, 1904) p. 12. For another description of the ceremonies held by the Oraons in spring, see above, pp. 76 sq.
491. P. Rascher, “Die Sulka,” Archiv für Anthropologie, xxix. (1904) p. 217.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Rascher, “Die Sulka,” Archiv für Anthropologie, xxix. (1904) p. 217.
492. W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 118.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-Lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 118.
493. W. Crooke, op. cit. ii. 138.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Crooke, same source ii. 138.
494. A. B. Ellis, The Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 139-142.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. B. Ellis, The Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 139-142.
495. Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 58 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 58 sq.
496. Sir Harry Johnston, The Uganda Protectorate (London, 1902), ii. 677.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir Harry Johnston, The Uganda Protectorate (London, 1902), ii. 677.
497. From notes sent to me by Mr. A. C. Hollis, 21st May 1908.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.From notes sent to me by Mr. A. C. Hollis, May 21, 1908.
498. J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, part ii. vol. i. (Rangoon, 1901) p. 439.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Scott and J. P. Hardiman, Gazetteer of Upper Burma and the Shan States, part ii. vol. i. (Rangoon, 1901) p. 439.
499. E. W. Lane, Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians (Paisley and London, 1895), chap. xxvi. p. 500. The authority for the statement is the Arab historian Makrizi.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. W. Lane, Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians (Paisley and London, 1895), chap. xxvi. p. 500. The source for this statement is the Arab historian Makrizi.
500. The North China Herald, 4th May 1906, p. 235.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The North China Herald, May 4, 1906, p. 235.
501. G. A. Wilken, “Het animisme bij de volken van den Indischen Archipel,” De Indische Gids, June 1884, p. 994 (referring to Veth, Het eiland Timor, p. 21); A. Bastian, Indonesien, ii. (Berlin, 1885) p. 8.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. A. Wilken, “Animism among the peoples of the Indonesian Archipelago,” The Indonesian Guide, June 1884, p. 994 (citing Veth, The Island of Timor, p. 21); A. Bastian, Indonesia, ii. (Berlin, 1885) p. 8.
502. A. Bastian, op. cit. p. 11.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. A. Bastian, same source p. 11.
503. A. Bastian, Indonesien, i. (Berlin, 1884) p. 134.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Bastian, Indonesien, i. (Berlin, 1884) p. 134.
504. Voyages d’Ibn Batoutah, texte arabe, accompagné d’une traduction, par C. Defrémery et B. R. Sanguinetti (Paris, 1853-1858), iv. 126-130.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Travels of Ibn Batoutah, Arabic text, along with a translation, by C. Defrémery and B. R. Sanguinetti (Paris, 1853-1858), iv. 126-130.
505. The Thanda Pulayans, on the west coast of India, think that the phosphorescence on the surface of the sea indicates the presence of the spirits of their ancestors, who are fishing in the backwaters. See E. Thurston, Ethnographic Notes in Southern India, p. 293. Similarly the Sulkas of New Britain fancy that the mysterious glow comes from souls bathing in the water. See P. Rascher, “Die Sulka,” Archiv für Anthropologie, xxix. (1904) p. 216.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Thanda Pulayans, on the west coast of India, believe that the glowing light on the sea's surface shows the spirits of their ancestors who are fishing in the backwaters. See E. Thurston, Ethnographic Notes in Southern India, p. 293. Similarly, the Sulkas of New Britain think that the mysterious glow comes from souls taking a bath in the water. See P. Rascher, “Die Sulka,” Archiv für Anthropologie, xxix. (1904) p. 216.
506. For a list of these tales, with references to the authorities, see my note on Pausanias, ix. 26. 7. To the examples there referred to add I. V. Zingerle, Kinder- und Hausmärchen aus Tirol, Nos. 8, 21, 35, pp. 35 sqq., 100 sqq., 178 sqq.; G. F. Abbott, Macedonian Folk-lore, pp. 270 sqq. This type of story has been elaborately investigated by Mr. E. S. Hartland (The Legend of Perseus, London, 1894-1896), but he has not discussed the custom of the sacred marriage, on which the story seems to be founded.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For a list of these stories, along with references, check my note on Pausanias, ix. 26. 7. In addition to the examples mentioned there, include I. V. Zingerle, Kinder- und Hausmärchen aus Tirol, Nos. 8, 21, 35, pp. 35 sqq., 100 sqq., 178 sqq.; G. F. Abbott, Macedonian Folk-lore, pp. 270 sqq. This type of story has been thoroughly explored by Mr. E. S. Hartland (The Legend of Perseus, London, 1894-1896), but he hasn’t addressed the custom of the sacred marriage, which seems to be the basis of the story.
507. Note on Pausanias, ix. 10. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Note on Pausanias, ix. 10. 5.
508. Spencer and Gillen, Northern Tribes of Central Australia, pp. 226 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Spencer and Gillen, Northern Tribes of Central Australia, pp. 226 sqq.
509. R. Salvado, Mémoires historiques sur l’Australie (Paris, 1854), p. 262.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Salvado, Historical Memoirs on Australia (Paris, 1854), p. 262.
510. H. Ternaux-Compans, Essai sur l’ancien Cundinamarca, pp. 6 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Ternaux-Compans, Essay on Ancient Cundinamarca, pp. 6 et seq.
511. H. Coudreau, Chez nos Indiens (Paris, 1895), pp. 303 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Coudreau, With Our Indians (Paris, 1895), pp. 303 sq.
512. C. Lumholtz, Unknown Mexico (London, 1903), ii. 57.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Lumholtz, Unknown Mexico (London, 1903), ii. 57.
513. C. Lumholtz, op. cit. i. 402 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. C. Lumholtz, same source i. 402 sq.
514. T. I. Fairclough, “Notes on the Basutos,” Journal of the African Society, No. 14, January 1905, p. 201.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. I. Fairclough, “Notes on the Basutos,” Journal of the African Society, No. 14, January 1905, p. 201.
515. To the examples given in my note on Pausanias viii. 7. 2, add Ph. Paulitschke, Ethnographie Nordost-Afrikas, die geistige Cultur der Danâkil, Galla und Somâl (Berlin, 1896), pp. 46, 50; “De Dajaks op Borneo,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xiii. (1869) p. 72; A. D’Orbigny, Voyage dans l’Amérique Méridionale, ii. 93, 160 (see above, pp. 16 sq.); F. Blumentritt, “Über die Eingeborenen der Insel Palawan und der Inselgruppe der Talamianen,” Globus, lix. (1891) p. 167; W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), i. 46; Father Guillemé, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, lx. (1888) p. 252.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.To the examples from my note on Pausanias viii. 7. 2, add Ph. Paulitschke, Ethnographie Nordost-Afrikas, die geistige Cultur der Danâkil, Galla und Somâl (Berlin, 1896), pp. 46, 50; “De Dajaks op Borneo,” Mededeelingen van wege het Nederlandsche Zendelinggenootschap, xiii. (1869) p. 72; A. D’Orbigny, Voyage dans l’Amérique Méridionale, ii. 93, 160 (see above, pp. 16 sq.); F. Blumentritt, “Über die Eingeborenen der Insel Palawan und der Inselgruppe der Talamianen,” Globus, lix. (1891) p. 167; W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), i. 46; Father Guillemé, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, lx. (1888) p. 252.
516. W. F. W. Owen, Narrative of Voyages to explore the Shores of Africa, Arabia, and Madagascar (London, 1833), ii. 354 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. F. W. Owen, Narrative of Voyages to Explore the Shores of Africa, Arabia, and Madagascar (London, 1833), ii. 354 sq.
517. H. Goldie, Calabar and its Mission, New Edition (Edinburgh and London, 1901), p. 43.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Goldie, Calabar and its Mission, New Edition (Edinburgh and London, 1901), p. 43.
518. Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xxxiii. (1861) p. 152.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xxxiii. (1861) p. 152.
519. Father Guillemé, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, lx. (1888) p. 253.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Father Guillemé, in Annals of the Propagation of the Faith, lx. (1888) p. 253.
520. Brasseur de Bourbourg, Histoire des nations civilisées du Mexique et de l’Amérique-Centrale, i. 327 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Brasseur de Bourbourg, History of the Civilized Nations of Mexico and Central America, i. 327 sq.
521. E. Aymonier, “Les Tchames et leurs religions,” Revue de l’histoire des religions, xxiv. (1891) p. 213.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Aymonier, “The Tchams and Their Religions,” Review of the History of Religions, xxiv. (1891) p. 213.
522. W. Robertson Smith, Religion of the Semites, 2nd Ed., pp. 96-104.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Robertson Smith, Religion of the Semites, 2nd Ed., pp. 96-104.
523. S. I. Curtiss, Primitive Semitic Religion To-day (Chicago, 1902), p. 117.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.S. I. Curtiss, Primitive Semitic Religion Today (Chicago, 1902), p. 117.
524. S. I. Curtiss, op. cit. p. 119.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. S. I. Curtiss, same reference p. 119.
525. W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 50 sq., 225 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 50 sq., 225 sq.
526. Census of India, 1901, vol. xvii., Punjab, p. 164.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Census of India, 1901, vol. xvii., Punjab, p. 164.
527. W. Crooke, Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, iv. 425. As to the sect of the Maharajas, see above, vol. i. pp. 406 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, iv. 425. For information on the Maharajas sect, refer to vol. i, pp. 406 sq.
528. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxi. 8.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, Natural History xxxi. 8.
529. S. I. Curtiss, Primitive Semitic Religion To-day, pp. 116 sq.; Mrs. H. H. Spoer, “The Powers of Evil in Jerusalem,” Folk-lore, xviii. (1907) p. 55; A. Jaussen, Coutumes des Arabes au pays de Moab (Paris, 1908), p. 360.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.S. I. Curtiss, Primitive Semitic Religion Today, pp. 116 sq.; Mrs. H. H. Spoer, “The Powers of Evil in Jerusalem,” Folk-lore, xviii. (1907) p. 55; A. Jaussen, Customs of the Arabs in the Land of Moab (Paris, 1908), p. 360.
530. J. M. Mackinlay, Folk-lore of Scottish Lochs and Springs (Glasgow, 1893), p. 112.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. M. Mackinlay, Folk-lore of Scottish Lochs and Springs (Glasgow, 1893), p. 112.
531. A. C. Haddon and C. R. Browne, “The Ethnography of the Aran Islands,” Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, ii. (1893), p. 819.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Haddon and C. R. Browne, “The Ethnography of the Aran Islands,” Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. 2 (1893), p. 819.
532. R. C. Hope, The Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England (London, 1893), p. 122.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. C. Hope, The Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England (London, 1893), p. 122.
533. R. C. Hope, op. cit. pp. 107 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. R. C. Hope, cited work pp. 107 and following
534. See, for example, Pausanias, ii. 15. 5, v. 7. 2 sq., vi. 22. 9, vii. 23. 1 sq., viii. 43. 1, ix. 1. 1 sq., ix. 34. 6 and 9.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See, for example, Pausanias, ii. 15. 5, v. 7. 2 sq., vi. 22. 9, vii. 23. 1 sq., viii. 43. 1, ix. 1. 1 sq., ix. 34. 6 and 9.
535. Sophocles, Trachiniae, 6 sqq. The combat of Hercules with the bull-shaped river-god in presence of Dejanira is the subject of a red-figured vase painting. See Miss J. E. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion 2nd Ed., (Cambridge, 1908), Fig. 133, p. 434.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sophocles, Trachiniae, 6 sqq. The fight between Hercules and the bull-shaped river god, with Dejanira watching, is depicted in a red-figure vase painting. See Miss J. E. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion 2nd Ed., (Cambridge, 1908), Fig. 133, p. 434.
536. Aeschines, Epist. x. The letters of Aeschines are spurious, but there is no reason to doubt that the custom here described was actually observed.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aeschines, Epist. x. The letters of Aeschines are fake, but there's no reason to doubt that the practice described here was genuinely followed.
537. See the evidence collected by Mr. Floyd G. Ballentine, “Some Phases of the Cult of the Nymphs,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, xv. (1904) pp. 97 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Check out the evidence gathered by Mr. Floyd G. Ballentine, “Some Phases of the Cult of the Nymphs,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, xv. (1904) pp. 97 sqq.
538. F. Panzer, Beitrag zur deutschen Mythologie, i. 107-110, ii. 550. At Ragusa in Sicily an enormous effigy of a dragon, with movable tail and eyes, is carried in procession on St. George’s Day (April 23rd); and along with it two huge sugar loaves, decorated with flowers, figure in the procession. At the end of the festival these loaves are broken into little bits, and every farmer puts one of the pieces in his sowed fields to ensure a good crop. See G. Pitrè, Feste patronali in Sicilia (Turin and Palermo, 1900), pp. 323 sq. In this custom the fertility charm remains, though the marriage ceremony appears to be absent. As to the mummers’ play of St. George, see E. K. Chambers, The Mediaeval Stage (Oxford, 1903), i. 205 sqq.; A. Beatty, “The St. George, or Mummers’, Plays,” Transactions of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters, xv. part ii. (October, 1906) pp. 273-324. A separate copy of the latter work was kindly sent to me by the author.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Panzer, Contributions to German Mythology, i. 107-110, ii. 550. In Ragusa, Sicily, a massive dragon statue with a movable tail and eyes is paraded on St. George’s Day (April 23rd); along with it, two large sugar loaves, decorated with flowers, are part of the procession. At the end of the festival, these loaves are broken into small pieces, and each farmer places a piece in their fields to ensure a good harvest. See G. Pitrè, Patronal Festivals in Sicily (Turin and Palermo, 1900), pp. 323 sq. In this tradition, the fertility charm persists, although the marriage ceremony seems to be missing. For information on the St. George mummers’ play, see E. K. Chambers, The Medieval Stage (Oxford, 1903), i. 205 sqq.; A. Beatty, “The St. George, or Mummers’, Plays,” Transactions of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts, and Letters, xv. part ii. (October, 1906) pp. 273-324. The author kindly sent me a separate copy of the latter work.
539. See F. N. Taillepied, Recueil des Antiquitez et singularitez de la ville de Rouen (Rouen, 1587), pp. 93-105; A. Floquet, Histoire du privilége de Saint Romain (2 vols. 8vo, Rouen, 1833). Briefer notices of the custom and legend will be found in A. Bosquet’s La Normandie romanesque et merveilleuse (Paris and Rouen, 1845), pp. 405-409; and A. de Nore’s Coutumes, mythes, et traditions des provinces de France (Paris and Lyons, 1846), pp. 245-250. The gilt fierte, or portable shrine of St. Romain, is preserved in the Chapter Library of the Cathedral at Rouen, where I saw it in May 1902. It is in the form of a chapel, on the roof of which the saint stands erect, trampling on the winged dragon, while the condemned prisoner kneels in front of him. This, however, is not the original shrine, which was so decayed that in 1776 the Chapter decided to replace it by another. See Floquet, op. cit. ii. 338-346. The custom of carrying the dragons in procession was stopped in 1753 because of its tendency to impair the solemnity of the ceremony (Floquet, op. cit. ii. 301). Even more famous than the dragon of Rouen was the dragon of Tarascon, an effigy of which used to be carried in procession on Whitsunday. See A. de Nore, op. cit. pp. 47 sqq. As to other French dragons see P. Sébillot, Le Folk-lore de France, i. (Paris, 1904) pp. 468-470.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See F. N. Taillepied, Recueil des Antiquitez et singularitez de la ville de Rouen (Rouen, 1587), pp. 93-105; A. Floquet, Histoire du privilége de Saint Romain (2 vols. 8vo, Rouen, 1833). Shorter descriptions of the custom and legend can be found in A. Bosquet’s La Normandie romanesque et merveilleuse (Paris and Rouen, 1845), pp. 405-409; and A. de Nore’s Coutumes, mythes, et traditions des provinces de France (Paris and Lyons, 1846), pp. 245-250. The gilded fierte, or portable shrine of St. Romain, is kept in the Chapter Library of the Cathedral at Rouen, where I saw it in May 1902. It looks like a chapel, with the saint standing on the roof, stomping on the winged dragon, while the condemned prisoner kneels before him. However, this isn’t the original shrine, which was in such poor condition that in 1776 the Chapter decided to replace it. See Floquet, op. cit. ii. 338-346. The tradition of carrying the dragons in procession ended in 1753 due to its tendency to reduce the solemnity of the ceremony (Floquet, op. cit. ii. 301). More famous than the dragon of Rouen was the dragon of Tarascon, which was carried in procession on Whitsunday. See A. de Nore, op. cit. pp. 47 sqq. For other French dragons, see P. Sébillot, Le Folk-lore de France, i. (Paris, 1904) pp. 468-470.
540. See above, vol. i. pp. 17 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. i. pp. 17 and following
541. See above, vol. i. p. 12.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. 1, p. 12.
542. Catullus, xxxiv. 9 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Catullus, xxxiv. 9 and following.
543. Wernicke, in Pauly-Wissowa, Real-Encyklopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, ii. coll. 1343, 1351.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Wernicke, in Pauly-Wissowa, Real-Encyklopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, ii. coll. 1343, 1351.
544. Plutarch, De fortuna Romanorum, 9. This statement would be strongly confirmed by etymology if we could be sure that, as Mr. A. B. Cook has suggested, the name Egeria is derived from a root aeg meaning “oak.” The name is spelt Aegeria by Valerius Maximus (i. 2. 1). See A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) p. 366; id. “The European Sky-God,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 283 sq.; and as to the root aeg see O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Atertumskunde (Strasburg, 1901), p. 164.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Plutarch, De fortuna Romanorum, 9. This claim would be strongly supported by etymology if we could be certain that, as Mr. A. B. Cook suggested, the name Egeria comes from a root aeg meaning “oak.” The name is spelled Aegeria by Valerius Maximus (i. 2. 1). See A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) p. 366; id. “The European Sky-God,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 283 sq.; and regarding the root aeg, see O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Atertumskunde (Strasburg, 1901), p. 164.
545. Festus, s.v. “Querquetulanae,” pp. 260, 261, ed. C. O. Müller.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, s.v. “Querquetulanae,” pp. 260, 261, ed. C. O. Müller.
547. Servius on Virgil, Aen. iii. 466.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Servius on Virgil, Aen. III. 466.
548. Tacitus, Annals, ii. 54; Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 232; Pausanias, ix. 2. 11, x. 24. 7; Lucian, Bis accusatus, 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tacitus, Annals, ii. 54; Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 232; Pausanias, ix. 2. 11, x. 24. 7; Lucian, Bis accusatus, 1.
549. See above, vol. i. p. 18.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. 1, p. 18.
551. The first, I believe, to point out a parallelism in detail between Rome and Aricia was Mr. A. B. Cook (Classical Review, xvii. (1902) pp. 376 sqq.); but from the similarity he inferred the humanity of the Arician priests rather than the divinity of the Roman kings. A fuller consideration of all the evidence has since led him, rightly as I conceive, to reverse the inference. See his articles “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” The Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 360-375; “The European Sky-God,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 260-332. In the first and second editions of this work I had suggested that the regifugium at Rome may have been a relic of a rule of succession to the throne like that which obtained at Nemi. The following discussion of the religious position of the old Latin kings owes much to Mr. Cook’s sagacity and learning, of which he freely imparted to me.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Classical Review, xvii. (1902) pp. 376 sqq.); however, he concluded from these similarities that the Arician priests were more human than the Roman kings were divine. A more thorough examination of all the evidence has since led him, rightly in my opinion, to change that conclusion. See his articles “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” The Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 360-375; “The European Sky-God,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 260-332. In the first and second editions of this work, I suggested that the regifugium in Rome might have been a leftover of a succession rule similar to the one that existed in Nemi. The following discussion about the religious status of the ancient Latin kings greatly benefits from Mr. Cook’s insights and knowledge, which he generously shared with me.
552. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. iii. 61 sq., iv. 74, v. 35; B. G. Niebuhr, History of Rome, ii. 36; Th. Mommsen, History of Rome, New Edition (London, 1894), i. 83; A. J. H. Greenidge, Roman Public Life (London, 1901), pp. 44 sq. But Mommsen, while he held that the costume of a Roman god and of the Roman king was the same, denied that the king personated the god. A truer historical insight is displayed by K. O. Müller in his treatment of the subject (Die Etrusker, Stuttgart, 1877, i. 348 sq.). For a discussion of the evidence see Th. Mommsen, Römisches Staatsrecht, 3rd Ed., i. 372 sq., ii. 5 sq.; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, ii. 566 sq., iii. 2nd Ed., 507 sq.; id., Privatleben der Römer, 2nd Ed., 542 sq.; K. O. Müller, op. cit. i. 344-350, ii. 198-200; Aust, s.v. “Juppiter,” in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. coll. 633, 725-728. Among the chief passages of ancient authors on the subject are Dionysius Halicarnasensis, ll.cc.; Strabo, v. 2. 2, p. 220; Diodorus Siculus, v. 40; Appian, Pun. 66; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 8 and 21; Livy, i. 8. 1 sq., v. 23. 4 sq., v. 41. 2, x. 7. 9 sq.; Florus, i. 5. 6; Pliny, Nat. Hist. viii. 195, xv. 127, 130, 137, xxxiii. 11. 111 sq.; Juvenal, x. 36-43; Ovid, Ex Ponto, ii. 57 sq.; Macrobius, Saturn. i. 6. 7-9; Servius on Virgil, Ecl. vi. 22, x. 27; Ael. Lampridius, Alexander Severus, 40. 8; Jul. Capitolinus, Gordiani tres, 4. 4; Aulus Gellius, v. 6. 5-7; Tertullian, De corona militis, 13. The fullest descriptions of a Roman triumph are those of Appian and Zonaras (vii. 21).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. iii. 61 sq., iv. 74, v. 35; B. G. Niebuhr, History of Rome, ii. 36; Th. Mommsen, History of Rome, New Edition (London, 1894), i. 83; A. J. H. Greenidge, Roman Public Life (London, 1901), pp. 44 sq.. However, Mommsen believed that the attire of a Roman god and the Roman king was the same but disagreed that the king represented the god. K. O. Müller provides a more accurate historical perspective on this topic in his work (Die Etrusker, Stuttgart, 1877, i. 348 sq.). For further exploration of the evidence, see Th. Mommsen, Römisches Staatsrecht, 3rd Ed., i. 372 sq., ii. 5 sq.; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, ii. 566 sq., iii. 2nd Ed., 507 sq.; id., Privatleben der Römer, 2nd Ed., 542 sq.; K. O. Müller, op. cit. i. 344-350, ii. 198-200; Aust, s.v. “Juppiter,” in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. coll. 633, 725-728. Some of the main passages from ancient authors on this topic include Dionysius Halicarnasensis, ll.cc.; Strabo, v. 2. 2, p. 220; Diodorus Siculus, v. 40; Appian, Pun. 66; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 8 and 21; Livy, i. 8. 1 sq., v. 23. 4 sq., v. 41. 2, x. 7. 9 sq.; Florus, i. 5. 6; Pliny, Nat. Hist. viii. 195, xv. 127, 130, 137, xxxiii. 11. 111 sq.; Juvenal, x. 36-43; Ovid, Ex Ponto, ii. 57 sq.; Macrobius, Saturn. i. 6. 7-9; Servius on Virgil, Ecl. vi. 22, x. 27; Ael. Lampridius, Alexander Severus, 40. 8; Jul. Capitolinus, Gordiani tres, 4. 4; Aulus Gellius, v. 6. 5-7; Tertullian, De corona militis, 13. The most detailed accounts of a Roman triumph can be found in the works of Appian and Zonaras (vii. 21).
553. Camillus triumphed in a chariot drawn by white horses like the sacred white horses of Jupiter and the Sun. His Republican contemporaries were offended at what they regarded as a too close imitation of the gods (Livy, v. 23. 5 sq.; Plutarch, Camillus, 7; Dio Cassius, lii. 13); but the Roman emperors followed his example, or perhaps revived the old custom of the kings. See Dio Cassius, xliii. 14; Suetonius, Nero, 25; Pliny, Panegyric, 22; Propertius, v. 1. 32; Ovid, Ars amat. i. 214. On the sanctity of white horses among various branches of the Aryan stock, see J. von Negelein, “Die volksthümliche Bedeutung der weissen Farbe,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, xxxiii. (1901) pp. 62-66; W. Ridgeway, The Origin and Influence of the Thoroughbred Horse (Cambridge, 1905), pp. 105, 186, 187, 294, 295, 419. As to the horses of the Sun, see above, vol. i. pp. 315 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Camillus rode triumphantly in a chariot pulled by white horses, just like the sacred white horses of Jupiter and the Sun. His Republican contemporaries were offended by what they saw as an excessive imitation of the gods (Livy, v. 23. 5 sq.; Plutarch, Camillus, 7; Dio Cassius, lii. 13); however, the Roman emperors followed his lead, or perhaps revived the old tradition of the kings. See Dio Cassius, xliii. 14; Suetonius, Nero, 25; Pliny, Panegyric, 22; Propertius, v. 1. 32; Ovid, Ars amat. i. 214. For information on the significance of white horses among various Aryan groups, see J. von Negelein, “Die volksthümliche Bedeutung der weissen Farbe,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, xxxiii. (1901) pp. 62-66; W. Ridgeway, The Origin and Influence of the Thoroughbred Horse (Cambridge, 1905), pp. 105, 186, 187, 294, 295, 419. Regarding the horses of the Sun, see above, vol. i. pp. 315 sq.
554. Tertullian, De corona militis, 13, “Coronant et publicos ordines laureis publicae causae magistratus vero insuper aureis. Praeferuntur etiam illis Hetruscae. Hoc vocabulum est coronarum, quas gemmis et foliis ex auro quercinis ob Jovem insignes ad deducendas thensas cum palmatis togis sumunt.” The thensae were the sacred cars in which the images of the gods were carried at the procession of the Circensian games (see W. Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities, 3rd Ed., s.v.). That the Etruscan crown described by Tertullian was the golden crown held by a slave over the head of a general on his triumph may be inferred from Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxiii. 11, “Vulgoque sic triumphabant, et cum corona ex auro Etrusca sustineretur a tergo, anulus tamen in digito ferreus erat aeque triumphantis et servi fortasse coronam sustinentis.” Compare Zonaras, Annal. vii. 21; Juvenal, x. 38 sqq. Mommsen says that the triumphal golden crown was made in the shape of laurel leaves (Römisches Staatsrecht, i. 3rd Ed., 427); but none of the ancient authors cited by him appears to affirm this, with the exception of Aulus Gellius (v. 6. 5-7, “Triumphales coronae sunt aureae, quae imperatoribus ob honorem triumphi mittuntur. Id vulgo dicitur aurum coronarium. Haec antiquitus e lauru erant, post fieri ex aura coeptae”). Gellius may have confused the wreath of real laurel which the general wore on his head (Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxiii. 127, 130, 137) with the golden crown which was held over him by a slave. The two crowns are clearly distinguished by Zonaras (l.c.), though he does not describe the shape of the golden crown. Thus there is no good ground for rejecting the express testimony of Tertullian that the golden crown was shaped like oak-leaves. This seems to have been Mommsen’s own earlier opinion, since he mentions “a chaplet of oaken leaves in gold” as part of the insignia of the Roman kings (Roman History, London, 1894, i. 83).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tertullian, De corona militis, 13, “They crown public officials with laurel for public service, and magistrates with gold. The Etruscan crown is also preferred over these. This term refers to the crowns made with gems and golden oak leaves that are religiously significant for carrying the sacred processions with palm-lined togas.” The thensae were the sacred chariots that carried the images of the gods during the Circensian games procession (see W. Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities, 3rd Ed., s.v.). It can be inferred from Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxiii. 11, that the Etruscan crown described by Tertullian was the golden crown held by a slave over the head of a general during a triumph: “They commonly triumphed like this, and while the Etruscan golden crown was held from behind, the ring on the finger was made of iron, carried equally by the victorious and possibly by the slave holding the crown.” Compare Zonaras, Annal. vii. 21; Juvenal, x. 38 sqq. Mommsen states that the triumphal golden crown was shaped like laurel leaves (Römisches Staatsrecht, i. 3rd Ed., 427); however, none of the ancient authors he cites seem to support this except for Aulus Gellius (v. 6. 5-7, “Triumphal crowns are golden, which are sent to generals in honor of their triumphs. This is commonly known as the celebratory gold. Originally they were made of laurel, but later they began to be made of gold.”). Gellius may have mixed up the real laurel wreath that the general wore on his head (Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxiii. 127, 130, 137) with the golden crown held over him by a slave. Zonaras clearly distinguishes between the two crowns (l.c.), although he doesn't describe the shape of the golden crown. Thus, there is no solid reason to dismiss Tertullian’s explicit statement that the golden crown was shaped like oak leaves. This seems to have been Mommsen’s earlier view as well, as he mentions “a chaplet of golden oak leaves” as part of the insignia of the Roman kings (Roman History, London, 1894, i. 83).
555. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxiii. 111 sq.; Servius on Virgil, Ecl. vi. 22, x. 27.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxiii. 111 sq.; Servius on Virgil, Ecl. vi. 22, x. 27.
556. Pausanias, ii. 2. 6, vii. 26. 11, viii. 39. 6. For other examples of idols painted red see my note on Pausanias, ii. 2. 6.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, ii. 2. 6, vii. 26. 11, viii. 39. 6. For more examples of idols painted red, check my note on Pausanias, ii. 2. 6.
557. For instances see Fr. Kunstmann, “Valentin Ferdinand’s Beschreibung der Serra Leoa,” Abhandlungen d. histor. Classe d. kön. Bayer. Akademie d. Wissenschaften, ix. (Munich, 1866) p. 131; J. B. Labat, Relation historique de l’Éthiopie Occidentale (Paris, 1732), i. 250; Gmelin, Reise durch Sibirien, ii. 476; “Ueber den religiösen Glauben und die Ceremonien der heidnischen Samojeden im Kreise Mesen,” Zeitschrift für allgemeine Erdkunde, N.F. viii. (1860) p. 59; E. Rae, The White Sea Peninsula, p. 150; J. B. Müller, “Les Mœurs et usages des Ostiackes,” Recueil de voiages au Nord, viii. (Amsterdam, 1727) pp. 414 sq.; Delamare, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xii. (1840) p. 482; Sahagun, Histoire générale des choses de la Nouvelle-Espagne (Paris, 1880), p. 185; J. de Velasco, Histoire du royaume de Quito, p. 121 (Ternaux-Compans, Voyages, relations et mémoires, xviii., Paris, 1840); E. J. Payne, History of the New World called America, i. 374 n. 1; F. B. Jevons, Introduction to the History of Religion (London, 1896), p. 158. Often we are merely told that the blood is smeared or sprinkled on the image. See A. B. Ellis, Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 42, 79; id., Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 102, 106; A. F. Mockler-Ferryman, British Nigeria (London, 1902), p. 255; Fr. Kramer, “Der Götzendienst der Niasser,” Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde, xxxiii. (1890) p. 496. For more examples see my note on Pausanias, ii. 2. 6.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For examples, see Fr. Kunstmann, “Valentin Ferdinand’s Description of Serra Leoa,” Proceedings of the Historical Class of the Royal Bavarian Academy of Sciences, ix. (Munich, 1866) p. 131; J. B. Labat, Historical Account of Western Ethiopia (Paris, 1732), i. 250; Gmelin, Journey Through Siberia, ii. 476; “On the Religious Beliefs and Ceremonies of the Pagan Samoyeds in the Mesen Region,” Journal of General Geography, N.F. viii. (1860) p. 59; E. Rae, The White Sea Peninsula, p. 150; J. B. Müller, “Customs and Usages of the Ostyaks,” Collection of Travels to the North, viii. (Amsterdam, 1727) pp. 414 sq.; Delamare, in Annals of the Propagation of the Faith, xii. (1840) p. 482; Sahagun, General History of the Things of New Spain (Paris, 1880), p. 185; J. de Velasco, History of the Kingdom of Quito, p. 121 (Ternaux-Compans, Travelogues, Relations, and Memoirs, xviii., Paris, 1840); E. J. Payne, History of the New World Called America, i. 374 n. 1; F. B. Jevons, Introduction to the History of Religion (London, 1896), p. 158. Often we are simply told that the blood is smeared or sprinkled on the image. See A. B. Ellis, Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 42, 79; id., Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 102, 106; A. F. Mockler-Ferryman, British Nigeria (London, 1902), p. 255; Fr. Kramer, “The Idol Worship of the Niasser,” Journal of Indian Language, Geography, and Ethnology, xxxiii. (1890) p. 496. For more examples, see my note on Pausanias, ii. 2. 6.
558. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xii. 3; Phaedrus, iii. 17. 1 sqq.; Servius on Virgil, Georg. iii. 332, and on Ecl. i. 17.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. xii. 3; Phaedrus, iii. 17. 1 sqq.; Servius on Virgil, Georg. iii. 332, and on Ecl. i. 17.
559. Livy, i. 10. 4 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Livy, i. 10. 4 sqq.
560. Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 92.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Plutarch, Roman Questions 92.
561. Ovid, Tristia, iii. 31 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Tristia, iii. 31 etc.
562. Dio Cassius, liii. 19.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Dio Cassius, 53.19.
563. Ovid, Fasti, i. 607 sqq., iv. 953 sq. Tiberius refused a similar honour (Suetonius, Tiberius, 26); but Domitian seems to have accepted it (Martial, viii. 82. 7). Two statues of Claudius, one in the Vatican, the other in the Lateran Museum, represent the emperor as Jupiter wearing the oak crown (W. Helbig, Führer durch die öffentlichen Sammlungen klassischer Altertümer in Rom, 2nd Ed., i. Nos. 312, 673).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, i. 607 sqq., iv. 953 sq. Tiberius turned down a similar honor (Suetonius, Tiberius, 26); however, Domitian appears to have accepted it (Martial, viii. 82. 7). There are two statues of Claudius, one in the Vatican and the other in the Lateran Museum, depicting the emperor as Jupiter wearing an oak crown (W. Helbig, Führer durch die öffentlichen Sammlungen klassischer Altertümer in Rom, 2nd Ed., i. Nos. 312, 673).
564. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, viii. No. 6981.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, viii. No. 6981.
565. J. Overbeck, Griechische Kunstmythologie, Besonderer Theil, i. 232 sqq.; L. R. Farnell, The Cults of the Greek States, i. 107 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Overbeck, Greek Art Mythology, Special Part, p. 232 and following; L. R. Farnell, The Cults of the Greek States, p. 107 and following
566. See above, vol. i. p. 310.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. 1, p. 310.
567. Antoninus Liberalis, Transform. 6. For this and the two following passages of Tzetzes I am indebted to Mr. A. B. Cook. See further his articles, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xvii. (1903) p. 409; “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xv. (1904) pp. 299 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Antoninus Liberalis, Transform. 6. For this and the next two passages by Tzetzes, I'm grateful to Mr. A. B. Cook. For more, see his articles, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xvii. (1903) p. 409; “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xv. (1904) pp. 299 sqq.
568. H. Ebeling, Lexicon Homericum, s.vv. βασιλεύς, διοτρεφής, and θεῖος.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Ebeling, Lexicon Homericum, s.vv. basileus, diotrephēs, and theios.
569. J. Tzetzes, Antehomerica, 102 sq.:
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Tzetzes, Antehomerica, 102 sq.:
id., Chiliades, i. 474:
id., Chiliades, i. 474:
570. Polybius, vi. 53 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Polybius, vi. 53 and following
571. As to the situation, see Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. i. 66; H. Nissen, Italische Landeskunde, ii. 582 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For the situation, refer to Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. i. 66; H. Nissen, Italische Landeskunde, ii. 582 sq.
572. Virgil, Aen. vi. 772. I have to thank Mr. A. B. Cook for directing my attention to the Alban kings and their interesting legends. See his articles “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 363 sq.; “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 285 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Virgil, Aen. vi. 772. I want to thank Mr. A. B. Cook for bringing my attention to the Alban kings and their fascinating legends. Check out his articles “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 363 sq.; “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 285 sqq.
573. Virgil, Aen. vi. 760 sqq., with the commentary of Servius; Livy, i. 3. 6 sqq.; Ovid, Metam. xiv. 609 sqq.; id., Fasti, iv. 39 sqq.; Festus, s.v. “Silvi,” p. 340, ed. C. O. Müller; Aurelius Victor, Origo gentis Romanae, 15-17; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 70; Diodorus Siculus, in Eusebius, Chronic. i. coll. 285, 287, ed. A. Schoene; Diodorus Siculus, vii. 3a and 3b, vol. ii. pp. 110-112, ed. L. Dindorf (Teubner edition); Joannes Lydus, De magistratibus, i. 21. As to the derivation of the name Julus, see Aurelius Victor, op. cit. 15, “Igitur Latini Ascanium ob insignem virtutem non solum Jove ortum crediderunt, sed etiam per diminutionem, declinato paululum nomine, primo Jobum, dein postea Julum appellarant”; also Steuding, in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 574. Compare W. M. Lindsay, The Latin Language (Oxford, 1894), p. 250. According to Diodorus, the priesthood bestowed on Julus was the pontificate; but the name Julus or Little Jupiter suggests that the office was rather that of Flamen Dialis, who was a sort of living embodiment of Jupiter (see below, pp. 191 sq.), and whose name of Dialis is derived from the same root as Julus. On the Julii and their relation to Vejovis see R. H. Klausen, Aeneas und die Penaten, ii. 1059 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Virgil, Aen. vi. 760 sqq., with the commentary of Servius; Livy, i. 3. 6 sqq.; Ovid, Metam. xiv. 609 sqq.; id., Fasti, iv. 39 sqq.; Festus, s.v. “Silvi,” p. 340, ed. C. O. Müller; Aurelius Victor, Origo gentis Romanae, 15-17; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 70; Diodorus Siculus, in Eusebius, Chronic. i. coll. 285, 287, ed. A. Schoene; Diodorus Siculus, vii. 3a and 3b, vol. ii. pp. 110-112, ed. L. Dindorf (Teubner edition); Joannes Lydus, De magistratibus, i. 21. Regarding the origin of the name Julus, see Aurelius Victor, op. cit. 15, “So the Latins believed Ascanium, due to his remarkable valor, not only to be descended from Jupiter, but also through a slight modification of the name, first called him Jobum, and then later Julum”; also Steuding, in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 574. Compare W. M. Lindsay, The Latin Language (Oxford, 1894), p. 250. According to Diodorus, the priesthood given to Julus was the pontificate; however, the name Julus or Little Jupiter implies that the role was more aligned with that of Flamen Dialis, who was essentially a living representation of Jupiter (see below, pp. 191 sq.), and whose name Dialis comes from the same root as Julus. On the Julii and their connection to Vejovis, see R. H. Klausen, Aeneas und die Penaten, ii. 1059 sqq.
575. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, xiv. No. 2387; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 263 sq. On Vejovis as the Little Jupiter see Festus, s.v. “Vesculi,” p. 379, “Ve enim syllabam rei parvae praeponebant, unde Veiovem parvum Iovem et vegrandem fabam minutam dicebant”; also Ovid, Fasti, iii. 429-448. At Rome the sanctuary of Vejovis was on the saddle between the two peaks of the Capitoline hill (Aulus Gellius, v. 12. 1 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, iii. 429 sq.); thus he appropriately dwelt on the same hill as the Great Jupiter, but lower down the slope. On coins of the Gargilian, Ogulnian and Vergilian houses Vejovis is represented by a youthful beardless head, crowned with oak. See E. Babelon, Monnaies de la République Romaine, i. 532, ii. 266, 529. On other Republican coins his head is crowned with laurel. See E. Babelon, op. cit. i. 77, 505-508, ii. 6, 8. Circensian games were held at Bovillae in honour of the Julian family, and Tiberius dedicated a chapel to them there. See Tacitus, Annals, ii. 41, xv. 23.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, xiv. No. 2387; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 263 sq. For Vejovis as the Little Jupiter, check Festus, s.v. “Vesculi,” p. 379, “They would place the syllable of the small thing in front, from which they called Vejovis the little Jupiter and the small bean”; also see Ovid, Fasti, iii. 429-448. In Rome, the shrine of Vejovis was located on the ridge between the two peaks of the Capitoline hill (Aulus Gellius, v. 12. 1 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, iii. 429 sq.); thus he appropriately lived on the same hill as Great Jupiter, but further down the slope. On coins from the Gargilian, Ogulnian, and Vergilian families, Vejovis is depicted as a youthful, beardless figure, wearing an oak crown. See E. Babelon, Monnaies de la République Romaine, i. 532, ii. 266, 529. On other Republican coins, his head is crowned with laurel. See E. Babelon, op. cit. i. 77, 505-508, ii. 6, 8. Circensian games were held at Bovillae in honor of the Julian family, and Tiberius dedicated a chapel to them there. See Tacitus, Annals, ii. 41, xv. 23.
576. Festus, s.v. “Caesar,” p. 57, ed. C. O. Müller. Other but less probable explanations of the name are suggested by Aelius Spartianus (Helius, ii. 3 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, s.v. “Caesar,” p. 57, ed. C. O. Müller. Other but less likely explanations of the name are suggested by Aelius Spartianus (Helius, ii. 3 sq.).
577. As to the Frankish kings see Agathias, Hist. i. 3; J. Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer, pp. 239 sqq.; The Golden Bough, Second Edition, i. 368 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For information about the Frankish kings, refer to Agathias, Hist. i. 3; J. Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer, pp. 239 sqq.; The Golden Bough, Second Edition, i. 368 sq.
578. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Roman. i. 71; Diodorus Siculus, in Eusebius, Chronic. bk. i. coll. 287, 289, ed. A. Schoene; Diodorus Siculus, vii. 3a and 4, ed. L. Dindorf; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 1; Aurelius Victor, Origo gentis Romanae, 18; Ovid, Metam. xiv. 616-618; id., Fasti, iv. 50; Livy, i. 3. 9. The king is called Romulus by Livy, Remulus by Ovid, Aremulus by Aurelius Victor, Amulius by Zonaras, Amulius or Arramulius by Diodorus, and Allodius by Dionysius. A tale of a city submerged in the Alban lake is still current in the neighbourhood. See the English translators’ note to Niebuhr’s History of Rome, 3rd Ed., i. 200. Similar stories are told in many lands. See my note on Pausanias, vii. 24. 6.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Roman. i. 71; Diodorus Siculus, in Eusebius, Chronic. bk. i. coll. 287, 289, ed. A. Schoene; Diodorus Siculus, vii. 3a and 4, ed. L. Dindorf; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 1; Aurelius Victor, Origo gentis Romanae, 18; Ovid, Metam. xiv. 616-618; id., Fasti, iv. 50; Livy, i. 3. 9. The king is referred to as Romulus by Livy, Remulus by Ovid, Aremulus by Aurelius Victor, Amulius by Zonaras, and Amulius or Arramulius by Diodorus, while Dionysius calls him Allodius. A story about a city submerged in the Alban lake is still popular in the area. See the English translators’ note to Niebuhr’s History of Rome, 3rd Ed., i. 200. Similar stories can be found in many places. See my note on Pausanias, vii. 24. 6.
579. See above, vol. i. p. 310.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. i. p. 310.
580. See above, vol. i. pp. 342 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. 1, pp. 342 sqq.
581. Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 140, xxviii. 13 sq. Other writers speak only of Numa’s skill in expiating the prodigy or evil omen of thunderbolts. See Livy, i. 20. 7; Ovid, Fasti, iii. 285-348; Plutarch, Numa, 15; Arnobius, Adversus nationes, v. 1-4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 140, xxviii. 13 sq. Other writers only discuss Numa’s ability to make amends for the ominous signs of thunderbolts. See Livy, i. 20. 7; Ovid, Fasti, iii. 285-348; Plutarch, Numa, 15; Arnobius, Adversus nationes, v. 1-4.
582. See above, vol. i. pp. 248, 251.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. i. pp. 248, 251.
583. Apollodorus, i. 9. 7; Virgil, Aen. vi. 592 sqq.; Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 140, xxviii. 14 (referring to the first book of L. Piso’s Annals); Livy, i. 31. 8; Aurelius Victor, De viris illustribus, 4; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 6. According to another account Tullus Hostilius was murdered by his successor Ancus Martius during a violent storm (Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. iii. 35; Zonaras, l.c.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Apollodorus, i. 9. 7; Virgil, Aen. vi. 592 sqq.; Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 140, xxviii. 14 (referring to the first book of L. Piso’s Annals); Livy, i. 31. 8; Aurelius Victor, De viris illustribus, 4; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 6. According to another version, Tullus Hostilius was killed by his successor Ancus Martius during a severe storm (Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. iii. 35; Zonaras, l.c.).
584. Livy, i. 2. 6; Ovid, Metam. xiv. 598-608; Pliny, Nat. Hist. iii. 56; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 64; Servius on Virgil, Aen. i. 259; Aurelius Victor, Origo gentis Romanae, 14. Only the last writer mentions the thunderstorm.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 2. 6; Ovid, Metam. xiv. 598-608; Pliny, Nat. Hist. iii. 56; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 64; Servius on Virgil, Aen. i. 259; Aurelius Victor, Origo gentis Romanae, 14. Only the last writer mentions the thunderstorm.
585. Livy, i. 16; Cicero, De legibus, i. 1. 3; id., De re publica, i. 16. 25, ii. 10. 20; Ovid, Fasti, ii. 475-512; Plutarch, Romulus, 27 sq.; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. ii. 56 and 63; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 4; Aurelius Victor, De viris illustribus, 2; Florus, Epitoma, i. 1. 16-18. From Cicero (De legibus, i. 1. 3) we learn that the apparition of Romulus to Proculus Julius took place near the spot where the house of Atticus afterwards stood, and from Cornelius Nepos (Atticus, 13. 2) we know that Atticus had an agreeable villa and shady garden on the Quirinal. As to the temple of Quirinus see also Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 51; Festus, pp. 254, 255, ed. C. O. Müller; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xv. 120. As to the site of the temple and the question whether it was identical with the temple dedicated by L. Papirius Cursor in 293 B.C. (Livy, x. 46. 7; Pliny, Nat. Hist. vii. 213) see O. Richter, Topographie der Stadt Rom, 2nd Ed., pp. 286 sqq.; G. Wissowa, Gesammelte Abhandlungen (Munich, 1904), pp. 144 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 16; Cicero, On the Laws, i. 1. 3; id., On the Republic, i. 16. 25, ii. 10. 20; Ovid, Fasti, ii. 475-512; Plutarch, Romulus, 27 sq.; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities, ii. 56 and 63; Zonaras, Annals, vii. 4; Aurelius Victor, On Famous Men, 2; Florus, Epitome, i. 1. 16-18. From Cicero (On the Laws, i. 1. 3) we learn that Romulus appeared to Proculus Julius near where Atticus’s house later stood, and from Cornelius Nepos (Atticus, 13. 2) we know that Atticus had a nice villa and shady garden on the Quirinal. For more on the temple of Quirinus, see also Varro, On the Latin Language, v. 51; Festus, pp. 254, 255, ed. C. O. Müller; Pliny, Natural History xv. 120. Regarding the location of the temple and whether it was the same as the one dedicated by L. Papirius Cursor in 293 B.C.E. (Livy, x. 46. 7; Pliny, Natural History vii. 213), see O. Richter, Topography of the City of Rome, 2nd Ed., pp. 286 sqq.; G. Wissowa, Collected Papers (Munich, 1904), pp. 144 sqq.
586. See A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 368 sq.; id. “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) p. 281. But a serious argument against the proposed derivation of Quirinus from quercus is that, as I am informed by my learned philological friend the Rev. Prof. J. H. Moulton, it is inconsistent with the much more probable derivation of Perkunas from quercus. See below, p. 367, note 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 368 sq.; id. “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) p. 281. However, a solid argument against the suggested origin of Quirinus from quercus is that, as my knowledgeable linguist friend the Rev. Prof. J. H. Moulton informs me, it contradicts the much more likely origin of Perkunas from quercus. See below, p. 367, note 3.
587. See above, vol. i. pp. 262 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. i. pp. 262 and following.
588. J. I. Molina, Geographical, Natural, and Civil History of Chili (London, 1809), ii. 92 sq. The savage Conibos of the Ucayali river in eastern Peru imagine that thunder is the voice of the dead (W. Smyth and F. Lowe, Journey from Lima to Para, London, 1836, p. 240); and among them when parents who have lost a child within three months hear thunder, they go and dance on the grave, howling turn about (De St. Cricq, “Voyage du Pérou au Brésil,” Bulletin de la Société de Géographie, ivme série, vi., Paris, 1853, p. 294). The Yuracares of eastern Peru threaten the thunder-god with their arrows and defy him when he thunders (A. D’Orbigny, L’Homme américain, i. 365), just as the Thracians did of old (Herodotus, iv. 94). So the Kayans of Borneo, on hearing a peal of thunder, have been seen to grasp their swords for the purpose of keeping off the demon who causes it (A. W. Nieuwenhuis, In Centraal Borneo, i. 140 sq., 146 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. I. Molina, Geographical, Natural, and Civil History of Chili (London, 1809), ii. 92 sq. The wild Conibos people of the Ucayali River in eastern Peru believe that thunder is the voice of the dead (W. Smyth and F. Lowe, Journey from Lima to Para, London, 1836, p. 240); when parents among them lose a child within three months and hear thunder, they go and dance on the grave, howling alternately (De St. Cricq, “Voyage du Pérou au Brésil,” Bulletin de la Société de Géographie, ivme série, vi., Paris, 1853, p. 294). The Yuracares of eastern Peru threaten the thunder-god with their arrows and challenge him when he thunders (A. D’Orbigny, L’Homme américain, i. 365), much like the Thracians did in ancient times (Herodotus, iv. 94). Similarly, the Kayans of Borneo, upon hearing thunder, have been seen to take up their swords to fend off the demon responsible (A. W. Nieuwenhuis, In Centraal Borneo, i. 140 sq., 146 sq.).
589. See above, vol. i. p. 310; and for the connexion of the rite with Jupiter Elicius see O. Gilbert, Geschichte und Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, ii. 154 sq.; Aust, in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. und röm. Mythologie, ii. 657 sq. As to the connexion of Jupiter with the rain-making ceremony (aquaelicium), the combined evidence of Petronius (Sat. 44) and Tertullian (Apologeticus, 40) seems to me conclusive.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. i. p. 310; and for the connection of the rite with Jupiter Elicius, see O. Gilbert, History and Topography of Ancient Rome, ii. 154 sq.; Aust, in W. H. Roscher’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Mythology, ii. 657 sq. Regarding the link between Jupiter and the rain-making ceremony (aquaelicium), the combined evidence of Petronius (Satyricon 44) and Tertullian (Apologeticus, 40) seems to me conclusive.
590. Ovid, Fasti, i. 637 sq., vi. 183 sqq.; Livy, vii. 28. 4 sq.; Cicero, De divinatione, i. 45. 101; Solinus, i. 21. Although the temple was not dedicated until 344 B.C., the worship of the goddess of the hill appears to have been very ancient. See H. Jordan, Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, i. 2, pp. 109 sq.; W. H. Roscher, Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. coll. 592 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, i. 637 sq., vi. 183 sqq.; Livy, vii. 28. 4 sq.; Cicero, De divinatione, i. 45. 101; Solinus, i. 21. Although the temple wasn’t dedicated until 344 BCE, the worship of the goddess of the hill seems to have been very old. See H. Jordan, Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, i. 2, pp. 109 sq.; W. H. Roscher, Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. coll. 592 sq.
591. Livy, i. 8. 5; Ovid, Fasti, iii. 430; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. ii. 15.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 8. 5; Ovid, Fasti, iii. 430; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. ii. 15.
592. Virgil, Aen. viii. 314-318, 347-354.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Virgil, Aeneid viii. 314-318, 347-354.
593. Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 92.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Plutarch, Roman Questions 92.
594. Livy, i. 10. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Livy, Book 1, Chapter 10, Verse 5.
595. Mons Querquetulanus; see Tacitus, Annals, iv. 65.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mons Querquetulanus; refer to Tacitus, Annals, iv. 65.
596. A monument found at Rome represents Jupiter beside an oak, and underneath is the dedication: Jovi Caelio. See H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 3080.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A monument found in Rome shows Jupiter next to an oak tree, and underneath it is the dedication: Jovi Caelio. See H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 3080.
597. Porta Querquetulana or Querquetularia; see Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 37; Festus, pp. 260, 261, ed. C. O. Müller.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Porta Querquetulana or Querquetularia; see Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 37; Festus, pp. 260, 261, ed. C. O. Müller.
598. Festus, ll.cc.; Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 49.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, ll.cc.; Varro, On the Latin Language, v. 49.
599. E. Babelon, Monnaies de la République Romaine, i. 99 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Babelon, Coins of the Roman Republic, i. 99 sq.
600. Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 49, where, however, “alii ab aesculetis” is a conjecture of C. O. Müller’s. I do not know what authority O. Richter has for reading aesculis consitae (“planted with oaks”) for excultae in this passage (Topographie der Stadt Rom, 2nd Ed., p. 302, n. 4). Modern topographers prefer to derive the name from ex-colere in the sense of “the hill outside the city” (O. Richter, l.c.; O. Gilbert, Geschichte und Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, i. 166 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 49, where, however, “alii ab aesculetis” is a conjecture from C. O. Müller. I don't know what basis O. Richter has for reading aesculis consitae (“planted with oaks”) instead of excultae in this passage (Topographie der Stadt Rom, 2nd Ed., p. 302, n. 4). Modern topographers prefer to derive the name from ex-colere, meaning “the hill outside the city” (O. Richter, l.c.; O. Gilbert, Geschichte und Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, i. 166 sq.).
602. Ovid, Fasti, iii. 295 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, III. 295 sq.
603. See above, vol. i. p. 18; and for the identification, O. Gilbert, Geschichte und Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, ii. 152 sqq.; A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) p. 366.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. i. p. 18; and for the identification, O. Gilbert, History and Topography of the City of Rome in Antiquity, ii. 152 sqq.; A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) p. 366.
604. Cicero, De divinatione, i. 45, 101.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Cicero, On Divination, i. 45, 101.
605. G. Boni, in Notizie degli Scavi, May 1900, pp. 161, 172; id., Aedes Vestae, p. 14 (extract from the Nuova Antologia, 1st August 1900). Copies of these and other papers containing Commendatore Boni’s account of his memorable excavations and discoveries were kindly given me by him during my stay in Rome in the winter of 1900-1901. That the fire in question was a sacrificial one is proved by the bones, potsherds, and rude copper money found among the ashes. Commend. Boni thinks that the charred remains of the wood prove that the fire was extinguished, probably by libations, and that therefore it cannot have been the perpetual holy fire of Vesta, which would have burned up completely all the fuel. But a new fire was annually lit on the first of March (Ovid, Fasti, iii. 143 sq.; Macrobius, Saturn. i. 12. 6), which may imply that the old fire was ceremonially extinguished, as often happens in such cases.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Boni, in Notizie degli Scavi, May 1900, pp. 161, 172; id., Aedes Vestae, p. 14 (excerpt from Nuova Antologia, August 1, 1900). I received copies of these and other papers detailing Commendatore Boni’s significant excavations and discoveries during my visit to Rome in the winter of 1900-1901. Evidence that the fire in question was sacrificial comes from the bones, pottery shards, and crude copper coins found among the ashes. Commendatore Boni believes that the charred wood remains indicate the fire was put out, likely by libations, and therefore it couldn’t have been the eternal holy fire of Vesta, which would have completely consumed all the fuel. However, a new fire was started each year on March 1 (Ovid, Fasti, iii. 143 sq.; Macrobius, Saturn. i. 12. 6), suggesting that the old fire was ceremonially extinguished, as is often the case in these situations.
606. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 37.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, Natural History xvi. 37.
607. O. Richter, Topographie der Stadt Rom, 2nd Ed., p. 211.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.O. Richter, Topography of the City of Rome, 2nd Ed., p. 211.
608. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 237. The inscription was probably not in the Etruscan language, but only in an archaic alphabet like that employed in the inscription on the pyramidal stone which has been found under the Black Stone in the Forum.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 237. The inscription was likely not in the Etruscan language, but rather in an ancient alphabet similar to the one used in the inscription on the pyramidal stone discovered beneath the Black Stone in the Forum.
609. G. Boni, “Bimbi Romulei,” Nuova Antologia, 16th February 1904, pp. 5 sqq. (separate reprint); E. Burton-Brown, Recent Excavations in the Roman Forum (London, 1904), p. 150.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Boni, “Bimbi Romulei,” Nuova Antologia, 16th February 1904, pp. 5 sqq. (separate reprint); E. Burton-Brown, Recent Excavations in the Roman Forum (London, 1904), p. 150.
610. Festus, s.v. “Oscillantes,” p. 194, ed. C. O. Müller.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, s.v. “Oscillantes,” p. 194, ed. C. O. Müller.
611. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. iv. 49; A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 341; H. Nissen, Italische Landeskunde, ii. 580. It is to be observed that Dionysius does not here speak of the dedication of a temple to Jupiter; when he describes the foundation of the temple of Capitoline Jupiter by Tarquin (iv. 59 and 61) his language is quite different. The monastery, founded in 1777 by Cardinal York, the last of the Stuarts, has now been converted into a meteorological station and an inn (K. Baedeker, Central Italy and Rome, 13th Ed., p. 400). It is fitting enough that the atmospheric phenomena should be observed by modern science on the spot where they were worshipped by ancient piety.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. iv. 49; A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 341; H. Nissen, Italische Landeskunde, ii. 580. It should be noted that Dionysius does not mention the dedication of a temple to Jupiter here; when he talks about the foundation of the temple of Capitoline Jupiter by Tarquin (iv. 59 and 61), his wording is quite different. The monastery, established in 1777 by Cardinal York, the last of the Stuarts, has now been turned into a meteorological station and an inn (K. Baedeker, Central Italy and Rome, 13th Ed., p. 400). It is quite appropriate that modern science observes atmospheric phenomena in the very place where they were once honored by ancient worship.
612. Livy, i. 31. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Livy, Book 1, Section 31, Line 3.
613. According to tradition, the future site of Alba Longa was marked out by a white sow and her litter, which were found lying under evergreen oaks (Virgil, Aen. viii. 43), as Mr. A. B. Cook has pointed out (Classical Review, xviii. 363). The tradition seems to shew that the neighbourhood of the city was wooded with oaks.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.According to tradition, the future site of Alba Longa was marked by a white sow and her piglets, which were found resting under evergreen oaks (Virgil, Aen. viii. 43), as Mr. A. B. Cook noted (Classical Review, xviii. 363). This tradition suggests that the area around the city was filled with oak trees.
615. Querquetulani. See Pliny, Nat. Hist. iii. 69; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. v. 61. As to the white bulls sacrificed at the great Latin festival and partaken of by the members of the League, see Arnobius, Adversus nationes, ii. 68; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iv. 49. Compare Cicero, Pro Plancio, ix. 23; Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 25.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Querquetulani. See Pliny, Nat. Hist. iii. 69; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. v. 61. Regarding the white bulls sacrificed at the major Latin festival and consumed by the members of the League, see Arnobius, Adversus nationes, ii. 68; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iv. 49. Compare Cicero, Pro Plancio, ix. 23; Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 25.
616. Theophrastus, Histor. plant. v. 8. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Theophrastus, Histor. plant. v. 8. 3.
617. Arnobius, Adversus nationes, ii. 68; Livy, xxii. 10. 7; Ovid, Ex Ponto, iv. 4. 31; Servius on Virgil, Georg. ii. 146; Horace, Carmen Saeculare, 49.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Arnobius, Against the Nations, ii. 68; Livy, xxii. 10. 7; Ovid, From the Black Sea, iv. 4. 31; Servius on Virgil, Georgics ii. 146; Horace, Carmen Saeculare, 49.
618. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 250 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, Natural History xvi. 250 sq.
619. “Italic and Keltic are so closely bound together by important phonetic and morphological affinities that they are sometimes spoken of as one branch” of Aryan speech (J. H. Moulton, Two Lectures on the Science of Language, Cambridge, 1903, p. 6, note). “The connection of the Celtic and Italic languages is structural. It is much deeper than that of Celts and Teutons, and goes back to an earlier epoch. Celts and Latins must have dwelt together as an undivided people in the valley of the Danube, and it must have been at a much later time—after the Umbrians and Latins had crossed the Alps—that the contact of Celts and Teutons came about” (Isaac Taylor, The Origin of the Aryans, p. 192; compare id. p. 257). See also P. Giles, Manual of Comparative Philology 2nd Ed., (London, 1901), p. 26.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Italic and Keltic are so closely connected by significant phonetic and morphological similarities that they are sometimes referred to as one branch of Aryan speech” (J. H. Moulton, Two Lectures on the Science of Language, Cambridge, 1903, p. 6, note). “The relationship between the Celtic and Italic languages is structural. It is much deeper than that between Celts and Teutons and goes back to an earlier period. Celts and Latins must have lived together as a unified group in the valley of the Danube, and it must have been much later—after the Umbrians and Latins had crossed the Alps—that the interaction between Celts and Teutons occurred” (Isaac Taylor, The Origin of the Aryans, p. 192; compare id. p. 257). See also P. Giles, Manual of Comparative Philology 2nd Ed., (London, 1901), p. 26.
620. Livy, xlii. 7. 1, xlv. 15. 10. Compare Dio Cassius, xxxix. 20. 1. The temple on the Alban Mount was dedicated in 168 B.C., but the worship was doubtless far older.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, xlii. 7. 1, xlv. 15. 10. Compare Dio Cassius, xxxix. 20. 1. The temple on the Alban Mount was dedicated in 168 B.C., but the worship was definitely much older.
622. Strabo, vii. 7. 12, p. 329; Hyperides, Or. iii. coll. 35-37, pp. 43 sq., ed. Blass; G. Curtius, Griech. Etymologie, 5th Ed., p. 236; W. H. Roscher, Juno und Hera (Leipsic, 1875), pp. 17 sq.; id., Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. coll. 576, 578 sq. See below, p. 381.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, vii. 7. 12, p. 329; Hyperides, Or. iii. coll. 35-37, pp. 43 sq., ed. Blass; G. Curtius, Griech. Etymologie, 5th Ed., p. 236; W. H. Roscher, Juno und Hera (Leipsic, 1875), pp. 17 sq.; id., Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. coll. 576, 578 sq. See below, p. 381.
624. W. H. Roscher, Juno und Hera, pp. 64 sqq.; id., Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 575 sq., 591 sqq. At Falerii the image of Juno was annually carried in procession from her sacred grove, and in some respects the ceremony resembled a marriage procession (Ovid, Amores, iii. 13; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 21). The name of June was Junius at Rome, Junonius at Aricia, Laurentum and Lavinia, and Junonalis at Tibur and Praeneste (Ovid, Fasti, vi. 59-63; Macrobius, Sat. i. 12. 30). The forms Junonius and Junonalis are recognised by Festus (p. 103, ed. C. O. Müller). Their existence among the Latins seems to render the derivation of Junius from Juno quite certain, though that derivation is doubted by Mr. W. Warde Fowler (Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 99 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. H. Roscher, Juno und Hera, pp. 64 sqq.; id., Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 575 sq., 591 sqq. At Falerii, the statue of Juno was carried in a procession from her sacred grove every year, and in some ways, the ceremony was similar to a marriage procession (Ovid, Amores, iii. 13; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 21). The name of June was Junius in Rome, Junonius in Aricia, Laurentum, and Lavinia, and Junonalis in Tibur and Praeneste (Ovid, Fasti, vi. 59-63; Macrobius, Sat. i. 12. 30). The forms Junonius and Junonalis are acknowledged by Festus (p. 103, ed. C. O. Müller). Their presence among the Latins makes it pretty clear that Junius comes from Juno, although Mr. W. Warde Fowler questions that derivation (Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 99 sq.).
625. Ovid, Fasti, vi. 101-168; Macrobius, Sat. i. 12. 31-33; Tertullian, Ad nationes, ii. 9; Varro, quoted by Nonius Marcellus, De compendiosa doctrina, p. 390, ed. L. Quicherat. There was a sacred beechen grove of Diana on a hill called Corne near Tusculum (Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 242). But Corne has probably no connection with Carna. The grove of Helernus was crowded with worshippers on the first of February (Ovid, Fasti, ii. 67, where Helerni is a conjectural emendation for Averni or Asyli). Nothing else is known about Helernus, unless with Merkel (in his edition of Ovid’s Fasti, pp. cxlviii. sq.) we read Elerno for Eterno in Festus, p. 93, ed. C. O. Müller. In that case it would seem that black oxen were sacrificed to him. From the association of Carna with Janus it was inferred by Merkel (l.c.) that the grove of Helernus stood on or near the Janiculum, where there was a grove of oaks (see above, p. 186). But the language of Ovid (Fasti, ii. 67) points rather to the mouth of the Tiber.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, vi. 101-168; Macrobius, Sat. i. 12. 31-33; Tertullian, Ad nationes, ii. 9; Varro, quoted by Nonius Marcellus, De compendiosa doctrina, p. 390, ed. L. Quicherat. There was a sacred beech grove of Diana on a hill called Corne near Tusculum (Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 242). But Corne probably doesn't have any connection to Carna. The grove of Helernus was filled with worshippers on February 1st (Ovid, Fasti, ii. 67, where Helerni is a suggested correction for Averni or Asyli). Nothing else is known about Helernus, unless we read Elerno instead of Eterno in Festus, p. 93, ed. C. O. Müller, as suggested by Merkel (in his edition of Ovid’s Fasti, pp. cxlviii. sq.). In that case, it seems that black oxen were sacrificed to him. Due to the association of Carna with Janus, Merkel (l.c.) inferred that the grove of Helernus was located on or near the Janiculum, where there was a grove of oaks (see above, p. 186). However, Ovid’s wording (Fasti, ii. 67) suggests it was more likely at the mouth of the Tiber.
627. Ovid, Fasti, vi. 129-168. A Roman bride on the way to her husband’s house was preceded by a boy bearing a torch of buckthorn (spina alba, Festus, s.v. “Patrimi,” p. 245, ed. C. O. Müller; Varro, quoted by Nonius Marcellus, De compendiosa doctrina, s.v. “Fax,” p. 116, ed. L. Quicherat). The intention probably was to defend her from enchantment and evil spirits. Branches of buckthorn were also thought to protect a house against thunderbolts (Columella, De re rustica, x. 346 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, vi. 129-168. A Roman bride heading to her husband’s house was preceded by a boy holding a torch made of buckthorn (spina alba, Festus, s.v. “Patrimi,” p. 245, ed. C. O. Müller; Varro, quoted by Nonius Marcellus, De compendiosa doctrina, s.v. “Fax,” p. 116, ed. L. Quicherat). The purpose was likely to protect her from enchantment and evil spirits. Buckthorn branches were also believed to shield a house from lightning (Columella, De re rustica, x. 346 sq.).
629. Dioscorides, De arte medica, i. 119.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Dioscorides, On Medical Art, i. 119.
630. Scholiast on Nicander, Theriaca, 861.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Commentary on Nicander, Theriaca, 861.
631. Diogenes Laertius, Vitae philosophorum, iv. 54-57.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, iv. 54-57.
633. Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 111 εἰκὸς μὲν οὖν ἐστι καὶ τὸν ἱερέα τοῦ Διὸς ὥσπερ ἔμψυχον καὶ ἱερὸν ἄγαλμα καταφύξιμον ἀνεῖσθαι τοῖς δεομένοις; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 201; F. B. Jevons, Plutarch’s Romane Questions, p. lxxiii.; C. Julian, in Daremberg et Saglio, Dictionnaire des antiquités grecques et romaines, ii. 1156 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Plutarch, Roman Questions 111 It's reasonable to think of the priest of Jupiter as a living, sacred statue that can be approached by those in need. L. Preller, Roman Mythology, 3rd Ed., i. 201; F. B. Jevons, Plutarch’s Roman Questions, p. lxxiii.; C. Julian, in Daremberg et Saglio, Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities, ii. 1156 sqq.
634. Cicero, De re publica, iii. 13. 22; Virgil, Aen. x. 112; Horace, Sat. ii. 1. 42 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 37; Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 6. 7; Livy, v. 21. 2, v. 23. 7; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxv. 115; Flavius Vopiscus, Probus, xii. 7; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 205, 284; W. H. Roscher, Lexikon d. griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 600 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Cicero, On the Republic, iii. 13. 22; Virgil, Aeneid x. 112; Horace, Satires ii. 1. 42 etc.; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 37; Varro, On the Latin Language, v. 6. 7; Livy, v. 21. 2, v. 23. 7; Pliny, Natural History xxxv. 115; Flavius Vopiscus, Probus, xii. 7; L. Preller, Roman Mythology, 3rd Ed., i. 205, 284; W. H. Roscher, Dictionary of Greek and Roman Mythology, ii. 600 and following
636. Cicero, Philippics, ii. 43. 110; Suetonius, Divus Julius, 76; Dio Cassius, xliv. 6. The coincidence has been pointed out by Mr. A. B. Cook (Classical Review, xviii. 371).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Cicero, Philippics, ii. 43. 110; Suetonius, Divus Julius, 76; Dio Cassius, xliv. 6. The coincidence has been mentioned by Mr. A. B. Cook (Classical Review, xviii. 371).
637. Livy, i. 20. 1 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Livy, i. 20. 1 sq.
638. Numa was not the only Roman king who is said to have enjoyed the favours of a goddess. Romulus was married to Hersilia, who seems to have been a Sabine goddess. Ovid tells us how, when the dead Romulus had been raised to the rank of a god under the name of Quirinus, his widow Hersilia was deified as his consort. Thus, if Quirinus was a Sabine oak-god, his wife would be an oak-goddess, like Egeria. See Ovid, Metam. xiv. 829-851. Compare Livy, i. 11. 2; Plutarch, Numa, 14. On Hersilia as a goddess see A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 478, note 10; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 372. Again, of King Servius Tullius we read how the goddess Fortuna, smitten with love of him, used to enter his house nightly by a window. See Ovid, Fasti, vi. 569 sqq.; Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanae, 36; id., De fortuna Romanorum, 10. However, the origin and nature of Fortuna are too obscure to allow us to base any conclusions on this legend. For various more or less conjectural explanations of the goddess see W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 161-172.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Numa wasn't the only Roman king who reportedly had the favor of a goddess. Romulus was married to Hersilia, who appears to have been a Sabine goddess. Ovid describes how, after Romulus passed away and was elevated to godhood as Quirinus, his widow Hersilia was also made a goddess as his partner. So, if Quirinus was a Sabine oak-god, his wife would be an oak-goddess, much like Egeria. See Ovid, Metam. xiv. 829-851. Compare Livy, i. 11. 2; Plutarch, Numa, 14. For more on Hersilia as a goddess, see A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 478, note 10; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 372. Furthermore, we learn about King Servius Tullius, who was reportedly adored by the goddess Fortuna, who would sneak into his house every night through a window. See Ovid, Fasti, vi. 569 sqq.; Plutarch, Quaestiones Romanae, 36; id., De fortuna Romanorum, 10. However, the origins and nature of Fortuna are too unclear to draw any conclusions from this legend. For various speculative explanations of the goddess, see W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 161-172.
639. Plutarch, De fortuna Romanorum, 10; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. iv. 1 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 627-636; Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 241, xxxvi. 204; Livy, i. 39; Servius on Virgil, Aen. ii. 683; Arnobius, Adversus nationes, v. 18. According to the Etruscan annals, Servius Tullius was an Etruscan by name Mastarna, who came to Rome with his friend Caeles Vibenna, and, changing his name, obtained the kingdom. This was stated by the Emperor Claudius in a speech of which fragments are engraved on a bronze tablet found at Lyons. See Tacitus, Annals, ed. Orelli, 2nd Ed., p. 342. As the emperor wrote a history of Etruria in twenty books (Suetonius, Divus Claudius, 42) he probably had some authority for the statement, and the historical, or at least legendary, character of Mastarna and Caeles Vibenna is vouched for by a painting inscribed with their names, which was found in 1857 in an Etruscan tomb at Vulci. See G. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 3rd Ed., ii. 506 sq. But from this it by no means follows that the identification of Mastarna with Servius Tullius was correct. Schwegler preferred the Roman to the Etruscan tradition (Römische Geschichte, i. 720 sq.), and so, after long hesitation, did Niebuhr (History of Rome, 3rd Ed., i. 380 sqq.). It is fair to add that both these historians wrote before the discovery of the tomb at Vulci.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Plutarch, De fortuna Romanorum, 10; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. iv. 1 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 627-636; Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 241, xxxvi. 204; Livy, i. 39; Servius on Virgil, Aen. ii. 683; Arnobius, Adversus nationes, v. 18. According to the Etruscan records, Servius Tullius was originally named Mastarna, an Etruscan who came to Rome with his friend Caeles Vibenna. When he changed his name, he gained the throne. This was mentioned by Emperor Claudius in a speech, parts of which are engraved on a bronze tablet found in Lyons. See Tacitus, Annals, ed. Orelli, 2nd Ed., p. 342. Since the emperor wrote a history of Etruria in twenty volumes (Suetonius, Divus Claudius, 42), he likely had some basis for this claim. The historical, or at least legendary, existence of Mastarna and Caeles Vibenna is supported by a painting bearing their names, discovered in 1857 in an Etruscan tomb at Vulci. See G. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 3rd Ed., ii. 506 sq. However, this does not necessarily confirm that Mastarna was indeed Servius Tullius. Schwegler favored the Roman version over the Etruscan account (Römische Geschichte, i. 720 sq.), and after much consideration, so did Niebuhr (History of Rome, 3rd Ed., i. 380 sqq.). It's worth noting that both of these historians wrote prior to the discovery of the tomb at Vulci.
640. A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 715; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., ii. 344.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Schwegler, Roman History, i. 715; L. Preller, Roman Mythology, 3rd Ed., ii. 344.
641. Plutarch, Romulus, 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Plutarch, Romulus, 2.
642. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. i. 76 sq.; Livy, i. 3 sq.; Plutarch, Romulus, 3; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 1; Justin, xliii. 2. 1-3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. Rom. i. 76 sq.; Livy, i. 3 sq.; Plutarch, Romulus, 3; Zonaras, Annal. vii. 1; Justin, xliii. 2. 1-3.
643. Servius on Virgil, Aen. vii. 678.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Servius on Virgil, Aen. Book VII, line 678.
644. Virgil, Aen. vii. 343.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Virgil, Aeneid vii. 343.
645. Aulus Gellius, i. 12, 14 and 19. Compare L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., ii, 161, 344. There was a very ancient worship of Vesta at Lavinium, the city named after Amata’s daughter Lavinia, the ancestress of the Alban kings. See above, vol. i. p. 14.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aulus Gellius, i. 12, 14 and 19. Compare L. Preller, Roman Mythology, 3rd Ed., ii, 161, 344. There was a very old worship of Vesta at Lavinium, the city named after Amata’s daughter Lavinia, the ancestor of the Alban kings. See above, vol. i. p. 14.
646. Virgil, Aen. vii. 71-77.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Virgil, Aeneid vii. 71-77.
647. Virgil, Aen. ii. 680-686. We may compare the halo with which the vainglorious and rascally artist of genius, Benvenuto Cellini, declared his head to be encircled. “Ever since the time of my strange vision until now,” says he, “an aureole of glory (marvellous to relate) has rested on my head. This is visible to every sort of men to whom I have chosen to point it out; but those have been very few. This halo can be observed above my shadow in the morning from the rising of the sun for about two hours, and far better when the grass is drenched with dew. It is also visible at evening about sunset. I became aware of it in France at Paris; for the air in those parts is so much freer from mist, that one can see it there far better manifested than in Italy, mists being far more frequent among us.” See The Life of Benvenuto Cellini, translated by J. Addington Symonds 3rd Ed., (London, 1889), pp. 279 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Virgil, Aen. ii. 680-686. We can compare the glow with which the proud and mischievous genius, Benvenuto Cellini, claimed his head was surrounded. “Since the time of my unusual vision until now,” he says, “a halo of glory (strangely enough) has been resting on my head. This is visible to every kind of person I have chosen to point it out to; but those have been very few. This halo can be seen above my shadow in the morning for about two hours after sunrise, and it's even more noticeable when the grass is soaked with dew. It's also visible in the evening around sunset. I first noticed it in France, in Paris, because the air there is so much clearer that it can be seen far better than in Italy, where mist is much more common.” See The Life of Benvenuto Cellini, translated by J. Addington Symonds 3rd Ed., (London, 1889), pp. 279 sq.
649. A. B. Ellis, The Ewe-speaking peoples of the Slave Coast of West Africa, p. 60. See above, pp. 149 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. B. Ellis, The Ewe-speaking peoples of the Slave Coast of West Africa, p. 60. See above, pp. 149 sq.
651. Apollodorus iii. 14. 6; Schol. on Homer, Iliad, ii. 547; J. Tzetzes, Chiliades, v. 669 sq.; Augustine, De civitate Dei, xviii. 12.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Apollodorus iii. 14. 6; Schol. on Homer, Iliad, ii. 547; J. Tzetzes, Chiliades, v. 669 sq.; Augustine, De civitate Dei, xviii. 12.
652. Pausanias i. 26. 6 sq.; Strabo ix. 1. 16, p. 396; Plutarch, Numa, 9; id., Sulla, 13. As to the identity of Erechtheus and Erichthonius see my note on Pausanias, i. 18. 2 (vol. ii. p. 169).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias i. 26. 6 sq.; Strabo ix. 1. 16, p. 396; Plutarch, Numa, 9; id., Sulla, 13. For information on the identity of Erechtheus and Erichthonius, refer to my note on Pausanias, i. 18. 2 (vol. ii. p. 169).
653. Pausanias, i. 27. 3, with my note.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, i. 27. 3, with my note.
654. The theory was formerly advocated by me (Journal of Philology, xiv. (1885) pp. 154 sqq.) As to the duties of the Vestals see J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., pp. 342 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.I used to support this theory (Journal of Philology, xiv. (1885) pp. 154 sqq.). For information on the responsibilities of the Vestals, refer to J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., pp. 342 sqq.
655. This explanation was first, so far as I know, given by me in my Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship (London, 1905), p. 221. It has since been adopted by Mr. E. Fehrle (Die kultische Keuschheit im Altertum, Giessen, 1910, pp. 210 sqq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.I was the first to provide this explanation, as far as I know, in my Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship (London, 1905), p. 221. Mr. E. Fehrle has since incorporated it in his work (Die kultische Keuschheit im Altertum, Giessen, 1910, pp. 210 sqq.).
656. Aulus Gellius, xiv. 7. 7. Compare Servius on Virgil, Aen. vii. 153, ix. 4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aulus Gellius, 14.7.7. Compare Servius on Virgil, Aen. 7.153, 9.4.
657. Ovid, Fasti, vi. 261 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, vi. 261 sq.
658. Festus, s.v. “penus,” p. 250, ed. C. O. Müller, where for saepius we must obviously read saeptus.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, s.v. “penus,” p. 250, ed. C. O. Müller, where we should clearly read saeptus instead of saepius.
659. Ovid, Fasti, i. 199, iii. 183 sq.; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 79. 11. For the situation of the hut see also Plutarch, Romulus, 20.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, i. 199, iii. 183 sq.; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 79. 11. For the location of the hut, see also Plutarch, Romulus, 20.
660. Conon, Narrationes, 48; Vitruvius, ii. 1. 5, p. 35, ed. Rose and Müller-Strübing; Macrobius, Saturn. i. 15. 10. Compare Virgil, Aen. viii. 653 sq. As to the two huts on the Palatine and the Capitol see A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 394; L. Jahn on Macrobius, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Conon, Narrationes, 48; Vitruvius, ii. 1. 5, p. 35, ed. Rose and Müller-Strübing; Macrobius, Saturn. i. 15. 10. See also Virgil, Aen. viii. 653 sq. For information on the two huts on the Palatine and the Capitol, refer to A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 394; L. Jahn on Macrobius, l.c.
661. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 66; Plutarch, Numa, 11 and 14; Solinus, i. 21; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 263 sqq.; id., Tristia, iii. 1. 29 sq.; Tacitus, Annals, xv. 41.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. Rom. ii. 66; Plutarch, Numa, 11 and 14; Solinus, i. 21; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 263 sqq.; id., Tristia, iii. 1. 29 sq.; Tacitus, Annals, xv. 41.
662. Servius on Virgil, Aen. viii. 363. Festus, however, distinguishes the old royal palace (Regia) from the house of the King of the Sacred Rites (s.v. “Sacram viam,” pp. 290, 293, ed. C. O. Müller). In classical times the Regia was the residence or office of the Pontifex Maximus; but we can hardly doubt that formerly it was the house of the Rex Sacrorum. See O. Gilbert, Geschichte und Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, i. 225, 235 sq., 341, 344. As to the existing remains of the Regia, the temple of Vesta, and the house of the Vestals, see O. Richter, Topographie der Stadt Rom, 2nd Ed., pp. 88 sqq.; Ch. Huelsen, Die Ausgrabungen auf dem Forum Romanum 2nd Ed., (Rome, 1903), pp. 62 sqq., 88 sqq.; Mrs. E. Burton-Brown, Recent Excavations in the Roman Forum (London, 1904), pp. 26 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Servius on Virgil, Aen. viii. 363. Festus, however, distinguishes the old royal palace (Regia) from the house of the King of the Sacred Rites (s.v. “Sacram viam,” pp. 290, 293, ed. C. O. Müller). In classical times, the Regia was the residence or office of the Pontifex Maximus; but we can hardly doubt that it was previously the house of the Rex Sacrorum. See O. Gilbert, Geschichte und Topographie der Stadt Rom im Altertum, i. 225, 235 sq., 341, 344. For the existing remains of the Regia, the temple of Vesta, and the house of the Vestals, see O. Richter, Topographie der Stadt Rom, 2nd Ed., pp. 88 sqq.; Ch. Huelsen, Die Ausgrabungen auf dem Forum Romanum 2nd Ed., (Rome, 1903), pp. 62 sqq., 88 sqq.; Mrs. E. Burton-Brown, Recent Excavations in the Roman Forum (London, 1904), pp. 26 sqq.
663. Dio Cassius, liv. 27, who tells us that Augustus annexed the house of the King of the Sacred Rites to the house of the Vestals, on which it abutted.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dio Cassius, book 27, reports that Augustus connected the house of the King of the Sacred Rites to the house of the Vestals, as they were adjacent to each other.
664. Many such phenomena are noted by Julius Obsequens in his book of prodigies, appended to W. Weissenborn’s edition of Livy, vol. x. 2, pp. 193 sqq. (Berlin, 1881).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Julius Obsequens mentions many of these events in his book of prodigies, which is included in W. Weissenborn’s edition of Livy, vol. x. 2, pp. 193 sqq. (Berlin, 1881).
665. W. Helbig, Die Italiker in der Poebene, pp. 50-55; E. Burton-Brown, Recent Excavations in the Roman Forum, pp. 30, 152, 154. For pictures of these hut-urns see G. Boni in Notizie degli Scavi, May 1900, p. 191, fig. 52; id., in Nuova Antologia, August 1900, p. 22.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Helbig, The Italics in the Po Valley, pp. 50-55; E. Burton-Brown, Recent Excavations in the Roman Forum, pp. 30, 152, 154. For images of these hut urns see G. Boni in Notizie degli Scavi, May 1900, p. 191, fig. 52; id., in Nuova Antologia, August 1900, p. 22.
666. Valerius Maximus, iv. 4. 11; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 310; Acron on Horace, Odes, i. 31, quoted by G. Boni in Notizie degli Scavi, May 1900, p. 179; Cicero, Paradoxa, i. 2; id., De natura deorum, iii. 17. 43; Persius, Sat. ii. 59 sq.; Juvenal, Sat. vi. 342 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Valerius Maximus, iv. 4. 11; Ovid, Fasti, vi. 310; Acron on Horace, Odes, i. 31, quoted by G. Boni in Notizie degli Scavi, May 1900, p. 179; Cicero, Paradoxa, i. 2; id., De natura deorum, iii. 17. 43; Persius, Sat. ii. 59 sq.; Juvenal, Sat. vi. 342 sqq.
667. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 23. On earthenware vessels used in religious rites see also Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxv. 108, “In sacris quidem etiam inter has opes hodie non murrinis crystallinisve, sed fictilibus prolibatur simpulis”; Apuleius, De magia, 18, “Eadem paupertas etiam populo Romano imperium a primordio fundavit, proque eo in hodiernum diis immortalibus simpuvio et catino fictili sacrificat.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. Rom. ii. 23. For information on clay vessels used in religious ceremonies, also see Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxv. 108, “In sacred rituals today, they do not use murrine or crystal vessels, but simple earthenware.”; Apuleius, De magia, 18, “This same poverty established Roman power from the beginning, and because of it, to this day, sacrifices are made to the immortal gods with simple earthenware dishes and bowls.”
668. G. Boni in Notizie degli Scavi, May 1900, p. 179; E. Burton-Brown, Recent Excavations in the Roman Forum, pp. 23 sq., 41.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Boni in Notizie degli Scavi, May 1900, p. 179; E. Burton-Brown, Recent Excavations in the Roman Forum, pp. 23 sq., 41.
669. W. Helbig, Die Italiker in der Poebene, pp. 82 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Helbig, Die Italiker in der Poebene, pp. 82 sqq.
670. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxvii. 21 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, Nat. Hist. 37.21 sq.
671. G. Henzen, Acta Fratrum Arvalium (Berlin, 1874), pp. 26, 30; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 5039; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 456.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Henzen, Acta Fratrum Arvalium (Berlin, 1874), pp. 26, 30; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 5039; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 456.
672. W. Helbig, Die Italiker in der Poebene, p. 87.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Helbig, The Italians in the Po Valley, p. 87.
673. G. Wilmanns, Exempla inscriptionum Latinarum, Nos. 311, 986, 1326, 1331; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, Nos. 456, 3314, 4926, 4933, 4936, 4942, 4943. Modern writers, following Varro (De lingua Latina, vii. 44, “fictores dicti a fingendis libis”), explain these fictores as bakers of sacred cakes. See Ch. A. Lobeck, Aglaophamus, pp. 1084 sq.; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 249. They may be right, but it is to be observed that Varro does not expressly refer to the fictores of the Vestals and Pontiffs, and further, that in Latin fictor commonly means a potter, not a baker, for which the regular word is pistor.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Wilmanns, Exempla inscriptionum Latinarum, Nos. 311, 986, 1326, 1331; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, Nos. 456, 3314, 4926, 4933, 4936, 4942, 4943. Modern writers, following Varro (De lingua Latina, vii. 44, “fictores dicti a fingendis libis”), interpret these fictores as bakers of sacred cakes. See Ch. A. Lobeck, Aglaophamus, pp. 1084 sq.; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 249. They might be correct, but it should be noted that Varro does not specifically mention the fictores of the Vestals and Pontiffs, and also that in Latin fictor usually means a potter, while the common word for baker is pistor.
674. A. d’Orbigny, Voyage dans l’Amérique Méridionale, iii. (Paris and Strasburg, 1844) p. 194. Much of d’Orbigny’s valuable information as to this tribe was drawn from the manuscript of Father Lacueva, a Spanish Franciscan monk of wealthy family and saint-like character, who spent eighteen or twenty years among the Yuracares in a vain attempt to convert them. With regard to the crops mentioned in the text, these savages plant banana-trees, manioc, sugar-cane, and vegetables round about their huts, which they erect in clearings of the forest. See d’Orbigny, op. cit. iii. 196 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. d’Orbigny, Voyage dans l’Amérique Méridionale, iii. (Paris and Strasburg, 1844) p. 194. Much of d’Orbigny’s valuable information about this tribe came from the manuscript of Father Lacueva, a Spanish Franciscan monk from a wealthy family with a saintly reputation, who spent eighteen or twenty years among the Yuracares in a fruitless effort to convert them. Regarding the crops mentioned in the text, these people grow banana trees, manioc, sugar cane, and vegetables around their huts, which they build in clearings in the forest. See d’Orbigny, op. cit. iii. 196 sq.
675. H. A. Junod, “Les Conceptions physiologiques des Bantou Sud-Africains et leurs tabous,” Revue d’Ethnographie et de Sociologie, i. (1910), p. 147.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. A. Junod, “The Physiological Concepts of South African Bantus and Their Taboos,” Review of Ethnography and Sociology, i. (1910), p. 147.
676. Columella, De re rustica, xii. 4. 2 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Columella, De re rustica, xii. 4. 2 sq.
677. Cicero, De natura deorum, ii. 27. 68.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods, ii. 27. 68.
678. Servius on Virgil, Aen. xi. 211.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Servius on Virgil, Aeneid xi. 211.
679. Horace, Epodes, ii. 65 sq.; Martial, iii. 58. 3 sq.; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., ii. 105 sqq., 155 sqq. See also A. De-Marchi, Il Culto privato di Roma antica, i. (Milan, 1896) p. 67, with plate iii.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Horace, Epodes, ii. 65 sq.; Martial, iii. 58. 3 sq.; L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., ii. 105 sqq., 155 sqq. See also A. De-Marchi, Il Culto privato di Roma antica, i. (Milan, 1896) p. 67, with plate iii.
680. Macrobius, Saturn. iii. 4. 11; G. Wissowa, Religion und Kultus der Römer, pp. 145 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Macrobius, Saturn. iii. 4. 11; G. Wissowa, Religion und Kultus der Römer, pp. 145 sq.
681. Festus, s.v. “penus,” pp. 250, 251, ed. C. O. Müller; Tacitus, Annals, xv. 41; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 252 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, s.v. “penus,” pp. 250, 251, ed. C. O. Müller; Tacitus, Annals, xv. 41; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 252 sq.
682. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. ii. 66; Livy, xxvi. 27. 14; J. Marquardt, op. cit. iii. 2nd Ed., 250 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities ii. 66; Livy, xxvi. 27. 14; J. Marquardt, op. cit. iii. 2nd Ed., 250 sq.
683. Festus, s.v. “Ignis,” p. 106, ed. C. O. Müller: “Ignis Vestae si quando interstinctus esset, virgines verberibus afficiebantur a pontifice, quibus mos erat tabulam felicis materiae tamdiu terebrare, quousque exceptum ignem cribro aeneo virgo in aedem ferret.” In this passage it is not clear whether quibus refers to the virgins alone or to the virgins and the pontiff together; but the strict grammatical construction is in favour of the latter interpretation. The point is not unimportant, as we shall see presently. From a passage of Plutarch (Numa, 9) it has sometimes been inferred that the Vestal fire was rekindled by sunlight reflected from a burning-glass. But in this passage Plutarch is describing a Greek, not a Roman, mode of making fire, as has been rightly pointed out by Professor M. H. Morgan (“De ignis eliciendi modis apud antiquos,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, i. (1890) pp. 56 sqq.). In this memoir Professor Morgan has collected and discussed the passages of Greek and Latin writers which refer to the kindling of fire.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, s.v. “Ignis,” p. 106, ed. C. O. Müller: “If the flame of Vesta ever went out, the virgins were whipped by the pontiff, who had the custom of rubbing a tablet made of fertile material until the sacred fire was brought into the temple by the virgin through a bronze sieve.” In this passage, it's unclear whether quibus refers to only the virgins or both the virgins and the pontiff together; however, the strict grammatical construction leans towards the latter interpretation. This point is significant, as we will soon see. From a passage of Plutarch (Numa, 9), it has sometimes been inferred that the Vestal fire was reignited using sunlight reflected through a burning glass. However, Plutarch is actually describing a Greek, not a Roman, method of fire-making, as correctly noted by Professor M. H. Morgan (“De ignis eliciendi modis apud antiquos,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, i. (1890) pp. 56 sqq.). In this paper, Professor Morgan has gathered and discussed the passages from Greek and Latin authors that refer to the process of kindling fire.
684. See E. B. Tylor, Early History of Mankind, 3rd Ed., pp. 238 sqq. More evidence might easily be given. See, for example, J. Dawson, Australian Aborigines, pp. 15 sq.; C. Lumholtz, Among Cannibals, p. 191; A. W. Howitt, Native Tribes of South-East Australia, pp. 770-773; Maximilian Prinz zu Wied-Newied, Reise nach Brasilien, ii. 18 sq.; E. F. im Thurn, Among the Indians of Guiana, pp. 257-259; K. von den Steinen, Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens, pp. 223 sqq.; H. Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 375 sqq.; A. Maass, Bei liebenswürdigen Wilden, ein Beitrag zur Kenntniss der Mentawai-Insulaner (Berlin, 1902), pp. 114, 116; Mgr. Le Roy, “Les Pygmées,” Missions Catholiques, xxix. (1897), p. 137; E. Thurston, Ethnographic Notes in Southern India (Madras, 1906), pp. 464-470; W. A. Reed, Negritos of Zambales (Manila, 1904), p. 40.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See E. B. Tylor, Early History of Mankind, 3rd Ed., pp. 238 sqq. There is definitely more evidence available. For instance, check out J. Dawson, Australian Aborigines, pp. 15 sq.; C. Lumholtz, Among Cannibals, p. 191; A. W. Howitt, Native Tribes of South-East Australia, pp. 770-773; Maximilian Prinz zu Wied-Newied, Reise nach Brasilien, ii. 18 sq.; E. F. im Thurn, Among the Indians of Guiana, pp. 257-259; K. von den Steinen, Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens, pp. 223 sqq.; H. Ling Roth, The Natives of Sarawak and British North Borneo, i. 375 sqq.; A. Maass, Bei liebenswürdigen Wilden, ein Beitrag zur Kenntniss der Mentawai-Insulaner (Berlin, 1902), pp. 114, 116; Mgr. Le Roy, “Les Pygmées,” Missions Catholiques, xxix. (1897), p. 137; E. Thurston, Ethnographic Notes in Southern India (Madras, 1906), pp. 464-470; W. A. Reed, Negritos of Zambales (Manila, 1904), p. 40.
685. J. Teit, “The Thompson Indians of British Columbia,” pp. 203, 205 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. i. part 4).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Teit, “The Thompson Indians of British Columbia,” pp. 203, 205 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. i. part 4).
686. J. Walter Fewkes, “The Lesser New-fire Ceremony at Walpi,” American Anthropologist, N.S. iii. (1901) p. 445.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Walter Fewkes, “The Lesser New-fire Ceremony at Walpi,” American Anthropologist, N.S. iii. (1901) p. 445.
687. Spencer and Gillen, Northern Tribes of Central Australia, p. 621.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Spencer and Gillen, Northern Tribes of Central Australia, p. 621.
688. For this information I am indebted to Mr. S. H. Ray.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.I'm grateful to Mr. S. H. Ray for this information.
689. G. Jacob, Altarabisches Beduineneben 2nd Ed., (Berlin, 1897), p. 91. In his Arabic-English Lexicon, book i. p. 1257, E. W. Lane gives the following account of the subject: “zand, a piece of stick or wood, for producing fire; the upper one of the two pieces of stick, or wood, with which fire is produced: ... and zanda is the appellation of the lower one thereof, in which is the notch or hollow, or in which is a hole.... One end of the zand is put into the fard (notch) of the zanda, and the zand is then rapidly twirled round in producing fire.... The best kind of zand is made of ’afār and the best kind of zanda of markh.” It will be observed that the two writers differ as to markh wood, Jacob saying that it is used to make the upright (male) stick, and Lane that it is used to make the horizontal (female) stick. My learned friend Professor A. A. Bevan, who directed my attention to both passages and transliterated for me the Arabic words in Lane, has kindly consulted the original authorities on this point and informs me that Lane is right.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Jacob, Altarabisches Beduineneben 2nd Ed., (Berlin, 1897), p. 91. In his Arabic-English Lexicon, book i. p. 1257, E. W. Lane provides the following description of the subject: “zand, a piece of stick or wood used to create fire; the upper piece of the two sticks or pieces of wood used to create fire: ... and zanda refers to the lower piece, which contains the notch or hollow, or where there is a hole.... One end of the zand is placed into the fard (notch) of the zanda, and the zand is then quickly twirled to create fire.... The best type of zand is made from ’afār and the best type of zanda from markh.” It is noted that the two authors disagree on the use of markh wood, with Jacob stating it is used to make the upright (male) stick, while Lane claims it is used for the horizontal (female) stick. My esteemed colleague Professor A. A. Bevan, who brought both passages to my attention and transliterated the Arabic terms in Lane for me, has kindly checked the original sources on this matter and informs me that Lane is correct.
690. L. Concradt, “Die Ngumbu in Südkamerun,” Globus, lxxxi, (1902) p. 354.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Concradt, “The Ngumbu in Southern Cameroon,” Globus, lxxxi, (1902) p. 354.
691. A. C. Hollis, The Masai (Oxford, 1905), p. 342.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Hollis, The Masai (Oxford, 1905), p. 342.
692. A. C. Hollis, The Nandi (Oxford, 1909), p. 85.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. C. Hollis, The Nandi (Oxford, 1909), p. 85.
693. Letter of the Rev. J. Roscoe, dated Mengo, Uganda, 3rd August 1904.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Letter from Rev. J. Roscoe, dated Mengo, Uganda, August 3, 1904.
694. J. Macdonald, Light in Africa 2nd Ed., (London, 1890), pp. 216 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Macdonald, Light in Africa 2nd Ed., (London, 1890), pp. 216 sq.
695. Dudley Kidd, The Essential Kafir (London, 1904), pp. 51 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dudley Kidd, The Essential Kafir (London, 1904), pp. 51 sq.
696. J. Irle, Die Herero (Gütersloh, 1906), pp. 49 sqq., 53 sqq. Compare Josaphat Hahn, “Die Ovaherero,” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, iv. (1869) pp. 227 sqq.; H. Schinz, Deutsch-Südwest-Afrika (Oldenburg and Leipsic, N.D.), pp. 142 sq.; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero (Berlin, 1906), pp. 1 sqq. The people call themselves Ovaherero (plural); the singular form is Omuherero. The name Damaras was given them by the English and Dutch. Under the influence of the missionaries most of the heathen customs described in the text seem now to have disappeared. See P. H. Brincker, “Character, Sitten, und Gebräuche, speciell der Bantu Deutsch-Südwest-afrikas,” Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, p. 72.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Irle, The Herero (Gütersloh, 1906), pp. 49 et seq., 53 et seq.. Compare Josaphat Hahn, “The Ovaherero,” Journal of the Society for Geography in Berlin, iv. (1869) pp. 227 et seq.; H. Schinz, German South West Africa (Oldenburg and Leipzig, N/A), pp. 142 et seq.; E. Dannert, On the Rights of the Herero (Berlin, 1906), pp. 1 et seq.. The people refer to themselves as Ovaherero (plural); the singular form is Omuherero. The name Damaras was given to them by the English and Dutch. Influenced by missionaries, most of the pagan customs described in the text seem to have disappeared now. See P. H. Brincker, “Character, Customs, and Traditions, especially of the Bantu in German South West Africa,” Communications of the Seminar for Oriental Languages in Berlin, iii. (1900) Part Three, p. 72.
697. C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami (London, 1856), p. 230; J. Chapman, Travels in the Interior of South Africa (London, 1868), i. 325; J. Hahn, “Die Ovaherero,” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, iv. (1869) pp. 244-247, 250; C. J. Büttner, Das Hinterland von Walfischbai und Angra Pequena (Heidelberg, 1884), pp. 228 sq.; H. Schinz, Deutsch-Südwest-Afrika, pp. 158-161; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 32 sqq., 113.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami (London, 1856), p. 230; J. Chapman, Travels in the Interior of South Africa (London, 1868), i. 325; J. Hahn, “Die Ovaherero,” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, iv. (1869) pp. 244-247, 250; C. J. Büttner, Das Hinterland von Walfischbai und Angra Pequena (Heidelberg, 1884), pp. 228 sq.; H. Schinz, Deutsch-Südwest-Afrika, pp. 158-161; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 32 sqq., 113.
698. Francis Galton, Narrative of an Explorer in Tropical South Africa 3rd Ed., (London, 1890), p. 116; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869), p. 247; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 155; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 111 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Francis Galton, Narrative of an Explorer in Tropical South Africa 3rd Ed., (London, 1890), p. 116; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869), p. 247; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 155; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 111 sq.
699. H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 159.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Schinz, same source p. 159.
700. H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 155-157; compare J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 499; J. Irle, Die Herero, p. 78; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero, pp. 4 sq. At first sight Dr. Schinz’s account appears to differ slightly from that given by the Rev. G. Viehe, who says: “In the werfts of the Ovaherero, the houses of the chief are on the eastern side. Next to these, towards the west, follow, one after another, the holy house (otyizero), the place of the holy fire (okuruo), and the kraal [i.e. the calves’ pen] (otyunda); thus the otyizero is on the east, and the otyunda on the west side of the okuruo” (“Some Customs of the Ovaherero,” South African Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) p. 62). But it seems clear that by the chief’s house Mr. Viehe means what Dr. Schinz calls the house of the great wife; and that what Mr. Viehe calls the holy house is the open space between the sacred hearth and the house of the great wife or chief. That space is described as the holy ground by Dr. Schinz, who uses that phrase (“der geweihte Boden”) as the equivalent of the native otyizero. Thus the two writers are in substantial agreement with each other. On the other hand Dr. C. H. Hahn gives the name of otyizero or sacred house to “the chief house of the chief, in front of which is the place of the holy fire.” He adds that “the chief has several houses, according to the number of wives, each wife having her own hut” (South African Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 62, note 1.) The name otyizero seems to be derived from zera, “sacred,” “taboo.” See G. Viehe, op. cit. pp. 39, 41, 43; Rev. E. Dannert, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) pp. 63, 65, 105, and the editor’s note, ib. p. 93.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 155-157; compare J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 499; J. Irle, Die Herero, p. 78; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero, pp. 4 sq. At first glance, Dr. Schinz’s account seems to differ slightly from that of Rev. G. Viehe, who states: “In the werfts of the Ovaherero, the chief's houses are on the eastern side. Next to these, moving west, are the holy house (otyizero), the place of the holy fire (okuruo), and the kraal [i.e. the calves’ pen] (otyunda); thus, the otyizero is on the east, and the otyunda on the west side of the okuruo” (“Some Customs of the Ovaherero,” South African Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) p. 62). However, it seems clear that by the chief’s house, Mr. Viehe refers to what Dr. Schinz calls the house of the great wife; and what Mr. Viehe describes as the holy house is the open space between the sacred hearth and the house of the great wife or chief. This space is referred to as the holy ground by Dr. Schinz, who uses the term (“der geweihte Boden”) as the equivalent of the native otyizero. Thus, the two authors are largely in agreement. On the other hand, Dr. C. H. Hahn calls the otyizero or sacred house “the chief house of the chief, in front of which is the place of the holy fire.” He adds that “the chief has several houses, depending on the number of wives, with each wife having her own hut” (South African Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 62, note 1.) The name otyizero appears to come from zera, meaning “sacred,” “taboo.” See G. Viehe, op. cit. pp. 39, 41, 43; Rev. E. Dannert, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) pp. 63, 65, 105, and the editor’s note, ib. p. 93.
701. H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 155.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Schinz, same source p. 155.
702. C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, p. 223; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 165.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, p. 223; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 165.
703. H. Brincker, Wörterbuch und kurzgefasste Grammatik des Otjiherero (Leipsic, 1886), s.v. “okuruo”; id. “Pyrolatrie in Südafrika,” Globus, lxvii. (January 1895) p. 97; Meyer, quoted by J. Kohler, “Das Recht der Herero,” Zeitschrift für vergleichende Rechtswissenschaft, xiv. (1900) p. 315.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Brincker, Dictionary and Brief Grammar of Otjiherero (Leipzig, 1886), s.v. “okuruo”; id. “Pyrolatry in South Africa,” Globus, lxvii. (January 1895) p. 97; Meyer, cited by J. Kohler, “The Rights of the Herero,” Journal of Comparative Legal Science, xiv. (1900) p. 315.
704. J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) pp. 499 sq.; Rev. H. Beiderbecke, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 84; C. G. Büttner, “Ueber Handwerke und technische Fertigkeiten der Eingeborenen in Damaraland,” Ausland, 7th July 1884, p. 522; P. H. Brincker, in Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, p. 75; id., Wörterbuch des Otjiherero, s.v. “okuruo”; id., “Pyrolatrie in Südafrika,” Globus, lxvii. (January 1895) p. 97; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 183; Meyer, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) pp. 499 sq.; Rev. H. Beiderbecke, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 84; C. G. Büttner, “About the Trades and Technical Skills of the Natives in Damaraland,” Ausland, 7th July 1884, p. 522; P. H. Brincker, in Communications of the Seminar for Oriental Languages in Berlin, iii. (1900) Third Section, p. 75; id., Dictionary of Otjiherero, s.v. “okuruo”; id., “Pyrolatry in South Africa,” Globus, lxvii. (January 1895) p. 97; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 183; Meyer, l.c.
705. C. J. Andersson, op. cit. p. 223; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500; Rev. E. Dannert, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 66; Rev. H. Beiderbecke, ibid. p. 83, note 4; C. G. Büttner, l.c.; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 165; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 78 sq.; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero, p. 5. According to Meyer (l.c.) and E. Dannert (Zum Rechte der Herero, p. 5), if the chief’s eldest daughter marries, the duty of tending the fire passes to his eldest wife. This statement is at variance with all the other testimony on the subject, and for reasons which will appear presently I regard it as improbable. At least it can hardly represent the original custom.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, op. cit. p. 223; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500; Rev. E. Dannert, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 66; Rev. H. Beiderbecke, ibid. p. 83, note 4; C. G. Büttner, l.c.; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 165; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 78 sq.; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero, p. 5. According to Meyer (l.c.) and E. Dannert (Zum Rechte der Herero, p. 5), if the chief’s eldest daughter gets married, the responsibility of maintaining the fire shifts to his eldest wife. This claim contradicts all other evidence on the topic, and for reasons that will be clear shortly, I find it unlikely. At the very least, it probably doesn’t reflect the original custom.
706. Rev. H. Beiderbecke, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 84.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. H. Beiderbecke, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 84.
707. Rev. E. Dannert, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 66; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 168.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. E. Dannert, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, vol. 2 (1880) p. 66; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 168.
708. Francis Galton, op. cit. p. 115.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Francis Galton, same source p. 115.
709. C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, p. 223.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, p. 223.
710. C. J. Andersson, l.c.; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 167.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, l.c.; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 167.
711. Virgil, Aen. ii. 717 sqq., 747.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Virgil, Aeneid ii. 717 seq., 747.
712. C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, p. 224; Rev. G. Viehe, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) p. 43; Rev. E. Dannert, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 67; C. G. Büttner, l.c.; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 166, 167, 186; Meyer, quoted by J. Kohler, op. cit. p. 315; P. H. Brincker, in Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, pp. 75 sq.; J. Irle, Die Herero, p. 80; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero (Berlin, 1906), p. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, p. 224; Rev. G. Viehe, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) p. 43; Rev. E. Dannert, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 67; C. G. Büttner, l.c.; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 166, 167, 186; Meyer, quoted by J. Kohler, op. cit. p. 315; P. H. Brincker, in Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, pp. 75 sq.; J. Irle, Die Herero, p. 80; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero (Berlin, 1906), p. 5.
713. C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, pp. 228 sq.; Rev. G. Viehe, op. cit. i. (1879) pp. 61 sq.; C. G. Büttner, l.c.; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 165, 180. The Herero have a curious twofold system of paternal clans (otuzo, plural; oruzo, singular) and maternal clans (omaanda, plural; eanda, singular). Every person inherits an oruzo from his father and an eanda from his mother. See my Totemism and Exogamy, ii. 357 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, pp. 228 sq.; Rev. G. Viehe, op. cit. i. (1879) pp. 61 sq.; C. G. Büttner, l.c.; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 165, 180. The Herero have an interesting dual system of paternal clans (otuzo, plural; oruzo, singular) and maternal clans (omaanda, plural; eanda, singular). Every person inherits an oruzo from their father and an eanda from their mother. See my Totemism and Exogamy, ii. 357 sqq.
714. C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, pp. 223 sq.; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500; Rev. G. Viehe, op. cit. i. (1879) pp. 39, 61; C. G. Büttner, l.c.; H. Brincker, Wörterbuch des Otji-herero, s.vv. ondume and otjija; id. “Character, Sitten, und Gebräuche, speciell der Bantu Deutsch-Südwest-afrikas,” Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, p. 75; id. “Pyrolatrie in Südafrika,” Globus, lxvii. (January, 1895) p. 96; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 165 sq.; J. Kohler, op. cit. pp. 305, 315; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 79 sq. According to Dr. Schinz, the meaning of the names applied to the fire-sticks has been much disputed; he himself adopts the view given in the text, and supports it by weighty reason which, taken along with analogous designations in many other parts of the world, may be regarded as conclusive. He tells us that otyiza means pudendum muliebre, and this is actually the name of the holed stick according to Mr. Viehe (ll.cc.), though Dr. Schinz gives otyia as the name. I have followed Dr. Brincker in accepting otyiya (otjija) as the correct form of the word. Further, Dr. Schinz derives ondume, the name of the pointed stick, from a verb ruma, meaning “to have intercourse with a woman.” Moreover, he reports that the Ai San Bushmen, near Noihas, in the Kalahari desert, call the vertical fire-stick tau doro and the horizontal fire-stick gai doro, where tau is the masculine prefix and gai the feminine. Finally, a Herero explained to him the significance of the names by referring in an unmistakable manner to the corresponding relations in the animal kingdom. That the two sticks are regarded as male and female is positively affirmed by Mr. Viehe, Mr. Meyer (quoted by J. Kohler), and Dr. Brincker.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, pp. 223 sq.; J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500; Rev. G. Viehe, op. cit. i. (1879) pp. 39, 61; C. G. Büttner, l.c.; H. Brincker, Wörterbuch des Otji-herero, s.vv. ondume and otjija; id. “Character, Sitten, und Gebräuche, speciell der Bantu Deutsch-Südwest-afrikas,” Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, p. 75; id. “Pyrolatrie in Südafrika,” Globus, lxvii. (January, 1895) p. 96; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 165 sq.; J. Kohler, op. cit. pp. 305, 315; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 79 sq. According to Dr. Schinz, the meaning of the names for the fire-sticks has been widely debated; he himself supports the interpretation provided in the text, backing it up with strong arguments which, when combined with similar terms from various other regions worldwide, can be considered definitive. He informs us that otyiza means pudendum muliebre, which is indeed the name for the holed stick according to Mr. Viehe (ll.cc.), although Dr. Schinz uses otyia as the name. I have followed Dr. Brincker in accepting otyiya (otjija) as the correct term. Furthermore, Dr. Schinz traces ondume, the name of the pointed stick, back to a verb ruma, meaning "to have intercourse with a woman." Additionally, he notes that the Ai San Bushmen, near Noihas in the Kalahari desert, refer to the vertical fire-stick as tau doro and the horizontal fire-stick as gai doro, where tau is the masculine prefix and gai is the feminine. Finally, a Herero explained to him the significance of the names by clearly referencing the corresponding relationships in the animal kingdom. That the two sticks are perceived as male and female is firmly stated by Mr. Viehe, Mr. Meyer (as quoted by J. Kohler), and Dr. Brincker.
715. See above, pp. 213 sq. Mr. G. Viehe says that the omuwapu tree “acts a very important part in almost all the religious ceremonies” of the Herero (op. cit. i. 45). Probably it is only used where the omumborombonga cannot be had.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, pp. 213 sq. Mr. G. Viehe states that the omuwapu tree “plays a crucial role in nearly all the religious ceremonies” of the Herero (op. cit. i. 45). It is likely only used when the omumborombonga is unavailable.
716. J. Hahn, “Das Land der Herero,” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, iii. (1868) pp. 200, 213, 214 sq.; C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, pp. 218, 221; id., The Okavango River (London, 1861), pp. 21 sq.; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 182.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Hahn, “The Land of the Herero,” Journal of the Society for Geography in Berlin, iii. (1868) pp. 200, 213, 214 et seq.; C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, pp. 218, 221; id., The Okavango River (London, 1861), pp. 21 et seq.; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 182.
717. C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, p. 221; Francis Galton, op. cit. p. 115; J. Hahn, op. cit. iii. (1868) p. 215, iv. (1869) p. 498, note; Rev. H. Beiderbecke, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) pp. 92 sq.; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 182 sq.; Meyer, quoted by J. Kohler, op. cit. p. 297; P. H. Brincker, in Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin (1900), Dritte Abtheilung, p. 73; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 75 sq., 77; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero, pp. 3 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, p. 221; Francis Galton, op. cit. p. 115; J. Hahn, op. cit. iii. (1868) p. 215, iv. (1869) p. 498, note; Rev. H. Beiderbecke, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) pp. 92 sq.; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 182 sq.; Meyer, quoted by J. Kohler, op. cit. p. 297; P. H. Brincker, in Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin (1900), Dritte Abtheilung, p. 73; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 75 sq., 77; E. Dannert, Zum Rechte der Herero, pp. 3 sq.
718. On the evidence for this migration see J. Chapman, Travels in the Interior of South Africa, i. 325-327; J. Hahn, op. cit. iii. (1868) pp. 227 sqq. As to the physical features and climate of Hereroland, see J. Hahn, “Das Land der Ovaherero,” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, iii. (1868) pp. 193 sqq.; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 9 sqq., 19 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For information on this migration, refer to J. Chapman, Travels in the Interior of South Africa, vol. I, pages 325-327; J. Hahn, op. cit., vol. III (1868), pages 227 sqq. Regarding the physical features and climate of Hereroland, see J. Hahn, “Das Land der Ovaherero,” Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft für Erdkunde zu Berlin, vol. III (1868), pages 193 sqq.; J. Irle, Die Herero, pages 9 sqq., 19 sqq.
719. Pausanias, v. 13. 3, v. 14. 2. On the substitution of the poplar for the oak, see Mr. A. B. Cook in Folk-lore, xv. (1904) pp. 297 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, v. 13. 3, v. 14. 2. For information on the replacement of the poplar for the oak, refer to Mr. A. B. Cook in Folk-lore, xv. (1904) pp. 297 sq.
720. Rev. G. Viehe, “Some Customs of the Ovaherero,” (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) pp. 64-66; Rev. H. Beiderbecke, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 91; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 183 sq.; P. H. Brincker, in Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, pp. 89 sq.; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 74, 75, 77. Apparently it is only a powerful or eminent man who becomes an omukuru after his death. Or rather, perhaps, though all dead men become ovakuru, only the strong and brave are feared and worshipped.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. G. Viehe, “Some Customs of the Ovaherero,” (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) pp. 64-66; Rev. H. Beiderbecke, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) p. 91; H. Schinz, op. cit. pp. 183 sq.; P. H. Brincker, in Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, pp. 89 sq.; J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 74, 75, 77. It seems that only a powerful or prominent person becomes an omukuru after death. In fact, while all dead men become ovakuru, only the strong and brave are feared and honored.
721. H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 183.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Schinz, same source p. 183.
722. Rev. E. Dannert, “Customs of the Ovaherero at the Birth of a Child,” (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) pp. 66 sq. Compare Rev. G. Viehe, op. cit. i. (1879) p. 41; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 168.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. E. Dannert, “Customs of the Ovaherero at the Birth of a Child,” (South African) Folk-lore Journal, ii. (1880) pp. 66 sq. Compare Rev. G. Viehe, op. cit. i. (1879) p. 41; H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 168.
723. Rev. G. Viehe, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) pp. 49 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. G. Viehe, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) pp. 49 sq.
724. Rev. G. Viehe, op. cit. i. 51.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Rev. G. Viehe, same source i. 51.
725. H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 166. Compare J. Irle, Die Herero, p. 77.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Schinz, op. cit. p. 166. Compare J. Irle, Die Herero, p. 77.
726. J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500, note.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Hahn, op. cit. iv. (1869) p. 500, note.
727. C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, pp. 228 sq. The ceremony is described more fully by the Rev. G. Viehe, “Some Customs of the Ovaherero,” (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) pp. 61 sq., from whose account some of the details in the text are borrowed.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. J. Andersson, Lake Ngami, pp. 228 sq. The ceremony is explained in more detail by Rev. G. Viehe, “Some Customs of the Ovaherero,” (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) pp. 61 sq., from whose account some of the details in the text are borrowed.
728. The distinction is made also by Mr. J. Irle. According to him, while the fire-sticks are called ozondume (plural of ondume), the sticks which represent the ancestors are called ozohongue and are made from the omuvapu bush. In every chief’s house there is a bundle of about twenty of these ancestral sticks. When a chief dies, the sticks are wrapped in a portion of the sacred bull (omusisi) which is slaughtered on this occasion, and a new stick is added to the bundle. At the same time Mr. Irle tells us that the fire-sticks (ozondume) also represent the ancestors and are made like them from the omuvapu bush. See J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 77, 79.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mr. J. Irle also makes a distinction. He explains that while the fire-sticks are called ozondume (the plural of ondume), the sticks that represent the ancestors are called ozohongue and are made from the omuvapu bush. In every chief’s house, there is a bundle of about twenty of these ancestral sticks. When a chief dies, the sticks are wrapped in part of the sacred bull (omusisi) that is slaughtered for this event, and a new stick is added to the bundle. At the same time, Mr. Irle informs us that the fire-sticks (ozondume) also represent the ancestors and are made from the omuvapu bush, just like the ancestral sticks. See J. Irle, Die Herero, pp. 77, 79.
729. Bensen, quoted by J. Kohler, “Das Recht der Herero,” Zeitschrift für vergleichende Rechtswissenschaft, xiv. (1900) p. 305.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Bensen, quoted by J. Kohler, “The Rights of the Herero,” Journal of Comparative Law, xiv. (1900) p. 305.
731. Rev. G. Viehe, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) p. 61.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rev. G. Viehe, in (South African) Folk-lore Journal, i. (1879) p. 61.
732. Ibid. p. 43, compare p. 50.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Same source. p. 43, compare p. 50.
733. J. Irle, Die Herero, p. 79.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Irle, The Herero, p. 79.
734. I have assumed that the ancestral sticks, whatever their origin, represent only men. This is plainly implied by Dr. Brincker, who tells us that “each of these sticks represents the male member of generation and in the Bantu sense a personality, which stands for the presence of the deceased chief on all festive occasions and especially at religious ceremonies” (“Character, Sitten, und Gebräuche, speciell der Bantu Deutsch-Südwestafrikas,” Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, p. 74). In savage society women are of too little account for their ghosts to be commonly worshipped. Speaking of the Bantu peoples, a writer who knows them well observes: “This lack of respect for old women is a part of the natives’ religious system, and is connected with their conception of a future life, in which women play a subordinate part, their spirits not being able to cause much trouble, and therefore not being of much account” (Dudley Kidd, The Essential Kafir, p. 23).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.I have assumed that the ancestral sticks, regardless of their origin, represent only men. This is clearly suggested by Dr. Brincker, who states that “each of these sticks represents the male member of generation and, in the Bantu context, a personality, which signifies the presence of the deceased chief at all festive occasions and especially during religious ceremonies” (“Character, Sitten, und Gebräuche, speciell der Bantu Deutsch-Südwestafrikas,” Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen zu Berlin, iii. (1900) Dritte Abtheilung, p. 74). In primitive societies, women are often not valued highly enough for their ghosts to be commonly honored. Discussing the Bantu peoples, a knowledgeable writer remarks: “This lack of respect for elderly women is part of the natives’ religious beliefs and is tied to their views on the afterlife, where women have a lesser role, their spirits not causing much trouble, and therefore not holding much significance” (Dudley Kidd, The Essential Kafir, p. 23).
735. W. Jochelson, “The Koryak,” pp. 32-36 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. vi., Leyden and New York, 1908).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Jochelson, “The Koryak,” pp. 32-36 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. vi., Leyden and New York, 1908).
736. W. Bogaras, “The Chukchee Religion,” pp. 349-353 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. vii. part ii., Leyden and New York, 1904).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Bogaras, “The Chukchee Religion,” pp. 349-353 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. vii. part ii., Leyden and New York, 1904).
737. Livy, xxviii. 11. 6 sq.; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. ii. 67. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, xxviii. 11. 6 and following; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. ii. 67. 5.
738. Ovid, Fasti, vi. 265 sqq.; Festus, p. 262, ed. C. O. Müller.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, vi. 265 sqq.; Festus, p. 262, ed. C. O. Müller.
739. Dudley Kidd, The Essential Kafir, pp. 11 sq. On the diffusion of the round hut in Africa Sir H. H. Johnston says: “The original form of house throughout all British Central Africa was what the majority of the houses still are—circular and somewhat like a beehive in shape, with round walls of wattle and daub and thatched roof. This style of house is characteristic of (a) all Africa south of the Zambezi; (b) all British Central Africa; as much of the Portuguese provinces of Zambezia and Moçambique as are not under direct Portuguese or Muhammedan influence which may have introduced the rectangular dwelling; (c) all East Africa up to and including the Egyptian Sudan, where Arab influence has not introduced the oblong rectangular building; (d) the Central Nigerian Sudan, much of Senegambia, and perhaps the West Coast of Africa as far east and south as the Gold Coast, subject, of course, to the same limitations as to foreign influence” (British Central Africa, London, 1897, P. 453).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dudley Kidd, The Essential Kafir, pp. 11 sq. Regarding the spread of the round hut in Africa, Sir H. H. Johnston states: “The original type of house throughout all of British Central Africa is what most houses still are—circular and somewhat resembling a beehive in shape, with round walls made of wattle and daub and a thatched roof. This style of house is typical of (a) all of Africa south of the Zambezi; (b) all of British Central Africa; much of the Portuguese regions of Zambezia and Moçambique that are not under direct Portuguese or Muslim influence, which may have introduced the rectangular house; (c) all of East Africa up to and including Egyptian Sudan, where Arab influence has not brought in the long rectangular building; (d) the Central Nigerian Sudan, much of Senegambia, and possibly the West Coast of Africa as far east and south as the Gold Coast, subject, of course, to the same limitations regarding foreign influence” (British Central Africa, London, 1897, P. 453).
740. J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., pp. 250, 341 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Marquardt, Roman Government Administration, iii. 2nd Ed., pp. 250, 341 etc.
741. J. Marquardt, op. cit. iii. 2nd Ed., pp. 340 sq.; Journal of Philology, xiv. (1885) pp. 155 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Marquardt, op. cit. iii. 2nd Ed., pp. 340 sq.; Journal of Philology, xiv. (1885) pp. 155 sq.
742. Livy, i. 3 sq.; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 76 sq.; Plutarch, Romulus, 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 3 sq.; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities i. 76 sq.; Plutarch, Romulus, 3.
743. Plutarch, Numa, 10; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 67. 4, viii. 89. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Plutarch, Numa, 10; Dionysius Halicarnassus, Ant. Rom. ii. 67. 4, viii. 89. 5.
744. The suggestion is due to Mr. M. A. Bayfield (Classical Review, xv. 1901, p. 448). He compares the similar execution of the princess Antigone (Sophocles, Antigone, 773 sqq.). However, we must remember that a custom of burying people alive has been practised as a punishment or a sacrifice by Romans, Persians, and Germans, even when the victims were not of royal blood. See Livy, xxii. 57. 6; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxviii. 12; Plutarch, Marcellus, 3; id., Quaest. Rom. 83; Herodotus, vii. 114; J. Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer, 3rd Ed., pp. 694 sq. As to the objection to spill royal blood, see The Golden Bough, Second Edition, i. 354 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The suggestion comes from Mr. M. A. Bayfield (Classical Review, xv. 1901, p. 448). He draws a parallel with the way the princess Antigone is portrayed (Sophocles, Antigone, 773 sqq.). However, we need to keep in mind that burying people alive has been used as a punishment or a sacrifice by the Romans, Persians, and Germans, even when the victims weren't of royal lineage. See Livy, xxii. 57. 6; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxviii. 12; Plutarch, Marcellus, 3; id., Quaest. Rom. 83; Herodotus, vii. 114; J. Grimm, Deutsche Rechtsalterthümer, 3rd Ed., pp. 694 sq. Regarding the concern over shedding royal blood, see The Golden Bough, Second Edition, i. 354 sq.
746. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 629-672. Compare Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 15; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, iv. 49.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, iv. 629-672. Compare Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 15; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, iv. 49.
748. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxviii. 39; “Quamquam religione tutatur et fascinus, imperatorum quoque, non solum infantium custos, qui deus inter sacra Romana Vestalibus colitur.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxviii. 39; “Although it is protected by religion and the power of rulers, it is not only a guardian of infants, but also a god worshipped among the Roman sacred rites by the Vestal Virgins.”
749. Virgil, Georg. i. 498; Ovid, Fasti, iv. 828; G. Henzen, Acta fratrum Arvalium, pp. 124, 147; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, Nos. 5047, 5048. Ennius represented Vesta as the mother of Saturn and Titan. See Lactantius, Divin. inst. i. 14.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Virgil, Georg. i. 498; Ovid, Fasti, iv. 828; G. Henzen, Acta fratrum Arvalium, pp. 124, 147; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, Nos. 5047, 5048. Ennius portrayed Vesta as the mother of Saturn and Titan. See Lactantius, Divin. inst. i. 14.
750. Augustine, De civitate Dei, iv. 10.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Augustine, The City of God, iv. 10.
752. Grihya Sûtras, translated by H. Oldenberg, vol. i. pp. 37, 168, 279, 283, 382, 384, vol. ii. pp. 46, 191, 260; M. Winternitz, “Das altindische Hochzeitsrituell,” pp. 4, 56-62 (Denkschriften der kaiserl. Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, xl., Vienna, 1892); H. Zimmer, Altindisches Leben, p. 312; G. A. Grierson, Bihār Peasant Life (Calcutta, 1885), p. 368; F. S. Krauss, Sitte und Brauch der Südslaven, pp. 386, 436, cp. 430; J. Lasicius, “De diis Samagitarum caeterorumque Sarmatarum,” in Magazin herausgegeben von der Lettisch-Literarischen Gesellschaft, xiv. 99; J. Maeletius (Maletius), “De sacrificiis et idolatria veterum Borussorum Livonum aliarumque vicinarum gentium,” in Mitteilungen der Litterarischen Gesellschaft Masovia, viii. (1902) pp. 191, 204 (this work is also reprinted under the name of J. Menecius in Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, ii. (Riga and Leipsic, 1848) pp. 389-392); F. Woeste, in Zeitschrift für deutsche Mythologie und Sittenkunde, ii. (1855) p. 91; A. Kuhn und W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche, pp. 433, 522; A. Kuhn, Sagen, Gebräuche und Märchen aus Westfalen, ii. 38; J. H. Schmitz, Sitten und Sagen, etc., des Eifler Volkes, i. 67; Montanus, Die deutsche Volksfeste, Volksbräuche und deutscher Volksglaube, p. 85; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Hochzeitsbuch (Leipsic, 1871), p. 222; L. v. Schroeder, Die Hochzeitsbräuche der Esten (Berlin, 1888), pp. 127 sqq.; E. Samter, Familienfeste der Griechen und Römer (Berlin, 1901), pp. 59-62; O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde, pp. 356 sq. This evidence proves that the custom has been practised by the Indian, Slavonian, Lithuanian, and Teutonic branches of the Aryan race, from which we may fairly infer that it was observed by the ancestors of the whole family before their dispersion.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Grihya Sûtras, translated by H. Oldenberg, vol. i. pp. 37, 168, 279, 283, 382, 384, vol. ii. pp. 46, 191, 260; M. Winternitz, “Das altindische Hochzeitsrituell,” pp. 4, 56-62 (Denkschriften der kaiserl. Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien, xl., Vienna, 1892); H. Zimmer, Altindisches Leben, p. 312; G. A. Grierson, Bihār Peasant Life (Calcutta, 1885), p. 368; F. S. Krauss, Sitte und Brauch der Südslaven, pp. 386, 436, cp. 430; J. Lasicius, “De diis Samagitarum caeterorumque Sarmatarum,” in Magazin herausgegeben von der Lettisch-Literarischen Gesellschaft, xiv. 99; J. Maeletius (Maletius), “De sacrificiis et idolatria veterum Borussorum Livonum aliarumque vicinarum gentium,” in Mitteilungen der Litterarischen Gesellschaft Masovia, viii. (1902) pp. 191, 204 (this work is also reprinted under the name of J. Menecius in Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, ii. (Riga and Leipsic, 1848) pp. 389-392); F. Woeste, in Zeitschrift für deutsche Mythologie und Sittenkunde, ii. (1855) p. 91; A. Kuhn und W. Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche, pp. 433, 522; A. Kuhn, Sagen, Gebräuche und Märchen aus Westfalen, ii. 38; J. H. Schmitz, Sitten und Sagen, etc., des Eifler Volkes, i. 67; Montanus, Die deutsche Volksfeste, Volksbräuche und deutscher Volksglaube, p. 85; Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Hochzeitsbuch (Leipsic, 1871), p. 222; L. v. Schroeder, Die Hochzeitsbräuche der Esten (Berlin, 1888), pp. 127 sqq.; E. Samter, Familienfeste der Griechen und Römer (Berlin, 1901), pp. 59-62; O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde, pp. 356 sq. This evidence shows that the custom has been practiced by the Indian, Slavic, Lithuanian, and Teutonic branches of the Aryan race, which allows us to reasonably conclude that it was followed by their ancestors before they spread out.
753. Grihya-Sûtras, translated by H. Oldenberg, vol. i. p. 283 (Sacred Books of the East, vol. xxix.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Grihya-Sûtras, translated by H. Oldenberg, vol. i. p. 283 (Sacred Books of the East, vol. xxix.).
754. Prof. Vl. Titelbach, “Das heilige Feuer bei den Balkanslaven,” Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, xiii. (1900) p. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Prof. Vl. Titelbach, “The Sacred Fire among the Balkan Slavs,” International Archives of Ethnography, xiii. (1900) p. 1.
755. F. S. Krauss, Sitte und Brauch der Südslaven (Vienna, 1885), p. 430.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. Krauss, Customs and Traditions of the South Slavs (Vienna, 1885), p. 430.
756. F. S. Krauss, op. cit. p. 531.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. F. S. Krauss, same source. p. 531.
757. This saying was communicated to me by Miss Mabel Peacock in a letter dated Kirton-in-Lindsey, Lincolnshire, 30th October 1905.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.This saying was shared with me by Miss Mabel Peacock in a letter dated Kirton-in-Lindsey, Lincolnshire, October 30, 1905.
758. Max Buch, Die Wotjäken (Stuttgart, 1882), pp. 52, 59; L. v. Schroeder, op. cit. pp. 129, 132.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Max Buch, Die Wotjäken (Stuttgart, 1882), pp. 52, 59; L. v. Schroeder, op. cit. pp. 129, 132.
760. As it is believed that fire may impregnate human beings, so conversely some people seem to imagine that it may be impregnated by them. Thus Mr. T. R. Glover, Fellow of St. John’s College, Cambridge, writes to me (18th June 1906): “A curious and not very quotable instance of (I suppose) Sacred Marriage was brought to my notice by Mr. Brown of the Canadian Baptist Mission to the Telugus. He said that in Hindoo temples (in South India chiefly?) sometimes a scaffolding is erected over a fire. A man and a woman are got to copulate on it and allow the human seed to fall into the fire.” But perhaps this ceremony is only another way of conveying the fertilising virtue of the fire to the woman, in other words, of getting her with child.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Just as people believe that fire can make humans fertile, some think that humans can make fire fertile too. Mr. T. R. Glover, a Fellow of St. John’s College, Cambridge, wrote to me on June 18, 1906: “A curious and not very quotable example of what I guess is Sacred Marriage was pointed out to me by Mr. Brown from the Canadian Baptist Mission to the Telugus. He mentioned that in Hindu temples (mainly in South India?) sometimes scaffolding is put up over a fire. A man and a woman are made to have sex on it, allowing the human seed to fall into the fire.” But maybe this ceremony is just another way of transferring the fire's fertilizing power to the woman, essentially making her pregnant.
762. Suidas, Harpocration, and Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. Ἀμφιδρόμια; Hesychius, s.v. δρομάφιον ἧμαρ; Schol. on Plato, Theaetetus, p. 160 E. On this custom see S. Reinach, Cultes, mythes, et religions, i. (Paris, 1905) pp. 137-145. He suggests that the running of the naked men who carried the babies was intended, by means of sympathetic magic, to impart to the little ones in after-life the power of running fast. But this theory does not explain why the race took place round the hearth.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Suidas, Harpocration, and Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. Ἀμφιδρόμια; Hesychius, s.v. δρομάφιον ἧμαρ; Schol. on Plato, Theaetetus, p. 160 E. For more on this tradition, see S. Reinach, Cultes, mythes, et religions, i. (Paris, 1905) pp. 137-145. He proposes that the race of naked men carrying the babies was meant, through sympathetic magic, to give the children the ability to run fast in their future lives. However, this idea doesn’t explain why the race occurred around the hearth.
763. The custom has been practised with this intention in Scotland, China, New Britain, the Tenimber and Timorlaut Islands, and by the Ovambo of South Africa. See Pennant’s “Second Tour in Scotland,” Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 383; Miss C. F. Gordon Cumming, In the Hebrides, ed. 1883, p. 101; China Review, ix. (1880-1881) p. 303; R. Parkinson, Im Bismarck-Archipel, pp. 94 sq.; J. G. F. Riedel, De sluik- en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua, p. 303; H. Schinz, Deutsch-Südwest-Afrika, p. 307. A similar custom was observed, probably for the same reason, in ancient Mexico and in Madagascar. See Clavigero, History of Mexico, translated by Cullen, i. 31; W. Ellis, History of Madagascar, i. 152. Compare my note, “The Youth of Achilles,” Classical Review, vii. (1893) pp. 293 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.This custom has been practiced with this intention in Scotland, China, New Britain, the Tenimber and Timorlaut Islands, and by the Ovambo people of South Africa. See Pennant’s “Second Tour in Scotland,” Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 383; Miss C. F. Gordon Cumming, In the Hebrides, ed. 1883, p. 101; China Review, ix. (1880-1881) p. 303; R. Parkinson, Im Bismarck-Archipel, pp. 94 sq.; J. G. F. Riedel, De sluik- en kroesharige rassen tusschen Selebes en Papua, p. 303; H. Schinz, Deutsch-Südwest-Afrika, p. 307. A similar custom was observed, likely for the same reason, in ancient Mexico and Madagascar. See Clavigero, History of Mexico, translated by Cullen, i. 31; W. Ellis, History of Madagascar, i. 152. Compare my note, “The Youth of Achilles,” Classical Review, vii. (1893) pp. 293 sq.
764. Compare E. Samter, Familienfeste der Griechen und Römer (Berlin, 1901), pp. 59-62.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See E. Samter, Family Celebrations of the Greeks and Romans (Berlin, 1901), pp. 59-62.
765. W. R. S. Ralston, The Songs of the Russian People, pp. 120 sq. Ralston held that the Russian house-spirit Domovoy, who is supposed to live behind the stove, is the modern representative of an ancestral spirit. Compare ibid. pp. 84, 86, 119.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. R. S. Ralston, The Songs of the Russian People, pp. 120 sq. Ralston believed that the Russian house spirit, the Domovoy, thought to reside behind the stove, is a contemporary version of an ancestral spirit. See ibid. pp. 84, 86, 119.
766. Evidence of this view will be adduced later on. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 456.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.We'll provide evidence for this perspective later. Refer to The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 456.
768. L. v. Schroeder, Die Hochzeitsbräuche der Esten (Berlin, 1888), pp. 129 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. v. Schroeder, The Wedding Customs of the Estonians (Berlin, 1888), pp. 129 sq.
770. Th. Mommsen, History of Rome, New Edition (London, 1894), i. 215 sq.; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., p. 326; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, p. 147. For another derivation of their name see below, p. 247.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Th. Mommsen, History of Rome, New Edition (London, 1894), i. 215 sq.; J. Marquardt, Roman Public Administration, iii. 2nd Ed., p. 326; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Republic Period, p. 147. For another derivation of their name see below, p. 247.
772. H. Vaughan Stevens, “Mitteilungen aus dem Frauenleben der Ôrang Belendas, der Ôrang Djâkun und der Ôrang Lâut,” bearbeitet von Dr. Max Bartels, Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, xxviii. (1896) pp. 168 sq. The writer adds that any person, boy, man, or woman (provided she was not menstruous) might light the fire, if it were more convenient that he or she should do so. Thus the co-operation of a married man and an unmarried girl, though apparently deemed the best, was not the only permissible way of igniting the wood. The good faith or at all events the accuracy of the late German traveller H. Vaughan Stevens is not, I understand, above suspicion; but Mr. Nelson Annandale, joint author of Fasciculi Malayenses, writes to me of him that “he certainly had a knowledge and experience of the wild tribes of the Malay region which few or none have excelled, for he lived literally as one of themselves.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Vaughan Stevens, “Reports on the Lives of Women among the Ôrang Belendas, the Ôrang Djâkun, and the Ôrang Lâut,” edited by Dr. Max Bartels, Journal of Ethnology, xxviii. (1896) pp. 168 sq. The author notes that any person—boy, man, or woman (as long as she wasn't menstruating)—could start the fire if it was more convenient for them to do so. Therefore, while the collaboration of a married man and an unmarried girl was considered ideal, it wasn't the only acceptable method for igniting the wood. The credibility, or at least the accuracy, of the late German traveler H. Vaughan Stevens is not, as I understand, beyond question; however, Mr. Nelson Annandale, co-author of Fasciculi Malayenses, informs me that “he certainly had a level of knowledge and experience with the wild tribes of the Malay region that few, if any, could surpass, as he lived literally as one of them.”
773. Prof. Vl. Titelbach, “Das heilige Feuer bei den Balkanslaven,” Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, xiii. (1900) pp. 2-4. The ceremony witnessed by Prof. Titelbach will be described later on in this work. Kinglake rode through the great Servian forest on his way from Belgrade to Constantinople, and from his description (Eothen, ch. ii.) we gather that it is chiefly composed of oak. He says: “Endless and endless now on either side the tall oaks closed in their ranks, and stood gloomily lowering over us.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Prof. Vl. Titelbach, “The Sacred Fire Among the Balkan Slavs,” International Archive of Ethnography, xiii. (1900) pp. 2-4. The ceremony observed by Prof. Titelbach will be discussed later in this work. Kinglake traveled through the vast Serbian forest on his way from Belgrade to Constantinople, and from his description (Eothen, ch. ii.) we learn that it is primarily made up of oak trees. He notes: “Endless and endless now on either side, the tall oaks stood in their ranks, gloomily looming over us.”
774. Ch. Gilhodes, “La Culture matérielle des Katchins (Birmanie),” Anthropos, v. (1910) p. 629.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ch. Gilhodes, “The Material Culture of the Kachins (Burma),” Anthropos, v. (1910) p. 629.
775. M. Martin’s “Description of the Western Islands of Scotland,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 611. The first edition of Martin’s work was published in 1703, and the second in 1716.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. Martin’s “Description of the Western Islands of Scotland,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, vol. iii, p. 611. The first edition of Martin’s work was published in 1703, and the second in 1716.
776. J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 504.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, German Mythology, 4th ed., i. 504.
777. E. Casalis, The Basutos, pp. 267 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. E. Casalis, The Basutos, pp. 267 sq.
778. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. ii. 68; Valerius Maximus, i. 1. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities ii. 68; Valerius Maximus, i. 1. 7.
779. J. Lecœur, Esquisses du Bocage Normand, ii. (Condé-sur-Noireau, 1887) p. 27; B. Souché, Croyances, présages et traditions diverses (Niort, 1880), p. 12.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Lecœur, Sketches of the Norman Countryside, ii. (Condé-sur-Noireau, 1887) p. 27; B. Souché, Beliefs, Omens, and Various Traditions (Niort, 1880), p. 12.
780. Polybius, xii. 13. In Darfur a curious power over fire is ascribed to women who have been faithful to their husbands. “It is a belief among the Forians, that if the city takes fire, the only means of arresting the progress of the flames is to bring near them a woman, no longer young, who has never been guilty of intrigue. If she be pure, by merely waving a mantle, she puts a stop to the destruction. Success has sometimes rewarded a virtuous woman” (Travels of an Arab Merchant [Mohammed Ibn-Omar El-Tounsy] in Soudan, abridged from the French by Bayle St. John (London, 1854), p. 112). Compare R. W. Felkin, “Notes on the For Tribe of Central Africa,” Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, xiii. (1884-1886) p. 230.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Polybius, xii. 13. In Darfur, women who have been loyal to their husbands are believed to have a unique power over fire. “People in Foria believe that if the city catches fire, the only way to stop the flames is to bring in a woman who is no longer young and has never been involved in any kind of affair. If she is pure, simply waving a mantle is enough to halt the destruction. Sometimes, a virtuous woman has been rewarded for her success” (Travels of an Arab Merchant [Mohammed Ibn-Omar El-Tounsy] in Soudan, abridged from the French by Bayle St. John (London, 1854), p. 112). Compare R. W. Felkin, “Notes on the For Tribe of Central Africa,” Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, xiii. (1884-1886) p. 230.
781. Solinus, xxii. 10. The Celtic Minerva, according to Caesar (De bello Gallico, vi. 17), was a goddess of the mechanical arts.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Solinus, xxii. 10. The Celtic Minerva, according to Caesar (De bello Gallico, vi. 17), was a goddess of craftsmanship.
782. J. Rhys, Celtic Heathendom, pp. 73-77; P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland, i. 260 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Rhys, Celtic Heathendom, pp. 73-77; P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland, i. 260 sq.
783. Giraldus Cambrensis, The Topography of Ireland, chaps. xxxiv.-xxxvi., translated by Thomas Wright; P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland, i. 334 sq. It is said that in the island of Sena (the modern Sein), off the coast of Brittany, there was an oracle of a Gallic deity whose worship was cared for by nine virgin priestesses. They could raise storms by their incantations, and turn themselves into any animals they pleased (Mela, iii. 48); but it is not said that they maintained a perpetual holy fire, though Ch. Elton affirms that they did (Origins of English History, p. 27). M. Salomon Reinach dismisses these virgins as a fable based on Homer’s description of the isle of Circe (Odyssey, x. 135 sqq.), and he denies that the Gauls employed virgin priestesses. See his article, “Les Vierges de Sena,” Revue Celtique, xviii. (1897) pp. 1-8; id., Cultes, mythes, et religions, i. (Paris, 1905) pp. 195 sqq. To me the nuns of St. Brigit seem to be most probably the successors of a Celtic order of Vestals. That there were female Druids is certain, but it does not appear whether they were virgins. See Lampridius, Alexander Severus, 60; Vopiscus, Aurelianus, 44; id., Numerianus, 14 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Giraldus Cambrensis, The Topography of Ireland, chaps. xxxiv.-xxxvi., translated by Thomas Wright; P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland, i. 334 sq. It is said that on the island of Sena (modern Sein), off the coast of Brittany, there was an oracle dedicated to a Gallic deity, whose worship was overseen by nine virgin priestesses. They could summon storms with their incantations and transform into any animals they wanted (Mela, iii. 48); however, it’s not mentioned that they kept a continuous sacred fire, although Ch. Elton claims they did (Origins of English History, p. 27). M. Salomon Reinach dismisses these virgins as a myth inspired by Homer’s account of the island of Circe (Odyssey, x. 135 sqq.) and contends that the Gauls did not use virgin priestesses. See his article, “Les Vierges de Sena,” Revue Celtique, xviii. (1897) pp. 1-8; id., Cultes, mythes, et religions, i. (Paris, 1905) pp. 195 sqq.. To me, the nuns of St. Brigit likely follow a Celtic order of Vestals. It’s certain that female Druids existed, but it’s unclear if they were virgins. See Lampridius, Alexander Severus, 60; Vopiscus, Aurelianus, 44; id., Numerianus, 14 sq.
784. Prof. Vl. Titelbach, “Das heilige Feuer bei den Balkanslaven,” Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, xiii. (1900) p. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Prof. Vl. Titelbach, “The Sacred Fire among the Balkanslaves,” International Archives for Ethnography, xiii. (1900) p. 1.
785. Laws of Manu, iv. 53, translated by G. Bühler (Sacred Books of the East, vol. xxv. p. 137).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Laws of Manu, iv. 53, translated by G. Bühler (Sacred Books of the East, vol. xxv. p. 137).
786. Martin Haug, Essays on the Sacred Language, Writings, and Religion of the Parsees 3rd Ed., (London, 1884), p. 243, note 1. Strabo describes the mouth-veil worn by the Magian priests in Cappadocia (xiv. 3. 15, p. 733). At Arkon, in the island of Rügen, there was a shrine so holy that none but the priest might enter it, and even he might not breathe in it. As often as he needed to draw in or give out breath, he used to run out of the door lest he should taint the divine presence with his breath. See Saxo Grammaticus, Historia Danica, bk. xiv. p. 824, ed. P. E. Müller (p. 393 of Elton’s English translation).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Martin Haug, Essays on the Sacred Language, Writings, and Religion of the Parsees 3rd Ed., (London, 1884), p. 243, note 1. Strabo describes the mouth-veil worn by the Magian priests in Cappadocia (xiv. 3. 15, p. 733). In Arkon, on the island of Rügen, there was a shrine so sacred that only the priest was allowed to enter, and even he couldn't breathe inside. Whenever he needed to breathe in or out, he would run out the door to avoid contaminating the divine presence with his breath. See Saxo Grammaticus, Historia Danica, bk. xiv. p. 824, ed. P. E. Müller (p. 393 of Elton’s English translation).
787. P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland, i. 335 sq.; Standish H. O’Grady, Sylva Gadelica, translation (London, 1892), pp. 15, 16, 41.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland, i. 335 sq.; Standish H. O’Grady, Sylva Gadelica, translation (London, 1892), pp. 15, 16, 41.
790. Douglas Hyde, A Literary History of Ireland (London, 1899), p. 158. The tradition of the oak of Kildare survives in the lines,
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Douglas Hyde, A Literary History of Ireland (London, 1899), p. 158. The tradition of the oak of Kildare lives on in the lines,
which are quoted by Mr. D. Fitzgerald in Revue Celtique, iv. (1879-1880) p. 193.
which are quoted by Mr. D. Fitzgerald in Revue Celtique, iv. (1879-1880) p. 193.
791. Douglas Hyde, op. cit. pp. 169-171. At Kells, also, St. Columba dwelt under a great oak-tree. The writer of his Irish life, quoted by Mr. Hyde, says that the oak-tree “remained till these latter times, when it fell through the crash of a mighty wind. And a certain man took somewhat of its bark to tan his shoes with. Now, when he did on the shoes, he was smitten with leprosy from his sole to his crown.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Douglas Hyde, op. cit. pp. 169-171. At Kells, St. Columba also lived under a large oak tree. The writer of his Irish life, quoted by Mr. Hyde, mentions that the oak tree “lasted until recent times, when it fell due to a powerful wind. And a certain man took some of its bark to use for tanning his shoes. After he put on the shoes, he was struck with leprosy from his feet to his head.”
792. Garcilasso de la Vega, Royal Commentaries of the Yncas, pt. i. bk. iv. chaps. 1-3, bk. vi. chaps. 20-22 (vol. i. pp. 292-299, vol. ii. pp. 155-164, Markham’s translation); P. de Cieza de Leon, Travels, p. 134 (Markham’s translation); id., Second Part of the Chronicle of Peru, pp. 85 sq. (Markham’s translation); Acosta, Natural and Moral History of the Indies, bk. v. chap. 15 (vol. ii. pp. 331-333, Hakluyt Society). Professor E. B. Tylor discredits Garcilasso’s description of these Peruvian priestesses on the ground that it resembles Plutarch’s account of the Roman Vestals (Numa, 9 sq.) too closely to be independent; he thinks that “the apparent traces of absorption from Plutarch invalidate whatever rests on Garcilasso de la Vega’s unsupported testimony.” See his Researches into the Early History of Mankind, 3rd Ed., pp. 249-253. In particular, he stumbles at the statement that an unfaithful Peruvian priestess was buried alive. But that statement was made by Cieza de Leon, who travelled in Peru when Garcilasso was a child, and whose book, or rather the first part of it, containing the statement, was published more than fifty years before that of Garcilasso. Moreover, when we understand that the punishment in question was based on a superstition which occurs independently in many parts of the world, the apparent improbability of the coincidence vanishes. As to the mode of kindling the sacred fire, Professor Tylor understands Plutarch to say that the sacred fire at Rome was kindled, as in Peru, by a burning-glass. To me it seems that Plutarch is here speaking of a Greek, not a Roman usage, and this is made still clearer when his text is read correctly. For the words ὑπὸ Μήδων, περὶ δὲ τὰ Μιθριδιατικά should be altered to ὑπὸ Μαίδων περὶ τὰ Μιθριδιατικά. See H. Pomtow in Rheinisches Museum, N. F. li. (1896) p. 365, and my note on Pausanias, x. 19. 4 (vol. v. p. 331). Thus Plutarch gives two instances when a sacred fire was extinguished and had to be relit with a burning-glass; but both instances are Greek, neither is Roman. The Greek mode of lighting a sacred fire by means of a crystal is described also in the Orphic poem on precious stones, verses 177 sqq. (Orphica, ed. E. Abel, p. 115). Nor were the Greeks and Peruvians peculiar in this respect. The Siamese and Chinese have also been in the habit of kindling a sacred fire by means of a metal mirror or burning-glass. See Pallegoix, Description du royaume Thai ou Siam, ii. 55; A. Bastian, Die Völker des östlichen Asien, iii. 516; J. H. Plath, “Die Religion und der Cultus der alten Chinesen,” Abhandlungen der k. bayer. Akademie der Wissen, i. Cl. ix. (1863) pp. 876 sq. Again, the full description of the golden garden of the Peruvian Vestals, which may sound to us fabulous, is given by Cieza de Leon in a work (the Second Part of the Chronicle of Peru) which it is unlikely that Garcilasso ever saw, since it was not printed till 1873, centuries after his death. Yet Garcilasso’s brief description of the garden agrees closely with that of Cieza de Leon, differing from it just as that of an independent witness naturally would—namely, in the selection of some other details in addition to those which the two have in common. He says that the virgins “had a garden of trees, plants, herbs, birds and beasts, made of gold and silver, like that in the temple” (vol. i. p. 298, Markham’s translation). Thus the two accounts are probably independent and therefore trustworthy, for a fiction of this kind could hardly have occurred to two romancers separately. A strong confirmation of Garcilasso’s fidelity is furnished by the close resemblance which the fire customs, both of Rome and Peru, present to the well-authenticated fire customs of the Herero at the present day. There seems to be every reason to think that all three sets of customs originated independently in the simple needs and superstitious fancies of the savage. On the whole, I see no reason to question the good faith and accuracy of Garcilasso.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Garcilasso de la Vega, Royal Commentaries of the Yncas, pt. i. bk. iv. chaps. 1-3, bk. vi. chaps. 20-22 (vol. i. pp. 292-299, vol. ii. pp. 155-164, Markham’s translation); P. de Cieza de Leon, Travels, p. 134 (Markham’s translation); id., Second Part of the Chronicle of Peru, pp. 85 sq. (Markham’s translation); Acosta, Natural and Moral History of the Indies, bk. v. chap. 15 (vol. ii. pp. 331-333, Hakluyt Society). Professor E. B. Tylor dismisses Garcilasso’s description of these Peruvian priestesses because it closely resembles Plutarch’s account of the Roman Vestals (Numa, 9 sq.); he argues that “the apparent traces of borrowing from Plutarch undermine whatever relies on Garcilasso de la Vega’s unsupported claims.” See his Researches into the Early History of Mankind, 3rd Ed., pp. 249-253. In particular, he takes issue with the claim that an unfaithful Peruvian priestess was buried alive. However, that claim comes from Cieza de Leon, who traveled in Peru when Garcilasso was young, and whose book, or at least the first part of it, containing that statement, was published over fifty years before Garcilasso's work. Moreover, once we recognize that the punishment was rooted in a superstition found in many parts of the world, the supposed improbability of the coincidence disappears. Regarding how the sacred fire was lit, Professor Tylor interprets Plutarch to imply that the sacred fire in Rome was ignited, like in Peru, using a burning-glass. However, I believe Plutarch is referring to a Greek custom rather than a Roman one, which becomes clearer upon a correct reading of his text. The words ὑπὸ Μήδων, περὶ δὲ τὰ Μιθριδιατικά should be replaced by ὑπὸ Μαίδων περὶ τὰ Μιθριδιατικά. See H. Pomtow in Rheinisches Museum, N. F. li. (1896) p. 365, and my note on Pausanias, x. 19. 4 (vol. v. p. 331). Thus, Plutarch provides two cases where sacred fire was extinguished and had to be relit with a burning-glass, but both instances are Greek and neither is Roman. The Greek method of lighting a sacred fire with a crystal is also described in the Orphic poem on precious stones, verses 177 sqq. (Orphica, ed. E. Abel, p. 115). Additionally, this practice wasn’t unique to Greeks and Peruvians. The Siamese and Chinese also lit sacred fires using a metal mirror or burning-glass. See Pallegoix, Description du royaume Thai ou Siam, ii. 55; A. Bastian, Die Völker des östlichen Asien, iii. 516; J. H. Plath, “Die Religion und der Cultus der alten Chinesen,” Abhandlungen der k. bayer. Akademie der Wissen, i. Cl. ix. (1863) pp. 876 sq. Again, the detailed description of the golden garden of the Peruvian Vestals, which may seem legendary to us, is given by Cieza de Leon in a work (the Second Part of the Chronicle of Peru) that Garcilasso likely never encountered, as it wasn't printed until 1873, centuries after his death. Yet Garcilasso’s short description of the garden closely matches that of Cieza de Leon, varying just as an independent observer would—by including additional details not shared by both. He mentions that the virgins “had a garden of trees, plants, herbs, birds and beasts, made of gold and silver, like that in the temple” (vol. i. p. 298, Markham’s translation). Thus, the two accounts are likely independent and therefore reliable, as it’s improbable that two storytellers would create such a fiction separately. A strong testament to Garcilasso’s reliability is provided by the striking similarities in the fire customs of both Rome and Peru to the well-documented fire customs of the Herero today. There appears to be ample reason to believe that all three sets of customs originated independently from the basic needs and superstitions of primitive people. Overall, I see no reason to doubt the honesty and accuracy of Garcilasso.
793. B. de Sahagun, Histoire des choses de la Nouvelle Espagne, pp. 196 sq., 386; Acosta, Natural and Moral History of the Indies, bk. v. ch. 15 (vol. ii. pp. 333 sq., Hakluyt Society); A. de Herrera, General History of the vast Continent and Islands of America, iii. 209 sq., Stevens’s translation (London, 1725, 1726); Clavigero, History of Mexico, i. 264, 274 sq.; Brasseur de Bourbourg, Histoire des nations civilisées du Mexique et de l’Amérique Centrale, i. 289, iii. 661; H. H. Bancroft, Native Races of the Pacific States, ii. 204 sqq., 245, 583, iii. 435 sq. However, Sahagun (pp. 186, 194), Acosta (vol. ii. p. 336) and Herrera seem to imply that the duty of maintaining the sacred fire was discharged by men only.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.B. de Sahagun, History of the Things of New Spain, pp. 196 sq., 386; Acosta, Natural and Moral History of the Indies, bk. v. ch. 15 (vol. ii. pp. 333 sq., Hakluyt Society); A. de Herrera, General History of the Vast Continent and Islands of America, iii. 209 sq., Stevens’s translation (London, 1725, 1726); Clavigero, History of Mexico, i. 264, 274 sq.; Brasseur de Bourbourg, History of the Civilized Nations of Mexico and Central America, i. 289, iii. 661; H. H. Bancroft, Native Races of the Pacific States, ii. 204 sqq., 245, 583, iii. 435 sq. However, Sahagun (pp. 186, 194), Acosta (vol. ii. p. 336), and Herrera seem to suggest that the responsibility of keeping the sacred fire was only handled by men.
794. Brasseur de Bourbourg, op. cit. ii. 6; H. H. Bancroft, op. cit. iii. 473. Fire-worship seems to have lingered among the Indians of Yucatan down to about the middle of the nineteenth century, and it may still survive among them. See D. G. Brinton, “The Folk-lore of Yucatan,” Folk-lore Journal, i. (1883) pp. 247 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Brasseur de Bourbourg, op. cit. ii. 6; H. H. Bancroft, op. cit. iii. 473. Fire-worship appears to have persisted among the Mayans of Yucatan until around the mid-nineteenth century, and it may still exist today. See D. G. Brinton, “The Folk-lore of Yucatan,” Folk-lore Journal, i. (1883) pp. 247 sq.
795. Letter of the Rev. J. Roscoe, dated Kampala, Uganda, 9th April 1909.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Letter from Rev. J. Roscoe, dated Kampala, Uganda, April 9, 1909.
796. Aulus Gellius, x. 15. 22; Ateius Capito, cited by Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 50. On the other hand, Servius on Virgil, Aen. iv. 29, says that the Flamen might marry another wife after the death of the first. But the statement of Aulus Gellius and Ateius Capito is confirmed by other evidence. See J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 329, note 8. As to the rule see my note, “The Widowed Flamen,” Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 407 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aulus Gellius, x. 15. 22; Ateius Capito, cited by Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 50. On the other hand, Servius on Virgil, Aen. iv. 29, states that the Flamen could marry another wife after the first one passed away. However, the claims of Aulus Gellius and Ateius Capito are supported by other evidence. See J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 329, note 8. Regarding the rule, see my note, “The Widowed Flamen,” Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 407 sqq.
797. Aulus Gellius, x. 15. 7; Festus, p. 106, ed. C. O. Müller.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aulus Gellius, x. 15. 7; Festus, p. 106, ed. C. O. Müller.
798. Livy, v. 52. 13 sq. In later times the rule was so far relaxed that he was allowed to be absent from Rome for two nights or even longer, provided he got leave from the chief pontiff on the score of ill-health. See Aulus Gellius, x. 15. 14; Tacitus, Annals, iii. 71.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, v. 52. 13 sq. Over time, the rule became more lenient, allowing him to be away from Rome for two nights or even longer if he received permission from the chief pontiff due to health issues. See Aulus Gellius, x. 15. 14; Tacitus, Annals, iii. 71.
799. Tacitus, Annals, iii. 58; Dio Cassius, liv. 36. As to the honours attached to the office, see Livy, xxvii. 8. 8; Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 113.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tacitus, Annals, iii. 58; Dio Cassius, liv. 36. For information on the honors associated with the office, see Livy, xxvii. 8. 8; Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 113.
800. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, i. 241 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, i. 241 sqq.
801. P. Kretschmer, Einleitung in die Geschichte der griechischen Sprache (Göttingen, 1896), pp. 127 sqq.; O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde, pp. 637 sq. For a different derivation of the name Flamen see above, p. 235. Being no philologer, I do not pretend to decide between the rival etymologies. My friend Prof. J. H. Moulton prefers the equation Flamen = Brahman, which he tells me is philologically correct, because if Flamen came from flare we should expect a form like flator rather than flamen. The form flator was used in Latin, though not in this sense.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Kretschmer, Introduction to the History of the Greek Language (Göttingen, 1896), pp. 127 sqq.; O. Schrader, Real Lexicon of Indo-European Antiquity, pp. 637 sq. For a different origin of the name Flamen see above, p. 235. Not being a linguist, I don’t claim to choose between the competing etymologies. My friend Prof. J. H. Moulton prefers the connection Flamen = Brahman, which he tells me is linguistically accurate, because if Flamen came from flare, we would expect a form like flator instead of flamen. The form flator was used in Latin, though not in this context.
802. W. Crooke, The Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, i. 30-32. Compare Monier Williams, Religious Thought and Life in India, pp. 364, 365, 392.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, The Tribes and Castes of the North-Western Provinces and Oudh, i. 30-32. Compare Monier Williams, Religious Thought and Life in India, pp. 364, 365, 392.
803. Aulus Gellius, x. 15.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Aulus Gellius, x. 15.
804. Homer, Iliad, xvi. 233-235; Sophocles, Trachiniae, 1166 sq.; Callimachus, Hymn to Delos, 284-286.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Homer, Iliad, xvi. 233-235; Sophocles, Trachiniae, 1166 sq.; Callimachus, Hymn to Delos, 284-286.
805. Ch. Hartknoch, Selectae dissertationes historicae de variis rebus Prussicis, p. 163 (bound up with his edition of Düsburg’s Chronicon Prussiae, Frankfort and Leipsic, 1679); Simon Grunau, Preussischer Chronik, ed. M. Perlbach, i. (Leipsic, 1876) p. 95.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ch. Hartknoch, Selectae dissertationes historicae de variis rebus Prussicis, p. 163 (published with his version of Düsburg’s Chronicon Prussiae, Frankfurt and Leipzig, 1679); Simon Grunau, Preussischer Chronik, ed. M. Perlbach, i. (Leipzig, 1876) p. 95.
806. W. Crooke, op. cit. i. 31-33.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. W. Crooke, ibid. i. 31-33.
807. W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 194 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk Lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 194 sq.
808. J. C. Nesfield, in Panjab Notes and Queries, ii. p. 12, § 77.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. C. Nesfield, in Panjab Notes and Queries, ii. p. 12, § 77.
809. Rigveda, iii. 29, translated by R. T. H. Griffith (Benares, 1889-1892), vol. ii. pp. 25-27; Satapatha Brâhmana, translated by J. Eggeling, part i. p. 389, note 3, part ii. pp. 90 sq., part v. pp. 68-74; Hymns of the Atharva-Veda, translated by M. Bloomfield, pp. 91, 97 sq., 334, 460; W. Caland, Altindisches Zauberritual, pp. 115 sq.; A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 40, 64-78, 183-185; H. Zimmer, Altindisches Leben, pp. 58, 59. The sami wood is sometimes identified with the Acacia Suma (Mimosa Suma); but the modern Bengalee name of Prosopis spicigera is shami or somi, which seems to be conclusive evidence of the identity of Prosopis spicigera with sami. The Prosopis spicigera is a deciduous thorny tree of moderate size, which grows in the arid zones of the Punjaub, Rajputana, Gujarat, Bundelcund, and the Deccan. The heart of the wood is of a purplish brown colour and extremely hard. It is especially valued for fuel, as it gives out much heat. See G. Watt, Dictionary of the Economic Products of India, s.v. “Prosopis spicigera.” For a reference to this work I am indebted to the kindness of the late Professor H. Marshall Ward.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rigveda, iii. 29, translated by R. T. H. Griffith (Benares, 1889-1892), vol. ii. pp. 25-27; Satapatha Brâhmana, translated by J. Eggeling, part i. p. 389, note 3, part ii. pp. 90 sq., part v. pp. 68-74; Hymns of the Atharva-Veda, translated by M. Bloomfield, pp. 91, 97 sq., 334, 460; W. Caland, Altindisches Zauberritual, pp. 115 sq.; A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 40, 64-78, 183-185; H. Zimmer, Altindisches Leben, pp. 58, 59. The sami wood is sometimes identified with the Acacia Suma (Mimosa Suma); however, the modern Bengali name for Prosopis spicigera is shami or somi, which strongly suggests that Prosopis spicigera is indeed the same as sami. The Prosopis spicigera is a moderately sized deciduous thorny tree that thrives in the arid regions of Punjab, Rajputana, Gujarat, Bundelkhand, and the Deccan. The heartwood is a purplish-brown color and very hard. It's especially prized for fuel because it generates a lot of heat. See G. Watt, Dictionary of the Economic Products of India, s.v. “Prosopis spicigera.” I would like to express my gratitude to the late Professor H. Marshall Ward for referencing this work.
810. A. Kuhn, op. cit. pp. 40, 66, 175.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Kuhn, op. cit. pp. 40, 66, 175.
811. Hymns of the Atharva-Veda, translated by M. Bloomfield, pp. 97 sq., 460; W. Caland, Altindisches Zauberritual, pp. 115 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Hymns of the Atharva-Veda, translated by M. Bloomfield, pp. 97 sq., 460; W. Caland, Altindisches Zauberritual, pp. 115 sq.
813. Rigveda, x. 95, translated by R. T. H. Griffith, Satapatha Brâhmana, translated by J. Eggeling, part v. pp. 68-74. Compare H. Oldenberg, Die Literatur des alten Indien (Stuttgart and Berlin, 1903), pp. 53-55. On the story see A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 71 sqq.; F. Max Müller Selected Essays on Language, Religion, and Mythology (London, 1881), i. 408 sqq.; Andrew Lang, Custom and Myth (London, 1884), pp. 64 sqq.; K. F. Pischel and Geldner, Vedische Studien, i. (Stuttgart, 1889), pp. 243-295. It belongs to the group of tales which describe the marriage of a human with an animal mate, of a mortal with a fairy, and often, though not always, their unhappy parting. The story seems to have its roots in totemism. See my Totemism and Exogamy, ii. 566 sqq. It will be illustrated more at length in a later part of The Golden Bough.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rigveda, x. 95, translated by R. T. H. Griffith, Satapatha Brâhmana, translated by J. Eggeling, part v. pp. 68-74. Compare H. Oldenberg, Die Literatur des alten Indien (Stuttgart and Berlin, 1903), pp. 53-55. For the story, see A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 71 sqq.; F. Max Müller, Selected Essays on Language, Religion, and Mythology (London, 1881), i. 408 sqq.; Andrew Lang, Custom and Myth (London, 1884), pp. 64 sqq.; K. F. Pischel and Geldner, Vedische Studien, i. (Stuttgart, 1889), pp. 243-295. It is part of a group of stories that describe the marriage between a human and an animal partner, or between a mortal and a supernatural being, often leading to their sad separation. The story seems to have origins in totemism. See my Totemism and Exogamy, ii. 566 sqq.. It will be discussed in more detail later in The Golden Bough.
814. Homer, Hymn to Mercury, 108-111 (where a line has been lost; see the note of Messrs. Allen and Sikes); Theophrastus, Histor. plant. v. 9. 6; id., De igne, ix. 64; Hesychius, s.v. στορεύς; Schol. on Apollonius Rhodius, Argon. i. 1184; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 208; Seneca, Nat. Quaest. ii. 22; A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 35-41; H. Blumner, Technologie und Terminologie der Gewerbe und Künste, ii. 354-356. Theophrastus gives the name of athragene to the plant which, next to or equally with ivy, makes the best board; he compares it to a vine. Pliny (l.c.) seems to have identified it with a species of wild vine. According to Sprengel, the athragene is the Clematis cirrhosa of Linnaeus, the French clématite à vrilles. See Dioscorides, ed. C. Sprengel, vol. ii. p. 641. As to the kinds of wood employed by the Romans in kindling fire we have no certain evidence, as Pliny and Seneca may have merely copied from Theophrastus.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Homer, Hymn to Mercury, 108-111 (where a line has been lost; see the note of Messrs. Allen and Sikes); Theophrastus, Histor. plant. v. 9. 6; id., De igne, ix. 64; Hesychius, s.v. στορεύς; Schol. on Apollonius Rhodius, Argon. i. 1184; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 208; Seneca, Nat. Quaest. ii. 22; A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 35-41; H. Blumner, Technologie und Terminologie der Gewerbe und Künste, ii. 354-356. Theophrastus names the plant athragene as the best for making boards, alongside or even better than ivy, comparing it to a vine. Pliny (l.c.) seems to have linked it to a type of wild vine. According to Sprengel, the athragene corresponds to Clematis cirrhosa as classified by Linnaeus, known in French as clématite à vrilles. See Dioscorides, ed. C. Sprengel, vol. ii. p. 641. There's no conclusive evidence regarding the types of wood used by the Romans to start fires, as Pliny and Seneca might have just copied from Theophrastus.
815. Pausanias, i. 31. 6, with my note.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, i. 31. 6, with my note.
816. E. H. Man, On the Aboriginal Inhabitants of the Andaman Islands (London, N.D.), p. 82. Mr. Man’s evidence is confirmed by a German traveller, Mr. Jagor, who says of the Andaman Islanders: “The fire must never go out. Here also I am again assured that the Andamanese have no means of making fire.” See Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, 1877, p. (54) (bound with Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, ix.). I regret that on this subject I did not question Mr. A. R. Brown, Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, who resided for about two years among the Andaman Islanders, studying their customs and beliefs. Mr. Brown is now (December 1910) in West Australia.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. H. Man, On the Aboriginal Inhabitants of the Andaman Islands (London, N.D.), p. 82. Mr. Man’s evidence is backed up by a German traveler, Mr. Jagor, who remarks about the Andaman Islanders: “The fire must never go out. Here too, I've been told that the Andamanese have no way of making fire.” See Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, 1877, p. (54) (bound with Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, ix.). I regret that I didn’t ask Mr. A. R. Brown, a Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, about this topic. He lived among the Andaman Islanders for about two years, studying their customs and beliefs. Mr. Brown is currently (December 1910) in West Australia.
817. N. von Miklucho-Maclay, “Ethnologische Bemerkungen über die Papuas der Maclay-Küste in Neu-Guinea,” Natuurkundig Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch Indie, xxxv. (1875), pp. 82, 83. Compare C. Hager, Kaiser Wilhelms-Land und der Bismarck-Archipel, p. 69; M. Krieger, Neu-Guinea, p. 153. The natives of the Maclay Coast are said to have traditions of a time when they were ignorant even of the use of fire; they ate fruits raw, which set up a disease of the gums, filling their mouths with blood; they had a special name for the disease. See N. von Miklucho-Maclay, in Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, 1882, p. (577) (bound with Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, xiv.). The reports of people living in ignorance of the use of fire have hitherto proved, on closer examination, to be fables. See E. B. Tylor, Researches into the Early History of Mankind, 3rd Ed., pp. 229 sqq. The latest repetition of the story that I know of is by an American naturalist, Mr. Titian R. Peale, who confirms the exploded statement that down to 1841 the natives of Bowditch Island had not seen fire. See The American Naturalist, xviii. (1884) pp. 229-232.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.N. von Miklucho-Maclay, “Ethnological Notes on the Papuans of the Maclay Coast in New Guinea,” Natuurkundig Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch Indie, xxxv. (1875), pp. 82, 83. Compare C. Hager, Kaiser Wilhelms-Land und der Bismarck-Archipel, p. 69; M. Krieger, Neu-Guinea, p. 153. The natives of the Maclay Coast are said to have stories from a time when they didn't even know how to use fire; they ate fruits raw, which caused a gum disease that filled their mouths with blood; they had a specific name for this disease. See N. von Miklucho-Maclay, in Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, 1882, p. (577) (bound with Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, xiv.). Reports of people living without knowledge of fire have, upon closer examination, turned out to be myths. See E. B. Tylor, Researches into the Early History of Mankind, 3rd Ed., pp. 229 sqq. The most recent retelling of this story that I know of is by an American naturalist, Mr. Titian R. Peale, who reiterates the discredited claim that the natives of Bowditch Island had not seen fire as of 1841. See The American Naturalist, xviii. (1884) pp. 229-232.
818. B. Hagen, Unter den Papuas (Wiesbaden, 1899), pp. 203 sq. Mr. Hagen’s account applies chiefly to the natives of Astrolabe Bay. He tells us that for the most part they now use Swedish matches.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.B. Hagen, Among the Papuans (Wiesbaden, 1899), pp. 203 sq. Mr. Hagen’s account mainly focuses on the locals of Astrolabe Bay. He notes that, for the most part, they now use Swedish matches.
819. G. Casati, Ten Years in Equatoria (London and New York, 1891), i. 157. Another writer says that these dwarfs “keep fire alight perpetually, starting it in some large tree, which goes on smouldering for months at a time” (Captain Guy Burrows, The Land of the Pigmies (London, 1898), p. 199).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Casati, Ten Years in Equatoria (London and New York, 1891), i. 157. Another writer notes that these dwarfs “keep a fire burning constantly, starting it in a large tree, which continues to smolder for months at a time” (Captain Guy Burrows, The Land of the Pigmies (London, 1898), p. 199).
820. F. Stuhlmann, Mit Emin Pascha ins Herz von Afrika (Berlin, 1894), pp. 451 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Stuhlmann, With Emin Pasha in the Heart of Africa (Berlin, 1894), pp. 451 sq.
821. Sir Harry H. Johnston, British Central Africa (London, 1897), p. 439; id., The Uganda Protectorate (London, 1902), ii. 540. If we may trust Diodorus Siculus (i. 13. 3), this was the origin of fire alleged by the Egyptian priests. Among the Winamwanga and Wiwa tribes of East Africa, to the south of Lake Tanganyika, “when lightning sets fire to a tree, all the fires in a village are put out, and fireplaces freshly plastered, while the head men take the fire to the chief, who prays over it. It is then sent to all his villages, the people of the villages rewarding his messengers.” See Dr. J. A. Chisholm, “Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Winamwanga and Wiwa,” Journal of the African Society, No. 36 (July 1910), p. 363. The Parsees ascribe peculiar sanctity to fire which has been obtained from a tree struck by lightning. See D. J. Karaka, History of the Modern Parsis (London, 1884), ii. 213. In Siam and Cambodia such fire is carefully preserved and used to light the funeral pyres of kings and others. See Pallegoix, Description du royaume Thai ou Siam, i. 248; J. Moura, Le Royaume du Cambodge, i. 360.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir Harry H. Johnston, British Central Africa (London, 1897), p. 439; id., The Uganda Protectorate (London, 1902), ii. 540. According to Diodorus Siculus (i. 13. 3), this was the origin of fire as claimed by the Egyptian priests. Among the Winamwanga and Wiwa tribes of East Africa, south of Lake Tanganyika, “when lightning strikes a tree and ignites it, all the fires in a village are extinguished, and the fireplaces are newly plastered, while the leaders bring the fire to the chief, who prays over it. It is then distributed to all his villages, with the villagers rewarding his messengers.” See Dr. J. A. Chisholm, “Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Winamwanga and Wiwa,” Journal of the African Society, No. 36 (July 1910), p. 363. The Parsees place a special sanctity on fire that comes from a tree struck by lightning. See D. J. Karaka, History of the Modern Parsis (London, 1884), ii. 213. In Siam and Cambodia, this fire is carefully preserved and used to ignite the funeral pyres of kings and others. See Pallegoix, Description du royaume Thai ou Siam, i. 248; J. Moura, Le Royaume du Cambodge, i. 360.
822. Oscar Peschel, Völkerkunde 6th Ed. (Leipsic, 1885), p. 138. Mr. Man thinks it likely that the Andaman Islanders got their fire from one of the two volcanoes which exist in their island (On the Aboriginal Inhabitants of the Andaman Islands, p. 82). The Creek Indians of North America have a tradition that some of their ancestors procured fire from a volcano. See A. S. Gatschet, A Migration Legend of the Creek Indians, ii. (St. Louis, 1888) p. 11 (43).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Oscar Peschel, Völkerkunde 6th Ed. (Leipsic, 1885), p. 138. Mr. Man thinks it's likely that the Andaman Islanders got their fire from one of the two volcanoes on their island (On the Aboriginal Inhabitants of the Andaman Islands, p. 82). The Creek Indians of North America have a tradition that some of their ancestors obtained fire from a volcano. See A. S. Gatschet, A Migration Legend of the Creek Indians, ii. (St. Louis, 1888) p. 11 (43).
823. O. Peschel, loc. cit. As to the fires of Baku see further, Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, p. 159.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.O. Peschel, loc. cit. For more information on the fires of Baku, see Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, p. 159.
824. R. Taylor, Te Ika A Maui, or New Zealand and its Inhabitants, 2nd Ed., p. 367; W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 194; A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 92, 102. Lucretius thought that the first fire was procured either from lightning or from the mutual friction of trees in a high wind (De rerum natura, v. 1091-1101). The latter source was preferred by Vitruvius (De architectura, ii. 1. 1).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Taylor, Te Ika A Maui, or New Zealand and its Inhabitants, 2nd Ed., p. 367; W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India (Westminster, 1896), ii. 194; A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 92, 102. Lucretius believed that the first fire came from either lightning or the friction of trees during a strong wind (De rerum natura, v. 1091-1101). The latter explanation was favored by Vitruvius (De architectura, ii. 1. 1).
825. Sir Harry H. Johnston, ll.cc. Professor K. von den Steinen conjectures that savages, who already possessed fire, and were wont to use tinder to nurse a smouldering brand into a blaze, may have accidentally discovered the mode of kindling fire in an attempt to make tinder by rubbing two dry sticks or reeds against each other. See K. von den Steinen, Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens, pp. 219-228.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir Harry H. Johnston, ll.cc. Professor K. von den Steinen suggests that primitive people, who already had fire and used tinder to turn a smoldering ember into a flame, might have accidentally figured out how to start a fire while trying to make tinder by rubbing two dry sticks or reeds together. See K. von den Steinen, Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens, pp. 219-228.
826. J. Dumont D’Urville, Voyage autour du monde et à la recherche de la Perouse, i. (Paris, 1832) pp. 95, 194; Scott Nind, “Description of the Natives of King George’s Sound,” Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, i. (1832) p. 26; E. J. Eyre, Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia, ii. 357; A. Oldfield, “The Aborigines of Australia,” Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London, N.S., iii. (1865) pp. 283 sq.; J. Dawson, Australian Aborigines, p. 15; Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xvii. (1845) pp. 76 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Dumont D’Urville, Voyage around the World and in Search of La Perouse, i. (Paris, 1832) pp. 95, 194; Scott Nind, “Description of the Natives of King George’s Sound,” Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, i. (1832) p. 26; E. J. Eyre, Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia, ii. 357; A. Oldfield, “The Aborigines of Australia,” Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London, N.S., iii. (1865) pp. 283 sq.; J. Dawson, Australian Aborigines, p. 15; Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xvii. (1845) pp. 76 sq.
827. R. Brough Smyth, The Aborigines of Victoria, i. 396.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Brough Smyth, The Aborigines of Victoria, i. 396.
828. R. Taylor, Te Ika A Maui, or New Zealand and its Inhabitants, 2nd Ed., p. 567. Other writers confirm the statement that the carrying of the fire-sticks is the special duty of the women. See W. Stanbridge, “On the Aborigines of Victoria,” Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London, N.S., i. (1861) p. 291; J. F. Mann, “Notes on the Aborigines of Australia,” Proceedings of the Geographical Society of Australasia, i. (1885) p. 29.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Taylor, Te Ika A Maui, or New Zealand and its Inhabitants, 2nd Ed., p. 567. Other authors support the claim that carrying fire-sticks is a specific responsibility of women. See W. Stanbridge, “On the Aborigines of Victoria,” Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London, N.S., i. (1861) p. 291; J. F. Mann, “Notes on the Aborigines of Australia,” Proceedings of the Geographical Society of Australasia, i. (1885) p. 29.
829. Melville, quoted by H. Ling Roth, The Aborigines of Tasmania (London, 1890), p. 97. It has sometimes been affirmed that the Tasmanians did not know how to kindle fire; but the evidence collected by Mr. Ling Roth (op. cit., pp. xii. sq., 96 sq.), proves that they were accustomed to light it both by the friction of wood and by striking flints together.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Melville, quoted by H. Ling Roth, The Aborigines of Tasmania (London, 1890), p. 97. It's sometimes said that the Tasmanians didn’t know how to start a fire; however, the evidence gathered by Mr. Ling Roth (op. cit., pp. xii. sq., 96 sq.) shows that they were able to light fires using both the friction of wood and by striking flints together.
830. Mr. Dove, quoted by James Bonwick, Daily Life and Origin of the Tasmanians, p. 20.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mr. Dove, referenced by James Bonwick, Daily Life and Origin of the Tasmanians, p. 20.
831. Wilfred Powell, Wanderings in a Wild Country (London, 1883), p. 196.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Wilfred Powell, Wanderings in a Wild Country (London, 1883), p. 196.
832. Captain J. Wilson, Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean (London, 1799), p. 357.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Captain J. Wilson, Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean (London, 1799), p. 357.
833. J. G. Wood, Natural History of Man, ii. 522; J. G. Garson, “On the Inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xv. (1886). p. 145; Mission scientifique du Cap Horn, 1882-1883, vii. (Paris, 1891) p. 345.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Wood, Natural History of Man, ii. 522; J. G. Garson, “On the Inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xv. (1886). p. 145; Mission scientifique du Cap Horn, 1882-1883, vii. (Paris, 1891) p. 345.
834. J. B. Ambrosetti, “Los Indios Caingua del alto Paraná (misiones),” Boletino del Instituto Geografico Argentino, xv. (1895) pp. 703 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. B. Ambrosetti, “The Caingua Indians of the Upper Paraná (Missions),” Bulletin of the Argentine Geographic Institute, xv. (1895) pp. 703 sq.
835. E. F. im Thurn, Among the Indians of Guiana, pp. 257 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. F. im Thurn, Among the Indians of Guiana, pp. 257 sq.
836. A. Widenmann, Die Kilimandscharo-Bevölkerung (Gotha, 1899), pp. 68 sq. (Petermann’s Mittheilungen: Ergänzungsheft, No. 129).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Widenmann, The Kilimanjaro Population (Gotha, 1899), pp. 68 sq. (Petermann’s Communications: Supplementary Issue, No. 129).
837. Sir Harry H. Johnston, British Central Africa (London, 1897), p. 438.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir Harry H. Johnston, British Central Africa (London, 1897), p. 438.
838. A. F. Mockler-Ferryman, Up the Niger (London, 1892), p. 37.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. F. Mockler-Ferryman, Up the Niger (London, 1892), p. 37.
839. Miss Mary H. Kingsley, Travels in West Africa, pp. 599 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Miss Mary H. Kingsley, Travels in West Africa, pp. 599 sq.
840. P. de Tournefort, Relation d’un voyage du Levant (Amsterdam, 1718), i. 93 (Lettre vi.); Sibthorp, in R. Walpole’s Memoirs relating to European and Asiatic Turkey (London, 1817), pp. 284 sq.; W. G. Clark, Peloponnesus (London, 1858), p. 111; J. T. Bent, The Cyclades (London, 1885), p. 365. The giant fennel (Ferula communis, L.) is still known in Greece by its ancient name, hardly modified (nartheka instead of narthex), though W. G. Clark says the modern name is kalami. Bent speaks of the plant as a reed, which is a mistake. The plant is described by Theophrastus (Histor. plant. vi. 2. 7 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. de Tournefort, Relation d’un voyage du Levant (Amsterdam, 1718), i. 93 (Lettre vi.); Sibthorp, in R. Walpole’s Memoirs relating to European and Asiatic Turkey (London, 1817), pp. 284 sq.; W. G. Clark, Peloponnesus (London, 1858), p. 111; J. T. Bent, The Cyclades (London, 1885), p. 365. The giant fennel (Ferula communis, L.) is still known in Greece by its ancient name, only slightly changed (nartheka instead of narthex), though W. G. Clark states the modern name is kalami. Bent refers to the plant as a reed, which is incorrect. The plant is described by Theophrastus (Histor. plant. vi. 2. 7 sq.).
841. Hesiod, Works and Days, 50-52; id., Theogony, 565-567; Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound, 107-111; Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, i. 7. 1; Hyginus, Fabulae, 144; id., Astronomica, ii. 15.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Hesiod, Works and Days, 50-52; id., Theogony, 565-567; Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound, 107-111; Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, i. 7. 1; Hyginus, Fabulae, 144; id., Astronomica, ii. 15.
842. See my article, “The Prytaneum, the Temple of Vesta, the Vestals, Perpetual Fires,” Journal of Philology, xiv. (1885) pp. 169-171.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Check out my article, “The Prytaneum, the Temple of Vesta, the Vestals, Perpetual Fires,” Journal of Philology, xiv. (1885) pp. 169-171.
843. Arnobius, Adversus nationes, ii. 67.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Arnobius, Against the Nations, ii. 67.
844. See my article, “The Prytaneum, the Temple of Vesta, the Vestals, Perpetual Fires,” Journal of Philology, xiv. (1885) pp. 145 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Check out my article, “The Prytaneum, the Temple of Vesta, the Vestals, Perpetual Fires,” Journal of Philology, xiv. (1885) pp. 145 sqq.
845. G. Turner, Nineteen Years in Polynesia (London, 1861), p. 326.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Turner, Nineteen Years in Polynesia (London, 1861), p. 326.
846. Ph. Paulitschke, Ethnographie Nordost-Afrikas, die materielle Cultur der Danâkil, Galla und Somâl (Berlin, 1893), p. 145.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ph. Paulitschke, Ethnography of Northeast Africa, the Material Culture of the Danakil, Galla, and Somali (Berlin, 1893), p. 145.
847. J. B. Labat, Relation historique de l’Éthiopie Occidentale, i. 256 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. B. Labat, Historical Account of Western Ethiopia, i. 256 sq.
848. J. Roscoe, “Further Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) pp. 43, 51 sq.; id., in a letter to me dated Mengo, Uganda, 3rd August 1904.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Roscoe, “Additional Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) pp. 43, 51 sq.; id., in a letter to me dated Mengo, Uganda, August 3, 1904.
849. W. G. Browne, Travels in Africa, Egypt, and Syria (London, 1799), p. 306.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. G. Browne, Travels in Africa, Egypt, and Syria (London, 1799), p. 306.
850. J. J. Monteiro, Angola and the River Congo (London, 1875), ii. 167.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. J. Monteiro, Angola and the River Congo (London, 1875), ii. 167.
851. P. Pogge, Im Reiche des Muata Jamwo (Berlin, 1880), p. 234.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Pogge, In the Realm of Muata Jamwo (Berlin, 1880), p. 234.
852. A. Bastian, Die Völker des östlichen Asien, iii. 515 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Bastian, The Peoples of East Asia, iii. 515 sq.
853. Du Pratz, History of Louisiana (London, 1774), pp. 330-334, 346 sq., 351-358; Charlevoix, Histoire de la Nouvelle France, vi. 172 sqq.; Lafitau, Mœurs des sauvages Ameriquains, i. 167 sq.; Lettres édifiantes et curieuses, Nouvelle Édition, vii. (Paris, 1781) pp. 7-16 (reprinted in Recueil de voyages au nord, ix. Amsterdam, 1737, pp. 3-13); “Relation de la Louisianne,” Recueil de voyages au Nord, v. (Amsterdam, 1734) pp. 23 sq.; Bossu, Nouveaux Voyages aux Indes Occidentales (Paris, 1768), i. 42-44; Chateaubriand, Voyage en Amérique (Paris, 1870), pp. 227 sqq.; H. R. Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, v. 68. The accounts differ from each other in some details. Thus Du Pratz speaks as if there were only two fire-temples in the country, whereas the writer in the Lettres édifiantes says that there were eleven villages each with its fire-temple, and that formerly there had been sixty villages and temples. The account in the text is based mainly on the authority of Du Pratz, who lived among the Natchez on terms of intimacy for eight years, from the end of 1718 to 1726.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Du Pratz, History of Louisiana (London, 1774), pp. 330-334, 346 sq., 351-358; Charlevoix, Histoire de la Nouvelle France, vi. 172 sqq.; Lafitau, Mœurs des sauvages Ameriquains, i. 167 sq.; Lettres édifiantes et curieuses, Nouvelle Édition, vii. (Paris, 1781) pp. 7-16 (reprinted in Recueil de voyages au nord, ix. Amsterdam, 1737, pp. 3-13); “Relation de la Louisianne,” Recueil de voyages au Nord, v. (Amsterdam, 1734) pp. 23 sq.; Bossu, Nouveaux Voyages aux Indes Occidentales (Paris, 1768), i. 42-44; Chateaubriand, Voyage en Amérique (Paris, 1870), pp. 227 sqq.; H. R. Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, v. 68. The accounts differ in some details. For example, Du Pratz suggests there were only two fire temples in the area, while the writer in the Lettres édifiantes states that there were eleven villages, each with its own fire temple, and that there had previously been sixty villages and temples. The information in this text mainly relies on Du Pratz's authority, who lived closely with the Natchez for eight years, from late 1718 to 1726.
854. Hennepin, Nouvelle Découverte d’un très grand pays situé dans l’Amérique (Utrecht, 1697), p. 306.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Hennepin, New Discovery of a Very Large Country Located in America (Utrecht, 1697), p. 306.
855. Xenophon, Cyropaedia, viii. 3. 12; Ammianus Marcellinus, xxiii. 6. 34; Quintus Curtius, iii. 3. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Xenophon, Cyropaedia, viii. 3. 12; Ammianus Marcellinus, xxiii. 6. 34; Quintus Curtius, iii. 3. 7.
856. Dio Cassius, lxxi. 35. 5; Herodian, i. 8. 4, i. 16. 4, ii. 3. 2, ii. 8. 6, vii. 1. 9, vii. 6. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dio Cassius, lxxi. 35. 5; Herodian, i. 8. 4, i. 16. 4, ii. 3. 2, ii. 8. 6, vii. 1. 9, vii. 6. 2.
857. H. Schinz, Deutsch-Südwest-Afrika, p. 320.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Schinz, German South West Africa, p. 320.
858. O. Dapper, Description de l’Afrique (Amsterdam, 1686), p. 392.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.O. Dapper, Description de l’Afrique (Amsterdam, 1686), p. 392.
859. O. Dapper, op. cit. p. 400.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. O. Dapper, same source p. 400.
860. Quintus Curtius, v. 2. 7. Curtius represents this as a signal adopted by Alexander, because the sound of the bugle was lost in the trampling and hum of the great multitude. But this maybe merely the historian’s interpretation of an old custom.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Quintus Curtius, v. 2. 7. Curtius describes this as a signal used by Alexander because the sound of the bugle got drowned out by the noise and commotion of the large crowd. However, this might just be the historian's take on an old tradition.
861. Xenophon, Respublica Lacedaemoniorum, xiii. 2 sq.; Nicolaus Damascenus, quoted by Stobaeus, Florilegium, xliv. 41 (vol. ii. p. 188 ed. Meineke); Hesychius, s.v. πυρσοφόρος.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Xenophon, Respublica Lacedaemoniorum, xiii. 2 sq.; Nicolaus Damascenus, quoted by Stobaeus, Florilegium, xliv. 41 (vol. ii. p. 188 ed. Meineke); Hesychius, s.v. πυρσοφόρος.
862. Herodotus, iv. 68.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Herodotus, IV. 68.
863. Aeschylus, Choëph. 604 sqq.; Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, i. 8. 2 sq.; Diodorus Siculus, iv. 34. 6 sq.; Ovid, Metamorph. viii. 445 sqq.; Hyginus, Fab. 171 and 174.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aeschylus, Choëph. 604 sqq.; Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, i. 8. 2 sq.; Diodorus Siculus, iv. 34. 6 sq.; Ovid, Metamorph. viii. 445 sqq.; Hyginus, Fab. 171 and 174.
864. Servius, on Virgil, Aen. x. 228.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Servius, on Virgil, Aeneid x. 228.
865. Le P. H. Geurtjens, “Le Cérémonial des Voyages aux Îles Keij,” Anthropos, v. (1910) pp. 337 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Le P. H. Geurtjens, “The Ceremonial of Travels to the Keij Islands,” Anthropos, v. (1910) pp. 337 sq.
866. J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 237, 321; C. Julian, in Daremberg et Saglio, Dictionnaire des antiquités grecques et romaines, ii. 1173. As to Vesta and the Vestals, see above, vol. i. pp. 13 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Marquardt, Roman State Administration, iii. 2nd Ed., 237, 321; C. Julian, in Daremberg et Saglio, Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities, ii. 1173. Regarding Vesta and the Vestals, see above, vol. i. pp. 13 sq.
867. C. Julian, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. C. Julian, l.c.
870. Diodorus Siculus, xvii. 114.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Diodorus Siculus, 17.114.
871. Thus in some African tribes the household fire is put out after a death, and afterwards relit by the friction of sticks (Sir H. H. Johnston, British Central Africa, p. 439; L. Concradt, “Die Ngumbu in Südkamerun,” Globus, lxxxi, (1902) p. 352). In Laos the fire on the hearth is extinguished after a death and the ashes are scattered; afterwards a new fire is obtained from a neighbour (Tournier, Notice sur le Laos français, p. 68). A custom of the same sort is observed in Burma, but there the new fire must be bought (C. J. F. S. Forbes, British Burma, p. 94). Among the Miris of Assam the new fire is made by the widow or widower (W. H. Furness, in Journal of the Anthrop. Institute, xxxii. (1902) p. 462). In Armenia it is made by flint and steel (M. Abeghian, Der armenische Volksglaube, p. 71). In Argos fire was extinguished after a death, and fresh fire obtained from a neighbour (Plutarch, Quaest. Graec. 24). In the Highlands of Scotland all fires were put out in a house where there was a corpse (Pennant’s “Tour in Scotland,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 49). Amongst the Bogos of East Africa no fire may be lit in a house after a death until the body has been carried out (W. Munzinger, Sitten und Recht der Bogos, p. 67). In the Pelew Islands, when a death has taken place, fire is transferred from the house to a shed erected beside it (J. S. Kubary, “Die Todtenbestattung auf den Pelau-Inseln,” Original-Mittheilungen aus der Ethnologischen Abtheilung der Königlichen Museen zu Berlin, i. 7). In the Marquesas Islands fires were extinguished after a death (Vincendon-Dumoulin et Desgraz, Iles Marquises, p. 251). Among the Indians of Peru and the Moors of Algiers no fire might be lighted for several days in a house where a death had occurred (Cieza de Leon, Travels, Markham’s translation, p. 366; Dapper, Description de l’Afrique, p. 176). The same custom is reported of the Mohammedans of India (Mandelsloe, in J. Harris’s Voyages and Travels, i. (London, 1744) p. 770). In the East Indian island of Wetter no fire may burn in a house for three days after a death, and according to Bastian the reason is the one given in the text, to wit, a fear that the ghost might fall into it and hurt himself (A. Bastian, Indonesien, ii. 60). For more evidence, see my article “On certain Burial Customs,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xv. (1886) p. 90.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.In some African tribes, the household fire is extinguished after a death and then relit by rubbing sticks together (Sir H. H. Johnston, British Central Africa, p. 439; L. Concradt, “Die Ngumbu in Südkamerun,” Globus, lxxxi, (1902) p. 352). In Laos, the fire on the hearth is put out after a death, and the ashes are scattered; a new fire is then obtained from a neighbor (Tournier, Notice sur le Laos français, p. 68). A similar custom is observed in Burma, where the new fire must be purchased (C. J. F. S. Forbes, British Burma, p. 94). Among the Miris of Assam, the new fire is made by the widow or widower (W. H. Furness, in Journal of the Anthrop. Institute, xxxii. (1902) p. 462). In Armenia, it is created using flint and steel (M. Abeghian, Der armenische Volksglaube, p. 71). In Argos, fire was put out after a death, and fresh fire was obtained from a neighbor (Plutarch, Quaest. Graec. 24). In the Highlands of Scotland, all fires were extinguished in a house where there was a corpse (Pennant’s “Tour in Scotland,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 49). Among the Bogos of East Africa, no fire may be lit in a house after a death until the body has been removed (W. Munzinger, Sitten und Recht der Bogos, p. 67). In the Pelew Islands, when someone dies, fire is moved from the house to a shed built next to it (J. S. Kubary, “Die Todtenbestattung auf den Pelau-Inseln,” Original-Mittheilungen aus der Ethnologischen Abtheilung der Königlichen Museen zu Berlin, i. 7). In the Marquesas Islands, fires were put out after a death (Vincendon-Dumoulin et Desgraz, Iles Marquises, p. 251). Among the Indians of Peru and the Moors of Algiers, no fire could be lit for several days in a house where a death had occurred (Cieza de Leon, Travels, Markham’s translation, p. 366; Dapper, Description de l’Afrique, p. 176). The same practice is reported among the Mohammedans of India (Mandelsloe, in J. Harris’s Voyages and Travels, i. (London, 1744) p. 770). In the East Indian island of Wetter, no fire may burn in a house for three days after a death, and according to Bastian, the reason is fear that the ghost might fall into it and get hurt (A. Bastian, Indonesien, ii. 60). For more evidence, see my article “On certain Burial Customs,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xv. (1886) p. 90.
872. For the list of the Alban kings see Livy, i. 3. 5-11; Ovid, Fasti, iv. 39-56; id., Metam. xiv. 609 sqq.; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 70 sq.; Eusebius, Chronic. bk. i. vol. i. coll. 273, 275, 285, 287, 289, 291, ed. A. Schoene; Diodorus Siculus, vii. 3rd ed. L. Dindorf; Sextus Aurelius Victor, Origo gentis Romanae, 17-19; Zonaras, Annales, vii. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For the list of the Alban kings, check out Livy, i. 3. 5-11; Ovid, Fasti, iv. 39-56; id., Metam. xiv. 609 sqq.; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquit. Rom. i. 70 sq.; Eusebius, Chronic. bk. i. vol. i. coll. 273, 275, 285, 287, 289, 291, ed. A. Schoene; Diodorus Siculus, vii. 3rd ed. L. Dindorf; Sextus Aurelius Victor, Origo gentis Romanae, 17-19; Zonaras, Annales, vii. 1.
873. See B. G. Niebuhr, History of Rome, i. 205-207; A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 339, 342-345. However, Niebuhr admits that some of the names may have been taken from older legends.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See B. G. Niebuhr, History of Rome, i. 205-207; A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 339, 342-345. However, Niebuhr acknowledges that some of the names might have been derived from older legends.
874. H. M. Stanley, Through the Dark Continent (London, 1878), i. 380; C. T. Wilson and R. W. Felkin, Uganda and the Egyptian Soudan (London, 1882), i. 197; Fr. Stuhlman, Mit Emin Pascha ins Herz von Afrika (Berlin, 1894), pp. 192 sq.; J. Roscoe, “Farther Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) p. 25, with plates i. and ii.; Sir Harry Johnston, The Uganda Protectorate, ii. 681 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. M. Stanley, Through the Dark Continent (London, 1878), i. 380; C. T. Wilson and R. W. Felkin, Uganda and the Egyptian Soudan (London, 1882), i. 197; Fr. Stuhlman, Mit Emin Pascha ins Herz von Afrika (Berlin, 1894), pp. 192 sq.; J. Roscoe, “Farther Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) p. 25, with plates i. and ii.; Sir Harry Johnston, The Uganda Protectorate, ii. 681 sq.
875. Romulus and Tatius reigned for a time together; after Romulus the kings were, in order of succession, Numa Pompilius, Tullus Hostilius, Ancus Marcius, the elder Tarquin, Servius Tullius, and Tarquin the Proud.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Romulus and Tatius ruled together for a while; after Romulus, the kings that followed, in order, were Numa Pompilius, Tullus Hostilius, Ancus Marcius, the elder Tarquin, Servius Tullius, and Tarquin the Proud.
876. See A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 579 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See A. Schwegler, Römische Geschichte, i. 579 sq.
877. According to one account, Romulus had a son and a daughter (Plutarch, Romulus, 14). Some held that Numa had four sons (Plutarch, Numa, 21). Ancus Marcius left two sons (Livy, i. 35. 1, i. 40; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iii. 72 sq., iv. 34. 3). Tarquin the Elder left two sons or grandsons (Livy, i. 46; Dionysius Halic., Ant. Rom. iv. 6 sq. iv. 28).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.According to one account, Romulus had a son and a daughter (Plutarch, Romulus, 14). Some believed that Numa had four sons (Plutarch, Numa, 21). Ancus Marcius had two sons (Livy, i. 35. 1, i. 40; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iii. 72 sq., iv. 34. 3). Tarquin the Elder had two sons or grandsons (Livy, i. 46; Dionysius Halic., Ant. Rom. iv. 6 sq. iv. 28).
878. Pompilia, the mother of Ancus Marcius, was a daughter of Numa. See Cicero, De re publica, ii. 18. 33; Livy, i. 32. 1; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 76. 5, iii. 35. 3, iii. 36. 2; Plutarch, Numa, 21.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pompilia, the mother of Ancus Marcius, was the daughter of Numa. See Cicero, De re publica, ii. 18. 33; Livy, i. 32. 1; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 76. 5, iii. 35. 3, iii. 36. 2; Plutarch, Numa, 21.
879. Numa married Tatia, the daughter of Tatius (Plutarch, Numa, 3 and 21); Servius Tullius married the daughter of the elder Tarquin (Livy, i. 39. 4); and Tarquin the Proud married Tullia the daughter of Servius Tullius (Livy, i. 42. 1, i. 46. 5).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Numa married Tatia, the daughter of Tatius (Plutarch, Numa, 3 and 21); Servius Tullius married the daughter of the elder Tarquin (Livy, i. 39. 4); and Tarquin the Proud married Tullia, the daughter of Servius Tullius (Livy, i. 42. 1, i. 46. 5).
880. Numa was a Sabine from Cures (Livy, i. 18; Plutarch, Numa, 3; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 58); Servius Tullius, according to the common account, was the son of Ocrisia, a slave woman of Corniculum (Livy, i. 39. 5; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iv. 1.), but according to another account he was an Etruscan (see above, p. 196 note); and Tarquin the Proud was a son of the elder Tarquin, who was an Etruscan from Tarquinii (Livy, i. 34; Cicero, De re publica, ii. 19 sq., §§ 34 sq.). The foreign birth of their kings naturally struck the Romans themselves. See the speech put by Livy (i. 35. 3), in the mouth of the elder Tarquin: “Se non rem novam petere, quippe qui non primus, quod quisquam indignari mirarive posset, sed tertius Romae peregrinus regnum adfectet; et Tatium non ex peregrino solum sed etiam ex hoste regem factum, et Numam ignarum urbis non petentem in regnum ultro accitum: se, ex quo sui potens fuerit, Romam cum conjuge ac fortunis omnibus commigrasse.” And see a passage in a speech actually spoken by the Emperor Claudius: “Quondam reges hanc tenuere urbem, nec tamen domesticis successoribus eam tradere contigit. Supervenere alieni et quidem externi, ut Numa Romulo successerit ex Sabinis veniens, vicinus quidem sed tunec externus,” etc. The speech is engraved on bronze tablets found at Lyons. See Tacitus, ed. Baiter and Orelli, i. 2nd Ed., p. 342.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Numa was a Sabine from Cures (Livy, i. 18; Plutarch, Numa, 3; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 58); Servius Tullius, according to the common account, was the son of Ocrisia, a slave woman from Corniculum (Livy, i. 39. 5; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iv. 1.), but according to another account, he was an Etruscan (see above, p. 196 note); and Tarquin the Proud was the son of the elder Tarquin, who was an Etruscan from Tarquinii (Livy, i. 34; Cicero, De re publica, ii. 19 sq., §§ 34 sq.). The foreign origins of their kings naturally surprised the Romans. See the speech attributed to Livy (i. 35. 3), spoken by the elder Tarquin: “I am not seeking anything unusual, as I am not the first who could provoke indignation or wonder, but the third foreigner to aspire to the throne of Rome; and Tatium was made king not just from a foreign land but even from an enemy, and Numa was called to the throne without seeking it, taken by force into kingship: since I have been powerful, I migrated to Rome with my family and all my possessions.” And note a passage from a speech actually given by Emperor Claudius: “Once kings held this city, yet it was not passed down to local successors. Outsiders, in fact, foreigners arrived, just as Numa succeeded Romulus coming from the Sabines, indeed a neighbor but still a foreigner,” etc. The speech is engraved on bronze tablets found at Lyons. See Tacitus, ed. Baiter and Orelli, i. 2nd Ed., p. 342.
881. “In Ceylon, where the higher and lower polyandry co-exist, marriage is of two sorts—Deega or Beena—according as the wife goes to live in the house and village of her husbands, or as the husband or husbands come to live with her in or near the house of her birth” (J. F. McLennan, Studies in Ancient History (London, 1886), p. 101).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“In Ceylon, where both higher and lower polyandry exist, there are two types of marriage—Deega or Beena—depending on whether the wife moves to live in the home and village of her husbands, or whether the husband or husbands come to live with her at or near her birthplace” (J. F. McLennan, Studies in Ancient History (London, 1886), p. 101).
882. The system of mother-kin, that is, of tracing descent through females instead of through males, is often called the matriarchate. But this term is inappropriate and misleading, as it implies that under the system in question the women govern the men. Even when the so-called matriarchate regulates the descent of the kingdom, this does not mean that the women of the royal family reign; it only means that they are the channel through which the kingship is transmitted to their husbands or sons.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The system of mother-kin, meaning tracing ancestry through females instead of males, is often referred to as the matriarchate. However, this term is misleading as it suggests that women govern men in this system. Even when this so-called matriarchate controls the lineage of the kingdom, it doesn't mean that the women in the royal family rule; it simply means that they are the means through which kingship is passed on to their husbands or sons.
883. Ancient writers repeatedly speak of the uncertainty as to the fathers of the Roman kings. See Livy, i. 4. 2; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 2. 3; Cicero, De re publica, ii. 18. 33; Seneca, Epist. cviii. 30; Aelian, Var. Hist. xiv. 36.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ancient writers often mention the uncertainty surrounding the identities of the fathers of the Roman kings. See Livy, i. 4. 2; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. ii. 2. 3; Cicero, De re publica, ii. 18. 33; Seneca, Epist. cviii. 30; Aelian, Var. Hist. xiv. 36.
884. Ovid, Fasti, vi. 773-784; Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 17. Compare L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., ii. 180 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, vi. 773-784; Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 17. Compare L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., ii. 180 sq.
885. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 266 sqq., 328 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 266 and following, 328 and following
886. See Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 203 sqq.; The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 318 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 203 sqq.; The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 318 sq.
887. Plutarch, Numa, 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Plutarch, Numa, 3.
888. T. E. Bowdich, Mission from Cape Coast Castle to Ashantee, New Edition (London, 1873), pp. 185, 204 sq.; A. B. Ellis, The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast, pp. 287, 297 sq.; id., The Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, p. 187.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.T. E. Bowdich, Mission from Cape Coast Castle to Ashantee, New Edition (London, 1873), pp. 185, 204 sq.; A. B. Ellis, The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast, pp. 287, 297 sq.; id., The Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, p. 187.
889. J. Roscoe, “Further Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) pp. 36, 67. In Benin “the legitimate daughters of a king did not marry any one, but bestowed their favours as they pleased.” (Mr. C. Punch, in H. Ling Roth’s Great Benin (Halifax, England, 1903), p. 37).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Roscoe, “Further Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) pp. 36, 67. In Benin, “the legitimate daughters of a king did not marry anyone, but chose to share their affections as they saw fit.” (Mr. C. Punch, in H. Ling Roth’s Great Benin (Halifax, England, 1903), p. 37).
890. C. T. Wilson and R. W. Felkin, Uganda and the Egyptian Soudan (London, 1882), i. 200; J. Roscoe, “Further Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) p. 67.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. T. Wilson and R. W. Felkin, Uganda and the Egyptian Soudan (London, 1882), i. 200; J. Roscoe, “Further Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Baganda,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxii. (1902) p. 67.
891. J. Roscoe, op. cit. pp. 27, 62. Mr. Roscoe says: “The royal family traces its pedigree through the maternal clan, but the nation through the paternal clan.” But he here refers to the descent of the totem only. That the throne descends from father to son is proved by the genealogical tables which he gives (Plates I. and II.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Roscoe, op. cit. pp. 27, 62. Mr. Roscoe states: “The royal family traces its lineage through the mother’s side, but the nation through the father’s side.” However, he is only talking about the descent of the totem here. The fact that the throne passes from father to son is supported by the genealogical tables he provides (Plates I. and II.).
892. Proyart’s “History of Loango,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, xvi. 570, 579 sq.; L. Degrandpré, Voyage à la côte occidentale d’Afrique (Paris, 1801), pp. 110-114; A. Bastian, Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango Küste, i. 197 sqq. Time seems not to have mitigated the lot of these unhappy prince consorts. See R. E. Dennett, At the Back of the Black Man’s Mind (London, 1906), pp. 36 sq., 134. Mr. Dennett says that the husband of a princess is virtually her slave and may be put to death by her. All the sisters of the King of Loango enjoy these arbitrary rights over their husbands, and the offspring of any of them may become king.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Proyart’s “History of Loango,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, xvi. 570, 579 sq.; L. Degrandpré, Voyage à la côte occidentale d’Afrique (Paris, 1801), pp. 110-114; A. Bastian, Die deutsche Expedition an der Loango Küste, i. 197 sqq. Time doesn’t seem to have improved the situation for these unfortunate prince consorts. See R. E. Dennett, At the Back of the Black Man’s Mind (London, 1906), pp. 36 sq., 134. Mr. Dennett states that the husband of a princess is essentially her slave and can be put to death by her. All the sisters of the King of Loango have these arbitrary rights over their husbands, and any child born to them may become king.
893. Father Guillemé, “Au Bengouéolo,” Missions Catholiques, xxxiv. (1902) p. 16. The writer visited the state and had an interview with the queen, a woman of gigantic stature, wearing many amulets.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Father Guillemé, “Au Bengouéolo,” Missions Catholiques, xxxiv. (1902) p. 16. The author traveled to the state and met with the queen, a tall woman adorned with numerous amulets.
894. Pausanias, i. 2. 6.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pausanias, 1.2.6.
895. Pausanias, ii. 29. 4. I have to thank Mr. H. M. Chadwick for pointing out the following Greek and Swedish parallels to what I conceive to have been the Latin practice.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, ii. 29. 4. I want to thank Mr. H. M. Chadwick for highlighting the following Greek and Swedish parallels to what I believe was the Latin practice.
896. Diodorus Siculus, iv. 72. 7. According to Apollodorus (iii. 12. 7), Cychreus, King of Salamis, died childless, and bequeathed his kingdom to Telamon.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Diodorus Siculus, iv. 72. 7. According to Apollodorus (iii. 12. 7), Cychreus, the King of Salamis, died without any children and left his kingdom to Telamon.
897. J. Tzetzes, Schol. on Lycophron, 450. Compare Pausanias, ii. 29. 4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Tzetzes, Schol. on Lycophron, 450. Compare Pausanias, ii. 29. 4.
898. Apollodorus, iii. 13. 1. According to Diodorus Siculus (iv. 72. 6), the king of Phthia was childless, and bequeathed his kingdom to Peleus.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Apollodorus, iii. 13. 1. According to Diodorus Siculus (iv. 72. 6), the king of Phthia had no children and passed his kingdom on to Peleus.
899. Apollodorus, iii. 13. 8; Hyginus, Fabulae, 96.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Apollodorus, iii. 13. 8; Hyginus, Fabulae, 96.
900. Pausanias, i. 11. 1 sq.; Justin, xvii. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, i. 11. 1 sq.; Justin, xvii. 3.
901. Apollodorus, i. 8. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Apollodorus, Book 1, Chapter 8, Section 5.
902. Antoninus Liberalis, Transform. 37; Ovid, Metam. xiv. 459 sq., 510 sq. Compare Virgil, Aen. xi. 243 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Antoninus Liberalis, Transform. 37; Ovid, Metam. xiv. 459 sq., 510 sq. Compare Virgil, Aen. xi. 243 sqq.
903. Diodorus, iv. 73; Hyginus, Fabulae, 82-84; Servius, on Virgil, Georg. iii. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Diodorus, iv. 73; Hyginus, Fabulae, 82-84; Servius, on Virgil, Georg. iii. 7.
904. Thucydides, i. 9; Strabo, viii. 6. 19, p. 377.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Thucydides, i. 9; Strabo, viii. 6. 19, p. 377.
905. Apollodorus, iii. 10. 8.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Apollodorus, III.10.8.
906. Schol. on Euripides, Orestes, 46; Pindar, Pyth. xi. 31 sq.; Pausanias, iii. 19. 6.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Schol. on Euripides, Orestes, 46; Pindar, Pyth. xi. 31 sq.; Pausanias, iii. 19. 6.
907. H. M. Chadwick, The Origin of the English Nation (Cambridge, 1907), pp. 332 sq. In treating of the succession to the kingdom in Scandinavia, the late K. Maurer, one of the highest authorities on old Norse law, also remarked that “some ancient authorities (Quellenberichte) profess to know of a certain right of succession accorded to women, in virtue of which under certain circumstances, though they could not themselves succeed to the kingdom, they nevertheless could convey it to their husbands.” And he cites a number of instances, how one king (Eysteinn Halfdanarson) succeeded his father-in-law (Eirikr Agnarsson) on the throne; how another (Gudrodr Halfdanarson) received with his wife Alfhildr a portion of her father’s kingdom; and so on. See K. Maurer, Vorlesungen über altnordische Rechtsgeschichte, i. (Leipsic, 1907) pp. 233 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. M. Chadwick, The Origin of the English Nation (Cambridge, 1907), pp. 332 sq. When discussing the succession to the throne in Scandinavia, the late K. Maurer, a leading expert on ancient Norse law, noted that “some ancient sources (Quellenberichte) claim to know of a certain right of succession for women, which allows them, under specific circumstances, to pass on the kingdom to their husbands, even if they themselves cannot inherit it.” He provides several examples, including how one king (Eysteinn Halfdanarson) succeeded his father-in-law (Eirikr Agnarsson) as king; how another (Gudrodr Halfdanarson) received a share of his wife Alfhildr's father's kingdom; and so forth. See K. Maurer, Vorlesungen über altnordische Rechtsgeschichte, i. (Leipsic, 1907) pp. 233 sq.
908. G. W. Dasent, Popular Tales from the Norse, pp. 131 sqq.; S. Grundtvig, Dänische Volksmärchen, First Series (Leipsic, 1878), pp. 285 sqq. (Leo’s German translation); Cavallius und Stephens, Schwedische Volkssagen und Märchen, No. 4, pp. 62 sqq. (Oberleitner’s German translation); Grimm, Household Tales, No. 60; Kuhn und Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche, pp. 340 sqq.; J. W. Wolf, Deutsche Hausmärchen, pp. 372 sqq.; Philo vom Walde, Schlesien in Sage und Brauch, pp. 81 sqq.; I. V. Zingerle, Kinder- und Hausmärchen aus Tirol, No. 8, pp. 35 sqq. No. 35, pp. 178 sqq.; J. Haltrich, Deutsche Volksmärchen aus dem Sachsenlande in Siebenbürgen, 4th ed., No. 15, pp. 103 sqq.; J. F. Campbell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands, No. 4, vol. i. pp. 77 sqq.; A. Schleicher, Litauische Märchen, Sprichwörte, Rätsel und Lieder, pp. 57 sqq.; A. Leskien und K. Brugmann, Litauische Volkslieder und Märchen, No. 14, pp. 404 sqq.; Basile, Pentamerone, First day, seventh tale, vol. i. pp. 97 sqq. (Liebrecht’s German translation); E. Legrand, Contes populaires grecques, pp. 169 sqq.; J. G. von Hahn, Griechische und albanesische Märchen, No. 98, vol. ii. pp. 114 sq.; A. und A. Schott, Walachische Maehrchen, No. 10, pp. 140 sqq.; W. Webster, Basque Legends, pp. 36-38; A. Schiefner, Awarische Texte (St. Petersburg, 1873), No. 2, pp. 21 sqq.; J. Rivière, Contes populaires de la Kabylie, pp. 195-197.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. W. Dasent, Popular Tales from the Norse, pp. 131 sqq.; S. Grundtvig, Danish Folk Tales, First Series (Leipzig, 1878), pp. 285 sqq. (Leo’s German translation); Cavallius and Stephens, Swedish Folk Legends and Tales, No. 4, pp. 62 sqq. (Oberleitner’s German translation); Grimm, Household Tales, No. 60; Kuhn and Schwartz, Northern German Legends, Tales, and Customs, pp. 340 sqq.; J. W. Wolf, German Household Tales, pp. 372 sqq.; Philo vom Walde, Silesia in Legend and Tradition, pp. 81 sqq.; I. V. Zingerle, Children's and Household Tales from Tyrol, No. 8, pp. 35 sqq., No. 35, pp. 178 sqq.; J. Haltrich, German Folk Tales from Saxony in Transylvania, 4th ed., No. 15, pp. 103 sqq.; J. F. Campbell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands, No. 4, vol. i. pp. 77 sqq.; A. Schleicher, Lithuanian Tales, Proverbs, Riddles, and Songs, pp. 57 sqq.; A. Leskien and K. Brugmann, Lithuanian Folk Songs and Tales, No. 14, pp. 404 sqq.; Basile, Pentamerone, First day, seventh tale, vol. i. pp. 97 sqq. (Liebrecht’s German translation); E. Legrand, Greek Popular Tales, pp. 169 sqq.; J. G. von Hahn, Greek and Albanian Tales, No. 98, vol. ii. pp. 114 sq.; A. and A. Schott, Wallachian Tales, No. 10, pp. 140 sqq.; W. Webster, Basque Legends, pp. 36-38; A. Schiefner, Avar Texts (St. Petersburg, 1873), No. 2, pp. 21 sqq.; J. Rivière, Popular Tales from Kabylie, pp. 195-197.
909. Saxo Grammaticus, Historia Danica, bk. iv. p. 126 (Elton’s translation). The passage occurs on p. 158 of P. E. Müller’s edition of Saxo.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Saxo Grammaticus, Historia Danica, bk. iv. p. 126 (Elton’s translation). The passage can be found on p. 158 of P. E. Müller’s edition of Saxo.
910. The story of Hamlet (Amleth) is told, in a striking form, by Saxo Grammaticus in the third and fourth books of his history. Mr. H. M. Chadwick tells me that Hamlet stands on the border-line between legend and history. Hence the main outlines of his story may be correct.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The story of Hamlet (Amleth) is told, in a memorable way, by Saxo Grammaticus in the third and fourth books of his history. Mr. H. M. Chadwick informs me that Hamlet exists on the boundary between legend and history. Therefore, the main aspects of his story might be accurate.
911. Herodotus, i. 7-13.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Herodotus, i. 7-13.
912. Nicolaus Damascenus, vi. frag. 49, in Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iii. 380.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Nicolaus Damascenus, vi. frag. 49, in Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iii. 380.
913. Athenaeus, xii. 11, pp. 515 F-516 B; Apollodorus, ii. 6. 3; Diodorus Siculus, iv. 31; Joannes Lydus, De magistratibus, iii. 64; Lucian, Dialogi deorum, xiii. 2; Ovid, Heroides, ix. 55 sqq.; Statius, Theb. x. 646-649.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Athenaeus, xii. 11, pp. 515 F-516 B; Apollodorus, ii. 6. 3; Diodorus Siculus, iv. 31; Joannes Lydus, De magistratibus, iii. 64; Lucian, Dialogi deorum, xiii. 2; Ovid, Heroides, ix. 55 sqq.; Statius, Theb. x. 646-649.
914. Athenaeus, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Athenaeus, id.
915. Herodotus, i. 93; Clearchus, quoted by Athenaeus, xii. 11, p. 516 A B. The Armenians also prostituted their daughters before marriage, dedicating them for a long time to the profligate worship of the goddess Anaitis (Strabo, xi. 14. 16, p. 532 sq.). The custom was probably practised as a charm to secure the fertility of the earth as well as of man and beast. See Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 32 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Herodotus, i. 93; Clearchus, quoted by Athenaeus, xii. 11, p. 516 A B. The Armenians also offered their daughters before marriage, dedicating them for a long time to the immoral worship of the goddess Anaitis (Strabo, xi. 14. 16, p. 532 sq.). The practice was likely done as a ritual to ensure the fertility of the earth as well as of people and animals. See Adonis, Attis, Osiris, Second Edition, pp. 32 sqq.
916. Herodotus, i. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Herodotus, vol. 1, p. 7.
917. Clearchus, quoted by Athenaeus, xiii. 31, p. 573 A B.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Clearchus, referenced by Athenaeus, xiii. 31, p. 573 A B.
918. See E. A. Freeman, History of the Norman Conquest of England, i. 3rd Ed., 410-412, 733-737. I am indebted to my friend Mr. H. M. Chadwick both for the fact and its explanation.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See E. A. Freeman, History of the Norman Conquest of England, i. 3rd Ed., 410-412, 733-737. I'm grateful to my friend Mr. H. M. Chadwick for both the information and its clarification.
919. Procopius, De bello Gothico, iv. 20 (vol. ii. p. 593, ed. J. Haury). This and the following cases of marriage with a stepmother are cited by K. Weinhold, Deutsche Frauen 2nd Ed., (Vienna, 1882), ii. 359 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Procopius, On the Gothic War, iv. 20 (vol. ii. p. 593, ed. J. Haury). This and the next instances of marriage with a stepmother are mentioned by K. Weinhold, German Women 2nd Ed., (Vienna, 1882), ii. 359 sq.
920. Bede, Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, ii. 5. 102; compare i. 27. 63.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English People, ii. 5. 102; see also i. 27. 63.
921. Prudentius Trecensis, “Annales,” anno 858, in Pertz’s Monumenta Germaniae historica, i. 451; Ingulfus, Historia, quoted ibid.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Prudentius Trecensis, “Annals,” year 858, in Pertz’s Monumenta Germaniae historica, i. 451; Ingulfus, History, quoted ibid.
922. This is in substance the view of Dr. W. E. Hearn (The Aryan House-hold, pp. 150-155) and of Prof. B. Delbrück (“Das Mutterrecht bei den Indogermanen,” Preussische Jahrbücher, lxxix. (1895) pp. 14-27).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.This is basically the opinion of Dr. W. E. Hearn (The Aryan Household, pp. 150-155) and Prof. B. Delbrück (“The Mother Right among the Indo-Europeans,” Prussian Yearbooks, lxxix. (1895) pp. 14-27).
923. Clearchus of Soli, quoted by Athenaeus, xiii. 2. p. 555 D; John of Antioch, in Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iv. 547; Charax of Pergamus ib. iii. 638; J. Tzetzes, Schol. on Lycophron, 111; id., Chiliades, v. 650-665; Suidas, s.v. Κέκροψ; Justin, ii. 6. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Clearchus of Soli, cited by Athenaeus, xiii. 2. p. 555 D; John of Antioch, in Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iv. 547; Charax of Pergamus ib. iii. 638; J. Tzetzes, Schol. on Lycophron, 111; id., Chiliades, v. 650-665; Suidas, s.v. Κέκροψ; Justin, ii. 6. 7.
924. Ὁ μὲν οὖν ἀθηναῖος Σόλων ὁμοπατρίους ἐφεὶς ἄγεσθαι, τὰς ὁμομητρίους ἐκώλυσεν, ὁ δὲ Λακεδαιμονίων νομοθέτης ἔμπαλιν, τὸν ἐπὶ ταῖς ὁμογαστρίοις γάμον ἐπιτρέψας, τὸν πρὸς τὰς ὁμοπατρίους ἀπεῖπεν, Philo Judaeus, De specialibus legibus, vol. ii. p. 303, ed. Th. Mangey. See also Plutarch, Themistocles, 32; Cornelius Nepos, Cimon, 1; Schol. on Aristophanes, Clouds, 1371; L. Beauchet, Histoire du droit privé de la République Athénienne, i. (Paris, 1897) pp. 165 sqq. Compare Minucius Felix, Octavius, 31.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.So, the Athenian Solon allowed marriage among those of the same lineage but prohibited it among those of the same mother, while the Spartan lawgiver took the opposite approach, permitting marriage between those of the same womb and rejecting it among those of the same lineage, Philo Judaeus, De specialibus legibus, vol. ii. p. 303, ed. Th. Mangey. See also Plutarch, Themistocles, 32; Cornelius Nepos, Cimon, 1; Schol. on Aristophanes, Clouds, 1371; L. Beauchet, Histoire du droit privé de la République Athénienne, i. (Paris, 1897) pp. 165 sqq. Compare Minucius Felix, Octavius, 31.
925. Polybius, xii. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Polybius, 12.5.
926. Strabo, xiii. 1. 40, pp. 600 sq.; Plutarch, De sera numinis vindicta, 12; and especially Lycophron, Cassandra, 1141 sqq., with the scholia of J. Tzetzes, who refers to Timaeus and Callimachus as his authorities.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, xiii. 1. 40, pp. 600 sq.; Plutarch, De sera numinis vindicta, 12; and especially Lycophron, Cassandra, 1141 sqq., with the notes of J. Tzetzes, who cites Timaeus and Callimachus as his sources.
927. Justin, xxi. 3. 1-6.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Justin, 21:3-6.
928. Strabo, iii. 4. 18.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Strabo, 3.4.18.
929. Tacitus, Germania, 20. Compare L. Dargun, Mutterrecht und Raubehe und ihre Reste im germanischen Recht und Leben (Breslau, 1883), pp. 21 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tacitus, Germania, 20. Compare L. Dargun, Mutterrecht und Raubehe und ihre Reste im germanischen Recht und Leben (Breslau, 1883), pp. 21 sq.
930. A. Giraud-Teulon, Les Origines du mariage et de la famille, pp. 206 sqq.; A. H. Post, Afrikanische Jurisprudenz, i. 13 sqq.; Sir Harry H. Johnston, British Central Africa, p. 471; A. B. Ellis, The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast, pp. 297 sq.; id., The Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 207 sqq. Much more evidence will be found in my Totemism and Exogamy.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Giraud-Teulon, The Origins of Marriage and the Family, pp. 206 and following; A. H. Post, African Jurisprudence, i. 13 and following; Sir Harry H. Johnston, British Central Africa, p. 471; A. B. Ellis, The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold Coast, pp. 297 and the next pages; id., The Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 207 and following. You'll find much more evidence in my Totemism and Exogamy.
931. R. H. Codrington, The Melanesians, p. 50, note 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. H. Codrington, The Melanesians, p. 50, note 2.
932. Tacitus, Germania, 20.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Tacitus, Germania, 20.
933. A. W. Howitt, Native Tribes of South-East Australia, pp. 286 sqq. The reipus or payment made on the remarriage of a widow is discussed by L. Dargun, op. cit. pp. 141-152.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. W. Howitt, Native Tribes of South-East Australia, pp. 286 sqq. The reipus or payment made when a widow remarries is discussed by L. Dargun, op. cit. pp. 141-152.
934. W. F. Skene held that the Picts were Celts. See his Celtic Scotland, i. 194-227. On the other hand, H. Zimmer supposes them to have been the pre-Celtic inhabitants of the British Islands. See his paper “Das Mutterrecht der Pikten,” Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, xv. (1894) Romanistische Abtheilung, pp. 209 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. F. Skene argued that the Picts were Celts. See his Celtic Scotland, i. 194-227. On the other hand, H. Zimmer believed they were the pre-Celtic inhabitants of the British Islands. See his paper “Das Mutterrecht der Pikten,” Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, xv. (1894) Romanistische Abtheilung, pp. 209 sqq.
935. “Cumque uxores Picti non habentes peterent a Scottis, ea solum conditione dare consenserunt, ut ubi res perveniret in dubium, magis de feminea regum prosapia quam de masculina regem sibi eligerent; quod usque hodie apud Pictos constat esse servatum,” Bede, Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, ii. 1. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Since the Pictish wives did not have their own husbands, they agreed to give only on the condition that if the situation ever became unclear, they would choose a king more from the female royal lineage than the male; this tradition has been maintained among the Picts until today,” Bede, Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, ii. 1. 7.
936. W. F. Skene, Celtic Scotland, i. 232-235; J. F. McLennan, Studies in Ancient History (London, 1886), pp. 68-70; H. Zimmer, loc. cit.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. F. Skene, Celtic Scotland, i. 232-235; J. F. McLennan, Studies in Ancient History (London, 1886), pp. 68-70; H. Zimmer, loc. cit.
937. K. O. Müller, Die Etrusker (Stuttgart, 1877), ii. 376 sq.; J. J. Bachofen, Die Sage von Tanaquil (Heidelberg, 1870), pp. 282-290.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.K. O. Müller, The Etruscans (Stuttgart, 1877), ii. 376 sq.; J. J. Bachofen, The Legend of Tanaquil (Heidelberg, 1870), pp. 282-290.
938. Θεόπομπος δ’ ἐν τῇ τεσσαρακοστῇ τρίτῃ τῶν ἱστοριῶν καὶ νόμον εἶναί φησι παρὰ τοῖς Τυρρηνοῖς κοινὰς ὑπάρχειν τὰς γυναῖκας ... τρέφειν δὲ τοὺς Τυρρηνοὺς πάντα τὰ γινόμενα παιδία, οὐκ εἰδότας ὅτου πάτρος ἐστὶν ἕκαστον, Athenaeus, xii. 14, p. 517 D E.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.According to Theopompus in the thirty-third book of his histories, he claims that among the Tyrrhenians, women are shared collectively... and the Tyrrhenians raise all the children that are born, not knowing who the father of each child is, Athenaeus, xii. 14, p. 517 D E.
939. “Non enim hic, ubi ex Tusco modo Tute tibi indigne dotem quaeras corpore” (Plautus, Cistellaria, ii. 3. 20 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Not here, where you seek a dowry for yourself through that Tuscan body” (Plautus, Cistellaria, ii. 3. 20 sq.).
940. Herodotus, i. 94; Strabo, v. 2. 2, p. 219; Tacitus, Annals, iv. 55; Timaeus, cited by Tertullian, De spectaculis, 5; Festus, s.v. “Turannos,” p. 355, ed. C. O. Müller; Plutarch, Romulus, 2; Velleius Paterculus, i. 1. 4; Justin, xx. 1. 7; Valerius Maximus, ii. 4. 4; Servius, on Virgil, Aen. i. 67. On the other hand, Dionysius of Halicarnassus held that the Etruscans were an indigenous Italian race, differing from all other known peoples in language and customs (Ant. Rom. i. 26-30). On this much-vexed question, see K. O. Müller, Die Etrusker (Stuttgart, 1877), i. 65 sqq.; G. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 3rd Ed., i. pp. xxxiii. sqq.; F. Hommel, Grundriss der Geographie und Geschichte des Alten Orients, 2nd Ed., pp. 63 sqq. (in Iwan von Müller’s Handbuch der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft, vol. iii.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Herodotus, i. 94; Strabo, v. 2. 2, p. 219; Tacitus, Annals, iv. 55; Timaeus, cited by Tertullian, De spectaculis, 5; Festus, s.v. “Turannos,” p. 355, ed. C. O. Müller; Plutarch, Romulus, 2; Velleius Paterculus, i. 1. 4; Justin, xx. 1. 7; Valerius Maximus, ii. 4. 4; Servius, on Virgil, Aen. i. 67. On the other hand, Dionysius of Halicarnassus believed that the Etruscans were a native Italian group, distinct from all other known peoples in language and customs (Ant. Rom. i. 26-30). For more on this debated topic, see K. O. Müller, Die Etrusker (Stuttgart, 1877), i. 65 sqq.; G. Dennis, Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 3rd Ed., i. pp. xxxiii. sqq.; F. Hommel, Grundriss der Geographie und Geschichte des Alten Orients, 2nd Ed., pp. 63 sqq. (in Iwan von Müller’s Handbuch der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft, vol. iii.).
942. “All over India the hedge-priest is very often an autochthon, his long residence in the land being supposed to confer upon him the knowledge of the character and peculiarities of the local gods, and to teach him the proper mode in which they may be conciliated. Thus the Doms preserve to the present day the animistic and demonistic beliefs of the aboriginal races, which the Khasiyas, who have succeeded them, temper with the worship of the village deities, the named and localised divine entities, with the occasional languid cult of the greater Hindu gods. The propitiation of the vague spirits of wood, or cliff, river or lake, they are satisfied to leave in charge of their serfs” (W. Crooke, Natives of Northern India, London, 1907, pp. 104 sq.). When the Israelites had been carried away captives into Assyria, the new settlers in the desolate land of Israel were attacked by lions, which they supposed to be sent against them by the god of the country because, as strangers, they did not know how to propitiate him. So they petitioned the king of Assyria and he sent them a native Israelitish priest, who taught them how to worship the God of Israel. See 2 Kings xvii. 24-28.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.“Throughout India, hedge-priests are often locals, and their long stay in the area is believed to give them insight into the qualities and unique traits of the local gods, teaching them how to properly appease these deities. The Doms still maintain the animistic and demonistic beliefs of the indigenous populations, which the Khasiyas, who came after them, blend with the worship of village deities—specific local divine figures—and occasionally the more relaxed worship of the major Hindu gods. They are content to leave the appeasement of the vague spirits of woods, cliffs, rivers, or lakes to their servitors” (W. Crooke, Natives of Northern India, London, 1907, pp. 104 sq.). When the Israelites were taken captive in Assyria, the new settlers in the desolate land of Israel were attacked by lions, which they believed were sent by the local god because, as outsiders, they didn’t know how to appease him. So they asked the king of Assyria for help, and he sent them a native Israelite priest who instructed them on how to worship the God of Israel. See 2 Kings xvii. 24-28.
943. H. Jordan, Die Könige im alten Italien (Berlin, 1884), pp. 15-25.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Jordan, The Kings in Ancient Italy (Berlin, 1884), pp. 15-25.
944. Livy, i. 56. 7; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iv. 68. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 56. 7; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iv. 68. 1.
945. Livy, i. 34. 2 sq., i. 38. 1, i. 57. 6; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iv. 64.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 34. 2 sq., i. 38. 1, i. 57. 6; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. iv. 64.
946. I owe to Mr. A. B. Cook the interesting suggestion that the double consulship was a revival of a double kingship.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.I credit Mr. A. B. Cook with the intriguing idea that the double consulship was a comeback of a double kingship.
948. Pausanias, iv. 5. 10; G. Gilbert, Handbuch der griech. Staatsalterthümer, i. 2nd Ed., 122 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, iv. 5. 10; G. Gilbert, Handbook of Greek Antiquities, i. 2nd Ed., 122 sq.
949. The two supreme magistrates who replaced the kings were at first called praetors. See Livy, iii. 55. 12; B. G. Niebuhr, History of Rome, 3rd Ed., i. 520 sq.; Th. Mommsen, Römisches Staatsrecht, ii. 3rd Ed., 74 sqq. That the power of the first consuls was, with the limitations indicated in the text, that of the old kings is fully recognised by Livy (ii. 1. 7 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The two top officials who took over from the kings were initially called praetors. See Livy, iii. 55. 12; B. G. Niebuhr, History of Rome, 3rd Ed., i. 520 sq.; Th. Mommsen, Römisches Staatsrecht, ii. 3rd Ed., 74 sqq. Livy fully acknowledges that the authority of the first consuls, with the limitations mentioned in the text, was similar to that of the old kings (ii. 1. 7 sq.).
950. It was a disputed point whether Tarquin the Proud was the son or grandson of Tarquin the Elder. Most writers, and Livy (i. 46. 4) among them, held that he was a son. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, on the other hand, argued that he must have been a grandson; he insists strongly on the chronological difficulties to which the ordinary hypothesis is exposed if Servius Tullius reigned, as he is said to have reigned, forty-four years. See Dionysius Halic. Ant. Rom. iv. 6 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.There was some debate about whether Tarquin the Proud was the son or grandson of Tarquin the Elder. Most historians, including Livy (i. 46. 4), believed he was a son. However, Dionysius of Halicarnassus argued that he must have been a grandson, strongly emphasizing the chronological issues that arise if we accept the usual theory that Servius Tullius ruled for forty-four years, as it’s said he did. See Dionysius Halic. Ant. Rom. iv. 6 sq.
951. Livy, i. 48. 2; Dionysius Halic. Ant. Rom. iv. 31 sq. and 46.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 48. 2; Dionysius Halic. Ant. Rom. iv. 31 sq. and 46.
952. Livy, i. 56; Dionysius Halic. Ant. Rom. iv. 67-69, 77; Valerius Maximus, vii. 3. 2; Aurelius Victor, De viris illustribus, x. The murder of Brutus’s father and brother is recorded by Dionysius; the other writers mention the assassination of his brother only. The resemblance between Brutus and Hamlet has been pointed out before. See F. York Powell, in Elton’s translation of Saxo Grammaticus’s Danish History (London, 1894), pp. 405-410.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 56; Dionysius Halic. Ant. Rom. iv. 67-69, 77; Valerius Maximus, vii. 3. 2; Aurelius Victor, De viris illustribus, x. The murder of Brutus’s father and brother is documented by Dionysius; the other writers only mention the assassination of his brother. The similarity between Brutus and Hamlet has been noted before. See F. York Powell, in Elton’s translation of Saxo Grammaticus’s Danish History (London, 1894), pp. 405-410.
953. D. Livingstone, Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa, pp. 617 sq. Many more examples are given by A. H. Post, Afrikanische Jurisprudenz (Oldenburg and Leipsic), i. 134 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.D. Livingstone, Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa, pp. 617 sq. Many more examples are provided by A. H. Post, Afrikanische Jurisprudenz (Oldenburg and Leipsic), i. 134 sqq.
954. D. Livingstone, op. cit. p. 434.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. D. Livingstone, same source p. 434.
955. H. Hecquard, Reise an die Küste und in das Innere von West-Afrika (Leipsic, 1854), p. 104. This and the preceding example are cited by A. H. Post, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Hecquard, Journey to the Coast and the Interior of West Africa (Leipzig, 1854), p. 104. This and the previous example are referenced by A. H. Post, l.c.
956. J. A. Chisholm, “Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Winamwanga and Wiwa,” Journal of the African Society, No. 36 (July 1910), p. 384.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. A. Chisholm, “Notes on the Manners and Customs of the Winamwanga and Wiwa,” Journal of the African Society, No. 36 (July 1910), p. 384.
957. J. Spieth, Die Ewe-Stämme (Berlin, 1906), pp. 784 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Spieth, The Ewe Tribes (Berlin, 1906), pp. 784 sq.
958. Sir William MacGregor, “Lagos, Abeokuta, and the Alake,” Journal of the African Society, No. 12 (July 1904), pp. 470 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir William MacGregor, “Lagos, Abeokuta, and the Alake,” Journal of the African Society, No. 12 (July 1904), pp. 470 sq.
959. C. Partridge, “The Burial of the Atta of Igaraland, and the ‘Coronation’ of his Successor,” Blackwood’s Magazine, September 1904, pp. 329 sq. Mr. Partridge kindly gave me some details as to the election of the king in a letter dated 24th October 1904. He is Assistant District Commissioner in Southern Nigeria.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Partridge, “The Burial of the Atta of Igaraland, and the ‘Coronation’ of his Successor,” Blackwood’s Magazine, September 1904, pp. 329 sq. Mr. Partridge kindly provided me with some details about the election of the king in a letter dated October 24, 1904. He is the Assistant District Commissioner in Southern Nigeria.
960. Major P. R. T. Gurdon, The Khasis (London, 1907), pp. 66-75.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Major P. R. T. Gurdon, The Khasis (London, 1907), pp. 66-75.
961. Livy, i. 17; Cicero, De re publica, ii. 17. 31.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 17; Cicero, De re publica, ii. 17. 31.
962. As to the nomination of the King of the Sacred Rites see Livy, xl. 42; Dionysius Halic. Ant. Rom. v. 1. 4. The latter writer says that the augurs co-operated with the pontiff in the nomination.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For the nomination of the King of Sacred Rites, refer to Livy, xl. 42; Dionysius Halic. Ant. Rom. v. 1. 4. The latter states that the augurs worked together with the pontiff in the nomination.
963. Th. Mommsen, Römisches Staatsrecht, ii. 3rd Ed., 6-8; A. H. J. Greenidge, Roman Public Life, pp. 45 sqq. Mr. Greenidge thinks that the king was regularly nominated by his predecessor and only occasionally by an interim king. Mommsen holds that he was always nominated by the latter.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Th. Mommsen, Roman Constitutional Law, ii. 3rd Ed., 6-8; A. H. J. Greenidge, Roman Public Life, pp. 45 sqq. Mr. Greenidge believes that the king was usually chosen by his predecessor and only sometimes by an interim king. Mommsen argues that he was always chosen by the latter.
964. Compare Lucretius, v. 1108 sqq.:
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Compare Lucretius, v. 1108 and following:
965. Nicolaus Damascenus, in Stobaeus, Florilegium, xliv. 41 (Frag. Histor. Graec. ed. C. Müller, iii. 463). Other writers say simply that the tallest, strongest, or handsomest man was chosen king. See Herodotus, iii. 20; Aristotle, Politics, iv. 4; Athenaeus, xiii. 20, p. 566 c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Nicolaus Damascenus, in Stobaeus, Florilegium, xliv. 41 (Frag. Histor. Graec. ed. C. Müller, iii. 463). Other writers simply say that the tallest, strongest, or most handsome man was chosen as king. See Herodotus, iii. 20; Aristotle, Politics, iv. 4; Athenaeus, xiii. 20, p. 566 c.
966. Zenobius, Cent. v. 25.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Zenobius, Cent. v. 25.
967. J. Shooter, The Kafirs of Natal, pp. 4 sq. Compare D. Livingstone, Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa, p. 186; W. Max Müller, Asien und Europa (Leipsic, 1893), p. 110.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Shooter, The Kafirs of Natal, pp. 4 sq. See D. Livingstone, Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa, p. 186; W. Max Müller, Asien und Europa (Leipsic, 1893), p. 110.
968. Zenobius, Cent. v. 25.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Zenobius, Cent. v. 25.
969. Strabo, xi. 21, p. 492.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Strabo, 11.21, p. 492.
970. Hippocrates, De aere locis et aquis (vol. i. pp. 550 sq. ed. Kühn).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Hippocrates, On Air, Water, and Places (vol. i, pp. 550 sq. ed. Kühn).
971. Captain Guy Burrows, The Land of the Pigmies (London, 1898), p. 95. Speaking of this tribe, Emin Pasha observes: “The most curious custom, however, and one which is particularly observed in the ruling families, is bandaging the heads of infants. By means of these bandages a lengthening of the head along its horizontal axis is produced; and whereas the ordinary Monbutto people have rather round heads, the form of the head in the better classes shows an extraordinary increase in length, which certainly very well suits their style of hair and of hats.” See Emin Pasha in Central Africa, being a Collection of Letters and Journals (London, 1888), p. 212.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Captain Guy Burrows, The Land of the Pigmies (London, 1898), p. 95. Talking about this tribe, Emin Pasha notes: “The most interesting custom, particularly practiced by the ruling families, is wrapping the heads of infants. These wraps cause the head to elongate along its horizontal axis; while the regular Monbutto people have fairly round heads, those in the upper class have a remarkable increase in length, which definitely complements their hairstyles and hats.” See Emin Pasha in Central Africa, being a Collection of Letters and Journals (London, 1888), p. 212.
972. Lewis and Clark, Expedition to the Sources of the Missouri, ch. 23, vol. ii. 327 sq. (reprinted at London, 1905); D. W. Harmon, quoted by Rev. J. Morse, Report to the Secretary of War of the United States on Indian Affairs (Newhaven, 1822), Appendix, p. 346; H. R. Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, ii. 325 sq.; R. C. Mayne, Four Years in British Columbia, p. 277; G. M. Sproat, Scenes and Studies of Savage Life, pp. 28-30; H. H. Bancroft, Native Races of the Pacific States, i. 180.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Lewis and Clark, Expedition to the Sources of the Missouri, ch. 23, vol. ii. 327 sq. (reprinted in London, 1905); D. W. Harmon, quoted by Rev. J. Morse, Report to the Secretary of War of the United States on Indian Affairs (Newhaven, 1822), Appendix, p. 346; H. R. Schoolcraft, Indian Tribes, ii. 325 sq.; R. C. Mayne, Four Years in British Columbia, p. 277; G. M. Sproat, Scenes and Studies of Savage Life, pp. 28-30; H. H. Bancroft, Native Races of the Pacific States, i. 180.
973. C. Hill-Tout, The Far West, the Home of the Salish and Déné (London, 1907), p. 40. As to the custom in general among these tribes, see ibid. pp. 38-41. In Melanesia the practice of artificially lengthening the head into a cone by means of bandages applied in infancy is observed by the natives of Malikolo (Malekula) in the New Hebrides and also by the natives of the south coast of New Britain, from Cape Roebuck to Cape Bedder. See Beatrice Grimshaw, From Fiji to the Cannibal Islands (London, 1907), pp. 258-260; R. Parkinson, Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee (Stuttgart, 1907), pp. 204-206.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Hill-Tout, The Far West, the Home of the Salish and Déné (London, 1907), p. 40. For general customs among these tribes, see ibid. pp. 38-41. In Melanesia, the practice of artificially shaping the head into a cone using bandages applied during infancy is observed by the people of Malikolo (Malekula) in the New Hebrides and also by the people along the south coast of New Britain, from Cape Roebuck to Cape Bedder. See Beatrice Grimshaw, From Fiji to the Cannibal Islands (London, 1907), pp. 258-260; R. Parkinson, Dreissig Jahre in der Südsee (Stuttgart, 1907), pp. 204-206.
974. V. Fric and P. Radin, “Contributions to the Study of the Bororo Indians,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxvi. (1906) pp. 388 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.V. Fric and P. Radin, “Contributions to the Study of the Bororo Indians,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxvi. (1906) pp. 388 sq.
975. See The Spectator, Nos. 18 and 20.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See The Spectator, Nos. 18 and 20.
976. Nicolaus Damascenus, in Stobaeus, Florilegium, xliv. 41 (Fragmenta Historic. Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iii. 463).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Nicolaus Damascenus, in Stobaeus, Florilegium, xliv. 41 (Fragmenta Historic. Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iii. 463).
977. Simon Grunau, Preussische Chronik, Tract. ii. cap. iii. § 2, p. 66, ed. M. Perlbach. This passage was pointed out to me by Mr. H. M. Chadwick.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Simon Grunau, Preussische Chronik, Tract. ii. cap. iii. § 2, p. 66, ed. M. Perlbach. This passage was brought to my attention by Mr. H. M. Chadwick.
978. Pausanias, v. 1. 4, vi. 20. 9.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, v. 1. 4, vi. 20. 9.
979. Apollodorus, Epitoma, ii. 4-9, ed. R. Wagner (Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, ed. R. Wagner, pp. 183 sq.); Diodorus Siculus, iv. 73; Pausanias, v. 1. 6 sq., v. 10. 6 sq., v. 14. 7, v. 17. 7 sq., v. 20. 6 sq., vi. 21. 7-11.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Apollodorus, Epitoma, ii. 4-9, ed. R. Wagner (Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, ed. R. Wagner, pp. 183 sq.); Diodorus Siculus, iv. 73; Pausanias, v. 1. 6 sq., v. 10. 6 sq., v. 14. 7, v. 17. 7 sq., v. 20. 6 sq., vi. 21. 7-11.
980. Pausanias, vi. 21. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pausanias, VI. 21. 3.
981. Pausanias, v. 13. 1-6, vi. 20. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, v. 13. 1-6, vi. 20. 7.
982. Pausanias, iii. 12. 1, 20. 10 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, iii. 12. 1, 20. 10 sq.
983. Pindar, Pyth. ix. 181-220, with the Scholia.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pindar, Pyth. ix. 181-220, with the Scholia.
984. Pindar, Pyth. ix. 195 sqq.; Pausanias, iii. 12. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pindar, Pyth. ix. 195 sqq.; Pausanias, iii. 12. 2.
985. Apollodorus, iii. 9. 2; Hyginus, Fab. 185; Ovid, Metam. x. 560 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Apollodorus, iii. 9. 2; Hyginus, Fab. 185; Ovid, Metam. x. 560 sqq.
986. E. Schuyler, Turkistan (London, 1876), i. 42 sq. This and the four following examples of the bride-race have been already cited by J. F. McLennan, Studies in Ancient History (London, 1886), pp. 15 sq., 181-184. He supposes them to be relics of a custom of capturing women from another community.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Schuyler, Turkistan (London, 1876), i. 42 sq. This and the four following examples of the bride-race have already been mentioned by J. F. McLennan, Studies in Ancient History (London, 1886), pp. 15 sq., 181-184. He believes they are remnants of a tradition of taking women from another community.
987. E. D. Clarke, Travels in Various Countries, i. (London, 1810), p. 333. In the fourth octavo edition of Clarke’s Travels (vol. i., London, 1816), from which McLennan seems to have quoted, there are a few verbal changes.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. D. Clarke, Travels in Various Countries, vol. 1 (London, 1810), p. 333. In the fourth octavo edition of Clarke’s Travels (vol. 1, London, 1816), which McLennan appears to have quoted, there are a few wording changes.
988. J. McLennan, op. cit. pp. 183 sq., referring to Kennan’s Tent Life in Siberia (1870), which I have not seen. Compare W. Jochelson, “The Koryak” (Leyden and New York, 1908), p. 742 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. vi.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. McLennan, op. cit. pp. 183 sq., referencing Kennan’s Tent Life in Siberia (1870), which I haven't seen. See W. Jochelson, “The Koryak” (Leyden and New York, 1908), p. 742 (Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. vi.).
989. Letter of the missionary Bigandet, dated March 1847, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xx. (1848) p. 431. A similar account of the ceremony is given by M. Bourien, “Wild Tribes of the Malay Peninsula,” Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London, N.S. iii. (1865) p. 81. See further W. W. Skeat and C.O. Blagden, Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula (London, 1906), ii. 68, 77 sq., 79 sq., 82 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Letter from the missionary Bigandet, dated March 1847, in Annales de la Propagation de la Foi, xx. (1848) p. 431. A similar description of the ceremony is provided by M. Bourien in “Wild Tribes of the Malay Peninsula,” Transactions of the Ethnological Society of London, N.S. iii. (1865) p. 81. For more information, see W. W. Skeat and C.O. Blagden, Pagan Races of the Malay Peninsula (London, 1906), ii. 68, 77 sq., 79 sq., 82 sq.
990. J. Cameron, Our Tropical Possessions in Malayan India (London, 1865), pp. 116 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Cameron, Our Tropical Possessions in Malayan India (London, 1865), pp. 116 sq.
991. Dudley Kidd, The Essential Kafir (London, 1904), p. 219.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dudley Kidd, The Essential Kafir (London, 1904), p. 219.
992. Middle High German brûtlouf, modern German Brautlauf, Anglo-Saxon brydhléap, old Norse brudhlaup, modern Norse bryllup. See Grimm, Deutsches Wörterbuch, s.v. “Brautlauf”; K. Weinhold, Deutsche Frauen, 2nd Ed., i. 407. The latter writer supposes the word to refer merely to the procession from the house of the bride to the house of the bridegroom. But Grimm is most probably right in holding that originally it applied to a real race for the bride. This is the view also of K. Simrock (Deutsche Mythologie, 5th Ed. pp. 598 sq.). Another writer sees in it a trace of marriage by capture (L. Dargun, Mutterrecht und Raubehe (Breslau, 1883), p. 130). Compare K. Schmidt, Jus primae noctis (Freiburg i. B. 1881), p. 129.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Middle High German brûtlouf, modern German Brautlauf, Anglo-Saxon brydhléap, old Norse brudhlaup, modern Norse bryllup. See Grimm, Deutsches Wörterbuch, s.v. “Brautlauf”; K. Weinhold, Deutsche Frauen, 2nd Ed., i. 407. The latter writer thinks the word only refers to the procession from the bride's house to the groom's house. But Grimm is likely correct in believing that it originally referred to an actual race for the bride. This perspective is also supported by K. Simrock (Deutsche Mythologie, 5th Ed. pp. 598 sq.). Another scholar interprets it as a sign of marriage by capture (L. Dargun, Mutterrecht und Raubehe (Breslau, 1883), p. 130). Compare K. Schmidt, Jus primae noctis (Freiburg i. B. 1881), p. 129.
993. A. Kuhn, Märkische Sagen und Märchen (Berlin, 1843), p. 358.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Kuhn, Märkische Sagen und Märchen (Berlin, 1843), p. 358.
994. W. Kolbe, Hessische Volks-sitten und Gebräuche (Marburg, 1888), pp. 150 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Kolbe, Hessische Volks-sitten und Gebräuche (Marburg, 1888), pp. 150 sq.
995. Lentner and Dahn, in Bavaria, Landes- und Volkskunde des Königreichs Bayern, i. (Munich, 1860) pp. 398 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Lentner and Dahn, in Bavaria, Regional and Folk Studies of the Kingdom of Bavaria, i. (Munich, 1860) pp. 398 sq.
996. J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, ii. 153-155 (Bohn’s edition); J. Jamieson, Dictionary of the Scottish Language, s.v. “Broose.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Brand, Popular Antiquities, ii. 153-155 (Bohn’s edition); J. Jamieson, Dictionary of the Scottish Language, s.v. “Broose.”
997. E. Herrmann, “Über Lieder und Bräuche bei Hochzeiten in Kärnten,” Archiv für Anthropologie, xix. (1891) p. 169.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. Herrmann, “About Songs and Customs at Weddings in Carinthia,” Archive for Anthropology, xix. (1891) p. 169.
998. Nicolaus Damascenus, quoted by Stobaeus, Florilegium, xliv. 41; Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iii. 457.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Nicolaus Damascenus, referenced by Stobaeus, Florilegium, xliv. 41; Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iii. 457.
999. Strabo, v. 4. 12, p. 250.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, v. 4. 12, p. 250.
1000. Arthur Young, “Tour in Ireland,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 860.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Arthur Young, “Tour in Ireland,” in Pinkerton’s Voyages and Travels, iii. 860.
1001. Mahabharata, condensed into English by Romesch Dutt (London, 1898), pp. 15 sqq.; J. C. Oman, The Great Indian Epics, pp. 109 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mahabharata, summarized in English by Romesh Dutt (London, 1898), pp. 15 sqq.; J. C. Oman, The Great Indian Epics, pp. 109 sqq.
1002. J. D. Mayne, A Treatise on Hindu Law and Usage 3rd Ed., (Madras and London, 1883), p. 56; The Vikramânkadevacharita, edited by G. Bühler (Bombay, 1875), pp. 38-40; A. Holtzmann, Das Mahābharata und seine Theile, i. (Kiel, 1895), pp. 21 sq.; J. Jolly, Recht und Sitte, pp. 50 sq. (in G. Bühler’s Grundriss der indo-arischen Philologie).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. D. Mayne, A Treatise on Hindu Law and Usage 3rd Ed., (Madras and London, 1883), p. 56; The Vikramânkadevacharita, edited by G. Bühler (Bombay, 1875), pp. 38-40; A. Holtzmann, Das Mahābharata und seine Theile, i. (Kiel, 1895), pp. 21 sq.; J. Jolly, Recht und Sitte, pp. 50 sq. (in G. Bühler’s Grundriss der indo-arischen Philologie).
1003. The Book of Ser Marco Polo., Yule’s translation, 2nd Ed., bk. iv. ch. 4, vol. ii. pp. 461-463.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Book of Ser Marco Polo., Yule’s translation, 2nd Ed., bk. iv. ch. 4, vol. ii. pp. 461-463.
1004. The Lay of the Nibelungs, translated by Alice Horton (London, 1898), Adventures vi. and vii.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Lay of the Nibelungs, translated by Alice Horton (London, 1898), Adventures vi. and vii.
1005. Parthenius, Narrat. Amat. vi. This passage was pointed out to me by Mr. A. B. Cook, who has himself discussed the contest for the kingship. See his article, “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xv. (1904) pp. 376 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Parthenius, Narrat. Amat. vi. Mr. A. B. Cook brought this passage to my attention, as he has examined the competition for the kingship himself. Check out his article, “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xv. (1904) pp. 376 sqq.
1006. Herodotus, vi. 126-130. It is to be observed that in this and other of the examples cited above the succession to the kingdom did not pass with the hand of the princess.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Herodotus, vi. 126-130. It's important to note that in this and other examples mentioned above, the succession to the throne did not follow the princess's lineage.
1007. See above, pp. 69, 84, 90 sq. These customs were observed at Whitsuntide, not on May Day. But the Whitsuntide king and queen are obviously equivalent to the King and Queen of May. Hence I allow myself to use the latter and more familiar titles so as to include the former.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, pp. 69, 84, 90 sq. These traditions were celebrated at Whitsuntide, not on May Day. However, the Whitsuntide king and queen are clearly equivalent to the King and Queen of May. Therefore, I feel comfortable using the latter and more familiar titles to also represent the former.
1008. Ovid, Fasti, ii. 685 sqq.; Plutarch, Quaest. Rom. 63; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 323 sq.; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 327 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, ii. 685 and following; Plutarch, Questions Regarding Rome 63; J. Marquardt, Roman Administrative System, iii. 2nd Ed., 323 and following; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Republic Era, pp. 327 and following
1009. Another proposed explanation of the regifugium is that the king fled because at the sacrifice he had incurred the guilt of slaying a sacred animal. See W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 328 sqq. The best-known example of such a ritual flight is that of the men who slew the ox at the Athenian festival of the Bouphonia. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, ii. 294. Amongst the Pawnees the four men who assisted at the sacrifice of a girl to Ti-ra’-wa used to run away very fast after the deed was done and wash themselves in the river. See G. B. Grinnell, Pawnee Hero Stories and Folk-Tales (New York, 1889), pp. 365 sq. Among the ancient Egyptians the man whose duty it was to slit open a corpse for the purpose of embalming it fled as soon as he had done his part, pursued by all the persons present, who pelted him with stones and cursed him, “turning as it were the pollution on him; for they suppose that any one who violates or wounds or does any harm to the person of a fellow-tribesman is hateful” (Diodorus Siculus, i. 91. 4). Similarly in the western islands of Torres Straits the man whose duty it was to decapitate a corpse for the purpose of preserving the skull was shot at with arrows by the relatives of the deceased as an expiation for the injury he had done to the corpse of their kinsman. See Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits, v. (Cambridge, 1904) pp. 249, 251. This explanation of the regifugium certainly deserves to be considered. But on this as on so many other points of ancient ritual we can hardly hope ever to attain to certainty.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Another suggested explanation for the regifugium is that the king fled because, during the sacrifice, he felt guilty for killing a sacred animal. See W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 328 sqq. The most famous example of this kind of ritual flight is the men who killed the ox at the Athenian festival of the Bouphonia. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, ii. 294. Among the Pawnees, the four men who helped with the sacrifice of a girl to Ti-ra’-wa would quickly run away after the act and wash themselves in the river. See G. B. Grinnell, Pawnee Hero Stories and Folk-Tales (New York, 1889), pp. 365 sq. In ancient Egypt, the person responsible for opening a corpse for embalming would flee immediately after completing their task, chased by everyone present, who would throw stones at him and curse him, “turning as it were the pollution on him; for they believe that anyone who violates, wounds, or harms a fellow tribesman is detestable” (Diodorus Siculus, i. 91. 4). Similarly, in the western islands of Torres Straits, the person who was tasked with decapitating a corpse for the purpose of preserving the skull was shot at with arrows by the deceased's relatives as a way to atone for the harm done to their kin's corpse. See Reports of the Cambridge Anthropological Expedition to Torres Straits, v. (Cambridge, 1904) pp. 249, 251. This explanation of the regifugium certainly merits consideration. However, like many other aspects of ancient rituals, we can hardly expect to reach absolute certainty.
1010. F. Cumont, “Les Actes de S. Dasius,” Analecta Bollandiana, xvi. (1897) pp. 5-16. See further Messrs. Parmentier and Cumont, “Le Roi des Saturnales,” Revue de Philologie, xxi. (1897) pp. 143-153; The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 138 sqq. The tomb of St. Dasius, a Christian soldier who was put to death at Durostorum in 303 A.D. after refusing to play the part of Saturn at the festival, has since been discovered at Ancona. A Greek inscription on the tomb records that the martyr’s remains were brought thither from Durostorum. See F. Cumont, “Le Tombeau de S. Dasius de Durostorum,” Analecta Bollandiana, xxvii. (1908) pp. 369-372. Professor A. Erhard of Strasburg, who has been engaged for years in preparing an edition of the Acta Martyrum for the Berlin Corpus of Greek Fathers, informed me in conversation at Cambridge in the summer of 1910 that he ranks the Acts of St. Dasius among the authentic documents of their class. The plain unvarnished narrative bears indeed the stamp of truth on its face.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Cumont, “The Acts of St. Dasius,” Analecta Bollandiana, xvi. (1897) pp. 5-16. Also see Messrs. Parmentier and Cumont, “The King of the Saturnalia,” Revue de Philologie, xxi. (1897) pp. 143-153; The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 138 sqq. The tomb of St. Dasius, a Christian soldier who was executed at Durostorum in 303 CE for refusing to play the role of Saturn at the festival, has since been found in Ancona. A Greek inscription on the tomb notes that the martyr’s remains were brought there from Durostorum. See F. Cumont, “The Tomb of St. Dasius of Durostorum,” Analecta Bollandiana, xxvii. (1908) pp. 369-372. Professor A. Erhard of Strasburg, who has spent years working on an edition of the Acta Martyrum for the Berlin Corpus of Greek Fathers, told me in conversation at Cambridge in the summer of 1910 that he considers the Acts of St. Dasius to be among the authentic documents of their kind. The straightforward, unembellished account indeed has the mark of truth about it.
1011. Tacitus, Annals, xiii. 15; Arrian, Epicteti dissert. i. 25. 8; Lucian, Saturnalia, 4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Tacitus, Annals, xiii. 15; Arrian, Epicteti dissert. i. 25. 8; Lucian, Saturnalia, 4.
1012. As to these temporary kings see The Golden Bough, Second Edition, ii. 24 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For information on these temporary kings, see The Golden Bough, Second Edition, ii. 24 sqq.
1013. Varro, Rerum rusticarum, iii. 1. 5; Virgil, Aen. viii. 324; Tibullus, i. 3. 35; Augustine, De civitate Dei, vii. 19. Compare Wissowa, in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. und röm. Mythologie, iv. 433 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Varro, On Agricultural Matters, iii. 1. 5; Virgil, Aeneid, viii. 324; Tibullus, i. 3. 35; Augustine, City of God, vii. 19. See Wissowa, in W. H. Roscher’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Mythology, iv. 433 sq.
1014. On Saturn as the god of sowing and the derivation of his name from a root meaning “to sow,” from which comes satus “sowing,” see Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 64; Festus, s.v. “Opima spolia,” p. 186, ed. C. O. Müller; Augustine, De civitate Dei, vii. 2, 3. 13, 15; Wissowa, in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. und röm. Mythologie, iv. 428. The derivation is confirmed by the form Saeturnus which occurs in an inscription (Saeturni pocolom, H. Dessau, Inscript. Latinae selectae, No. 2966). As to the Saturnalia see L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., ii. 15 sqq.; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, 2nd Ed., pp. 586 sqq.; Dezobry, Rome au siècle d’Auguste, iii. 143 sqq.; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 268 sqq. The festival was held from the seventeenth to the twenty-third of December. I formerly argued that in the old days, when the Roman year began with March instead of with January, the Saturnalia may have been held from the seventeenth to the twenty-third of February, in which case the festival must have immediately preceded the Flight of the King, which fell on February the twenty-fourth. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 144 sqq.; Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship, p. 266. But this attempt to bring the ancient Saturnalia into immediate juxtaposition to the King’s Flight breaks down when we observe, as my friend Mr. W. Warde Fowler has pointed out to me, that the Saturnalia fell in December under the Republic, long before Caesar, in his reform of the calendar, had shifted the commencement of the year from March to January. See Livy, xxii. 1. 19 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.On Saturn as the god of agriculture and the origin of his name from a root meaning “to sow,” which gives rise to satus meaning “sowing,” refer to Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 64; Festus, s.v. “Opima spolia,” p. 186, ed. C. O. Müller; Augustine, De civitate Dei, vii. 2, 3, 13, 15; Wissowa, in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. und röm. Mythologie, iv. 428. This derivation is confirmed by the form Saeturnus found in an inscription (Saeturni pocolom, H. Dessau, Inscript. Latinae selectae, No. 2966). For details on the Saturnalia, see L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., ii. 15 sqq.; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, 2nd Ed., pp. 586 sqq.; Dezobry, Rome au siècle d’Auguste, iii. 143 sqq.; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 268 sqq.. The festival took place from December 17th to 23rd. I previously suggested that in ancient times, when the Roman year started in March instead of January, the Saturnalia might have been celebrated from February 17th to 23rd, meaning the festival would have directly preceded the King's Flight on February 24th. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 144 sqq.; Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship, p. 266. However, this theory falters when we note, as my friend Mr. W. Warde Fowler has pointed out to me, that the Saturnalia occurred in December during the Republic, long before Caesar's calendar reform moved the start of the year from March to January. See Livy, xxii. 1. 19 sq.
1015. Roman farmers sowed wheat, spelt, and barley in December, flax up to the seventh of that month, and beans up to the eleventh (the festival of Septimontium). See Palladius, De re rustica, xiii. 1. In the lowlands of Sicily at the present day November and December are the months of sowing, but in the highlands August and September. See G. Pitrè, Usi e costumi, credenze e pregiudizi del popolo siciliano, iii. (Palermo, 1889) pp. 132 sqq. Hence we may suppose that in the Roman Campagna of old the last sowing of autumn was over before the middle of December, when the Saturnalia began.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Roman farmers planted wheat, spelt, and barley in December, flax until the seventh of that month, and beans until the eleventh (the festival of Septimontium). See Palladius, De re rustica, xiii. 1. In the lowlands of Sicily today, November and December are the months for sowing, while in the highlands, it's August and September. See G. Pitrè, Usi e costumi, credenze e pregiudizi del popolo siciliano, iii. (Palermo, 1889) pp. 132 sqq. Therefore, we can assume that in the Roman Campagna of the past, the last sowing of autumn was completed before the middle of December, when the Saturnalia started.
1016. This temporary liberty accorded to slaves was one of the most remarkable features of the Saturnalia and kindred festivals in antiquity. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 139 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.This temporary freedom given to slaves was one of the most notable aspects of the Saturnalia and similar festivals in ancient times. See The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 139 sqq.
1017. The learned Swiss scholar, J. J. Bachofen long ago drew out in minute detail the parallel between these birth legends of the Roman kings and licentious festivals like the Roman Saturnalia and the Babylonian Sacaea. See his book Die Sage von Tanaquil (Heidelberg, 1870), pp. 133 sqq. To be frank, I have not had the patience to read through his long dissertation.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The knowledgeable Swiss scholar, J. J. Bachofen, long ago explored in detail the similarities between the birth legends of the Roman kings and the wild festivals like the Roman Saturnalia and the Babylonian Sacaea. Check out his book Die Sage von Tanaquil (Heidelberg, 1870), pp. 133 sqq. Honestly, I haven't had the patience to get through his lengthy dissertation.
1019. Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 18; Plutarch, Romulus, 29; id., Camillus, 33; Macrobius, Saturn. i. 11. 36-40. The analogy of this festival to the Babylonian Sacaea was long ago pointed out by J. J. Bachofen. See his book Die Sage von Tanaquil (Heidelberg, 1870), pp. 172 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Varro, On the Latin Language, vi. 18; Plutarch, Romulus, 29; id., Camillus, 33; Macrobius, Saturnalia, i. 11. 36-40. The similarity between this festival and the Babylonian Sacaea was noted a long time ago by J. J. Bachofen. Check out his book The Legend of Tanaquil (Heidelberg, 1870), pp. 172 sqq.
1020. Aristotle, Hist. anim. v. 32, p. 557b, ed. Bekker; Theophrastus, Hist. Plant. ii. 8; id., De causis plantarum, ii. 9; Plutarch, Quaest. conviv. vii. 2. 2; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xv. 79-81, xvi. 114, xvii. 256; Palladius, iv. 10. 28, vii. 5. 2; Columella, xi. 2. 56; Geoponica, iii. 6, x. 48. As to the practice in modern Greece and the fig-growing districts of Asia Minor, see P. de Tournefort, Relation d’un voyage du Levant (Amsterdam, 1718), i. 130; W. R. Paton, “The Pharmakoi and the Story of the Fall,” Revue archéologique, IVème Série, ix. (1907) p. 51. For an elaborate examination of the process and its relation to the domestication and spread of the fig-tree, see Graf zu Solms-Laubach, “Die Herkunft, Domestication und Verbreitung des gewöhnlichen Feigenbaums (Ficus Carica, L.),” Abhandlungen der Königlichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, xxviii. (1882) pp. 1-106. This last writer thinks that the operation was not practised by Italian husbandmen, because it is not mentioned by Cato and Varro. But their silence can hardly outweigh the express mention and recommendation of it by Palladius and Columella. Theophrastus, it is true, says that the process was not in use in Italy (Hist. Plantarum, ii. 8. 1), but he can scarcely have had exact information on this subject. Caprificatio, as this artificial fertilisation of fig-trees is called, is still employed by the Neapolitan peasantry, though it seems to be unknown in northern Italy. Pliny’s account has no independent value, as he merely copies from Theophrastus. The name “goat-fig” (caprificus) applied to the wild fig-tree may be derived from the notion that the tree is a male who mounts the female as the he-goat mounts the she-goat. Similarly the Messenians called the tree simply “he-goat” (τράγος). See Pausanias, iv. 20. 1-3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aristotle, Hist. anim. v. 32, p. 557b, ed. Bekker; Theophrastus, Hist. Plant. ii. 8; id., De causis plantarum, ii. 9; Plutarch, Quaest. conviv. vii. 2.2; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xv. 79-81, xvi. 114, xvii. 256; Palladius, iv. 10.28, vii. 5.2; Columella, xi. 2.56; Geoponica, iii. 6, x. 48. For the practice in modern Greece and the fig-growing regions of Asia Minor, refer to P. de Tournefort, Relation d’un voyage du Levant (Amsterdam, 1718), i. 130; W. R. Paton, “The Pharmakoi and the Story of the Fall,” Revue archéologique, IVème Série, ix. (1907) p. 51. For a detailed study of the process and its connection to the domestication and spread of the fig tree, see Graf zu Solms-Laubach, “Die Herkunft, Domestication und Verbreitung des gewöhnlichen Feigenbaums (Ficus Carica, L.),” Abhandlungen der Königlichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, xxviii. (1882) pp. 1-106. This last author suggests that Italian farmers did not practice this method because it is not mentioned by Cato and Varro. However, their silence doesn’t outweigh the clear mention and recommendation by Palladius and Columella. Theophrastus does state that the method was not used in Italy (Hist. Plantarum, ii. 8.1), but he likely didn’t have accurate information on the topic. Caprificatio, the artificial fertilization of fig trees, is still practiced by Neapolitan peasants, although it appears to be unknown in northern Italy. Pliny’s account lacks independent value since he simply repeats Theophrastus. The term “goat-fig” (caprificus) used for the wild fig tree may come from the idea that the tree is a male that mounts the female, like a goat. In a similar way, the Messenians called the tree simply “he-goat” (τράγος). See Pausanias, iv. 20.1-3.
1021. G. Pitrè, Usi e costumi, credenze e pregiudizi del popolo siciliano, iii. 113.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Pitrè, Customs and Beliefs of the Sicilian People, iii. 113.
1022. Budgett Meakin, The Moors (London, 1902), p. 258; E. Doutté, Magie et religion dans l’Afrique du Nord (Algiers, 1908), p. 568.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Budgett Meakin, The Moors (London, 1902), p. 258; E. Doutté, Magic and Religion in North Africa (Algiers, 1908), p. 568.
1023. A. Engler, in V. Hehn’s Kulturpflanzen und Hausthiere, 7th Ed., (Berlin, 1902), p. 99. Compare Graf zu Solms-Laubach, op. cit.; Encyclopaedia Biblica, s.v. “Fig-tree,” vol. iv. 1519. The ancients were well aware of the production of these insects in the wild fig-tree and their transference to the cultivated fig-tree. Sometimes instead of fertilising the trees by hand they contented themselves with planting wild fig-trees near cultivated fig-trees, so that the fertilisation was effected by the wind, which blew the insects from the male to the female trees. See Aristotle, l.c.; Theophrastus, De causis plantarum, ii. 9; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xv. 79-81; Palladius, iv. 10. 28. On subject of the fertilisation of the fig the late Professor H. Marshall Ward of Cambridge kindly furnished me with the following note, which will serve to supplement and correct the brief account in the text:—“The fig is a hollow case full of flowers. In the wild fig a small gall wasp (Cynips psenes) lays its eggs: this kind of fig is still called Caprificus. The eggs hatch in the female flowers at the base of the hollow fig: at the top, near the ostiole observable on any ripe fig, are the male flowers. When the eggs hatch, and the little insects creep through the ostiole, the male flowers dust the wasp with pollen, and the insect flies to another flower (to lay its eggs), and so fertilises many of the female flowers in return for the nursery afforded its eggs. Now, the cultivated fig is apt to be barren of male flowers. Hence the hanging of branches bearing wild figs enables the escaping wasps to do the trick. The ancients knew the fact that the propinquity of the Caprificus helped the fertility of the cultivated fig, but, of course, they did not know the details of the process. The further complexities are, chiefly, that the fig bears two kinds of female flowers: one especially fitted for the wasp’s convenience, the other not. The Caprificus figs are inedible. In Naples three crops of them are borne every year, viz. Mamme (in April), Profichi (in June), and Mammoni (in August). It is the June crop that bears most male flowers and is most useful.” The suggestion that the festival of the seventh of July was connected with this horticultural operation is due to L. Preller (Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 287).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Engler, in V. Hehn’s Kulturpflanzen und Hausthiere, 7th Ed., (Berlin, 1902), p. 99. Compare Graf zu Solms-Laubach, op. cit.; Encyclopaedia Biblica, s.v. “Fig-tree,” vol. iv. 1519. The ancients knew that these insects were produced in the wild fig-tree and that they could be transferred to the cultivated fig-tree. Sometimes, instead of manually fertilizing the trees, they simply planted wild fig-trees near the cultivated ones, allowing the wind to carry the insects from the male to the female trees. See Aristotle, l.c.; Theophrastus, De causis plantarum, ii. 9; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xv. 79-81; Palladius, iv. 10. 28. Regarding the fertilization of the fig, the late Professor H. Marshall Ward of Cambridge kindly provided me with the following note, which adds to and clarifies the brief explanation in the text:—“The fig is a hollow structure filled with flowers. In the wild fig, a small gall wasp (Cynips psenes) lays its eggs: this type of fig is still called Caprificus. The eggs hatch in the female flowers at the base of the hollow fig: at the top, near the opening visible on any ripe fig, are the male flowers. Once the eggs hatch and the tiny insects crawl through the opening, the male flowers dust the wasp with pollen, and the insect then flies to another flower (to lay its eggs), fertilizing many of the female flowers in return for the nursery provided for its eggs. Now, the cultivated fig typically lacks male flowers. Thus, hanging branches that bear wild figs allows the escaping wasps to fertilize the cultivated figs. The ancients were aware that the proximity of the Caprificus enhanced the fertility of the cultivated fig, although they didn’t know the specifics of the process. The additional complexities include the fact that the fig produces two types of female flowers: one is especially suited for the wasp’s convenience, while the other is not. The Caprificus figs are not edible. In Naples, three crops of them are harvested each year: Mamme (in April), Profichi (in June), and Mammoni (in August). The June crop produces the most male flowers and is the most beneficial.” The idea that the festival on the seventh of July was linked to this horticultural practice comes from L. Preller (Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 287).
1025. 1 Kings iv. 25; 2 Kings xviii. 31; Isaiah xxxvi. 16; Micah iv. 4; Zechariah iii. 10; Judges ix. 10 sq.; H. B. Tristram, The Natural History of the Bible 9th Ed. (London, 1898), pp. 350 sqq.; Encyclopaedia Biblica, s.v. “Fig Tree,” vol. ii. 1519 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.1 Kings 4:25; 2 Kings 18:31; Isaiah 36:16; Micah 4:4; Zechariah 3:10; Judges 9:10 and following; H. B. Tristram, The Natural History of the Bible 9th Ed. (London, 1898), pp. 350 and following; Encyclopaedia Biblica, see under “Fig Tree,” vol. ii. 1519 and following
1026. Herodotus, i. 71.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Herodotus, Book 1, Section 71.
1027. Zamachschar, cited by Graf zu Solms-Laubach, op. cit. p. 82. For more evidence as to the fig in antiquity see V. Hehn, Kulturpflanzen und Hausthiere, 7th Ed., pp. 94 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Zamachschar, referenced by Graf zu Solms-Laubach, op. cit. p. 82. For additional information about the fig in ancient times, see V. Hehn, Kulturpflanzen und Hausthiere, 7th Ed., pp. 94 sqq.
1028. Letter of Mr. C. W. Hobley to me, dated Nairobi, British East Africa, July 27th, 1910. This interesting information was given spontaneously and not in answer to any questions of mine.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Letter from Mr. C. W. Hobley to me, dated Nairobi, British East Africa, July 27, 1910. This fascinating information was shared voluntarily and not in response to any questions I asked.
1029. C. W. Hobley, The Ethnology of A-Kamba and other East African Tribes (Cambridge, 1910), pp. 85, 89 sq. In British Central Africa “every village has its ‘prayer-tree,’ under which the sacrifices are offered. It stands (usually) in the bwalo, the open space which Mr. Macdonald calls the ‘forum,’ and is, sometimes, at any rate, a wild fig-tree.” “This is the principal tree used for making bark-cloth. Livingstone says, ‘It is a sacred tree all over Africa and India’; and I learn from M. Auguste Chevalier that it is found in every village of Senegal and French Guinea, and looked on as ‘a fetich-tree’” (Miss A. Werner, The Natives of British Central Africa, pp. 62 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. W. Hobley, The Ethnology of A-Kamba and other East African Tribes (Cambridge, 1910), pp. 85, 89 sq. In British Central Africa, “every village has its ‘prayer tree,’ where sacrifices are made. It usually stands in the bwalo, the open space that Mr. Macdonald refers to as the ‘forum,’ and sometimes it's a wild fig tree.” “This is the main tree used for making bark cloth. Livingstone mentions, ‘It is a sacred tree all over Africa and India’; and I learned from M. Auguste Chevalier that it is found in every village in Senegal and French Guinea, and is considered ‘a fetich tree’” (Miss A. Werner, The Natives of British Central Africa, pp. 62 sq.).
1030. From the unpublished papers of the Rev. John Roscoe, which he has kindly placed at my disposal.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.From the unpublished papers of Rev. John Roscoe, which he has generously provided for my use.
1031. Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 54; Livy, i. 4. 5; Ovid, Fasti, ii. 411 sq.; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xv. 77; Festus, pp. 266, 270, 271, ed. C. O. Müller; Tacitus, Annals, xiii. 58; Servius on Virgil, Aen. viii. 90; Plutarch, Romulus, 4; id., Quaestiones Romanae, 57; Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Antiquitates Romanae, iii. 71. 5. All the Roman writers speak of the tree as a cultivated fig (ficus), not a wild fig (caprificus), and Dionysius agrees with them. Plutarch alone (Romulus, 4) describes it as a wild fig-tree (ἐρινεός). See also above, p. 10.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Varro, On the Latin Language, v. 54; Livy, i. 4. 5; Ovid, Fasti, ii. 411 sq.; Pliny, Natural History xv. 77; Festus, pp. 266, 270, 271, ed. C. O. Müller; Tacitus, Annals, xiii. 58; Servius on Virgil, Aeneid viii. 90; Plutarch, Romulus, 4; id., Roman Questions, 57; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities, iii. 71. 5. All the Roman writers refer to the tree as a cultivated fig (ficus), not a wild fig (caprificus), and Dionysius agrees with them. Plutarch is the only one (Romulus, 4) who describes it as a wild fig tree (ἐρινεός). See also above, p. 10.
1032. Festus, p. 266, ed. C. O. Müller; Ettore Pais, Ancient Legends of Roman History (London, 1906), pp. 55 sqq. Festus indeed treats the derivation as an absurdity, and many people will be inclined to agree with him.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, p. 266, ed. C. O. Müller; Ettore Pais, Ancient Legends of Roman History (London, 1906), pp. 55 sqq. Festus really considers the origin to be ridiculous, and many people will likely agree with him.
1033. On the fifth of July a ceremony called the Flight of the People was performed at Rome. Some ancient writers thought that it commemorated the dispersal of the people after the disappearance of Romulus. But this is to confuse the dates; for, according to tradition, the death of Romulus took place on the seventh, not the fifth of July, and therefore after instead of before the Flight of the People. See Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 18; Macrobius, Sat. iii. 2. 14; Dionysius Halicarn. Ant. Rom. ii. 56. 5; Plutarch, Romulus, 29; id., Camillus, 33; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 174 sqq. Mr. Warde Fowler may be right in thinking that some connexion perhaps existed between the ceremonies of the two days, the fifth and the seventh; and I agree with his suggestion that “the story itself of the death of Romulus had grown out of some religious rite performed at this time of year.” I note as a curious coincidence, for it can hardly be more, that at Bodmin in Cornwall a festival was held on the seventh of July, when a Lord of Misrule was appointed, who tried people for imaginary crimes and sentenced them to be ducked in a quagmire called Halgaver, which is explained to mean “the goat’s moor.” See T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, p. 339. The “goat’s moor” is an odd echo of the “goat’s marsh” at which Romulus disappeared on the same day of the year (Livy, i. 16. 1; Plutarch, Romulus, 29; id., Camillus, 33).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.On July 5th, a ceremony called the Flight of the People took place in Rome. Some ancient writers believed it marked the scattering of the people after Romulus vanished. However, this confuses the dates; according to tradition, Romulus died on July 7th, not the 5th, meaning the Flight of the People occurred before his death. See Varro, De lingua Latina, vi. 18; Macrobius, Sat. iii. 2. 14; Dionysius Halicarn. Ant. Rom. ii. 56. 5; Plutarch, Romulus, 29; id., Camillus, 33; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 174 sqq. Mr. Warde Fowler may be correct in believing there was some connection between the ceremonies on the fifth and seventh; I agree with his idea that “the story of Romulus's death likely originated from a religious rite performed around this time of year.” It’s an interesting coincidence, though it can hardly be more, that in Bodmin, Cornwall, a festival was celebrated on July 7th, during which a Lord of Misrule was chosen, who tried people for made-up offenses and sentenced them to be dunked in a muddy area known as Halgaver, which means “the goat’s moor.” See T. F. Thiselton Dyer, British Popular Customs, p. 339. The “goat’s moor” oddly mirrors the “goat’s marsh” where Romulus disappeared on the same day of the year (Livy, i. 16. 1; Plutarch, Romulus, 29; id., Camillus, 33).
1034. Livy, i. 14. 1 sq.; Dionysius Halicarn. Ant. Rom. ii. 52. 3; Plutarch, Romulus, 23.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 14. 1 sq.; Dionysius Halicarn. Ant. Rom. ii. 52. 3; Plutarch, Romulus, 23.
1036. Plutarch, Numa, 22. I have pruned the luxuriant periods in which Plutarch dwells, with edifying unction, on the righteous visitation of God which overtook that early agnostic Tullus Hostilius.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Plutarch, Numa, 22. I've trimmed down the lengthy sections where Plutarch elaborates, with a moral tone, on the just punishment from God that came upon the early skeptic Tullus Hostilius.
1037. Aurelius Victor, De viris illustribus, v. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Aurelius Victor, On Notable Men, v. 5.
1038. Livy, i. 40; Dionysius Halicarn. Ant. Rom. iii. 73.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 40; Dionysius Halicarn. Ant. Rom. iii. 73.
1039. Livy, i. 48; Dionysius Halicarn. Ant. Rom. iv. 38 sq.; Solinus, i. 25. The reading Virbium clivum (“the slope of Virbius”) occurs only in the more recent manuscripts of Livy: the better-attested reading both of Livy and Solinus is Urbium. But the obscure Virbium would easily and naturally be altered into Urbium, whereas the reverse change is very improbable. See Mr. A. B. Cook, in Classical Review, xvi. (1902) p. 380, note 3. In this passage Mr. Cook was the first to call attention to the analogy between the murder of the slave-born king, Servius Tullius, and the slaughter of the slave-king by his successor at Nemi. As to the oak-woods of the Esquiline see above, p. 185.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Livy, i. 48; Dionysius Halicarn. Ant. Rom. iv. 38 sq.; Solinus, i. 25. The phrase Virbium clivum (“the slope of Virbius”) is found only in later manuscripts of Livy: the more reliable reading in both Livy and Solinus is Urbium. However, the obscure Virbium could easily and naturally be misread as Urbium, while the opposite change is quite unlikely. See Mr. A. B. Cook, in Classical Review, xvi. (1902) p. 380, note 3. In this passage, Mr. Cook was the first to point out the similarity between the murder of the slave-born king, Servius Tullius, and the killing of the slave-king by his successor at Nemi. For information on the oak-woods of the Esquiline, see above, p. 185.
1040. Nicolaus Damascenus, in Stobaeus, Florilegium, x. 70. Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iii. 457.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Nicolaus Damascenus, in Stobaeus, Florilegium, x. 70. Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, ed. C. Müller, iii. 457.
1041. H. Jordan, Die Könige im alten Italien (Berlin, 1887), pp. 44 sq. In this his last work Jordan argues that the Umbrian practice, combined with the rule of the Arician priesthood, throws light on the existence and nature of the kingship among the ancient Latins. On this subject I am happy to be at one with so learned and judicious a scholar.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Jordan, The Kings in Ancient Italy (Berlin, 1887), pp. 44 sq. In this final work, Jordan argues that the Umbrian practices, along with the guidelines of the Arician priesthood, clarify the existence and nature of kingship among the ancient Latins. On this topic, I’m pleased to share the views of such a knowledgeable and thoughtful scholar.
1042. R. E. Dennett, At the Back of the Black Man’s Mind (London, 1906), pp. 11 sq., 111, 131 sq., 135. The word translated “sacred ground” (xibila, plural bibila) means properly “sacred grove.” Such “sacred groves” are common in this part of Africa, but in the “sacred grove” of the king of Loango the tree beside which the monarch takes post to fight for the crown appears to stand solitary in a grassy plain. See R. E. Dennett, op. cit. pp. 11 sq., 25, 96 sqq., 110 sqq. We have seen that the right of succession to the throne of Loango descends in the female line (above, pp. 276 sq.), which furnishes another point of resemblance between Loango and Rome, if my theory of the Roman kingship is correct.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. E. Dennett, At the Back of the Black Man’s Mind (London, 1906), pp. 11 sq., 111, 131 sq., 135. The term translated as “sacred ground” (xibila, plural bibila) actually means “sacred grove.” Such “sacred groves” are typical in this region of Africa, but in the “sacred grove” of the king of Loango, the tree where the monarch positions himself to fight for the crown seems to stand alone in a grassy plain. See R. E. Dennett, op. cit. pp. 11 sq., 25, 96 sqq., 110 sqq. We have noted that the right of succession to the throne of Loango passes through the female line (above, pp. 276 sq.), which provides another similarity between Loango and Rome, if my theory of the Roman kingship is accurate.
1043. J. G. Frazer, Totemism and Exogamy, ii. 530. My authority is the Rev. John Roscoe, formerly of the Church Missionary Society in Uganda.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Frazer, Totemism and Exogamy, ii. 530. My source is the Rev. John Roscoe, who used to work with the Church Missionary Society in Uganda.
1044. Memoirs of Samuel Pepys, edited by Richard, Lord Braybrooke, Second Edition (London, 1828), i. 193 sq. (under April 23rd, 1661).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Memoirs of Samuel Pepys, edited by Richard, Lord Braybrooke, Second Edition (London, 1828), i. 193 sq. (under April 23rd, 1661).
1045. Varro, Rerum rusticarum, ii. 1. 9 sq. “Romanorum vero populum a pastoribus esse ortum quis non dicit?” etc. Amongst other arguments in favour of this view Varro refers to the Roman personal names derived from cattle, both large and small, such as Porcius, “pig-man,” Ovinius, “sheep-man,” Caprilius, “goat-man,” Equitius, “horse-man,” Taurius, “bull-man,” and so forth. On the importance of cattle and milk among the ancient Aryans see O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde (Strasburg, 1901), pp. 541 sq., 689 sqq., 913 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Varro, Rerum rusticarum, ii. 1. 9 sq. “Is there anyone who doesn't say that the Roman people originated from shepherds?” Among other arguments supporting this idea, Varro points out Roman personal names that come from livestock, like Porcius, “pig-man,” Ovinius, “sheep-man,” Caprilius, “goat-man,” Equitius, “horse-man,” Taurius, “bull-man,” and so on. For more on the significance of cattle and milk in ancient Aryan culture, see O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde (Strasburg, 1901), pp. 541 sq., 689 sqq., 913 sqq.
1046. Above, vol. i. p. 366.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Above, vol. 1, p. 366.
1047. As to the foundation of Rome on this date see Varro, Rerum rusticarum, ii. 1. 9; Cicero, De divinatione, ii. 47. 98; Festus, s.v. “Parilibus,” p. 236, ed. C. O. Müller; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xviii. 247; Propertius, v. 4. 73 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, iv. 801-806; id., Metam. xiv. 774 sq.; Velleius Paterculus, i. 8. 4; Eutropius, i. 1; Solinus, i. 18; Censorinus, De die natali, xxi. 6; Probus on Virgil, Georg. iii. 1; Schol. Veronens. on Virgil, l.c.; Dionysius Halicarnas, Ant. Rom. i. 88; Plutarch, Romulus, 12; Dio Cassius, xliii. 42; Zonaras, Annales, vii. 3; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, i. 14, iv. 50. As to the birth of Numa, see Plutarch, Numa, 3. The festival is variously called Parilia and Palilia by ancient writers, but the form Parilia seems to be the better attested of the two. See G. Wissowa, s.v. “Pales,” in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. und röm. Mythologie, iii. 1278.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For information on the foundation of Rome on this date, refer to Varro, Rerum rusticarum, ii. 1. 9; Cicero, De divinatione, ii. 47. 98; Festus, s.v. “Parilibus,” p. 236, ed. C. O. Müller; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xviii. 247; Propertius, v. 4. 73 sq.; Ovid, Fasti, iv. 801-806; id., Metam. xiv. 774 sq.; Velleius Paterculus, i. 8. 4; Eutropius, i. 1; Solinus, i. 18; Censorinus, De die natali, xxi. 6; Probus on Virgil, Georg. iii. 1; Schol. Veronens. on Virgil, l.c.; Dionysius Halicarnas, Ant. Rom. i. 88; Plutarch, Romulus, 12; Dio Cassius, xliii. 42; Zonaras, Annales, vii. 3; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, i. 14, iv. 50. For details on the birth of Numa, see Plutarch, Numa, 3. The festival is referred to as both Parilia and Palilia by ancient authors, but the term Parilia appears to be the more commonly used. See G. Wissowa, s.v. “Pales,” in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. und röm. Mythologie, iii. 1278.
1048. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. i. 88) hesitates between these two views. With truer historical insight Plutarch (Romulus, 12) holds that the rustic festival was older than the foundation of Rome.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ant. Rom. i. 88) is uncertain between these two perspectives. With a better understanding of history, Plutarch (Romulus, 12) argues that the rural festival existed before the establishment of Rome.
1049. See, for example, vol. i. above, p. 32.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Check out, for instance, vol. i. above, p. 32.
1050. For modern discussions of the Parilia, see L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 413 sqq.; J. Marquardt, Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 207 sq.; W. Mannhardt, Antike Wald- und Feldkulte, pp. 309-317; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals, pp. 79-85; G. Wissowa, s.v. “Pales,” in W. H. Roscher’s Lexikon der griech. u. röm. Mythologie, iii. 1276-1280; id., Religion und Kultus der Römer, pp. 165 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For contemporary discussions of the Parilia, see L. Preller, Roman Mythology, 3rd Ed., i. 413 and following; J. Marquardt, Roman Administrative System, iii. 2nd Ed., 207 and following; W. Mannhardt, Ancient Forest and Field Cults, pp. 309-317; W. Warde Fowler, Roman Festivals, pp. 79-85; G. Wissowa, entry on “Pales,” in W. H. Roscher’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Mythology, iii. 1276-1280; id., Religion and Cult of the Romans, pp. 165 and following
1051. Cicero, De divinatione, ii. 47. 98; Ovid, Fasti, iv. 806; Calendar of Philocalus, quoted by W. Warde Fowler, op. cit. p. 79; Probus on Virgil, Georg. iii. 1; Plutarch, Romulus, 12; Zonaras, Annales, vii. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Cicero, On Divination, ii. 47. 98; Ovid, Fasti, iv. 806; Calendar of Philocalus, quoted by W. Warde Fowler, op. cit. p. 79; Probus on Virgil, Georgics, iii. 1; Plutarch, Romulus, 12; Zonaras, Annals, vii. 3.
1052. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. i. 88.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. Rom. i. 88.
1053. Festus, s.v. “Pales,” p. 222, ed. C. O. Müller; Dionysius Halic. l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, s.v. “Pales,” p. 222, ed. C. O. Müller; Dionysius Halic. l.c.
1054. Servius on Virgil, Georg. iii. 1. See also Arnobius, Adversus nationes, iii. 40; Martianus Capella, i. 50.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Servius on Virgil, Georg. iii. 1. See also Arnobius, Adversus nationes, iii. 40; Martianus Capella, i. 50.
1055. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 637-640, 731-734; Propertius, v. 1. 19 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, iv. 637-640, 731-734; Propertius, v. 1. 19 sq.
1057. Tibullus, ii. 5. 91 sq.:—
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Tibullus, ii. 5. 91 seq.:—
1058. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 735-738. In his account of the festival Ovid mentions only shepherds and sheep; but since Pales was a god of cattle as well as of sheep (Arnobius, Adversus nationes, iii. 23), we may suppose that herds and herdsmen equally participated in it. Dionysius (l.c.) speaks of four-footed beasts in general.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, iv. 735-738. In his description of the festival, Ovid only mentions shepherds and sheep; however, since Pales was a goddess of both cattle and sheep (Arnobius, Adversus nationes, iii. 23), we can assume that herds and herdsmen were also involved. Dionysius (l.c.) refers to four-legged animals in general.
1059. So Mr. W. Warde Fowler understands Ovid, Fasti, iv. 735-742.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.So Mr. W. Warde Fowler gets Ovid, Fasti, iv. 735-742.
1060. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 805 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 805 sq.
1061. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 739 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 739 sq.
1062. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 747 sq.:—
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 747 sq.:—
With this sense of noxa compare id. vi. 129 sq., where it is said that buckthorn or hawthorn “tristes pellere posset a foribus noxas.”
With this sense of noxa, compare id. vi. 129 sq., where it says that buckthorn or hawthorn “could drive out misfortunes from the door.”
1063. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 763-774. The prayer that the wolves may be kept far from the fold is mentioned also by Tibullus (ii. 5. 88).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, iv. 763-774. The prayer for the wolves to stay away from the flock is also mentioned by Tibullus (ii. 5. 88).
1064. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 779-782; Tibullus, ii. 5. 89 sq.; Propertius, v. 1. 19, v. 4. 77 sq.; Persius, i. 72; Probus on Virgil, Georg. iii. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, iv. 779-782; Tibullus, ii. 5. 89 sq.; Propertius, v. 1. 19, v. 4. 77 sq.; Persius, i. 72; Probus on Virgil, Georg. iii. 1.
1065. I owe this observation to F. A. Paley, on Ovid, Fasti, iv. 754. He refers to Virgil, Georg. ii. 435, Ecl. x. 30; Theocritus, xi. 73 sq.; to which may be added Virgil, Georg. iii. 300 sq., 320 sq.; Horace, Epist. i. 14. 28; Cato, De re rustica, 30; Columella, De re rustica, vii. 3. 21, xi. 2. 83 and 99-101. From these passages of Cato and Columella we learn that the Italian farmer fed his cattle on the leaves of the elm, the ash, the poplar, the oak, the evergreen oak, the fig, and the laurel.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.I got this observation from F. A. Paley, on Ovid, Fasti, iv. 754. He references Virgil, Georg. ii. 435, Ecl. x. 30; Theocritus, xi. 73 sq.; and we can also include Virgil, Georg. iii. 300 sq., 320 sq.; Horace, Epist. i. 14. 28; Cato, De re rustica, 30; Columella, De re rustica, vii. 3. 21, xi. 2. 83 and 99-101. From these excerpts of Cato and Columella, we learn that the Italian farmer fed his cattle with the leaves of the elm, ash, poplar, oak, evergreen oak, fig, and laurel.
1066. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 749-754.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, Book 4, lines 749-754.
1067. Ovid, Fasti, iv. 757-760.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, Book 4, lines 757-760.
1068. Columella, De re rustica, vii. 3. 11. In this respect the practice of ancient Italian farmers would seem to have differed from that of modern English breeders. In a letter (dated 8th February 1908) my friend Professor W. Somerville of Oxford writes: “It is against all modern custom to arrange matters so that lambs are born five months after April 21, say the end of September.” And, again, in another letter (dated 16th February 1908) he writes to me: “The matter of coupling ewes and rams in the end of April is very perplexing. In this country it is only the Dorset breed of sheep that will ‘take’ the ram at this time of the year. In the case of other breeds the ewe will only take the ram in autumn, say from July to November, so that the lambs are born from January to May. We consider that lambs born late in the season, say May or June, never thrive well.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Columella, De re rustica, vii. 3. 11. In this way, it seems that the practices of ancient Italian farmers were different from those of modern English breeders. In a letter (dated February 8, 1908), my friend Professor W. Somerville from Oxford writes: “It's against all modern practices to arrange things so that lambs are born five months after April 21, like at the end of September.” And again, in another letter (dated February 16, 1908), he writes to me: “The issue of breeding ewes and rams at the end of April is quite confusing. In this country, only the Dorset breed of sheep will mate at this time of year. With other breeds, ewes will only mate in the autumn, from July to November, meaning lambs are born from January to May. We believe that lambs born later in the season, like in May or June, don't thrive well.”
1069. The suggestion was made by C. G. Heyne in his commentary on Tibullus, i. 5. 88.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. G. Heyne made the suggestion in his commentary on Tibullus, i. 5. 88.
1070. O. Keller, Thiere des classischen Alterthums (Innsbruck, 1887), pp. 158 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.O. Keller, Animals of Classical Antiquity (Innsbruck, 1887), pp. 158 and following
1071. Calpurnius, Bucol. v. 16-28.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Calpurnius, Bucol. v. 16-28.
1072. Plutarch, Romulus, 12.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Plutarch, Romulus, 12.
1073. Dionysius Halicarnasensis, Ant. Rom. 1. 88.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Ant. Rom. 1. 88.
1074. This is the view of J. Marquardt (Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 207), and Mr. W. Warde Fowler (Roman Festivals, p. 83, note 1).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.This is the perspective of J. Marquardt (Römische Staatsverwaltung, iii. 2nd Ed., 207) and Mr. W. Warde Fowler (Roman Festivals, p. 83, note 1).
1075. Boecler-Kreutzwald, Der Ehsten abergläubische Gebräuche, Weisen und Gewohnheiten, pp. 82-84, 116-118; F. J. Wiedemann, Aus dem inneren und äusseren Leben der Ehsten, pp. 332, 356-361; Holzmayer, “Osiliana,” Verhandlungen der gelehrten Estnischen Gesellschaft zu Dorpat, vii. (1872) p. 61.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Boecler-Kreutzwald, The Superstitious Customs, Practices, and Habits of the Estonians, pp. 82-84, 116-118; F. J. Wiedemann, From the Inner and Outer Life of the Estonians, pp. 332, 356-361; Holzmayer, “Osiliana,” Proceedings of the Learned Estonian Society in Dorpat, vii. (1872) p. 61.
1076. F. J. Wiedemann, op. cit. p. 413.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. F. J. Wiedemann, same source p. 413.
1078. W. R. S. Ralston, Russian Folk-tales, pp. 344, 345.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. R. S. Ralston, Russian Folk-tales, pp. 344, 345.
1079. W. R. S. Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, pp. 229-231. In the island of Rhodes also it is customary for people to roll themselves on the grass for good luck on St. George’s Day. See Mary Hamilton, Greek Saints and their Festivals (Edinburgh and London, 1910), p. 166.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. R. S. Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, pp. 229-231. On the island of Rhodes, it's also a tradition for people to roll around on the grass for good luck on St. George’s Day. See Mary Hamilton, Greek Saints and their Festivals (Edinburgh and London, 1910), p. 166.
1080. Olga Bartels, “Aus dem Leben der weissrussischen Landbevölkerung,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, xxxv. (1903) p. 659.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Olga Bartels, “From the Life of the Belarusian Rural Population,” Journal of Ethnology, xxxv. (1903) p. 659.
1081. W. R. S. Ralston, op. cit. p. 389. French peasants of the Vosges Mountains believe that St. George shuts the mouths of wild beasts and prevents them from attacking the flocks which are placed under his protection (L. F. Sauvé, Le Folk-lore des Hautes-Vosges, p. 127).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. R. S. Ralston, op. cit. p. 389. French farmers in the Vosges Mountains believe that St. George silences wild animals and stops them from attacking the flocks that are under his protection (L. F. Sauvé, Le Folk-lore des Hautes-Vosges, p. 127).
1082. W. R. S. Ralston, op. cit. pp. 319 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. R. S. Ralston, op. cit. pp. 319 sq.
1083. R. F. Kaindl, “Zauberglaube bei den Rutenen in der Bukowina und Galizien,” Globus, lxi. (1892) p. 280.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. F. Kaindl, “Beliefs in Magic among the Ruthenians in Bukovina and Galicia,” Globus, lxi. (1892) p. 280.
1084. R. F. Kaindl, Die Huzulen (Vienna, 1894), pp. 62 sq., 78, 88 sq.; id., “Zauberglaube bei den Huzulen,” Globus, lxxvi. (1899) p. 233.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. F. Kaindl, The Huzuls (Vienna, 1894), pp. 62 sq., 78, 88 sq.; id., “Beliefs in Magic Among the Huzuls,” Globe, lxxvi. (1899) p. 233.
1085. P. Drechsler, Sitte, Brauch und Volksglaube in Schlesien, i. (Leipsic, 1903) pp. 106 sq. The authority quoted for the sacrifice is Tiede, Merkwürdigkeiten Schlesiens (1804), pp. 123 sq. It is not expressly said, but we may assume, that the sacrifice was offered on St. George’s Day.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Drechsler, Sitte, Brauch und Volksglaube in Schlesien, i. (Leipzig, 1903) pp. 106 sq. The source mentioned for the sacrifice is Tiede, Merkwürdigkeiten Schlesiens (1804), pp. 123 sq. While it isn't stated outright, we can assume that the sacrifice was made on St. George’s Day.
1086. A. Birlinger, Aus Schwaben (Wiesbaden, 1874), ii. 166. Compare id., Volksthümliches aus Schwaben, ii. 21 n. 1.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Birlinger, From Swabia (Wiesbaden, 1874), ii. 166. Compare id., Folk Traditions from Swabia, ii. 21 n. 1.
1087. E. H. Meyer, Badisches Volksleben im neunzehnten Jahrhundert (Strasburg, 1900), pp. 219, 408.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. H. Meyer, Badisches Volksleben im 19. Jahrhundert (Strasbourg, 1900), pp. 219, 408.
1088. J. Haltrich, Zur Volkskunde der Siebenbürger Sachsen (Vienna, 1885), p. 281.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Haltrich, On the Folklore of the Transylvanian Saxons (Vienna, 1885), p. 281.
1089. W. Schmidt, Das Jahr und seine Tage in Meinung und Brauch der Romänen Siebenbürgens (Hermannstadt, 1866), pp. 9, 11. Compare R. F. Kaindl, “Zur Volkskunde der Rumänen in der Bukowina,” Globus, xcii. (1907) p. 284. It does not appear whether the shepherd’s pouch (“Hirtentaschen”) in question is the real pouch or the plant of that name.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Schmidt, The Year and Its Days in the Opinions and Customs of the Romanians of Transylvania (Hermannstadt, 1866), pp. 9, 11. See also R. F. Kaindl, “On the Folklore of the Romanians in Bukovina,” Globus, xcii. (1907) p. 284. It's unclear whether the shepherd’s pouch (“Hirtentaschen”) mentioned refers to the actual pouch or the plant by that name.
1090. A. und A. Schott, Walachische Maehrchen (Stuttgart and Tübingen, 1845), pp. 299 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. and A. Schott, Walachische Maehrchen (Stuttgart and Tübingen, 1845), pp. 299 sq.
1091. A. Strausz, Die Bulgaren (Leipsic, 1898), p. 287.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Strausz, The Bulgarians (Leipzig, 1898), p. 287.
1092. A. Strausz, op. cit. p. 337.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. A. Strausz, same source p. 337.
1093. W. R. S. Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, p. 230.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. R. S. Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, p. 230.
1095. F. S. Krauss, Volksglaube und religiöser Brauch der Südslaven, pp. 125-127; id., Kroatien und Slavonien (Vienna, 1889), pp. 105 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. Krauss, Folk Beliefs and Religious Customs of the South Slavs, pp. 125-127; id., Croatia and Slavonia (Vienna, 1889), pp. 105 sq.
1096. W. J. A. Tettau und J. D. H. Temme, Die Volkssagen Ostpreussens, Litthauens und Westpreussens (Berlin, 1837), p. 263.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. J. A. Tettau and J. D. H. Temme, The Folk Legends of East Prussia, Lithuania, and West Prussia (Berlin, 1837), p. 263.
1097. L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden, pp. 246-251; A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 163 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Lloyd, Peasant Life in Sweden, pp. 246-251; A. Kuhn, Herabkunft des Feuers, 2nd Ed., pp. 163 sq.
1099. W. R. S. Ralston, Russian Folk-tales, p. 345.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. R. S. Ralston, Russian Folk-tales, p. 345.
1100. Marie Andree-Eysn, Volkskundliches aus dem bayrisch-österreichischen Alpengebiet (Brunswick, 1910), pp. 180-182.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Marie Andree-Eysn, Folk Studies from the Bavarian-Austrian Alpine Region (Brunswick, 1910), pp. 180-182.
1101. E. H. Meyer, Badisches Volksleben im neunzehnten Jahrhundert (Strasburg, 1900), p. 423; K. Freiherr von Leoprechting, Aus dem Lechrain (Munich, 1855), p. 168.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. H. Meyer, Badisches Volksleben im 19. Jahrhundert (Strasbourg, 1900), p. 423; K. Freiherr von Leoprechting, Aus dem Lechrain (Munich, 1855), p. 168.
1103. A. Strausz, Die Bulgaren, pp. 337, 385 sq. There seems to be a special connexion between St. George and serpents. In Bohemia and Moravia it is thought that up to the twenty-third of April serpents are innocuous, and only get their poison on the saint’s day. See J. V. Grohmann, Aberglauben und Gebräuche aus Böhmen und Mähren, §§ 326, 580, pp. 51, 81; W. Müller, Beiträge zur Volkskunde der Deutschen in Mähren, p. 323. Various other charms are effected by means of serpents on this day. Thus if you tear out the tongue of a live snake on St. George’s Day, put it in a ball of wax, and lay the ball under your tongue, you will be able to talk down anybody. See J. V. Grohmann, op. cit., §§ 576, 1169, pp. 81, 166.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. Strausz, Die Bulgaren, pp. 337, 385 sq. There seems to be a special connection between St. George and snakes. In Bohemia and Moravia, it’s believed that up until April 23rd, snakes are harmless and only become poisonous on the saint’s day. See J. V. Grohmann, Aberglauben und Gebräuche aus Böhmen und Mähren, §§ 326, 580, pp. 51, 81; W. Müller, Beiträge zur Volkskunde der Deutschen in Mähren, p. 323. Various other charms are performed with snakes on this day. For instance, if you remove the tongue of a live snake on St. George’s Day, put it in a ball of wax, and place the ball under your tongue, you will be able to out-talk anyone. See J. V. Grohmann, op. cit., §§ 576, 1169, pp. 81, 166.
1104. J. V. Grohmann, op. cit. § 1463, p. 210.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. V. Grohmann, op. cit. § 1463, p. 210.
1105. F. S. Krauss, Sitte und Brauch der Südslaven, p. 175.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. S. Krauss, Customs and Traditions of the South Slavs, p. 175.
1106. F. S. Krauss, op. cit. pp. 175 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. F. S. Krauss, op. cit. pp. 175 ff.
1107. Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest-Kalender aus Böhmen, pp. 194 sq.; J. V. Grohmann, op. cit., § 554, p. 77.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Reinsberg-Düringsfeld, Fest Calendar from Bohemia, pp. 194 sq.; J. V. Grohmann, op. cit., § 554, p. 77.
1108. S. J. Curtiss, Primitive Semitic Religion To-day, pp. 83 sq., 118 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.S. J. Curtiss, Primitive Semitic Religion Today, pp. 83 sq., 118 sq.
1109. S. Baring-Gould, Curious Myths of the Middle Ages, pp. 278 sqq. The authority for this identification is the nominal translator, but real author, of the work called The Agriculture of the Nabataeans. See D. A. Chwolson, Über Tammuz und die Menschenverehrung bei den alten Babyloniern (St. Petersburg, 1860), pp. 56 sq. Although The Agriculture of the Nabataeans appears to be a forgery (see above, p. 100, note 2), the identification of the oriental St. George with Tammuz may nevertheless be correct.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.S. Baring-Gould, Curious Myths of the Middle Ages, pp. 278 sqq. The authority for this identification is the nominal translator, who is actually the real author of the work titled The Agriculture of the Nabataeans. See D. A. Chwolson, Über Tammuz und die Menschenverehrung bei den alten Babyloniern (St. Petersburg, 1860), pp. 56 sq. Although The Agriculture of the Nabataeans seems to be a forgery (see above, p. 100, note 2), the connection of the oriental St. George with Tammuz might still be valid.
1110. J. Maeletius (Menecius), “De sacrificiis et idolatria veterum Borussorum Livonum aliarumque vicinarum gentium,” Mitteilungen der Litterarischen Gesellschaft Masovia, Heft 8 (Lötzen, 1902), pp. 185, 187, 200 sq.; id. in Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, ii. (Riga and Leipsic, 1848), pp. 389, 390; J. Lasicius, “De diis Samagitarum caeterorumque Sarmatarum,” ed. W. Mannhardt, in Magazin herausgegeben von der Lettisch-literärischen Gesellschaft, xiv. (1868) pp. 95 sq. The first form of the prayer to Pergrubius is from the Latin, the second from the German, version of Maeletius’s (Jan Malecki’s) work. The description of Pergrubius as “he who makes leaves and grass to grow” (“der lest wachssen laub unnd gras”) is also from the German. According to M. Praetorius, Pergrubius was a god of husbandry (Deliciae Prussicae, Berlin, 1871, p. 25).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Maeletius (Menecius), “On the Sacrifices and Idolatry of the Ancient Prussians, Livonians, and Other Neighboring Peoples,” Mitteilungen der Litterarischen Gesellschaft Masovia, Issue 8 (Lötzen, 1902), pp. 185, 187, 200 sq.; id. in Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, vol. ii. (Riga and Leipsic, 1848), pp. 389, 390; J. Lasicius, “On the Gods of the Samagitians and Other Sarmatians,” ed. W. Mannhardt, in Magazin herausgegeben von der Lettisch-literärischen Gesellschaft, vol. xiv. (1868) pp. 95 sq. The first version of the prayer to Pergrubius comes from the Latin text, and the second from the German version of Maeletius’s (Jan Malecki’s) work. The description of Pergrubius as “he who makes leaves and grass grow” (“der lest wachssen laub unnd gras”) is also from the German. According to M. Praetorius, Pergrubius was a god of agriculture (Deliciae Prussicae, Berlin, 1871, p. 25).
1112. J. Geikie, Prehistoric Europe (Edinburgh, 1881), pp. 420 sq., 482 sqq., 495.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Geikie, Prehistoric Europe (Edinburgh, 1881), pp. 420 sq., 482 sqq., 495.
1113. R. Munro, Ancient Scottish Lake Dwellings or Crannogs (Edinburgh, 1882), p. 266, quoting Alton’s Treatise on the Origin, Qualities, and Cultivation of Moss Earth.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Munro, Ancient Scottish Lake Dwellings or Crannogs (Edinburgh, 1882), p. 266, quoting Alton’s Treatise on the Origin, Qualities, and Cultivation of Moss Earth.
1114. J. Geikie, op. cit. pp. 432-436.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Geikie, same source pp. 432-436.
1115. J. Geikie, op. cit. pp. 461-463.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Geikie, op. cit. pp. 461-463.
1116. A. von Humboldt, Kosmos, i. (Stuttgart and Tübingen, 1845) p. 298. The passage is mistranslated in the English version edited by E. Sabine.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.A. von Humboldt, Kosmos, i. (Stuttgart and Tübingen, 1845) p. 298. The passage is incorrectly translated in the English version edited by E. Sabine.
1117. Sir Charles Lyell, The Geological Evidence of the Antiquity of Man 4th ed., (London, 1873), pp. 8, 17, 415 sq.; Sir John Lubbock (Lord Avebury), Prehistoric Times 5th Ed., (London, 1890), pp. 251, 387; J. Geikie, op. cit. pp. 485-487.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Sir Charles Lyell, The Geological Evidence of the Antiquity of Man 4th ed., (London, 1873), pp. 8, 17, 415 sq.; Sir John Lubbock (Lord Avebury), Prehistoric Times 5th Ed., (London, 1890), pp. 251, 387; J. Geikie, op. cit. pp. 485-487.
1118. J. Geikie, op. cit. pp. 487 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Geikie, op. cit. pp. 487 et seq.
1119. J. Geikie, op. cit. p. 489.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Geikie, ibid. p. 489.
1120. R. Munro, Ancient Scottish Lake Dwellings, p. 20, quoting the article “Crannoges” in Chambers’s Encyclopædia.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Munro, Ancient Scottish Lake Dwellings, p. 20, quoting the article “Crannoges” in Chambers’s Encyclopædia.
1121. R. Munro, op. cit. p. 23. For more evidence of the use of oak in British crannogs, see id., op. cit. pp. 6-8, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 sq., 37, 38, 39, 41, 42, 51 sq., 53, 61, 62, 97, 122, 208, 262, 291-299; id. The Lake Dwellings of Europe (London, Paris, and Melbourne, 1890), pp. 350, 364, 372, 377.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.R. Munro, op. cit. p. 23. For more evidence of oak use in British crannogs, see id., op. cit. pp. 6-8, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 sq., 37, 38, 39, 41, 42, 51 sq., 53, 61, 62, 97, 122, 208, 262, 291-299; id. The Lake Dwellings of Europe (London, Paris, and Melbourne, 1890), pp. 350, 364, 372, 377.
1122. F. Keller, The Lake Dwellings of Switzerland and other Parts of Europe 2nd Ed., (London, 1878), i. 37, 48, 65, 87, 93, 105, 110, 129, 156, 186, 194, 201, 214, 264, 268, 289, 300, 320, 375, 382, 434, 438, 440, 444, 446, 465, 639.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Keller, The Lake Dwellings of Switzerland and other Parts of Europe 2nd Ed., (London, 1878), i. 37, 48, 65, 87, 93, 105, 110, 129, 156, 186, 194, 201, 214, 264, 268, 289, 300, 320, 375, 382, 434, 438, 440, 444, 446, 465, 639.
1123. F. Keller, op. cit. i. 332, 334, 375, 586.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.F. Keller, op. cit. i. 332, 334, 375, 586.
1124. W. Helbig, Die Italiker in der Poebene (Leipsic, 1879), pp. 12, 16 sq., 26. The bones of cattle, pigs, goats, and sheep prove that these animals were bred by the people of the Italian pile villages. See W. Helbig, op. cit. p. 14.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.W. Helbig, The Italians in the Po Valley (Leipzig, 1879), pp. 12, 16 sq., 26. The bones of cattle, pigs, goats, and sheep show that these animals were raised by the people of the Italian lake villages. See W. Helbig, op. cit. p. 14.
1125. Strabo, v. 4. 1, p. 195.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, v. 4. 1, p. 195.
1126. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, Natural History xvi. 5.
1127. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 6 “Hercyniae silvae roborum vastitas ... glandiferi maxime generis omnes, quibus honos apud Romanos perpetuus.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 6 “The destruction of the oak forests of Hercynia... of all the acorn-bearing species, which hold everlasting honor among the Romans.”
1128. H. Hirt, “Die Urheimat der Indogermanen,” Indogermanische Forschungen, i. (1892), p. 480; P. Kretschmer, Einleitung in die Geschichte der griechischen Sprache (Göttingen, 1896), p. 81; O. Schrader, Reallexikon der Indogermanischen Altertumskunde, s.v. “Eiche,” p. 164. This etymology assumes that Hercynia represents an original Perkunia, and is connected with the Latin quercus. However, the derivation is not undisputed. See O. Schrader, op. cit. pp. 1015 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.H. Hirt, “The Original Home of the Indo-Europeans,” Indo-European Research, i. (1892), p. 480; P. Kretschmer, Introduction to the History of the Greek Language (Göttingen, 1896), p. 81; O. Schrader, Encyclopedia of Indo-European Antiquity, s.v. “Oak,” p. 164. This etymology suggests that Hercynia represents an original Perkunia and is related to the Latin quercus. However, this derivation is not without dispute. See O. Schrader, op. cit. pp. 1015 sq.
1129. Polybius, ii. 15. Compare Strabo, v. 1. 12, p. 218.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Polybius, ii. 15. See Strabo, v. 1. 12, p. 218.
1130. Polybius, xii. 4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Polybius, 12.4.
1131. Strabo, v. 3. 1, p. 228.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, v. 3. 1, p. 228.
1132. Diodorus Siculus, iv. 84.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Diodorus Siculus, Book 4, Section 84.
1133. Pausanias, viii. 23. 8 sq. For notices of forests and groves of oak in Arcadia and other parts of Greece, see id. ii. 11. 4, iii. 10. 6, vii. 26. 10, viii. 11. 1, viii. 25. 1, viii. 42. 12, viii. 54. 5, ix. 3. 4, ix. 24. 5. The oaks in the Arcadian forests were of various species (id. viii. 12. 1).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, viii. 23. 8 sq. For information about the forests and oak groves in Arcadia and other parts of Greece, see id. ii. 11. 4, iii. 10. 6, vii. 26. 10, viii. 11. 1, viii. 25. 1, viii. 42. 12, viii. 54. 5, ix. 3. 4, ix. 24. 5. The oaks in the Arcadian forests consisted of different species (id. viii. 12. 1).
1134. C. Neumann und J. Partsch, Physikalische Geographie von Griechenland (Breslau, 1885), p. 378.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Neumann and J. Partsch, Physical Geography of Greece (Breslau, 1885), p. 378.
1135. Encyclopædia Britannica, 9th Ed., xvii. 690.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Encyclopædia Britannica, 9th Ed., xvii. 690.
1136. Virgil, Georg., i. 7 sq., 147-149; Lucretius, v. 939 sq., 965; Tibullus, ii. 1. 37 sq., ii. 3. 69; Ovid, Metam. i. 106; id., Fasti, i. 675 sq., iv. 399-402; Juvenal, xiv. 182-184; Aulus Gellius, v. 6. 12; Dionysius Halicarnas. Ars rhetorica, i. 6, vol. v. p. 230, ed. Reiske; Pollux, i. 234; Poryphry, De abstinentia, ii. 5.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Virgil, Georg., i. 7 sq., 147-149; Lucretius, v. 939 sq., 965; Tibullus, ii. 1. 37 sq., ii. 3. 69; Ovid, Metam. i. 106; id., Fasti, i. 675 sq., iv. 399-402; Juvenal, xiv. 182-184; Aulus Gellius, v. 6. 12; Dionysius Halicarnas. Ars rhetorica, i. 6, vol. v. p. 230, ed. Reiske; Pollux, i. 234; Poryphry, De abstinentia, ii. 5.
1137. Hesiod, Works and Days, 232 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Hesiod, Works and Days, 232 sq.
1138. Herodotus, i. 66.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Herodotus, 1. 66.
1139. Pausanias, viii. 1, 6. According to Pausanias it was only the acorns of the phegos oak which the Arcadians ate.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, viii. 1, 6. According to Pausanias, the Arcadians only ate the acorns from the phegos oak.
1140. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 15.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, Natural History xvi. 15.
1141. Strabo, iii. 3. 7, p. 155.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, iii. 3. 7, p. 155.
1142. Pliny, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, loc. cit.
1143. C. Neumann und J. Partsch, Physikalische Geographie von Griechenland, p. 379.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Neumann and J. Partsch, Physical Geography of Greece, p. 379.
1144. C. Neumann and J. Partsch, op. cit., p. 382, note.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Neumann and J. Partsch, op. cit., p. 382, note.
1145. Cervantes, Don Quixote, part ii. ch. 50, vol. iv. p. 133 of H. E. Watts’s translation, with the translator’s note (new edition, London, 1895); Neumann und Partsch, op. cit. p. 380; P. Wagler, Die Eiche in alter und neuer Zeit, i. (Wurzen, 1891) p. 35. The passage in Don Quixote was pointed out to me by my friend Mr. W. Wyse.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Cervantes, Don Quixote, part ii. ch. 50, vol. iv. p. 133 of H. E. Watts’s translation, including the translator’s note (new edition, London, 1895); Neumann und Partsch, op. cit. p. 380; P. Wagler, Die Eiche in alter und neuer Zeit, i. (Wurzen, 1891) p. 35. My friend Mr. W. Wyse pointed out the passage in Don Quixote to me.
1146. Encyclopædia Britannica, 9th. Ed., xvii. 692.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Encyclopædia Britannica, 9th. Ed., xvii. 692.
1147. H. E. Watts, loc. cit.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. E. Watts, loc. cit.
1148. Encyclopædia Britannica, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Encyclopedia Britannica, l.c.
1149. To avoid misapprehension, I desire to point out that I am not here concerned with the evolution of Aryan religion in general, but only with that of a small, though important part of it, to wit, the worship of a particular kind of tree. To write a general history of Aryan religion in all its many aspects as a worship of nature, of the dead, and so forth, would be a task equally beyond my powers and my ambition. Still less should I dream of writing a universal history of religion. The “general work” referred to in the preface to the first edition of The Golden Bough is a book of far humbler scope.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.To clear up any confusion, I want to make it clear that I’m not focused on the overall development of Aryan religion, but specifically on a small but significant part of it, namely, the worship of a particular type of tree. Writing a comprehensive history of Aryan religion in all its various aspects—like nature worship and ancestor veneration—would be beyond my abilities and my goals. I wouldn't even think about attempting to write a universal history of religion. The “general work” mentioned in the preface of the first edition of The Golden Bough is a much more modest project.
1151. For evidence of these aspects of Zeus and Jupiter, see L. Preller, Griechische Mythologie, i. 4th ed., 115 sqq.; id., Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 184 sqq. In former editions of this book I was disposed to set aside much too summarily what may be called the meteorological side of Zeus and Jupiter.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For evidence of these aspects of Zeus and Jupiter, see L. Preller, Griechische Mythologie, i. 4th ed., 115 sqq.; id., Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 184 sqq. In earlier editions of this book, I tended to dismiss the meteorological aspects of Zeus and Jupiter far too quickly.
1152. See my note on Pausanias, ii. 17. 5; P. Wagler, Die Eiche in alter und neuer Zeit, ii. (Berlin, 1891), pp. 2 sqq.; A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xvii. (1903) pp. 178 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Check out my note on Pausanias, ii. 17. 5; P. Wagler, The Oak in Ancient and Modern Times, ii. (Berlin, 1891), pp. 2 sqq.; A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xvii. (1903) pp. 178 sqq.
1153. Aug. Mommsen, Delphika (Leipsic, 1878), pp. 4 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Aug. Mommsen, Delphika (Leipzig, 1878), pp. 4 sq.
1154. Strabo, Frag. vii. 3; Stephanus Byzantius, s.v. Δωδώνη; Suidas, s.vv. Δωδωναῖον χαλκεῖον and Δωδώνη; Apostolius, Cent. vi. 43; Zenobius, Cent. vi. 5; Nonnus Abbas, Ad S. Gregorii orat. ii. contra Julianum, 19 (Migne’s Patrologia Graeca, xxxvi. 1045). The evidence on this subject has been collected and discussed by Mr. A. B. Cook (“The Gong at Dodona,” Journal of Hellenic Studies, xxii. (1902) pp. 5-28). The theory in the text is obviously consistent, both with the statement that the sound of the gongs was consulted as oracular, and with the view, advocated by Mr. Cook, that it was supposed to avert evil influences from the sanctuary. If I am right, the bronze statuette which, according to some accounts, produced the sound by striking the gong with a clapper would represent Zeus himself making his thunder.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, Frag. vii. 3; Stephanus Byzantius, s.v. Δωδώνη; Suidas, s.vv. Δωδωναῖον χαλκεῖον and Δωδώνη; Apostolius, Cent. vi. 43; Zenobius, Cent. vi. 5; Nonnus Abbas, Ad S. Gregorii orat. ii. contra Julianum, 19 (Migne’s Patrologia Graeca, xxxvi. 1045). The evidence on this topic has been gathered and analyzed by Mr. A. B. Cook (“The Gong at Dodona,” Journal of Hellenic Studies, xxii. (1902) pp. 5-28). The theory presented here clearly aligns with the idea that the sound of the gongs was used for divination and with Mr. Cook’s perspective that it was believed to ward off negative influences from the sanctuary. If I’m correct, the bronze statuette that, according to some stories, made the sound by hitting the gong with a clapper would depict Zeus himself creating thunder.
1155. On the natural surroundings of Dodona, see C. Carapanos, Dodone et ses ruines (Paris, 1878), pp. 7-10.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For information about the natural surroundings of Dodona, check out C. Carapanos, Dodone et ses ruines (Paris, 1878), pp. 7-10.
1157. Above, vol. i. p. 309. On the oak as the tree of Zeus, see Dionysius Halicarn. Ars rhetorica, i. 6, vol. v. p. 230 ed. Reiske; Schol. on Aristophanes, Birds, 480. On this subject much evidence, both literary and monumental, has been collected by Mr. A. B. Cook in his articles “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xvii. (1903) pp. 174 sqq., 268 sqq., 403 sqq., xviii. (1904) pp. 75 sqq., 327 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Above, vol. i. p. 309. The oak is known as the tree of Zeus. For more information, see Dionysius Halicarn. Ars rhetorica, i. 6, vol. v. p. 230 ed. Reiske; Schol. on Aristophanes, Birds, 480. A significant amount of evidence, both literary and monumental, has been gathered by Mr. A. B. Cook in his articles “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xvii. (1903) pp. 174 sqq., 268 sqq., 403 sqq., xviii. (1904) pp. 75 sqq., 327 sq.
1158. Pausanias, i. 24. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pausanias, Book 1, Section 24, Line 3.
1159. Marcus Antoninus, v. 7.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Marcus Aurelius, v. 7.
1160. Theophrastus, De signis tempestatum, i. 24.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Theophrastus, On Weather Signs, i. 24.
1161. Pausanias, i. 30. 4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pausanias, 1.30.4.
1162. Pausanias, ii. 29. 7 sq.; Isocrates, Evagoras, 14; Apollodorus, iii. 12. 6. Aeacus was said to be the son of Zeus by Aegina, daughter of Asopus (Apollodorus, l.c.). Isocrates says that his relationship to the god marked Aeacus out as the man to procure rain.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, ii. 29. 7 sq.; Isocrates, Evagoras, 14; Apollodorus, iii. 12. 6. Aeacus was said to be the son of Zeus and Aegina, the daughter of Asopus (Apollodorus, l.c.). Isocrates states that his connection to the god made Aeacus the one to bring rain.
1163. Theophrastus, De signis tempestatum, i. 20, compare 24.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Theophrastus, On Weather Signs, i. 20, compare 24.
1164. Theophrastus, op. cit. iii. 43.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Theophrastus, quoted work iii. 43.
1165. Pausanias, i. 32. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pausanias, 1.32.2.
1166. Theophrastus, op. cit. iii. 43 and 47. Compare Aristophanes, Clouds, 324 sq.; Photius, Lexicon, s.v. Πάρνης.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Theophrastus, op. cit. iii. 43 and 47. Compare Aristophanes, Clouds, 324 sq.; Photius, Lexicon, s.v. Πάρνης.
1167. Pausanias, i. 32. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pausanias, i. 32. 2.
1168. Pausanias, ii. 25. 10. As to the climate and scenery of these barren mountains, see A. Philippson, Der Peloponnes (Berlin, 1891), pp. 43 sq., 65.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, ii. 25. 10. For information about the climate and scenery of these desolate mountains, refer to A. Philippson, Der Peloponnes (Berlin, 1891), pp. 43 sq., 65.
1169. Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, iv. 48.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Joannes Lydus, On the Months, iv. 48.
1170. Paton and Hicks, The Inscriptions of Cos (Oxford, 1891), No. 382; Dittenberger, Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum, 2nd Ed., No. 735. There were altars of Rainy Zeus also at Argos and Lebadea. See Pausanias, ii. 19. 8, ix. 39. 4.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Paton and Hicks, The Inscriptions of Cos (Oxford, 1891), No. 382; Dittenberger, Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum, 2nd Ed., No. 735. There were altars dedicated to Rainy Zeus in Argos and Lebadea as well. See Pausanias, ii. 19. 8, ix. 39. 4.
1171. Ἐπικάρπιος μὲν ἀπὸ τῶν καρπῶν, Aristotle, De mundo, 7, p. 401 a, ed. Bekker; Plutarch, De Stoicorum repugnantiis, xxx. 8.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.In terms of results, Aristotle, De mundo, 7, p. 401 a, ed. Bekker; Plutarch, De Stoicorum repugnantiis, xxx. 8.
1172. Corpus Inscriptionum Atticarum, iii. No. 77; E. S. Roberts, Introduction to Greek Epigraphy, ii. No. 142, p. 387; Ch. Michel, Recueil d’inscriptions grecques, No. 692; L. R. Farnell, Cults of the Greek States, i. 66 and 172.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Corpus Inscriptionum Atticarum, iii. No. 77; E. S. Roberts, Introduction to Greek Epigraphy, ii. No. 142, p. 387; Ch. Michel, Collection of Greek Inscriptions, No. 692; L. R. Farnell, Cults of the Greek States, i. 66 and 172.
1173. Hesiod, Theogony, 71 sq.; L. Preller, Griechische Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 119.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Hesiod, Theogony, 71 sq.; L. Preller, Griechische Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 119.
1174. Pausanias, v. 14. 7; H. Roehl, Inscriptiones Graecae antiquissimae (Berlin, 1882), No. 101; Fränkel, Inschriften von Pergamon, i. No. 232; Joannes Malalas, Chronographia, viii. p. 199, ed. L. Dindorf.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pausanias, v. 14. 7; H. Roehl, Inscriptiones Graecae antiquissimae (Berlin, 1882), No. 101; Fränkel, Inschriften von Pergamon, i. No. 232; Joannes Malalas, Chronographia, viii. p. 199, ed. L. Dindorf.
1175. Strabo, ix. 2. 11, p. 404.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, ix. 2. 11, p. 404.
1176. Pollux, ix. 41; Hesychius, s.v. ἠλύσιον; Etymologicum Magnum, p. 341. 8 sqq.; Artemidorus, Onirocrit. 11. 9; Pausanias, v. 14. 10; Dittenberger, Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum, 2nd Ed., No. 577, with Dittenberger’s note.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Pollux, ix. 41; Hesychius, s.v. ἠλύσιον; Etymologicum Magnum, p. 341. 8 sqq.; Artemidorus, Onirocrit. 11. 9; Pausanias, v. 14. 10; Dittenberger, Sylloge Inscriptionum Graecarum, 2nd Ed., No. 577, with Dittenberger’s note.
1178. See above, vol. i. p. 310.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. 1, p. 310.
1179. See above, vol. i. p. 366.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.See above, vol. 1, p. 366.
1180. For more evidence that the old Greek kings regularly personified Zeus, see Mr. A. B. Cook, “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xv. (1904) pp. 299 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For more evidence that the ancient Greek kings often embodied Zeus, check out Mr. A. B. Cook's article, “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xv. (1904) pp. 299 sqq.
1181. Virgil. Georg. iii. 332, with Servius’s note; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xii. 3.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Virgil. Georg. iii. 332, with Servius’s note; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xii. 3.
1182. As to the oak of Jupiter on the Capitol and the god’s oak crown, see above, p. 176. With regard to the Capitoline worship of Thundering Jupiter, see Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 21, xxxiv. 10 and 79, xxxvi. 50. He was worshipped in many places besides Rome as the god of thunder and lightning. See Festus, p. 229, ed. C. O. Müller; Apuleius, De mundo, xxxvii. 371; H. Dessau, Inscriptones Latinae selectae, Nos. 3044-3053.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Regarding the oak of Jupiter on the Capitol and the god’s oak crown, refer to the information above, p. 176. For details on the Capitoline worship of Thunderous Jupiter, check Pliny, Nat. Hist. ii. 21, xxxiv. 10 and 79, xxxvi. 50. He was worshipped in many places beyond Rome as the god of thunder and lightning. See Festus, p. 229, ed. C. O. Müller; Apuleius, De mundo, xxxvii. 371; H. Dessau, Inscriptones Latinae selectae, Nos. 3044-3053.
1183. Petronius, Sat. 44. That the slope mentioned by Petronius was the Capitoline one is made highly probable by a passage of Tertullian (Apologeticus 40: “Aquilicia Jovi immolatis, nudipedalia populo denuntiatis, coelum apud Capitolium quaeritis, nubila de laquearibus exspectatis”). The church father’s scorn for the ceremony contrasts with the respect, perhaps the mock respect, testified for it by the man in Petronius. The epithets Rainy and Showery are occasionally applied to Jupiter. See Tibullus, i. 7. 26; Apuleius, De mundo, xxxvii. 371; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 3043.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Petronius, Sat. 44. It's highly likely that the slope referred to by Petronius was the Capitoline hill, supported by a passage from Tertullian (Apologeticus 40: “Aquilicia Jovi immolatis, nudipedalia populo denuntiatis, coelum apud Capitolium quaeritis, nubila de laquearibus exspectatis”). The church father's disdain for the ceremony contrasts with the respect, or perhaps mock respect, shown by the character in Petronius. The names Rainy and Showery are sometimes used for Jupiter. See Tibullus, i. 7. 26; Apuleius, De mundo, xxxvii. 371; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, No. 3043.
1184. H. Dessau, op. cit. No. 3042; Apuleius, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. H. Dessau, op. cit. No. 3042; Apuleius, l.c.
1185. Apuleius, l.c., “Plures eum Frugiferum vocant”; H. Dessau, op. cit. No. 3017.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Apuleius, l.c., “Many call him Fruitful”; H. Dessau, op. cit. No. 3017.
1186. On this subject see H. Munro Chadwick, “The Oak and the Thunder-god,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxx. (1900) pp. 22-42.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For more on this topic, see H. Munro Chadwick, “The Oak and the Thunder-god,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxx. (1900) pp. 22-42.
1187. Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 249.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Pliny, Natural History xvi. 249.
1188. Maximus Tyrius, Dissert. viii. 8. H. D’Arbois de Jubainville supposed that by Celts the writer here meant Germans (Cours de la littérature celtique, i. 121 sqq.). This was not the view of J. Grimm, to whose authority D’Arbois de Jubainville appealed. Grimm says that what Maximus Tyrius affirms of the Celts might be applied to the Germans (Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 55), which is quite a different thing.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Maximus Tyrius, Dissert. viii. 8. H. D’Arbois de Jubainville suggested that by "Celts," the writer was actually referring to Germans (Cours de la littérature celtique, i. 121 sqq.). This was not the perspective of J. Grimm, whose authority D’Arbois de Jubainville referenced. Grimm states that what Maximus Tyrius claims about the Celts could also apply to the Germans (Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 55), which is a completely different interpretation.
1189. Strabo, xii. 5. 1, p. 567. As to the meaning of the name see (Sir) J. Rhys, Celtic Heathendom, p. 221; H. F. Tozer, Selections from Strabo, p. 284. On the Galatian language see above, p. 126, note 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Strabo, xii. 5. 1, p. 567. For the meaning of the name, see (Sir) J. Rhys, Celtic Heathendom, p. 221; H. F. Tozer, Selections from Strabo, p. 284. For information on the Galatian language, see above, p. 126, note 2.
1190. G. Curtius, Griech. Etymologie, 5th Ed., pp. 238 sq.; J. Rhys, op. cit. pp. 221 sq.; P. Kretschmer, Einleitung in die Geschichte der griech. Sprache, p. 81. Compare A. Vanicek, Griechisch-lateinisch. etymologisches Wörterbuch, pp. 368-370. Oak in old Irish is daur, in modern Irish dair, darach, in Gaelic darach. See G. Curtius, l.c.; A. Macbain, Etymological Dictionary of the Gaelic Language (Inverness, 1896), s.v. “Darach.” On this view Pliny was substantially right (Nat. Hist. xvi. 249) in connecting Druid with the Greek drus, “oak,” though the name was not derived from the Greek. However, this derivation of Druid has been doubted or rejected by some scholars. See H. D’Arbois de Jubainville, Cours de la littérature celtique, i. (Paris, 1883), pp. 117 sqq.; O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde, pp. 638 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Curtius, Greek Etymology, 5th Ed., pp. 238 sq.; J. Rhys, op. cit. pp. 221 sq.; P. Kretschmer, Introduction to the History of the Greek Language, p. 81. Compare A. Vanicek, Greek-Latin Etymological Dictionary, pp. 368-370. Oak in Old Irish is daur, in modern Irish dair, darach, and in Gaelic darach. See G. Curtius, l.c.; A. Macbain, Etymological Dictionary of the Gaelic Language (Inverness, 1896), s.v. “Darach.” According to this perspective, Pliny was mostly correct (Nat. Hist. xvi. 249) in linking Druid with the Greek drus, “oak,” even though the name didn’t come from the Greek. However, some scholars have questioned or dismissed this derivation of Druid. See H. D’Arbois de Jubainville, Course in Celtic Literature, i. (Paris, 1883), pp. 117 sqq.; O. Schrader, Real Encyclopedia of Indo-European Antiquity, pp. 638 sq.
1192. The Gael’s “faith in druidism was never suddenly undermined; for in the saints he only saw more powerful druids than those he had previously known, and Christ took the position in his eyes of the druid κατ’ ἐξοχήν. Irish druidism absorbed a certain amount of Christianity; and it would be a problem of considerable difficulty to fix on the point where it ceased to be druidism, and from which onwards it could be said to be Christianity in any restricted sense of that term” (J. Rhys, Celtic Heathendom, p. 224).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The Gael’s belief in druidism was never abruptly shaken; for him, the saints were just more powerful druids than those he had known before, and Christ represented the ultimate druid in his eyes. Irish druidism incorporated some elements of Christianity, and pinpointing the exact moment it stopped being druidism and began to be considered Christianity in any specific sense would be quite a complex issue” (J. Rhys, Celtic Heathendom, p. 224).
1193. P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland, i. 236.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. W. Joyce, Social History of Ancient Ireland, i. 236.
1194. J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 55 sq. Tacitus often mentions the sacred groves of the Germans, but never specifies the kinds of trees of which they were composed. See Annals, ii. 12, iv. 73; Histor. iv. 14; Germania, 7, 9, 39, 40, 43.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 55 sq. Tacitus frequently mentions the sacred groves of the Germans, but he never specifies the types of trees that made them up. See Annals, ii. 12, iv. 73; Histor. iv. 14; Germania, 7, 9, 39, 40, 43.
1195. J. Grimm, op. cit. ii. 542.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. J. Grimm, same source ii. 542.
1196. Willibald’s Life of S. Boniface, in Pertz’s Monumenta Germaniae historica, ii. 343 sq.; J. Grimm, op. cit. i. pp. 58, 142.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Willibald’s Life of S. Boniface, in Pertz’s Monumenta Germaniae historica, ii. 343 sq.; J. Grimm, op. cit. i. pp. 58, 142.
1197. J. Grimm, op. cit. i. 157. Prof. E. Maass supposes that the identification of Donar or Thunar with Jupiter was first made in Upper Germany between the Vosges mountains and the Black Forest. See his work Die Tagesgötter (Berlin, 1902), p. 280.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, op. cit. i. 157. Prof. E. Maass believes that the connection between Donar or Thunar and Jupiter was first established in Upper Germany, situated between the Vosges mountains and the Black Forest. Refer to his work Die Tagesgötter (Berlin, 1902), p. 280.
1198. Adam of Bremen, Descriptio insularum Aquilonis, 26 (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, cxlvi. col. 643).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Adam of Bremen, Descriptio insularum Aquilonis, 26 (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, cxlvi. col. 643).
1199. Adam of Bremen, l.c.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Adam of Bremen, loc. cit.
1200. E. H. Meyer, Mythologie des Germanen (Strasburg, 1903), p. 290.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. H. Meyer, Mythology of the Germans (Strasburg, 1903), p. 290.
1201. Adam of Bremen, op. cit. 26, 27, with the Scholia (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, cxlvi. coll. 642-644).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Adam of Bremen, op. cit. 26, 27, with the Scholia (Migne’s Patrologia Latina, cxlvi. coll. 642-644).
1202. J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 142 sq.; L. Leger, La Mythologie slave (Paris, 1901), pp. 54-76.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, German Mythology, 4th ed., i. 142 sq.; L. Leger, Slavic Mythology (Paris, 1901), pp. 54-76.
1203. L. Leger, op. cit. pp. 57 sq., translating Guagnini’s Sarmatiae Europaeae descriptio (1578). The passage is quoted in the original by Chr. Hartknoch (Alt- und neues Preussen, Frankfort and Leipsic, 1684, p. 132), who rightly assigns the work to Strykowski, not Guagnini. See W. Mannhardt, in Magazin herausgegeben von der Lettisch-Literarischen Gesellschaft, xiv. (1868) pp. 105 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Leger, op. cit. pp. 57 sq., translating Guagnini’s Sarmatiae Europaeae descriptio (1578). The passage is quoted in the original by Chr. Hartknoch (Alt- und neues Preussen, Frankfort and Leipsic, 1684, p. 132), who correctly attributes the work to Strykowski, not Guagnini. See W. Mannhardt, in Magazin herausgegeben von der Lettisch-Literarischen Gesellschaft, xiv. (1868) pp. 105 sq.
1204. Procopius, De bello Gothico, iii. 14 (vol. ii. p. 357, ed. J. Haury).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Procopius, On the Gothic War, iii. 14 (vol. ii. p. 357, ed. J. Haury).
1205. Matthias Michov, “De Sarmatia Asiana atque Europea,” in Simon Grynaeus’s Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum (Paris, 1532), p. 457; id., in J. Pistorius’s Polonicae historiae corpus (Bâle, 1582), i. 144; Martin Cromer, De origine et rebus gestis Polonorum (Bâle, 1568), p. 241; J. Maeletius (Menecius, Ian Malecki), “De sacrificiis et idolatria veterum Borussorum, Livonum, aliarumque vicinarum gentium,” Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, ii. (Riga and Leipsic, 1848) p. 390; id., in Mitteilungen der Litterarischen Gesellschaft Masovia, Heft 8 (Lötzen, 1902), p. 187; Chr. Hartknoch, Alt- und neues Preussen (Frankfort and Leipsic, 1684), pp. 131 sqq.; S. Rostowski, quoted by A. Brückner, Archiv für slavische Philologie, ix. (1886) pp. 32, 35; M. Töppen, Geschichte der preussischen Historiographie (Berlin, 1853), p. 190 (“Perkunos ist in allen andern Ueberlieferungen so gross und hehr, wie nur immer der griechische und römische Donnergott, und kein anderer der Götter darf sich ihm gleich stellen. Er ist der Hauptgott, wie nach andern Berichten in Preussen, so auch in Litthauen und Livland”); Schleicher, “Lituanica,” Sitzungsberichte der philosoph.-histor. Classe d. kais. Akademie d. Wissen. (Vienna), xi. (1853 pub. 1854) p. 96; H. Usener, Götternamen (Bonn, 1896), p. 97.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Matthias Michov, “On Sarmatia Asiana and Europea,” in Simon Grynaeus’s New Regions and Islands Unknown to the Ancients (Paris, 1532), p. 457; id., in J. Pistorius’s Corpus of Polish History (Bâle, 1582), i. 144; Martin Cromer, On the Origin and Deeds of the Poles (Bâle, 1568), p. 241; J. Maeletius (Menecius, Ian Malecki), “On the Sacrifices and Idolatry of the Ancient Prussians, Livonians, and Other Neighboring Peoples,” Writers of Livonian Matters, ii. (Riga and Leipsic, 1848) p. 390; id., in Communications of the Masovia Literary Society, Issue 8 (Lötzen, 1902), p. 187; Chr. Hartknoch, Old and New Prussia (Frankfort and Leipsic, 1684), pp. 131 sqq.; S. Rostowski, quoted by A. Brückner, Archive for Slavic Philology, ix. (1886) pp. 32, 35; M. Töppen, History of Prussian Historiography (Berlin, 1853), p. 190 (“Perkunos is as great and noble in all other traditions as the Greek and Roman god of thunder, and no other gods may be compared to him. He is the chief god, as in other accounts in Prussia, so also in Lithuania and Livonia”); Schleicher, “Lituanica,” Proceedings of the Philosophical-Historical Class of the Imperial Academy of Sciences (Vienna), xi. (1853 pub. 1854) p. 96; H. Usener, God Names (Bonn, 1896), p. 97.
1206. M. Praetorius, Deliciae Prussicae (Berlin, 1871), pp. 19 sq.; S. Rostowski, op. cit. pp. 34, 35. On the sacred oaks of the Lithuanians see Chr. Hartknoch, op. cit. pp. 117 sqq.; Tettau und Temme, Volkssagen Ostpreussens, Litthauens und Westpreussens, pp. 19-22, 35-38.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. Praetorius, Deliciae Prussicae (Berlin, 1871), pp. 19 sq.; S. Rostowski, op. cit. pp. 34, 35. For information on the sacred oaks of the Lithuanians, see Chr. Hartknoch, op. cit. pp. 117 sqq.; Tettau and Temme, Volkssagen Ostpreussens, Litthauens und Westpreussens, pp. 19-22, 35-38.
1207. M. Praetorius, l.c.; S. Grunau, Preussische Chronik, ed. M. Perlbach, i. (Leipsic, 1876) p. 78 (ii. tract. cap. v. § 2). The chronicler, Simon Grunau, lived as an itinerant Dominican friar at the beginning of the sixteenth century in the part of Prussia which had been ceded to Poland. He brought his history, composed in somewhat rustic German, down to 1529. His familiar intercourse with the lowest classes of the people enabled him to learn much as to their old heathen customs and superstitions; but his good faith has been doubted or denied. In particular, his description of the images of the three gods in the great oak at Romove has been regarded with suspicion or denounced as a figment. See Chr. Hartknoch, op. cit. pp. 127 sqq.; M. Toeppen, op. cit. pp. 122 sqq., 190 sqq.; M. Perlbach’s preface to his edition of Grunau; H. Usener, Götternamen, p. 83. But his account of the sanctity of the oak, and of the perpetual sacred fire of oak-wood, may be accepted, since it is confirmed by other authorities. Thus, according to Malecki, a perpetual fire was kept up by a priest in honour of Perkunas (Pargnus) on the top of a mountain, which stood beside the river Neuuassa (Niewiaza, a tributary of the Niemen). See Malecki (Maeletius, Menecius), op. cit., Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, ii. 391; id., Mitteilungen der Litterarischen Gesellschaft Masovia, Heft 8 (Lötzen, 1902), p. 187. Again, the Jesuit S. Rostowski says that the Lithuanians maintained a perpetual sacred fire in honour of Perkunas in the woods (quoted by A. Brückner, Archiv für slavische Philologie, ix. (1886) p. 33). Malecki and Rostowski do not mention that the fire was kindled with oak-wood, but this is expressly stated by M. Praetorius, and is, besides, intrinsically probable, since the oak was sacred to Perkunas. Moreover, the early historian, Peter of Dusburg, who dedicated his chronicle of Prussia to the Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights in 1326, informs us that the high-priest of the nation, whom the Prussians revered as a pope, kept up a perpetual fire at Romow, which is doubtless the same with the Romowo or Romewo of Grunau (Preussische Chronik, pp. 80, 81, compare p. 62, ed. M. Perlbach). See P. de Dusburg, Chronicon Prussiae, ed. Chr. Hartknoch (Frankfort and Leipsic, 1679), p. 79. Martin Cromer says that the Lithuanians “worshipped fire as a god, and kept it perpetually burning in the more frequented places and towns” (De origine et rebus gestis Polonorum, Bâle, 1568, p. 241). Romow or Romowo is more commonly known as Romove. Its site is very uncertain. See Chr. Hartknoch, Alt- und neues Preussen, pp. 122 sqq. Grunau’s account of Romove and its sacred oak, with the images of the three gods in it and the fire of oak-wood burning before it, is substantially repeated by Alex. Guagnini. See J. Pistorius, Polonicae historiae corpus (Bâle, 1582), i. 52; Respublica sive status regni Poloniae, Lituaniae, Prussiae, Livoniae, etc. (Leyden, 1627), pp. 321 sq. I do not know whether the chronicler, Simon Grunau, is the same with Simon Grynaeus, editor of the Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum, which was published at Paris in 1532.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. Praetorius, l.c.; S. Grunau, Preussische Chronik, ed. M. Perlbach, i. (Leipzig, 1876) p. 78 (ii. tract. cap. v. § 2). The chronicler, Simon Grunau, lived as a traveling Dominican friar in the early sixteenth century in the part of Prussia that had been given to Poland. He wrote his history in a somewhat rustic style of German and continued it until 1529. His close interactions with the lower classes allowed him to learn a lot about their old pagan customs and superstitions; however, some have questioned or denied his honesty. In particular, his description of the images of three gods in the great oak at Romove has been viewed with skepticism or dismissed as fictional. See Chr. Hartknoch, op. cit. pp. 127 sqq.; M. Toeppen, op. cit. pp. 122 sqq., 190 sqq.; M. Perlbach’s preface to his edition of Grunau; H. Usener, Götternamen, p. 83. Nonetheless, his account of the oak’s sacredness and the everlasting sacred fire made of oak wood can be accepted, as other sources confirm it. For instance, according to Malecki, a continuous fire was maintained by a priest in honor of Perkunas (Pargnus) on top of a mountain beside the river Neuuassa (Niewiaza, a tributary of the Niemen). See Malecki (Maeletius, Menecius), op. cit., Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, ii. 391; id., Mitteilungen der Litterarischen Gesellschaft Masovia, Heft 8 (Lötzen, 1902), p. 187. Also, the Jesuit S. Rostowski mentions that the Lithuanians kept a continuous sacred fire in honor of Perkunas in the woods (quoted by A. Brückner, Archiv für slavische Philologie, ix. (1886) p. 33). Malecki and Rostowski do not specify that the fire was lit with oak wood, but this is explicitly stated by M. Praetorius and is also likely, given that the oak was sacred to Perkunas. Furthermore, the early historian, Peter of Dusburg, who dedicated his chronicle of Prussia to the Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights in 1326, informs us that the high priest of the nation, whom the Prussians regarded as a pope, maintained a perpetual fire at Romow, which is likely the same as the Romowo or Romewo mentioned by Grunau (Preussische Chronik, pp. 80, 81, compare p. 62, ed. M. Perlbach). See P. de Dusburg, Chronicon Prussiae, ed. Chr. Hartknoch (Frankfurt and Leipzig, 1679), p. 79. Martin Cromer states that the Lithuanians "worshipped fire as a god and kept it burning continuously in more populated places and towns" (De origine et rebus gestis Polonorum, Basel, 1568, p. 241). Romow or Romowo is more commonly known as Romove. Its exact location is uncertain. See Chr. Hartknoch, Alt- und neues Preussen, pp. 122 sqq. Grunau’s account of Romove and its sacred oak, with the images of the three gods within it and the oak wood fire burning in front of it, is largely echoed by Alex. Guagnini. See J. Pistorius, Polonicae historiae corpus (Basel, 1582), i. 52; Respublica sive status regni Poloniae, Lituaniae, Prussiae, Livoniae, etc. (Leiden, 1627), pp. 321 sq. I am uncertain whether the chronicler, Simon Grunau, is the same as Simon Grynaeus, editor of the Novus Orbis regionum ac insularum veteribus incognitarum, published in Paris in 1532.
1208. S. Rostowski, op. cit. p. 35.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. S. Rostowski, same source p. 35.
1209. D. Fabricius, “De cultu, religione et moribus incolarum Livoniae,” Scriptores rerum Livonicarum, ii. 441. Malecki (Maeletius) also says that Perkunas was prayed to for rain. See Mitteilungen der Litterarischen Gesellschaft Masovia, Heft 8 (Lötzen, 1902), p. 201.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.D. Fabricius, “On the Cult, Religion, and Customs of the Inhabitants of Livonia,” Writers on Livonian Affairs, ii. 441. Malecki (Maeletius) also states that Perkunas was called upon for rain. See Reports of the Literary Society of Masovia, Issue 8 (Lötzen, 1902), p. 201.
1210. According to Prof. H. Hirt, the name Perkunas means “the oak-god,” being derived from the same root querq, which appears in the Latin quercus “oak,” the Hercynian forest, the Norse god and goddess Fjörygn, and the Indian Parjanya, the Vedic god of thunder and rain. See H. Hirt, “Die Urheimat der Indogermanen,” Indogermanische Forschungen, i. (1892) pp. 479 sqq.; id., Die Indogermanen (Strasburg, 1905-1907), ii. 507; P. Kretschmer, Einleitung in die Geschichte der griechischen Sprache, pp. 81 sq. The identity of the names Perkunas and Parjanya had been maintained long before by G. Bühler, though he did not connect the words with quercus. See his article, “On the Hindu god Parjanya,” Transactions of the (London) Philological Society, 1859, pp. 154-168. As to Parjanya, see below, pp. 368 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.According to Prof. H. Hirt, the name Perkunas translates to “the oak-god,” coming from the same root querq, which is found in the Latin quercus meaning “oak,” the Hercynian forest, the Norse deities Fjörygn, and the Indian Parjanya, the Vedic god of thunder and rain. See H. Hirt, “Die Urheimat der Indogermanen,” Indogermanische Forschungen, i. (1892) pp. 479 sqq.; id., Die Indogermanen (Strasburg, 1905-1907), ii. 507; P. Kretschmer, Einleitung in die Geschichte der griechischen Sprache, pp. 81 sq. The connection between the names Perkunas and Parjanya was noted long before by G. Bühler, although he did not link the terms to quercus. See his article, “On the Hindu god Parjanya,” Transactions of the (London) Philological Society, 1859, pp. 154-168. Regarding Parjanya, see below, pp. 368 sq.
1211. Fr. Kreutzwald und H. Neus, Mythische und magische Lieder der Ehsten (St. Petersburg, 1854), pp. 16, 26, 27, 56, 57, 104; F. J. Wiedemann, Aus dem inneren und äusseren Leben der Ehsten, pp. 427, 438. Sometimes, however, a special thunder-god Kou, Koo, Piker or Pikne is distinguished from Taara (Tar). See F. J. Wiedemann, op. cit. p. 427; Kreutzwald und Neus, op. cit. pp. 12 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Fr. Kreutzwald and H. Neus, Mythical and Magical Songs of the Estonians (St. Petersburg, 1854), pp. 16, 26, 27, 56, 57, 104; F. J. Wiedemann, From the Inner and Outer Life of the Estonians, pp. 427, 438. Sometimes, however, a specific thunder god Kou, Koo, Piker, or Pikne is distinguished from Taara (Tar). See F. J. Wiedemann, op. cit. p. 427; Kreutzwald and Neus, op. cit. pp. 12 sq.
1212. Boecler-Kreutzwald, Der Ehsten abergläubische Gebräuche, Weisen und Gewohnheiten (St. Petersburg, 1854), p. 2.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Boecler-Kreutzwald, The Most Superstitious Customs, Practices, and Habits (St. Petersburg, 1854), p. 2.
1213. J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 146.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, German Mythology, 4th ed., i. 146.
1214. F. J. Wiedemann, op. cit. p. 427.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. F. J. Wiedemann, same source p. 427.
1216. Rigveda, Book v. Hymn 83, R. T. H. Griffith’s translation (Benares, 1889-1892), vol. ii. pp. 299 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rigveda, Book v. Hymn 83, R. T. H. Griffith’s translation (Benares, 1889-1892), vol. ii. pp. 299 sq.
1217. Rigveda, Book vii. Hymn 101, Griffith’s translation (vol. iii. pp. 123 sq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rigveda, Book vii. Hymn 101, Griffith’s translation (vol. iii. pp. 123 sq.).
1218. Rigveda, Book vii. Hymn 102, Griffith’s translation (vol. iii. p. 124). On Parjanya see further G. Bühler, “On the Hindu god Parjanya,” Transactions of the (London) Philological Society, 1859, pp. 154-168; id. in Orient und Occident, i. (1862) pp. 214-229; J. Muir, Original Sanscrit Texts, v. 140-142; H. Oldenberg, Die Religion des Veda, p. 226; A. Macdonnell, Vedic Mythology, pp. 83-85.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Rigveda, Book VII. Hymn 102, Griffith’s translation (vol. III, p. 124). For more information on Parjanya, see G. Bühler, “On the Hindu god Parjanya,” Transactions of the (London) Philological Society, 1859, pp. 154-168; id. in Orient und Occident, I. (1862) pp. 214-229; J. Muir, Original Sanskrit Texts, v. 140-142; H. Oldenberg, Die Religion des Veda, p. 226; A. Macdonnell, Vedic Mythology, pp. 83-85.
1219. G. Bühler, op. cit. p. 161.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. G. Bühler, same source p. 161.
1220. L. H. Morgan, League of the Iroquois (Rochester, 1851), pp. 157 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. H. Morgan, League of the Iroquois (Rochester, 1851), pp. 157 sq.
1221. J. Spieth, Die Ewe-Stämme (Berlin, 1906), pp. 424-427.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Spieth, The Ewe Tribes (Berlin, 1906), pp. 424-427.
1222. E. J. Payne, History of the New World called America, i. (Oxford, 1892) pp. 407 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. J. Payne, History of the New World called America, i. (Oxford, 1892) pp. 407 sq.
1223. N. Seidlitz, “Die Abchasen,” Globus, lxvi. (1894) p. 73.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.N. Seidlitz, “The Abkhazians,” Globus, lxvi. (1894) p. 73.
1224. P. Wagler, Die Eiche in alter und neuer Zeit, ii. (Berlin, 1891) p. 37.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Wagler, The Oak in Ancient and Modern Times, ii. (Berlin, 1891) p. 37.
1225. J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 59.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. Grimm, German Mythology, 4th ed., i. 59.
1226. P. Wagler, Die Eiche in alter und neuer Zeit, i. (Wurzen, 1891) pp. 21-23. For many more survivals of oak-worship in Germany see P. Wagler, op. cit. ii. 40 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.P. Wagler, The Oak in Ancient and Modern Times, i. (Wurzen, 1891) pp. 21-23. For many more examples of oak-worship still present in Germany, see P. Wagler, op. cit. ii. 40 sqq.
1227. M. Praetorius, Deliciae Prussicae (Berlin, 1871), p. 16.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.M. Praetorius, Deliciae Prussicae (Berlin, 1871), p. 16.
1228. J. G. Kohl, Die deutsch-russischen Ostseeprovinzen (Dresden and Leipsic, 1841), ii. 31; compare 33.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.J. G. Kohl, The German-Russian Baltic Provinces (Dresden and Leipzig, 1841), ii. 31; see also 33.
1229. Schleicher, “Lituanica,” Sitzungsberichte der philos.-histor. Classe der kais. Akademie der Wissenschaften, xi. (1853, pub. 1854) p. 100.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Schleicher, “Lituanica,” Proceedings of the Philosophical-Historical Class of the Imperial Academy of Sciences, xi. (1853, published 1854) p. 100.
1230. James Piggul, steward of the estate of Panikovitz, in a report to Baron de Bogouschefsky, Journal of the Anthropological Institute, iii. (1874) pp. 274 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.James Piggul, the estate manager of Panikovitz, in a report to Baron de Bogouschefsky, Journal of the Anthropological Institute, iii. (1874) pp. 274 sq.
1231. The evidence will be given later on, when we come to deal with the fire-festivals of Europe. Meantime I may refer the reader to The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 347 sqq., where, however, the statement as to the universal use of oak-wood in kindling the need-fire is too absolute, exceptions having since come to my knowledge. These will be noticed in the third edition of that part of The Golden Bough.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The evidence will be provided later when we discuss the fire festivals of Europe. In the meantime, I direct the reader to The Golden Bough, Second Edition, iii. 347 sqq., where the claim about the universal use of oak wood for kindling the need-fire is stated too definitively, as I have since learned of exceptions. These will be addressed in the third edition of that section of The Golden Bough.
1233. The only positive evidence, so far as I know, that the Celtic oak-god was also a deity of thunder and rain is his identification with Zeus (see above, p. 362). But the analogy of the Greeks, Italians, Teutons, Slavs, and Lithuanians may be allowed to supply the lack of more definite testimony.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The only solid evidence I know of that the Celtic oak god was also a god of thunder and rain is his association with Zeus (see above, p. 362). However, we can look at the parallels with the Greeks, Italians, Teutons, Slavs, and Lithuanians to fill in the gaps where more specific proof is missing.
1234. It is said to have been observed that lightning strikes an oak twenty times for once that it strikes a beech (J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., iii. 64). But even if this observation were correct, we could not estimate its worth unless we knew the comparative frequency of oaks and beeches in the country where it was made. The Greeks observed that a certain species of oak, which they called haliphloios, or sea-bark, was often struck by lightning though it did not grow to a great height; but far from regarding it as thereby marked out for the service of the god they abstained from using its wood in the sacrificial rites. See Theophrastus, Histor. plant. iii. 8. 5; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 24.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.It's been noted that lightning hits an oak tree twenty times more often than it strikes a beech tree (J. Grimm, Deutsche Mythologie, 4th ed., iii. 64). However, even if this observation is accurate, we can't really assess its significance unless we know how many oaks and beeches are in the area where it was recorded. The Greeks pointed out that a specific kind of oak, which they called haliphloios or sea-bark, was frequently struck by lightning even though it didn't grow very tall; nevertheless, they didn’t consider it special for worship and avoided using its wood in their sacrifices. See Theophrastus, Histor. plant. iii. 8. 5; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xvi. 24.
1235. M. Abeghian, Der armenische Volksglaube, p. 90.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. M. Abeghian, The Armenian Folk Belief, p. 90.
1236. E. B. Tylor, Early History of Mankind, 3rd Ed., pp. 223-227. For more evidence of this wide-spread belief see M. Baudrouin et L. Bonnemère, “Les Haches polies dans l’histoire jusqu’au XIXe siècle,” Bulletins et Mémoires de la Société d’Anthropologie de Paris, Ve Série, v. (1904) pp. 496-548; Lieut. Boyd Alexander, “From the Niger, by Lake Chad, to the Nile,” The Geographical Journal, xxx. (1907) pp. 144 sq.; A. B. Ellis, Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 37 sq.; H. Seidel, “Der Yew’e Dienst im Togolande,” Zeitschrift für afrikanische und oceanischen Sprachen, iii. (1897) p. 161; H. Klose, Togo unter deutscher Flagge, pp. 197 sq.; L. Conradt, “Die Ngumbu in Südkamerun,” Globus, lxxxi. (1902) p. 353; Guerlach, “Mœurs et superstitions des sauvages Ba-hnars,” Missions Catholiques, xix. (1887) pp. 442, 454; J. A. Jacobsen, Reisen in die Inselwelt des Banda-Meeres (Berlin, 1896), pp. 49 sq., 232; C. Ribbe, “Die Aru-Inseln,” Festschrift des Vereins für Erdkunde zu Dresden (Dresden, 1888), p. 165; E. Thurston, Ethnographic Notes in Southern India, p. 351; Rev. P. O. Bodding, “Ancient Stone Implements in the Santal Parganas,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxx. Part iii. (1901) pp. 17-20; E. M. Gordon, Indian Folk-tales (London, 1908), p. 75; County Folk-lore, III. Orkney and Shetland Islands, collected by G. F. Black (London, 1903), p. 153; P. Hermann, Nordische Mythologie, pp. 339 sq., 352; M. Toeppen, Aberglauben aus Masuren 2nd Ed., (Danzig, 1867), pp. 42 sq. Dr. E. B. Tylor has pointed out how natural to the primitive mind is the association of spark-producing stones with lightning (Primitive Culture, 2nd Ed., ii. 262).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.E. B. Tylor, Early History of Mankind, 3rd Ed., pp. 223-227. For more evidence of this widespread belief see M. Baudrouin and L. Bonnemère, “Polished Axes in History Up to the 19th Century,” Bulletins et Mémoires de la Société d’Anthropologie de Paris, Ve Série, v. (1904) pp. 496-548; Lieut. Boyd Alexander, “From the Niger, by Lake Chad, to the Nile,” The Geographical Journal, xxx. (1907) pp. 144 sq.; A. B. Ellis, Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast, pp. 37 sq.; H. Seidel, “The Yew’e Service in Togo,” Zeitschrift für afrikanische und oceanischen Sprachen, iii. (1897) p. 161; H. Klose, Togo Under German Flag, pp. 197 sq.; L. Conradt, “The Ngumbu in Southern Cameroon,” Globus, lxxxi. (1902) p. 353; Guerlach, “Customs and Superstitions of the Ba-hnars,” Missions Catholiques, xix. (1887) pp. 442, 454; J. A. Jacobsen, Travels in the Banda Sea Islands (Berlin, 1896), pp. 49 sq., 232; C. Ribbe, “The Aru Islands,” Festschrift des Vereins für Erdkunde zu Dresden (Dresden, 1888), p. 165; E. Thurston, Ethnographic Notes in Southern India, p. 351; Rev. P. O. Bodding, “Ancient Stone Tools in the Santal Parganas,” Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, lxx. Part iii. (1901) pp. 17-20; E. M. Gordon, Indian Folk-tales (London, 1908), p. 75; County Folk-lore, III. Orkney and Shetland Islands, collected by G. F. Black (London, 1903), p. 153; P. Hermann, Nordic Mythology, pp. 339 sq., 352; M. Toeppen, Superstitions from Masuria 2nd Ed., (Danzig, 1867), pp. 42 sq. Dr. E. B. Tylor has pointed out how natural it is for the primitive mind to associate spark-producing stones with lightning (Primitive Culture, 2nd Ed., ii. 262).
1237. L. Preller, Griechische Mythologie, 4th ed., i. 116 sq.; id., Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 184 sqq. As to Jupiter see in particular Augustine, De civitate Dei, vii. 19, “Coelum enim esse Jovem innumerabiliter et diligenter affirmant”; and Ennius, quoted by Cicero, De natura deorum, ii. 25, 65, “Aspice hoc sublimen candens, quem invocant omnes Jovem.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.L. Preller, Greek Mythology, 4th ed., i. 116 sq.; id., Roman Mythology, 3rd ed., i. 184 sqq. For information on Jupiter, see particularly Augustine, City of God, vii. 19, “For they assert countless times and with great care that the sky is Jupiter”; and Ennius, quoted by Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods, ii. 25, 65, “Look at this elevated, shining one, whom everyone calls Jupiter.”
1239. Above, vol. i. pp. 19 sqq., 40 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Above, vol. i. pp. 19 sqq., 40 sq.
1240. Above, vol. i. pp. 12 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Above, vol. 1, pp. 12+
1244. Virgil, Aen. vi. 205 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Virgil, Aeneid vi. 205 and following
1246. This suggestion is due to Mr. A. B. Cook. See his articles, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 363 sq.; and “The European Sky-God,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 277 sq. On the other hand see above, pp. 1 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.This suggestion comes from Mr. A. B. Cook. Check out his articles, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 363 sq.; and “The European Sky-God,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 277 sq. On the other hand, see above, pp. 1 sq.
1247. Virbius may perhaps be etymologically connected with viridis, “green,” and verbena, “a sacred bough.” If this were so, Virbius would be “the Green One.” We are reminded of those popular personifications of the spring, Green George and Jack in the Green. See above, pp. 75 sq., 82 sq. As to the proposed derivation from a root meaning “green” Professor R. S. Conway writes to me (10th January 1903): “From this meaning of the root a derivative in -bus would not strike me as so strange; vir-bho might conceivably mean ‘growing green.’” In my Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship (pp. 282 sq.) I followed Mr. A. B. Cook in interpreting a passage of Plautus (Casina, ii. 5. 23-29) as a reference to the priests of Nemi in the character of mortal Jupiters. But a simpler and more probable explanation of the passage has been given by Dr. L. R. Farnell. See A. B. Cook, “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 322 sqq.; L. R. Farnell, in The Hibbert Journal, iv. (1906) p. 932.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Virbius might be etymologically linked to viridis, meaning “green,” and verbena, which refers to “a sacred bough.” If that's the case, Virbius would be “the Green One.” This reminds us of popular figures representing spring, like Green George and Jack in the Green. See above, pp. 75 sq., 82 sq. Regarding the suggested derivation from a root meaning “green,” Professor R. S. Conway wrote to me on January 10, 1903: “From this root meaning, a derivative in -bus wouldn’t seem so unusual; vir-bho could possibly mean ‘growing green.’” In my Lectures on the Early History of the Kingship (pp. 282 sq.), I followed Mr. A. B. Cook in interpreting a passage from Plautus (Casina, ii. 5. 23-29) as referring to the priests of Nemi as mortal Jupiters. However, a simpler and more likely explanation of the passage has been provided by Dr. L. R. Farnell. See A. B. Cook, “The European Sky-god,” Folk-lore, xvi. (1905) pp. 322 sqq.; L. R. Farnell, in The Hibbert Journal, iv. (1906) p. 932.
1250. Horace, Odes, i. 21. 5 sq., iii. 23. 9 sq., iv. 4. 5 sq., Carmen Saeculare, 69; Livy, iii. 25. 6-8; E. H. Bunbury, in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography, s.v. “Algidus.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Horace, Odes, i. 21. 5 sq., iii. 23. 9 sq., iv. 4. 5 sq., Carmen Saeculare, 69; Livy, iii. 25. 6-8; E. H. Bunbury, in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography, s.v. “Algidus.”
1251. Festus, s.v. “Tifata,” p. 366, ed. C. O. Müller; Velleius Paterculus, ii. 25. 4; E. H. Bunbury, op. cit. s.v. “Tifata.” For more evidence of the association of Diana with the oak, see Mr. A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 369 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Festus, s.v. “Tifata,” p. 366, ed. C. O. Müller; Velleius Paterculus, ii. 25. 4; E. H. Bunbury, op. cit. s.v. “Tifata.” For more evidence of Diana’s connection with the oak, see Mr. A. B. Cook, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 369 sq.
1253. The original root appears plainly in Diovis and Diespiter, the older forms of Jupiter (Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 66; Aulus Gellius, v. 12). The form Dianus is attested by an inscription found at Aquileia (Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, v. 783), and the form Jana by Varro (Rerum rusticarum, i. 37. 3) and Macrobius (Saturn. i. 9. 8). In Zeus, Dione, Jupiter, and Juno the old root DI appears in the expanded form DIV. As to the etymology of these names, see Ch. Ploix, “Les Dieux qui proviennent de la racine DIV,” Mémoires de la Société de Linguistique de Paris, i. (1868) pp. 213-222; G. Curtius, Grundzüge der griechischen Etymologie, 5th Ed., pp. 236 sq., 616 sq.; A. Vanicek, Griechisch-lateinisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, i. 353 sqq.; W. H. Roscher, Lexikon der griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 45 sq., 578 sq., 619; S. Linde, De Jano summo Romanorumdeo (Lund, 1891), pp. 7 sq.; J. S. Speijer, “Le Dieu romain Janus,” Revue de l’Histoire des Religions, xxvi. (1892) pp. 37-41; H. Usener, Götternamen, pp. 16, 35 sq., 326; P. Kretschmer, Einleitung in die Geschichte der griechischen Sprache, pp. 78 sqq., 91, 161 sq. Messrs. Speijer and Kretschmer reject the derivation of Janus from the root DI.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.The original root is clearly present in Diovis and Diespiter, the older forms of Jupiter (Varro, De lingua Latina, v. 66; Aulus Gellius, v. 12). The form Dianus is confirmed by an inscription found in Aquileia (Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, v. 783), and the form Jana is mentioned by Varro (Rerum rusticorum, i. 37. 3) and Macrobius (Saturn. i. 9. 8). In Zeus, Dione, Jupiter, and Juno, the old root DI appears in the extended form DIV. For the etymology of these names, see Ch. Ploix, “Les Dieux qui proviennent de la racine DIV,” Mémoires de la Société de Linguistique de Paris, i. (1868) pp. 213-222; G. Curtius, Grundzüge der griechischen Etymologie, 5th Ed., pp. 236 sq., 616 sq.; A. Vanicek, Griechisch-lateinisches etymologisches Wörterbuch, i. 353 sqq.; W. H. Roscher, Lexikon der griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 45 sq., 578 sq., 619; S. Linde, De Jano summo Romanorumdeo (Lund, 1891), pp. 7 sq.; J. S. Speijer, “Le Dieu romain Janus,” Revue de l’Histoire des Religions, xxvi. (1892) pp. 37-41; H. Usener, Götternamen, pp. 16, 35 sq., 326; P. Kretschmer, Einleitung in die Geschichte der griechischen Sprache, pp. 78 sqq., 91, 161 sq. Messrs. Speijer and Kretschmer argue against deriving Janus from the root DI.
1254. As to Juno in these aspects, see L. Preller, Römische Mythologie, 3rd Ed., i. 271 sqq.; G. Wissowa, Religion und Kultus der Römer, pp. 117 sqq.; W. H. Roscher, Lexikon der griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 578 sqq. As to Diana, see above, vol. i. p. 12, vol. ii. pp. 124, 128 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.For information on Juno in these contexts, refer to L. Preller, Roman Mythology, 3rd Ed., i. 271 and following; G. Wissowa, Religion and Cult of the Romans, pp. 117 and following; W. H. Roscher, Encyclopedia of Greek and Roman Mythology, ii. 578 and following. For details on Diana, see above, vol. i. p. 12, vol. ii. pp. 124, 128 sq.
1255. Ovid, Fasti, i. 89 sqq.; Macrobius, Sat. i. 9; Servius, on Virgil, Aen. vii. 610; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, iv. 1 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Ovid, Fasti, i. 89 and following; Macrobius, Sat. i. 9; Servius, on Virgil, Aen. vii. 610; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, iv. 1 and the following
1256. Varro, quoted by Augustine, De civitate Dei, vii. 28; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, iv. 2. Compare Macrobius, Sat. i. 9. 11. See R. Agahd, M. Terentii Varronis rerum divinarum libri I. XIV. XV. XVI. (Leipsic, 1898) pp. 117 sqq., 203 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Varro, cited by Augustine in City of God, chapter 7, section 28; Joannes Lydus in On Months, chapter 4, section 2. See also Macrobius, Saturnalia, book 1, section 9, line 11. Refer to R. Agahd, The Divine Matters of M. Terentius Varro, Books I, XIV, XV, XVI. (Leipzig, 1898) pages 117 and following, 203 and nearby.
1257. Macrobius, Sat. i. 9. 15, i. 15. 19; Servius, on Virgil, Aen. vii. 610; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, iv. 1. Prof. G. Wissowa thinks that sacrifices were offered to Janus as well as to Juno on the first of every month (Religion und Kultus der Römer, pp. 91 sq.); but this view does not seem to me to be supported by the evidence of Macrobius (Sat. i. 9. 16, i. 15. 18 sq.), to which he refers. Macrobius does not say that the first of every month was sacred to Janus.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Macrobius, Sat. i. 9. 15, i. 15. 19; Servius, on Virgil, Aen. vii. 610; Joannes Lydus, De mensibus, iv. 1. Prof. G. Wissowa believes that sacrifices were made to Janus as well as to Juno on the first of every month (Religion und Kultus der Römer, pp. 91 sq.); however, I don't think this opinion is backed by Macrobius's evidence (Sat. i. 9. 16, i. 15. 18 sq.), which he cites. Macrobius does not state that the first of each month was dedicated to Janus.
1258. Arnobius, Adversus nationes, iii. 29.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Arnobius, Against the Nations, iii. 29.
1259. Virgil, Aen. xii. 138 sqq.; Ovid, Fasti, ii. 585 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Virgil, Aeneid xii. 138 ff.; Ovid, Fasti, ii. 585 ff.
1260. Cato, De agri cultura, 134; Virgil, Aen. viii. 357; Horace, Epist. i. 16. 59, compare Sat. ii. 6. 20; Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxvi. 28; Juvenal, vi. 394; Martial, x. 28. 6 sq.; Aulus Gellius, v. 12. 5; Arnobius, Adversus nationes, iii. 29; H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae selectae, Nos. 3320, 3322, 3323, 3324, 3325, 5047; G. Henzen, Acta fratrum Arvalium, p. 144; Athenaeus, xv. 46, p. 692 D, E.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Cato, On Agriculture, 134; Virgil, Aeneid viii. 357; Horace, Epistles i. 16. 59, compare Satires ii. 6. 20; Pliny, Natural History xxxvi. 28; Juvenal, vi. 394; Martial, x. 28. 6 and following; Aulus Gellius, v. 12. 5; Arnobius, Against the Nations, iii. 29; H. Dessau, Select Latin Inscriptions, Nos. 3320, 3322, 3323, 3324, 3325, 5047; G. Henzen, Acts of the Arval Brethren, p. 144; Athenaeus, xv. 46, p. 692 D, E.
1261. Augustine, De civitate Dei, vii. 9 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Augustine, The City of God, vii. 9 sq.
1262. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, v. No. 783.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, v. No. 783.
1263. Macrobius, Sat. i. 7. 19; Servius, on Virgil, Aen. viii. 319 and 357; Arnobius, Adversus nationes, iii. 29; Athenaeus, xv. 46, p. 692 D. As to the oak-woods of the Janiculum, see above, p. 186.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Macrobius, Sat. i. 7. 19; Servius, on Virgil, Aen. viii. 319 and 357; Arnobius, Adversus nationes, iii. 29; Athenaeus, xv. 46, p. 692 D. Regarding the oak forests of the Janiculum, see above, p. 186.
1264. As dialectal differences in the ancient Italian languages seem to have created a multiplicity of deities, so in the Malay language they appear to have created a multiplicity of fabulous animals. See R. J. Wilkinson, Malay Beliefs (London and Leyden, 1906), p. 56: “The wealth of Malay nomenclature in the province of natural history is in itself a fruitful source of error. The identity of different dialectic names for the same animal is not always recognized: the local name is taken to represent the real animal, the foreign name is assumed to represent a rare or fabulous variety of the same genus.” In these cases mythology might fairly enough be described as a disease of language. But such cases cover only a small part of the vast mythical field.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Just as the different dialects of ancient Italian languages seem to have led to a variety of deities, in the Malay language they seem to have resulted in a range of mythical animals. See R. J. Wilkinson, Malay Beliefs (London and Leyden, 1906), p. 56: “The richness of Malay names in natural history can be misleading. Different dialects may use various names for the same animal, and the local name is often seen as the true representation, while the foreign name is thought to refer to a rare or mythical version of the same species.” In these instances, mythology could reasonably be seen as a language problem. However, these examples only represent a small portion of the extensive mythical landscape.
1265. Mr. A. B. Cook, who accepts in substance my theory of the original identity of Jupiter and Janus, Juno and Diana, has suggested that Janus and Diana were the deities of the aborigines of Rome, Jupiter and Juno the deities of their conquerors. See his article, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 367 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.Mr. A. B. Cook, who largely agrees with my theory about the original connection between Jupiter and Janus, Juno and Diana, suggests that Janus and Diana were the gods of Rome's original inhabitants, while Jupiter and Juno were the gods of their conquerors. See his article, “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) pp. 367 sq.
1266. This is the opinion of Dr. W. H. Roscher (Lexikon der griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 47), Mr. W. Warde Fowler (Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 282 sqq.), and Prof. G. Wissowa (Religion und Kultus der Römer, p. 96). It is rejected for the reasons given in the text by Ph. Buttmann (Mythologus, ii. pp. 72, 79) and S. Linde (De Jano summo Romanorum deo, pp. 50 sqq.).
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.This is the viewpoint of Dr. W. H. Roscher (Lexikon der griech. u. röm. Mythologie, ii. 47), Mr. W. Warde Fowler (Roman Festivals of the Period of the Republic, pp. 282 sqq.), and Prof. G. Wissowa (Religion und Kultus der Römer, p. 96). It is disputed for the reasons mentioned in the text by Ph. Buttmann (Mythologus, ii. pp. 72, 79) and S. Linde (De Jano summo Romanorum deo, pp. 50 sqq.).
1267. He was so saluted in the ancient hymns of the Salii. See Macrobius, Sat. i. 9. 14; compare Varro, De lingua Latina, vii. 26 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.He was greeted in the old hymns of the Salii. See Macrobius, Sat. i. 9. 14; compare Varro, De lingua Latina, vii. 26 sq.
1268. G. Curtius, Grundzüge der griechischen Etymologie, 5th Ed.,, p. 258; O. Schrader, Reallexikon der indogermanischen Altertumskunde, p. 866.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.G. Curtius, Fundamentals of Greek Etymology, 5th Ed., p. 258; O. Schrader, Encyclopedia of Indo-European Antiquity, p. 866.
1269. This theory of the derivation of janua from Janus was suggested, though not accepted, by Ph. Butmann (Mythologus, ii. 79 sqq.). It occurred to me independently. Mr. A. B. Cook also derives janua from Janus, but he would explain the derivation in a different way by supposing that the lintel and two side-posts of a door represented a triple Janus. See his article “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) p. 369.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.This theory that janua comes from Janus was proposed, although not accepted, by Ph. Butmann (Mythologus, ii. 79 sqq.). I had the same idea independently. Mr. A. B. Cook also traces janua back to Janus, but he explains this connection differently by suggesting that the lintel and two side-posts of a door symbolize a triple Janus. See his article “Zeus, Jupiter, and the Oak,” Classical Review, xviii. (1904) p. 369.
1270. K. Martin, “Bericht über eine Reise ins Gebiet des Oberen-Surinam,” Bijdragen tot de Taal- Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië, xxxv. (1886) pp. 28 sq. I am indebted to Mr. A. van Gennep for pointing out this confirmation of my theory as to the meaning of the double-headed Janus. See his article “Janus Bifrons,” Revue des traditions populaires, xxii. (1907) pp. 97 sq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.K. Martin, “Report on a Trip to the Upper Suriname Area,” Contributions to the Language, Land, and Peoples of Dutch India, xxxv. (1886) pp. 28 sq. I want to thank Mr. A. van Gennep for highlighting this support of my theory regarding the meaning of the two-faced Janus. Check out his article “Janus Bifrons,” Review of Popular Traditions, xxii. (1907) pp. 97 sq.
1271. Macrobius, Saturn. i. 9. 7, “Sed apud nos Janum omnibus praeesse januis nomen ostendit, quod est simile θυραίῳ. Nam et cum clavi ac virga figuratur, quasi omnium et portarum custos et rector viarum”; Ovid, Fasti, i. 95, 99, “Sacer ancipiti mirandus imagine Janus ... tenens dextra baculum clavemque sinistra.”
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Macrobius, Saturn. i. 9. 7, “But among us, Janus is known for overseeing all doorways, which is similar to θυραίῳ. For he is depicted with a key and a staff, as if he is the guardian of all gates and the guide of paths.” Ovid, Fasti, i. 95, 99, “Holy and remarkable with a double image, Janus ... holding a staff in his right hand and a key in his left.”
1272. Ovid, Fasti, i. 89 sqq.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__. Ovid, Fasti, i. 89 sqq.
1273. C. Hose and W. McDougall, “The Relations between Men and Animals in Sarawak,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxi. (1901) p. 175.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.C. Hose and W. McDougall, “The Relations between Men and Animals in Sarawak,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute, xxxi. (1901) p. 175.
- Transcriber’s Notes:
- Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
- Typographical errors were silently corrected.
- Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant form was found in this book.
- Footnotes have been collected at the end of the text, and are linked for ease of reference.
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