Zoological Mythology; or, The Legends of Animals, Volume 2 (of 2)

INDEX.

(This Index is compiled at the instance of the Publisher, and is not by the Author.)

Absalom and his hair, i. 334.
Achilleus, horses of, i. 351.
Acheloos, horn of, i. 266.
AÇvinÂu, the, i. 18, 19;
friendship for Tritas, 25;
awakening of, 27;
and the aurora, 30;
eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, 32, 36;
and Kabandhas, 63;
the sons of, 78;
as the two ears of Vishnus, 81, 285-287, 300-302, 304, 306-308, 310, 315, 319, 321, 327, 370;
ass of, 371.
Adam and Eve, legend of, ii. 411.
Aditis and the cow, in Vedic literature, i. 5, 6, 23, 70, 74.
Adonis, ii. 14-16.
AdrikÂ, the nymph-fish, ii. 331;
son and daughter of, 332.
Æschylos, fabled death of, ii. 197.
Æsculapius, i. 353.
Afrasiab, i. 114, 116, 117.
Agas and synonyms, i. 402.
Agnis, as the fire-god, i. 10;
adjutant to Indras, 13, 299, 301.
Agnus Dei, sacrifice of the, i. 423.
AhalyÂ, legend of, i. 414.
Ahura Mazda, i. 97, 109.
AiÊtas, bulls of, i. 267.
Ai-Kan, story of, i. 146.
Alexander the Great, i. 119;
and augury, ii. 178;
and the fish, 333;
and the crab, 355.
Allwis, the dwarf, i. 207, 225, 260, 261.
Amalthea, i. 430.
Amazons, the, i. 211, 212.
Ambrosia, i. 5;
giver of, 18;
the milk which forms, 52, 54;
contest for, 53;
the demons and, 53;
Gandharvas, guardians of, 53, 81;
of the cow, 275, 276;
the origin of, ii. 361;
the phallical reference of, 361, 365.
Ampelos, i. 267.
AmphisbhÆna, the, ii. 386.
Anantas, the serpent, ii. 398, 399.
Angadas, i. 337.
Animals, gradation of, for sacrifice, i. 44;
substitutes for, in sacrifice, 44;
battles of tame and savage, 186;
inviolability of the mysteries of, 246;
mythical identification of, ii. 123;
colours of, in mythology, 295, 296.
Ansumant, i. 332.
Antony, St, the Vedic, i. 47;
and the hog, ii. 6.
Antelopes and the Marutas, ii. 83, 84;
king disguised as an, 86.
Ants, the, and the serpent, ii. 44;
and the shepherd's son, 45;
and the grain, 47;
and the horses, 50;
Indian, 50, 51;
that dig up gold, 51;
the monster, 51.
ApÂlÂ, Indras, and the somas, ii. 3;
and her ugly skin, 5.
AphroditÊ, i. 394;
and Hermes, ii. 197.
Apollo, and Laomedon, i. 279;
Smintheus, ii. 68;
and the crow, 254.
Apple-tree, the legend of, i. 251;
the mythical, 405;
and the goat, 405.
Aquila and Aquilo, ii. 191, 192.
Arabs, the, saying of, ii. 11.
ArachnÊ, ii. 163.
Arcadia, i. 387, 390.
Ardshi-Bordshi Khan, the history of, i. 120;
stories from, 134, 139.
ArdvÎ ÇÛra AnÂhita, the Persian, i. 99, 100.
Argos panoptes, i. 418.
Argus, ii. 327.
Ar?unas, i. 79, 104.
Ariadne, i. 212.
Arkas, ii. 118.
ArnÊ, ii. 259.
Artemis and Aktaion, ii. 86;
the huntress, 87;
and hind, 88.
Arunas, i. 292.
Ases, the three, and the eagle, ii. 191.
Ashis Vaguhi, i. 108, 109.
Ass, the, among the Greeks and Romans, i. 259, 260;
in the East, 360;
in the West, 360;
mistakes about, 361;
Christianity powerless to redeem, 361, 362;
hymn in honour of, 361, 362;
treatment of, by the Church, 363;
downtrodden condition of, 363;
in the Rigvedas, 364;
names of, 364, 365;
of Apuleius, 366;
which carries mysteries, 367;
and flight into Egypt, 367;
of the AÇvinÂu, 371;
of Indras, 371;
phallic nature of, 372, 373;
chastisement of, for phallic offences, 372, 373;
fall of, in the Rigvedas, 372, 374;
the demoniacal, 374, 376;
slowness, 374;
the golden, 375, 376;
the Hindoo, 377;
and the jackal, 377, 378;
-lion, 378, 379;
-musician, 378, 379;
three-legged, braying, 379;
and lion, 380;
braying of, and the merchants, 380;
and Vesta, 384;
and the Trojans, 386;
ears of, 386;
skin of, 388;
that throws gold from its tail, 388;
and the waters of Styx, 390;
horned, of India, 390, 391;
horn of the Scythian, 390, 391;
and Silenos, 391, 392, 394;
and Bacchus, 392;
and the talisman, 393;
skin of, 394;
proverbs about, 394;
the combed, 395;
shadow and nose, 395;
golden, of Apuleius, 395;
uncontainedness, 396;
that brays, 397, 398;
in hell, 398;
knowledge of, 398.
Assassins, story of the king of the, ii. 35.
Atavism in mythology, i. 199.
Atli, i. 226.
Attis, the Phrygian, ii. 409.
Audhumla, the cow, i. 224.
Aulad, the warrior, i. 112, 113.
Aurora, the cow, process of re-creating, i. 20;
cow of abundance, 26;
relations to Indras, 27;
the milk of, 27;
and her cows, 25, 29;
the girl, the swift one without feet, 30, 31;
the evening, perfidy of, 32;
as a sorceress, 33;
persecutions of, 34;
the saviour, 35;
once blind, now seeing and sight-giving, 36;
and the night, 36-38;
the sisters, 38;
the younger, 38, 39;
nuptials of, and its conditions, 39;
fruit of the nuptials of, 39, 40;
and RakÂ, 50;
characteristic form of, 50;
as a cow, 51;
mother of the sun, 51;
rich in pearls, 56;
and the moon, 56, 65;
the Persian, 100-102, 121-125, 146;
awakener of, 163, 170;
amours of, 324;
the two, and the fox, ii. 124.
Avesta, the, i. 109, 110.
Bacchus and the asses, i. 392.
BÂlin and SugrÎvas, i. 312, 313; ii. 100, 101.
Barrel, the mythical, i. 197.
BasiliÇa, story of, i. 298, 299.
Batrachomyomachia, the, ii. 71.
Battos the shepherd, i. 279.
Bear, at blind-man's-buff with the maiden, ii. 69;
and VicvÂmitras, 109;
king of the bears, 109;
in the forest of honey, 109;
eater of honey, 110;
and peasant, 110-112;
duped by the peasant, 112;
and the fox, 113;
king and the twins, 114, 115;
the demoniacal, and the two children, 115, 116;
disguises of, 117;
woman in the den of, 117, 118;
half bear half man, 118;
as musician, 118, 119.
Beaver, the, ii. 79, 80.
Bees and the AÇvinÂu, ii. 215;
Vedic gods as, 216;
as moon, 217;
from the bull's carcase, 217;
in Finnish mythology, 218;
spiritual and immortal, 218-220;
wax of, 219;
and young hero, 220;
as musician, 223.
Beetle, the, and eagle, ii. 209;
the sacred, 209;
red, 209, @38688@38688-h@38688-h-1.htm.html#Page_57" class="pginternal">57;
and dog and supposititious child, 57;<

and witches, 63, 64;
the two, 64.
ÇavarÎ, i. 64, 66, 69.
Cerberi, the, i. 49.
Cerire, i. 117.
Chameleon, the, ii. 161.
Charlemagne, tradition of, i. 161;
and Orlando, 256.
Children, king of, story of, i. 135, 136.
ChimÆra, the, ii. 158.
Chinese, the, and Little Tom, i. 336.
Christ and Prometheus, ii. 40.
Christopher, St, and Christ, ii. 57;
and lark, 274;
and the cocks, 284.
Chrysaor, i. 305.
Cianna and the grateful ant, ii. 46.
Cicada, the, ii. 223, 224.
Cienzo and Meo, story of, i. 329, 330.
Cinderella, origin of the legend of, i. 31, 101, 126, 161;
the Russian, 196, 197; ii. 5, 197, 281, 304.
Circe and the ass's head, i. 366;
and the companions of Odysseus, ii. 6.
Çivas, the deus phallicus, i. 44, 59; ii. 160.
Claudius, Publius, and the auguries, ii. 291.
Clodoveus and St Martin, i. 356.
Clouds, the, i. 6-9;
mythical conceptions of, 11, 12;
sky with, as a forest, 14;
as mountains, 61;
battles in, 62;
as barrels, 63.
Cock, the mythical functions of, ii. 278;
and Mars, 280;
Indras, the paramour of AhalyÂ, as a, 280;
and hen in India and Persia, and sacredness of the, 282, 284;
crowing of, 282, 285, 286;
Christus invoked as a, 283;
in the Gospels, 283;
the miraculous, 284;
of night, 285;
and Minec' Aniello, 287;
Esthonian legends of, 288;
hitting the, 289;
as a symbol, 290;
-fights, 290;
the Danes and, 290;
auguries from, 291.
Coition, mythical, i. 348.
Cornucopia, Scandinavian, i. 225.
Cosmogony, the Persian, ii. 412.
Cosimo and the fox, ii. 135, 136.
Cow and the Bull, the, origin and meaning of the myth, i. 3, 4;
respect paid to, in the family, 46.
Cow, the infinite, celestial, i. 5, 6;
son of the, 5;
-child, the spotted, 6, 14;
as monster, 15;
-moon, 19;
-aurora, 19, 20;
of abundance, 26, 95;
hide of, as symbol of fecundity, 46, 47;
sour milk of, as favourable to generation, 47;
milk-yielding, of night, 48;
invocation of the spotted, 50;
the sacred, of the Persians, 97;
purification by the excrement, 99;
pearl excrement of, 129;
the black, 167;
and the weather, 174;
Vedic, double aspect, 175;
filled with straw and sparrows, 187;
of abundance, Scandinavian, 224;
red, 228;
German proverbs relating to, 229;
and dwarf Allwis, 260;
testicles of, and the jackal, 233;
the, that spins, 250;
the Sabine, 268;
the sacrificed, 269;
the ashes of, 276.
Cow-cloud, the, i. 14, 15, 74.
Cow-moon, the, i. 274, 275.
Cows, the, of night, i. 17;
the two, 27;
that do not cover themselves with dust, 28, 31;
seen in dreams, 47, 48;
coming forth of, 50.
Cowherd, the hero disguised as, i. 168, 169.
Cox, Mr, i. 262, 263.
Crab, the, in the riddle, ii. 354;
celestial, in June, 354;
in the myth of Herakles, 355;
and Alexander, 355;
and the deceiving crane, 355;
and the serpent, 356;
sun and moon as, 356;
and fox, 357;
"from a man, a," 358;
as a charm, 359;
Cancer, the, 359.
Crescentia, the Persian, i. 121.
Cross, the, ii. 411;
of paradise, 411.
Crow, the, in borrowed feathers, ii. 246;
mythical significance, 250, 251;
and cheese, 251;
disguised, 251, 252;
the enchanted, and RÂmas, 252;
cunning of, 253;
RÂmas and Apollo as, 253;
and Pallas and Yamas, 254;
of evil omen, 254;
the giant, 255;
and the dead, 255;
and the old man, 255;
the procrastinating, and Phoebus, 256;
as messenger, 257;
the egg, 257;
brood, 257.
Cuckoo, the, and Zeus, i. 248;
its mythical congeners, ii. 226;
Indras as a, 228, 229, 231;
birth of the, 231;
a phallical symbol, 232;
and HÊra and Zeus, 232;
and marriage, 232;
as mocker, 233;
harbinger of spring, 233;
sinister aspect of, 234;
as cuckold, 234;
as a bird of omen, 234, 235;
immortal and omniscient, 235;
and nightingale, 235.
ÇunahÇepas, i. 35;
story of, 69-72, 74.
Cupid and Psyche, i. 368, 369; ii. 378.
Cypresses, riddle of the two, ii. 174.
Cyrus, legend of, i. 110, 118
Cyzicene, the, i. 275.
DÆdalus and Icarus, ii. 186.
Dadhyanc, the head of, i. 303, 304.
DadhikrÂ, the solar horse, i. 337.
Dakshas, ii. 364.
DanaidÆ, the, i. 265.
DaphnÊ, i. 170, 273.
Darius Hystaspes, myth of, i. 346.
Daughter, the third, and the toad, i. 381;
and the magician, 382, 383.
Dawns, the two, i. 27.
Dejanira, i. 212.
Delilah, counter-types of, i. 212.
Deluge, the Vedic, ii. 335.
Demons, mountain of, i. 96.
Demosthenes on AthÊnÊ, ii. 247.
DevayÂnÎ, the nymph, i. 83, 84.
Devil, the, as a bull, i. 184;
and the waters, ii. 390, 391.
DhÂumyas, three disciples of, i. 79.
Diana (Hindoo), ii. 43.
Dead, the, good luck brought by, i. 198.
Dionysos, ii. 217;
and the panther, 160.
Dioskuroi, i. 304, 305;
the legend of, 318.
DÎrghatamas, i. 84, 85.
Dog, the, and cat, ii. 56, 57.
Dolphin, the, ii. 351.
Dominic, St, and the dog, ii. 40.
Domitian and the astrologer, ii. 39.
Dove, in the Rigvedas, ii. 297;
Agnis as, 297;
Moses and the flesh of, 297;
self-sacrificing, 297;
and the ant, 298;
stories of the maiden (and prince) transformed into, 298;
story of the twelve sons changed into, 298, 299;
of the prince and servants changed into, 299-301;
the two, and Gennariello, 300-302;
the funereal, 303;
as announcer of the resurrection, 304;
the daughters of Anius changed into, 304;
the two, and Little Mary, 304;
and Zezolla, 305;
doves and the rosebush-maiden, 305;
Peristera changed into, 305;
and Venus, 305;
the laughing, 306;
and Aspasia, 306;
infidelity of, 306.
Drinking, trial of, i. 206.
Drusilla, Livia, and the white hen, ii. 196.
Duck, swan, or goose, the, Agnis as, ii. 307;
the Marutas, and the horses of the AÇvinÂu as, 307;
and golden egg, 308;
the sun as, 309;
in the lake, 309;
the white, and her three sons, 311;
death of, 311;
that lays a golden and a silver egg, 311, 312.
Drunkenness, and madness, ii. 348, 349.
Dundus, i. 75, 76.
Dundubhis, the cloud-monster, i. 75.
Eagle, the, and Zeus, ii. 195-197;
and the classic heroes, 196;
the Hellenic, 196;
and AphroditÊ, 197.
Earrings, theft and recovery of the, of Karnas, i. 80, 81.
Eel, the, as phallical, sacrificial, and divine, ii. 341;
proverbs about, 341;
eating, 342;
with two heads and two tails, 342;
transformation into a fountain and an, 343;
the maiden changed into an, 343;
and monster-serpent, 343;
diabolical, 344;
the epic exploit, 344.
Eggs, hatching of, and thunder, ii. 281;
worship of, 291;
the golden, 292;
beginning a>.
Girl, the, persecuted, i. 121;
affianced to three, 123;
in the chest, Calmuc story of, 131;
seven years old, Esthonian story of, 153;
wise, of the wood, 154;
the poor, and the lady of the waters (Esth.), 154;
the beautiful, and the witch, 218.
Giuseppe, the boy, and the ant's leg, ii. 45, 46.
Gnat, the, ii. 221.
Goat, the, triple aspect of, i. 401;
the cloud as, 402;

the he-, 402, 403;
AÇvinÂu as, 403;
and apple-tree, 405;
and walnut-tree, 405;
kids of, and wolf, 406, 407;
revenge of the goat, 406, 407;
mythical meaning, 407;
he-, and merchant's daughter, 410;
the sacrificed he-, 415, 416;
as all-seeing, 418;
with seven eyes, 419;
with twelve eyes, 419;
constellation of the, 421;
as rain-bringing, 421;
milk of the, 421, 424;
blood of the he-, 422;
stones, 422;
sacrifice of he-, 423;
cunning of the she-, 424;
the witch and the boy goatherds, 425;
and the peasants of Sicily, 426;
and the goatherd of Val di Formazza, 426;
and the god Thor, 426;
in the Scandinavian mythology, 427;
the horned, 427, 428;
lust of, 427, 428;
in Greek mythology, 428.
Gods, the cheating of, i. 44, 45.
Gold, hand of, ii. 32.
Goose, the, and pearl, ii. 309;
the miraculous, 312;
foot of, 315;
the disenchanted, 315;
eating of, on St Michael's Day, 316.
Gorgons, the, ii. 9.
Godiva, the Mongol, i. 138.
Grasshopper, the, the wedding of, with the ant, ii. 48, 49;
as diviner, 48;
song of the wedding, 49.
Griffins, the, ii. 204, 205.
Gudrun, i. 226.
Guhas, i. 58.
Guhas, King, ii. 333.
Halcyon, the, phallical nature of, ii. 269;
the Greek, 270.
Hansas, the, ii. 306, 307, 309.
Hanumant in quest of the herb of health, i. 52, 57-59, 61, 64, 78, 89;
the monkey, ii. 101, 106.
Haoma, the ambrosial god, i. 97, 104.
Harayas and Haritas, i. 376.
Hare, the mythical, ii. 76;
habitat and king, 76;
and the elephant, 77;
and hungry lion, 77;
and the lion, 78;
and dying eagle, 78;
and cave of the wild beasts, 79;
and lamb, 79;
transfigured by Indras, 79;
and parturition, 80;
that sleeps with eyes open, 80;
and bear, 81;
and a wedding procession, 81;
and the girl that rides on it, 82.
HariÇcandras, i. 69-72.
Haris and hari, meanings of, i. 376; ii. 99, 320.
Harpies, the, ii. 201, 202.
Hawk, mythical meaning of, ii. 192, 193;
as a badge of knighthood, 193;
sacredness of, 193;
and Attila, 194;
and the Greek gods, 194;
superstitious beliefs about, 194.
Heads, exchange of, i. 303, 304.
Health, herb of, i. 52-54;
Gandharvas, guardians of, 53.
Heaven, cup of, i. 8;
battle in, 10, 11.
Hedgehog and wolf, ii. 11, 12.
Helen, the Argive, i. 170, 212; ii. 318.
Hen, the crowing, ii. 284, 285;
dreaming of the brood of the, 288.
Herakles and Augeias, i. 143;
and Cacus, 232, 235, 266, 267;
and the golden cup, 273;
and the oxen of Gerion, 277;
competes with the he-goat, 428;
and the boar, ii. 9.
Hermes and Admetos, i. 279;
and SÂrameyas, ii. 22.
Hermits, the dwarf, ii. 364.
Hero, the solar, riddle of, as a wonderful cowherd, i. 29;
maiden helper, 209;
concealed, 237;
in the night, 326;
saved by a tree, 334, 335.
Heroes, the, hunger and thirst of, i. 8;
chief arena of, 15;
weapons of, 62;
mountain of, 97;
biblical, 118;
disguise of, ii. 2;
noises at the birth of, 373.
Heroines, perverted, i. 211, 212.
Hesperides, garden of the, i. 274; ii. 410, 418.
Hippolytos, the legend of, i. 345.
Hippomenes and Atalanta, ii. 159.
Hog, as guise of the hero, ii. 2;
the skin of, 5;
bristles of, 5;
dedicated to St Anthony, 6;
lust of, 6;
as Vishnus, 7, 8;
and wolf, 11.
Holda, the dark, i. 251, 252.
Hoopoe, the, ii. 230.
Horse, the, of the sun, i. 290, 291;
black, 291, 292, 295;
the three, 291, 296;
tail and mane, 295;
and the cat, 317;
the myth of, 330, 331;
fat of, 332;
the strength of Indras, 336;
the symbolic meaning of head of, 339;
the hero's, 340;
binding of, 341;
the neighing of, 346, 347;
tears of, 349, 350;
mythical, 349;
the foam of, 352;
the hoofs of, 353, 354;
and the gods, 355.
Husband, the wicked, i. 124.
Husbands, exchange of, i. 317.
Idol, the wooden, Æsop's fable of, i. 177.
Ichneumon, the, ii. 51-53.
Iliad, the, most solemn moment of, i. 16.
Ilvalas and VÂtÂpis, legend of, i. 414.
Indras, the rÔle of, i. 7, 15;
appetite and food, 8;
horns of the bull, 9;
as the fire-god Agnis, 10;
his fields of battle, 12, 15;
great exploits of, 12;
threefold victory, 13, 14;
weapons of, 14;
companion of Somas, 18, 19;
the triple, 20;
moments of, 20, 23;
special function, 27;
relations to the aurora, 27;
and the blind lame one, 32;
destroyer of the witch Aurora, 33;
lover of the aurora, 35;
personified in RÂmas, 59-61;
slays ViÇvarÛpas, 76;
fall of, 76;
protector of Utankas, 80, 81;
transformation, 89;
quarrel of, with the Marutas, 106;
horses of, 351;
as a ram, 403;
with the thousand eyes, 418;
the rudder of, ii. 7;
as a wild boar, 8;
and the dwarf hermits, 95;
and Vishnus, 99, 100;
and the monkeys, 101;
and Vritras, 154, 155;
deprived of strength and beauty, 155;
as a hawk, 181;
and AhalyÂ, 280, 281, 330;
impotent, 326;
unchaining the waters, 330;
drunk, 349;
and the monster, 393, 394;
killing the monster, 394, 395.
Indus, i. 18.
Io, i. 264, 265, 271, 272.
Iphiklos, ii. 198, 199.
Isfendiar, seven adventures of, i. 118.
Iskander, legend of, i. 119.
Ivan, three essays of, i. 301, 302;
(and Mary), with horse, dog, and apple-tree, ii. 28;
resuscitated, 29;
the three, sons respectively of the bitch, the cook, and the queen, 29;
and the ring, 345;
and his frog-bride, story of, 377-379.
Ivan Tzarevi? and the serpent, i. 177;
and Helen and the bear, 178;
and Princess Mary, 179-182;
and the demoniacal cow, 181;
and the magic apples, 182;
and the witch in the balance, 183;
and the hero Nikanore, 184;
and the theft of the black bull, 186;
son of the black girl, 188;
and his brothers, killing the serpents, 191;
and the rescue of the three sisters, 194;
of the dog, 194;
the drinker, 194;
and the dead body of his mother, 198, 199;
courage of, 201;
variations of, 202-204;
horse of, 340.
Ivan Durak and the humpbacked horse, i. 293, 294;
and the fire-breathing grey horse, 296;
who, mounted, three times kisses the princess through twelve glasses, 297.
Ivanushka and little Helen, i. 409.
Jack and the beanstalk, i. 244.
Jackal and the ass, i. 378;
the perfidious, ii. 125;

Medea, of the Vedas, i. 33, 35.
Medea, i. 212.
Medusa, i. 305.
Menas, ii. 87.
Merchant, synonymous with miser, i. 184;
son of the, who transforms himself into a horse, 342;
the, and his three daughters, 410.
Mercury, i. 335;
legend of, ii. 23.
Merdi GÂnbÂz, the faithful, i. 120.

Merhuma, the story of, i. 120, 121, 315.
Merula, the fish, ii. 340.
Metempsychosis, ii. 328.
Mice and the dead, ii. 67;
apparitions of, 67;
men transformed into, 67;
presages from, 67, 68;
and lion and elephant, 68;
war of, with the frogs, 72.
Michael, St, i. 183.
Midas, myth of (the Mongolian), i. 381;
(the Phrygian), 382, 383;
as musical critic, 385;
ears of, 386;
as a miser, 389;
the progenitor and judge, 390.
Milky-sea, the, i. 52;
-way, the, 228.
Millstone, the devil under the, i. 114.
MilÔn of Kroton, ii. 113, 147.
Minotaurus, the Calmuc, i. 129, 265.
Minucehr, the hero, i. 112.
Mithra, the solar god, i. 95, 102, 103;
bow of, 107.
Mitras, the sun, a witch at a riddle, i. 30, 31, 52.
Mole, the, ii. 73, 74.
Monkey, original home of myth of, ii. 97;
equivalents, 97, 98;
and Vishnus, 99;
mythical significations, 99;
king of, 100, 101;
Hanumant, 101-106;
mistaken for a man, 103;
tail of, 107;
divination from, 107;
and Jove, 108;
as stupid, 108;
musician, 119.
Monster, the celestial, i. 10, 12;
subdued by Indras, 12-14;
that keeps back the waters, ii. 393;
killing of, 394, 395;
and the egg of the duck, 395;
the eggs of, 396;
the aquatic, 404.
Moon, the mythical nature and office of, i. 18;
as a pearl, 54;
as a good fairy, 56, 57;
as a bull, 58;
Indian, ii. 87.
Mother of gold and her three dwarf sons, i. 153;
story of the, who recovers her hands and son by throwing her arms into a fountain, ii. 31;
and the hands of gold, 31.
Mouse, transformed by the penitent into a beautiful maiden, ii. 65, 66;
and the mountain, 66;
and maiden, 69;
the grateful, 70;
and sparrow, 70, 71;
the, Psicharpax, 71.
Muses, the, and the bee, ii. 223.
MÛsh (mÛshas, &c.), ii. 43.
Music in the heavens, sorrow-inspired, i. 149.
Mythology, the Greek, i. 262;
mobile nature of the objects of, 319, 320;
allegorical treatment of, 421;
a Semitic, ii. 412;
the science of, 422;
principal error in the scientific study of, 422, 423;
concord of the learned in, 423;
way to study, 424;
animal, 425;
product of imagination, 427.
Myths, the central interest and most splendid moments of, i. 15, 16;
development of objects in the, into personalities with relationships, 320, 321;
the negative as a factor in the formation of, 322;
the uncertain subjective in, 323;
entrance of variety into, 324;
interpretation of, 323-326.
Nakulas, i. 311; ii. 43, 51, 52.
Nalas, ii. 404.
Neptune, i. 430.
Netherworld, the, ii. 403.
Nibelungen, the, most solemn moments of, i. 16, 257.
Night and the aurora, i. 36, 37.
Nightingale, as prognosticator, ii. 236;
whistling of, 237;
propitious to lovers, 239.
Nisos and Scylla, ii. 197.
Noah, the Vedic, ii. 335.
Nose, the bleeding, Calmuc story of, i. 131.
NÜkteus, ii. 246, 247.
Numbers, sacred, i. 6, 76, 77; ii. 416.
Odin, i. 224, 226, 227.
Odysseus, i. 266.
Oidin-oidon, i. 398, 399.
Okeanos, the bull-headed, i. 267.
Onokentaurs, i. 367-369.
Orpheus, i. 149, 160.
Otter, the monster, ii. 391.
Owl, the, as the bird of death, ii. 244;
as an evil genius, 244;
and vulture, 244, 245;
and the crows, 245, 246;
cunning, 246;
and AthÊnÊ, 247;
eggs of, 247;
the male, 247, 248;
prophetic faculty of, 249;
horned, 249, 250.
Ox, the speaking, i. 247;
and Zeus, 248;
as priest, 258.
Pallas and the war of the frogs and mice, ii. 72;
and the crow, 254.
Pan and Midas, i. 385;
and the ass, 387, 391;
god of shepherds, 387;
at Marathon, 389, 428, 429.
Panayas, the, ii. 19, 20.
PÂndavas, the five brothers, i. 77-79.
Pandora, i. 34.
Pandus, ii. 84.
Paravri?, the blind-lame, i. 32.
ParÎkshit, King, ii. 84.
Parrot, the, myth of, ii. 320;
and the colour haris, 321;
as Çukas, 321;
lunar character of, 322;
as counsellor, 322.
Partridge, the devil as, ii. 227;
Talaus changed into, 228;
and peasant, 228.
PasiphaË, myth of, i. 237, 266.
Peacock, the mythical equivalents of, ii. 323;
the hiding of, 324;
as rival of the cuckoo, 324;
and dove, 324;
Indras as, 325, 326;
feather of, and the younger brother, 325;
tail of, 326, 327;
as a symbol of immortality, 327.
Pearl, the ambrosial, i. 54.
Peasant, riddle-solving, i. 142.
PÊgasos, and Hippocrene, i. 176, 291, 305, 338.
Penelope, i. 428;
and he-goat, ii. 163.
Pepin, the times of, i. 252;
King, 255, 256.
Peirithoos and Trikerberos, ii. 39.
Perrault, story of, i. 367.
Perrette, the Calmuc, i. 134, 135.
Peter, St, and the dog, ii. 27.
PhaethÔn, i. 277;
the bull, 277, 343, 344.
Phalaris, the bull, i. 239.
Phineus, ii. 74.
Phrixos and Helle, the Russian, i. 409, 429.
Phoenix, the, mythical significance of, ii. 200, 201;
death of, 200.
PiÇÂcÂs, the ass, i. 375, 376.
Piccolino, ii. 151.
Picus, King, ii. 265, 266.
Pike, the luminous, ii. 334;
the brown, 337, 338;
and Emilius, 338;
the phallical, 339;
and crab and heron, 339;
drunk, 349.
Pimpi, the stupid, and the hog, ii. 10.
Pipetta and the sackful of souls, i. 388.
Pipkin, the miraculous, i. 126;
the stories of, 243-245.
Piran and Pilsem, i. 314.
Poem, an epic, i. 141.
PolyphÊmos, i. 266.
Porcupine, the, ashes and quills of, ii. 12, 13.
Pork, virtues of, ii. 10, 11.
Porringer, the enchanted, i. 126.
Portugal, third son of the King of, and the dragons, ii. 187-189.
PoseidÔn, i. 266.
Pra?Âpatis, i. 47.
Pretiosa, disguised as a bear, ii. 117.
Priapos, i. 394, 396;
and Silenos, 384.
PriÇnayas, the, i. 6, 16, 17.
Prince, the, and princess of the bird's egg, i. 170;
who three times wins the race, 291;
and enchanted mantle, 411.
Princess, three-breasted, i. 86, 122;
in the chest, Celtic story of, 241;
and the pups, 412.
Proserpina, the Teutonic, i. 252, 260.
Proverb, the, of shutting the stable after the cow is stolen, i. 231;
of shutting Peppergate, 231;
recovering the cow's tail, 232;
of the cow's tail wagging but never falling, 234;
of the egg-hatching cow, 238;
of the cow and the hare, of the cow and the moon, 241, 242;
of hunting by blowing a horn, 242;
of the blind cow finding the pea, 243;
of the laughing cow, 245;
of the spinning cow, 250, 251;
of the cow-maid that spins, 250.
Proverbs, German, relating to the cow, i. 229;
mythical, 230, 231.
Puppets, the three, i. 207.
Purse, the enchanted, i. 126.
PurÛravas, myth of, i. 67.
PÛrus, i. 84.
PÛshan, i. 409.
Pyramos and Thysbe, ii. 157.
Pythagoras once a peacock, ii. 3 ge_407" class="pginternal">407;
worship of, 408;
and children, 408;
and the heads of the family, 408;
and the tree, 409;
and moon, 410;
tree guarded by a, 410;
symbol of, 411;

the, in the Persian mythology, 412, 417;
the Çruvara, 412, 413;
the breath of, 413;
and frog, 414;
the two talking, 415, 416;
the three headed, 416;
fairy, and three gifts, 417;
and king who has betrayed the maiden, 417;
the sleeping, with eyes open, 417;
and the king's daughter, 418;
as whistler, 419.
Sheep, the, triple aspect of, i. 401.
Shepherd's son, ii. 45;
and Giuseppe, 45.
Shepherdess, the, who proves herself a queen, i. 209-211.
Siddhi-KÛr, stories of, i. 120;
Mongol and Calmuc stories of, 128-135.
SÎfrit, i. 213, 214;
and BrÜnhilt, 329, 330;
horse of, 339.
Sijavush, i. 116.
Simurg, the bird, and the child Sal, ii. 188, 189.
Sirens, the, i. 149, 205, 206.
Sister, triple, i. 85.
Sisters, the three, i. 105;
Calmuc story of, 130.
SÎtÂ, the dawn, i. 26, 55-60, 62, 65, 66;
fire sacrifice of, 67, 69;
and SaramÂ, ii. 21;
and the serpents, 403.
Sky, the glowing, a fire, i. 69;
stone of, 96;
by night, ii. 167;
winged animals of, 168.
Slipper, the lost, i. 31;
enchanted, 126;
origin of throwing the, 196.
Snail, the, ii. 74, 75.
Sohrab, son of Rustem, i. 114, 115.
Solabella and her seven brothers, ii. 314.
Solomon, ring of, and the hero, i. 167;
story of the ring of, ii. 175.
Somas, the, i. 8, 18;
as a bull, and a stallion, 19, 104.
Son, the, who sacrifices his mother, i. 124.
Sons, three, rape and restoration of the, ii. 57;
transformation of, into doves, 57.
Sperm as ambrosia, ii. 181.
Spider, the, and its web, ii. 161, 163, 165;
and the wasp, 164.
Squirrel, the, and fox, ii. 73;
in the Edda, 73.
St James's Way, i. 422;
Day, 422, 423, 430.
Stag, the mythical, ii. 83;
the golden, 85;
the hero, 86;
at the fountain, 86;
Eikthyrner, 87;
and Telephos, 88;
as nourisher of heroes, 88;
silver images of, in churches, 88;
disguise of, 88, 89.
Stone, mountain of, i. 314;
the man turned to, ii. 285.
Stork, the, and heron, ii. 261;
and children, 261;
mythical meaning of, 261;
and the old man, 262;
and the peasant, 262.
Strix, the, ii. 202, 203.
Stymphalian, the, birds, ii. 204.
Styx, the, i. 390.
Sudabe, i. 116.
SudeshnÂ, Queen, i. 85.
SugrÎvas, ii. 109.
Sun, the, as a god, i. 7;
as a bull, 8;
relations of, to aurora, 27;
as a cowherd, 29;
child of night and aurora, 37;
the, in relation to the aurora, 27;
as a lame hero, 31, 32;
persecuted by, and persecutor of, the aurora, 33;
as born of aurora, 51;
the pearl, 54;
and the aurora, 56, 65;
and moon, 65;
light of the, and Ssaran, intrigue of, 138;
firing at, 344;
the, in the cloud, 394.
Sundas and Upasundas, the inseparable, i. 310.
Sunlight and Moonlight, i. 315, 316.
Superlatif, i. 259.
SuramÂ, i. 57, 58.
SÛryÂ, i. 65;
husband of, 307.
SvaÇvas, i. 343.
Svetazor and his brothers, i. 192-194.
Swallows as birds of omen, ii. 240;
the seven, and Sigurd, 240;
and the Lord, 240;
of good augury, 240;
and the crow, 241;
and swan, 241;
as babblers, 241;
dreaming of, 241.
Swan, the, and the prince, ii, 311;
hero as or on, 316.
Swineherd, the, and the hogs' tails, i. 234.
Sword, the enchanted, i. 126.
Tail, the, value of recovering, i. 235, 237;
the fox's, 236.
Takshakas, king of serpents, i. 80, 81.
TapatÎ, legend of the loves of, i. 86, 87.
TÂtos, the Hungarian horse, i. 288, 296.
Tehmime and Rustem, i. 114.
Telephos and the stag, ii. 88.
Tereus, the myth of, ii. 229.
Theodore, the hero, i. 296.
Thief and the pigs, i. 200, 201;
the, in the myths, 333.
Thomas, little, and the priest's horse, i. 234;
the ass, 362.
Thor, and the serpent of Midgard, i. 225;
his appetite, 226;
and the goat, 426;
the vessel of, 426;
ii. 6.
Thraetaona, i. 101, 103-106.
Three, the number, ii. 416.
Thrita, i. 103-105.
Thunder, son of, thunder-god and devil, story of, i. 159, 160.
Thunderbolt, the, i. 9, 14;
symbolic meaning, 250.
Tiger, tail of, ii. 160.
Tistar, i. 98.
Toad, the, as demon and as a diabolic form, ii. 379;
the maiden changed into, 379, 380;
fortune-bringing, 380;
sacredness of, 381;
and the third daughter, 381;
-births, 383;
the dried, as an amulet, 384;
the -stone, 384.
Tom, little, blind of an eye, and his brothers, i. 335, 336.
Tortoise and the elephant, ii. 93-95;
the incarnation of Vishnus as a, 360-362;
originally, 361;
names of, 361, 362;
and mountain, 362;
and elephant, 363-364;
the funereal, 365;
buried, 365;
blood of, 365;
and frogs, 366;
changed into the lyre, 366;
the shields of, 366;
and Zeus, 366, 367;
and new-born children, 367;
mythical meaning, 368;
German legend of, 368;
the island, 368;
and the hare, 369;
and the eagle, 369;
and the bird Kruth, 369, 370.
Tree, the ambrosial, guarded by a dragon, ii. 410, 411.
TriÇankus, i. 72-74.
TriÇiras, i. 76, 77.
TrigatÂ, i. 57.
Trinity, Indian, dispute for pre-eminence, ii. 8.
Tritas, i. 8;
< span class="c3">horse of, 23;
character and relationships, 23;
why called stupid, 23;
in the well, 24, 25;
and his brothers, 25.
Turn-little-Pea and his brothers, story of, i. 191, 192.
Tuti-Name, the, i. 119.
Tvashtar, i. 21, 34;
the Hindoo Vulcan, ii. 154, 155.
Twilights, the two, i. 18, 27.
Tyrant, the, and the bleating lamb, i. 416, 417.
Tzarevic, Ivan, and his Medea sister Helen, i. 212-214;
and his penitent sister, 214-216;
and his perfidious mother, 216;
and his perfidious wife, 216, 217;
and his wife Anna, 217.
UccaihÇravas, the horse, i. 288, 289.
UddÂlakas, i. 80.
Ukko, the Finnic thunder-god, i. 147.
Upamanyus, i. 79.
Ursula, St, ii. 118.
UrvaÇi, the myth of, i. 39, 67, 84, 170, 273, 365, 369.
UshÂ, i. 26.
Utankas, myth of, i. 80, 81, 95, 331, 333.
VadhrimatÎ, ii. 32.
VÄinÄmÖinen, dwarf-god, i. 147, 148;
harp of, 149.
Valkyries, the, and their swan forms, ii. 315.
ValmÎkam, ii. 43.
VamrÎ, ii. 43.
Vamras, ii. 44.
Varunas, i. 52, 69-72, 107.
Vasavas, the, i. 68.
Vasishtas, cow of, i. 72-74, 87, 88;
vain attempt at self-destruction, 88, 99.
Valas, the grotto of, i. 13;
as a cow, 15.
VÂyus, i. 5-7.
Vedas, i. 80.

THE END.

PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY

EDINBURGH AND LONDON

[1] Cfr. the chapter on the Duck, the Goose, the Swan, and the Dove.[2] ImÂni trÎ?i vishtapÂ tÂnÎndra vi rohaya Çiras tatasyorvarÂm Âd idam ma upodare.[3] Khe rathasya khe 'nasa? khe yugasya Çatakrato apÂlÂm indra trish pÛtvy ak?ino? sÛryatvacam.[4]

SulomÂm anavadyÂÑgÎ? kuru mÂ? Çakra sutvacÂm
TasyÂs tad vacanam ÇrutvÂ prÎtas tena purandara?
Rathachidre?a tÂm indra? Çaka?asya yugasya ca
Prakshipya niÇcakarsha tris tata? sÂ sutvacÂ 'bhavat
TasyÂ? tvaci vyapetÂyÂm sarvasyÂ? Çalyako 'bhavat
UttarÂ tv abhavad godhÂ krikalÂÇas tvag uttamÂ.

GodhÂ seems to signify he who has the form of a hair (go, among its other meanings, has that of hair). As an animal, the dictionaries also recognise in the godhÂ a lizard. But perhaps we may also translate it by toad or frog; we could thus also understand the fable of the frog which aspires to equal the ox. I observe, moreover, to exemplify the ease with which we can pass from the ox to the frog, and from the frog to the lizard, how in the Russian story of Afanassieff, ii. 23, a beautiful princess is hidden in a frog; in Tuscan and Piedmontese stories and in Sicilian superstitions, in a toad. In the stories of the Pentamerone, the good fairy is a lacerta cornuta (a horned lizard). GhoshÂ, too, has for its equivalent in Sansk?it, karka?aÇ?iÑgÎ, which means a horned shrimp. In other varieties the young prince is a he-goat or a dragon.[5] For the persecuted maiden in connection with the hog or hogs, cfr. also the Pentamerone, iii. 10.[6] Afanassieff, v. 38.[7] De Re Rustica, ii. 4.[8] ?igv. i. 61, 7.[9] Divo varÂham arusham kapardina? tvesha? rÛpa? namasÂ ni hvayÂmahe; ?igv. i. 114, 5.[10] PaÇyan hira?yacakrÂn ayoda?sh?rÂn vidhÂvato varÂhÂn; ?igv. i. 88, 5.[11] Agni?i?vÂ manava? sÛracakshasa?; ?igv. i. 89, 7.—In the Edda, the chariot of Frey is drawn by a hog. The head of the mythical hog is luminous. In the twenty-eighth story of the second book of Afanassieff, Ivan DurÁk obtains from the two young heroes, who miraculously appear to him, three marvellous gifts, i.e., the hog with golden bristles, the buck with golden horns and tail, and the horse with mane and tail also of gold.[12] ViÇvet tÂ vish?ur Âbharad urukramas tveshita? Çatam mahishÂn kshÎrapÂkam odana? varÂham indra emusham; ?igv. viii. 66, 10.—In the Thebaid of Statius (v. 487), Tydoeus, too, is dressed in the spoils of a wild boar—

"Terribiles contra setis, ac dente recurvo,
Tydea per latos humeros ambire laborant
ExuviÆ, Calydonis honos."

[13] According to other fables, the three persons of the Trinity at one time disputed as to who had the pre-eminence. BrahmÂn, who, from the summit of the lotus where he was seated, saw nothing in the universe, believed himself the first of creatures. He descended into the stem of the lotus, and finding at last NÂrÂya?as (Vish?us) asleep, he asked him who he was. "I am the first-born," replied Vish?us; BrahmÂn disputed this title and dared even to attack him. But during the struggle, MahÂdeva (Çiva) threw himself between them, crying, "It is I who am the first-born. Nevertheless I will recognise as my superior him who is able to see the summit of my head or the sole of my feet." Vish?us (as hidden or infernal moon), transforming himself into a wild boar, pierced through the ground and penetrated to the infernal regions, where he saw the feet of MahÂdeva. The latter, on his return, saluted him as the first-born of the gods; Bournouf, L'Inde FranÇaise.[14] ii. 119.[15] Asyed u mÂtu? savaneshu sadyo mahah pitum papivÂn carv annÂ mushÂyad vish?u? pacata? sahÎyÂm vidhyad varÂha? tiro adrim astÂ; str. 7.[16] Asya trito nv o?asÂ v?idhÂno vipÂ varÂham ayoagrayÂ han; str. 6.[17] Varahoyam vamamoshah saptanÂm girÎ?Âm parastÂd vittam vedyam asurÂnÂm vibharti, sa darbhapin?Ûlam (pin?alam?) uddh?itya, sapta girÎn bhittvÂ tam ahanniti, already quoted by Wilson, ?igv. San. i. 164.—Cfr. the chapter on the Woodpecker.[18] Tvam sÛkarasya dard?ihi tava dardartu sÛkarah; str. 4.—The dog in relation with the hog occurs again in the two Latin proverbs: "Canis peccatum sus dependit," and "Aliter catuli longe olent, aliter sues."[19] i. 893.[20] iv. 13.[21] Daumas, La Vie Arabe, xv.[22] iii. 3, 26.[23] Cfr. Aldrovandi, De Quadrup. Digit. Viv. ii.[24] Ibid.[25] Cfr. Afanassieff, v. 28.[26] lxxxiii., quoted by Benfey in his Einleitung to the Pancatantram.—The fable is taken from the thirtieth of Avianus, where the wild boar loses his two ears and is then eaten, but the cook (who represents in tradition the cunning hero) has taken its heart to eat it:—

"Sed cum consumpti dominus cor quÆreret Apri
Impatiens, fertur (cor) rapuisse coquus."

[27] In Du Cange, too, "aper significat diabolum; Papias M. S. Bitur. Ex illo ScripturÆ: 'Singularis aper egressus est de silva.'"—Cfr. also Uhland's Schriften zur Geschichte der Dichtung und Sage, iii. 141, et seq.[28] ii. 220, et seq., quoted by Uhland.[29] LeukophÔs; a verse of Vilkelmus Brito defines it in a Latin strophe given in Du Cange—

"Tempore quo neque nox neque lux sed utrumque videtur;"

and further on—

"Interque canem distare lupumque."

According to Pliny and Solinus, the shadow of the hyena makes the dog dumb, i.e., the night disperses the twilight; the moon vanishes.[30] The dog was sacred to the huntress Diana, whom we know to be the moon, hence the Latin proverb, "Delia nota canibus."[31] Indrasya dÛtir ishitÂ carÂmi maha ichantÎ pa?ayo nidhÎn va?; str. 2.[32] RasÂyÂ ataram payÂ?si; str. 2.—Aya? nidhi? sarame adribudhno gobhir aÇvebhir vasubhir ny?ish?a?; str. 7.—SvasÂra? tvÂ k?i?avÂi mÂ punar gÂ apa te gavÂ? subhage bha?Âma; str. 9.—NÂha? veda bhrÂt?itva? no svas?itvam indro vidur aÑgirasaÇ caghorÂ?; str. 10.[33] IndrasyÂÑgirasÂm cesh?Âu vidat saramÂ tanayÂya dhÂsim b?ihaspatir bhinad adrim vidad gÂ? sam usriyÂbhir vÂvaÇanta nara?; str. 3.[34] ?ita? yatÎ saramÂ gÂ avindat.—?itasya pathÂ saramÂ vidad gÂh; ?igv. v. 45, 7, 8.[35] Apo yad adrim puruhÛta dardar Âvir bhuvat saramÂ pÛrvya? te; ?igv. iv. 16, 8.[36] Vidad yadÎ saramÂ rug?am adrer mahi pÂtha? pÛrvya? sadhryak ka? agra? nayat supady aksharÂ?Âm achÂ ravam prathamÂ ?ÂnatÎ gÂt; ?igv. iii. 31, 6.[37] vi. 9.[38] v. 62.[39] vi. 10.[40] Cfr. the Vedic text above quoted.[41] In the Tuti-Name, instead of the dog with the bone or piece of meat, we have the fox. The dog who sees his shadow in the water; the fearless hero who, in Tuscan stories, dies when he sees his own shadow; the black monster (the shadow) who, in numerous stories, presents himself instead of the real hero to espouse the beautiful princess, carry our thoughts back to Indras, who, in the ?igvedas, after having defeated the monster, flees away over the rivers, upon seeing something which is probably the shadow of V?itras, killed by him, or his own shadow. In the Âitar. BrÂhm. iii. 2, 15, 16, 20, this flight of Indras is also recorded, and it is added, that Indras hides himself, and that the Pitaras (i.e., the souls of the departed) find him again. Indras thinks that he has killed V?itras, but really has not killed him; then the gods abandon him; the Marutas alone (as dogs friendly to the bitch SaramÂ) remain faithful to him. The monster killed by Indras in the morning rises again at eve. According to other Vedic accounts, Indras is obliged to flee, stung by remorse, having committed a brÂhmanicide.[42] Ati drava sÂrameyÂu ÇvÂnÂu catarakshÂu ÇabalÂu sÂdhunÂ pathÂ athÂ pit?Înt suvidatrÂ? upehi—YÂu te ÇvÂnÂu yama rakshitÂrÂu caturakshÂu pathirakshÎ n?icakshasÂu—UrÛ?asÂv asut?ipÂ udumbalÂu yamasya dÛtÂu carato ?anÂ? anu—TÂv asmabhya? d?iÇaye sÛryÂya punar dÂtÂm asum adyeha bhadram; ?igv. x. 14, 10-12.[43] Ni shvÂpaya mithÛd?iÇÂu; ?igv. i. 29, 3.—The Petropolitan Dictionary explains the word mith. by "abwechselend sichtbar."[44] Yad ar?una sarameya data? piÇaÑga yachase vÎva bhrÂ?anta ?ish?aya upa srakveshu bapsato ni shu svapa; stena? rÂya sÂrameya taskara? vÂ puna?sara stotrÎn indrasya rÂyasi kim asmÂn duchunÂyase ni shu svapa; ?igv. vii. 55, 2, 3.[45] i. 657, 666.[46] Canto 62.[47] Thus Hecuba, the wife of Priam, after having suffered cruel tribulation as a woman, in Ovid—

"Perdidit infelix hominis post omnia formam
Externasque novo latratu terruit auras."

In the Breviarium Romanum, too, in the offices of the dead, God is besought not to consign to the beasts (ne tradas bestiis, &c.) the souls of His servants.[48] Eta u tye patayanti ÇvayÂtava indram dipsanti dipsavo 'dÂbhyam—UlukayÂtu? ÇuÇulÛkayÂtu? ?ahi ÇvayÂtum uta kokayÂtum supar?ayÂtum gridhrayÂtu? d?ishadeva pra m?i?a raksha indra; ?igv. vii. 104, 20, 22.[49] ?ambhayatam abhito rÂyata?; ?igv. i. 182, 4.[50] Apa ÇvÂna? Çnathish?ana sakhÂyo dÎrgha?ihvyam—Apa ÇvÂnam arÂdhasam hatÂ makha? na bh?igava?; ?igv. ix. 101, 1, 13.[51] AvartyÂ Çuna ÂntrÂ?i pece na deveshu vivide mar?itÂram apaÇya? ?ÂyÂm ama?ÎyamÂnÂm adhÂ me Çyeno madhv Â ?abhÂra; ?igv. iv. 18, 13. The bird who brings honey has evidently here a phallical meaning, as also the intestine, the part that is inside of now the dog, now the fish, and now the ass (all of which are phallical symbols), desired as a delicacy by the women of fairy tales, must be equivalent to the madhu brought by the bird.[52] In the fifth story of the fourth book of the Pentamerone, the bird does the same that a dog does in the third story of the third book; the bird brings a knife, the dog brings a bone, and the imprisoned princess, by means of this knife and bone, is enabled to make a hole in the prison, and to free herself.[53] In the Pentamerone, i. 7, the enchanted bitch brings to the princess news of the young hero.[54] In the seventh Esthonian story, the man with the black horse binds three dogs tightly; if they get loose, no one will be able to keep them back.—In the Edda, Thrymer, the prince of the giants, keeps the grey dogs bound with golden chains.[55] Einen gelblichen Hund mit vier Augen oder einen weissen mit gelben Ohren; Vendidad, viii. 41, et seq., Spiegel's version. And Anquetil, describing the Baraschnon no schabÉ, represents the purifying dog as follows:—"Le Mobed prend le bÂton À neuf noeuds, entre dans les Keischs et attache la cuillÈre de fer au neuviÈme noeud. L'impur entre aussi dans les Keischs. On y amÈne un chien; et si c'est une femme que l'on purifie, comme elle doit Être nue, c'est aussi une femme qui tient le chien. L'impur ayant la main droite sur sa tÊte et la gauche sur le chien, passe successivement sur les six premiÈres pierres et s'y lave avec l'urine que lui donne le Mobed."—In the KÂtyÂy. SÛ. the question is seriously discussed whether a dog, who was seen to fast on the fourteenth day of the month, did so on account of religious penitence.—Cfr. Muir's Sansk?it Texts, i. 365.[56] Dog and horse, with bites and kicks, kill the monster doe and free the two brother-heroes in the Pentamerone, i. 9.[57] Cfr. also the sixth of the third book.—In the second story of the third book of the Pentamerone, the sister herself cuts off her own hands, of which her brother, who wishes to marry her, is enamoured.—Cfr. the MediÆval Legends of Santa Uliva, annotated by Professor Alessandro d'Ancona, Pisa, Nistri, 1863; and the Figlia del Re di Dacia, illustrated by Professor Alessandro Wesselofski, Pisa, Nistri, 1866, besides the thirty-first of the stories of the Brothers Grimm.[58] The thirty-third of the collection of Karadzik, quoted by Professor Wesselofsky in his introduction to the story of the Figlia del Re di Dacia.[59] Cfr. my little essay on the Albero di Natale.[60] King Richard II., act. i. scene 2.[61] Çruta? tac chÂsur iva vadhrimat yÂ hira?yahastam aÇvinÂv adattam; ?igv. i. 116, 13.—Hira?yahastam aÇvinÂ rarÂ?Â putra? narÂ vadhrimatyÂ adattam; i. 117, 24.—The dog in connection with a man's hand is mentioned in the Latin works of Petrarch, when speaking of Vespasian, who considered as a good omen the incident of a dog bringing a man's hand into the refectory.[62] Sadyo ?aÑghÂm ÂyasÎm viÇpalÂyai dhane hite sartave praty adhattam; str. 15.[63] It is perhaps for this reason that the Hungarians give to their dogs names of rivers, as being runners; but it is also said that they do so from their belief that a dog which bears the name of a river or piece of water never goes mad, especially if he be a white dog, inasmuch as the Hungarians consider the red dog and the black or spotted one as diabolical shapes. In Tuscany, when a Christian's tooth is taken out, it must be hidden carefully, that the dogs may not find it and eat it; here dog and devil are assimilated.[64] Scylla laves her groin in a fountain, the waters of which the enchantress Circe has corrupted, upon which monstrous dogs appear in her body, whence Ovid—

"Scylla venit mediaque tenus descenderat alvo,
Cum sua foedari latrantibus inguina monstris
Aspicit, ac primo non credens corporis illas
Esse sui partes, refugitque, abiitque timetque
Ora proterva canum."

[65] HÆc lucem accipiunt ab Joinville in Hist. S. Ludovici, dum foedera inter Imp. Joannem Vatatzem et Comanorum Principem inita recenset, eaque firmata ebibito alterius invicem sanguine, hacque adhibita ceremonia, quam sic enarrat: "Et ancore firent-ils autre chose. Car ils firent passer un chien entre nos gens et eux, et dÉcoupÈrent tout le chien À leurs espÉes, disans que ainsy fussent-ils dÉcoupez s'ils failloient l'un À l'autre."—Cfr. in Du Cange the expression "cerebrare canem."[66] In a fable of Abstemius, a shepherd's dog eats one of the sheep every day, instead of watching over the flock. The shepherd kills him, saying, that he prefers the wolf, a declared enemy, to the dog, a false friend. This uncertainty and confusion between the dog and the wolf explains the double nature of the dog; to prove which I shall refer to two unpublished Italian stories: the first, which I heard from the mouth of a peasant-woman of Fucecchio, shows the bitch in the capacity of the monster's spy; the second was narrated a few years ago by a Piedmontese bandit to a peasant-woman who had shown hospitality to him, at Capellanuova, near Cavour in Piedmont. The first story is called The King of the Assassins, and is as follows:—

There was once a widow with three daughters who worked as seamstresses. They sit upon a terrace; a handsome lord passes and marries the eldest; he takes her to his castle in the middle of a wood, after having told her that he is the chief of the assassins. He gives her a she-puppy and says, "This will be your companion; if you treat her well, it is as if you treated me well." Taking her into the palace, he shows her all the rooms, and gives her all the keys; of four rooms, however, which he indicates, there are two which she must not enter; if she does so, evil will befall her. The chief of the assassins spends one day at home and then three away. During his absence she maltreats the puppy, and gives her scarcely anything to eat; then she lets herself be overcome by curiosity, and goes to see what there is in the two rooms, followed by the puppy. She sees in one room heads of dead people, and in the other tongues, ears, &c., hung up. This sight fills her with terror. The chief of the assassins returns and asks the bitch whether she has been well treated; she makes signs to the contrary, and informs her master that his wife has been in the forbidden rooms. He cuts off her head, and goes to find the second sister, whom he induces to come to him by under invitation to visit his wife; she undergoes the same miserable fate. Then he goes to take the third sister, and tells her who he is; she answers, "It is better thus, for I shall no longer be afraid of thieves." She gives the bitch soup, caresses her, and makes herself loved by her; the king of the assassins is contented, and the puppy leads a happy life. After a month, while he is out and the puppy amusing itself in the garden, she enters the two rooms, finds her two sisters, and goes into the other rooms, where there are ointments to fasten on limbs that have been cut off, and ointments to bring the dead to life. Having resuscitated her sisters, and given them food, she hides them in two great jars, furnished with breathing holes, and asks her husband to take them as a present to her mother, warning him not to look into the jars, as she will see him. He takes them, and when he tries to look in, he hears, as he had been forewarned, not one voice, but two whispering from within them, "My love, I see you." Terrified at this, he gives up the two jars at once to the mother. Meanwhile his wife has killed the bitch in boiling oil; she then brings all the dead men and women to life, amongst whom there is Carlino, the son of a king of France, who marries her. Upon the return of the king of the assassins he perceives the treachery, and vows revenge; going to Paris, he has a golden pillar constructed in which a man can be concealed without any aperture being visible, and bribes an old woman of the palace to lay on the prince's pillow a leaf of paper which will put him and all his servants to sleep as soon as he reclines on it. Shutting himself up in the pillar, he has it carried before the palace; the queen wishes to possess it, and insists upon having it at the foot of her bed. Night comes; the prince puts his head upon the leaf, and he and his servants are at once thrown into a deep sleep. The assassin steps out of the pillar, threatens to put the princess to death, and goes into the kitchen to fill a copper with oil, in which to boil her. Meanwhile she calls her husband to help her, but in vain; she rings the bell, but no one answers; the king of the assassins returns and drags her out of bed; she catches hold of the prince's head, and thus draws it off the paper; the prince and his servants awake, and the enchanter is burnt alive.

The second story is called The Magician of the Seven Heads, and was narrated to me by the peasant-woman in the following terms:—

An old man and woman have two children, Giacomo and Carolina. Giacomo looks after three sheep. A hunter passes and asks for them; Giacomo gives them, and receives in reward three dogs, Throttle-iron, Run-like-the-wind, and Pass-everywhere, besides a whistle. The father refuses to keep Giacomo at home; he goes away with his three dogs, of which the first carries bread, the second viands, and the third wine. He comes to a magician's palace and is well received. Bringing his sister, the magician falls in love with her and wishes to marry her; but to this end the brother must be weakened by the abstraction of his dogs. His sister feigns illness and asks for flour; the miller demands a dog for the flour, and Giacomo yields it for love of his sister; in a similar manner the other two dogs are wheedled away from him. The magician tries to strangle Giacomo, but the latter blows his whistle, and the dogs appear and kill the magician and the sister. Giacomo goes away with the three dogs, and comes to a city which is in mourning because the king's daughter is to be devoured by the seven-headed magician. Giacomo, by means of the three dogs, kills the monster; the grateful princess puts the hem of her robe round Throttle-iron's neck and promises to marry Giacomo. The latter, who is in mourning for his sister, asks for a year and a day; but before going he cuts the seven tongues of the magician off and takes them with him. The maiden returns to the palace. The chimney-sweeper forces her to recognise him as her deliverer; the king, her father, consents to his marrying her; the princess, however, stipulates to be allowed to wait for a year and a day, which is accorded. At the expiration of the appointed time, Giacomo returns, and hears that the princess is going to be married. He sends Throttle-iron to strike the chimney-sweeper (the black man, the Saracen, the Turk, the gipsy, the monster) with his tail, in order that his collar may be remarked; he then presents himself as the real deliverer of the princess, and demands that the magician's heads be brought; as the tongues are wanting, the trick is discovered. The young couple are married, and the chimney-sweeper is burnt.[67] Cfr. the Biblioteca delle Tradizioni Popolari Siciliane, edited by Gius. PitrÈ, ii. canto 811.[68] In Richardus Dinothus, quoted by Aldrovandi.[69] From a letter of my friend PitrÈ.[70] De Quadrup. Dig. Viv. ii.[71] Cfr. Du Cange, s. v. "canem ferre." The ignominy connected with this punishment has perhaps a phallic signification, the dog and the phallos appear in connection with each other in an unpublished legend maliciously narrated at Santo Stefano di Calcinaia, near Florence, and which asserts that woman was not born of a man, but of a dog. Adam was asleep; the dog carried off one of his ribs; Adam ran after the dog to recover it, but brought back nothing save the dog's tail, which came away in his hand. The tail of the ass, horse, or pig, which is left in the peasant's hand in other burlesque traditions, besides serving as an indication, as the most visible part, to find the lost or fallen animal again, or to return into itself, may perhaps have a meaning analogous to that of the tail of Adam's dog.—I hope the reader will pardon me these frequent repugnant allusions to indecent images; but being obliged to go back to an epoch in which idealism was still in its cradle, while physical life was in all its plenitude of vigour, images were taken in preference from the things of a more sensible nature, and which made a deeper and more abiding impression. It is well known that in the production of the Vedic fire by means of the friction of two sticks, the male and the female are alluded to, so that the grandiose and splendid poetical myth of Prometheus had its origin in the lowest of similitudes.[72] V?iddhasya cid vardhato dyÂm inakshata? stavÂno vamro vi ?aghÂna sa?diha?; ?igv. i. 51, 9.[73] VamrÎbhi? putram agruvo adÂna? niveÇanÂd dhariva Â ?abhartha; ?igv. iv. 19, 9.—Another variation is the hedgehog, which, as we have seen in Chapter V., forces the viper out of its den.[74] The dwarf-hermits, who transport a leaf upon a car, and are about to be drowned in the water contained in the foot-print of a cow, and who curse Indras, who passes smiling without assisting them, in the legend of the MahÂbhÂratam, are a variety of these same ants.—Cfr. the chapters on the Elephant and on the Fishes, where we have Indras who fears to be submerged.[75] Fa cunto ca no le mancava lo latto de la formica; Pentamerone, i. 8.[76] Biblion Istorikon, xii. 404.—In the Epist. Presb. Johannis, we find also:—"In quadam provincia nostra sunt formicÆ in magnitudine catulorum, habentes vii. pedes et alas iv. IstÆ formicÆ ab occasu solis ad ortum morantur sub terra et fodiunt purissimum aurum tota nocte—quÆrunt victum suum tota die. In nocte autem veniunt homines de cunctis civitatibus ad colligendum ipsum aurum et imponunt elephantibus. Quando formicÆ sunt supra terram, nullus ibi audet accedere propter crudelitatem et ferocitatem ipsarum."—Cfr. infra.[77] Of this expression a historical origin is given, referring it to a Bolognese doctor of the twelfth century, named Grillo.—Cfr. Fanfani, Vocabolario dell 'uso Toscano, s. v. "grillo."[78] Here are the words of the song of this curious wedding, which I heard sung at Santo Stefano di Calcinaia, near Florence:—

"Grillo, mio grillo,
Se tu vuoi moglie, dillo;
Se tu n' la vuoi,
Abbada a' fatti tuoi.
Tinfillulilalera
LinfillulilalÀ.

"Povero grillo, 'n un campo di lino,
La formicuccia gne ne chiese un filo.
D'un filo solo, cosa ne vuoi tu fare?
Grembi e camicie; mi vuo' maritare.
Disse lo grillo:—Ti piglierÒ io.
La formicuccia:—Son contenta anch' io.
Tinfillul., &c.

"Povero grillo, 'n un campo di ceci;
La formicuccia gne ne chiese dieci
Di dieci soli, cosa ne vuoi tu fare?
Quattro di stufa, e sei li vuo' girare.
Tinfillul., &c.

"Povero grillo facea l'ortolano
L'andava a spasso col ravanello in mano;
Povero grillo, andava a Pontedera,
Con le vilancie pesava la miseria.
Tinfillul., &c.

"Povero grillo, l'andiede a Monteboni,
Dalla miseria l'impegnÒ i calzoni;
Povero grillo facea l'oste a Colle,
L'andÒ fallito e bastonÒ la moglie.
Tinfillul., &c.

"La formicuccia andÒ alla festa a il Porto,
Ebbe la nova che il suo grillo era morto
La formicuccia, quando seppe la nova
La cascÒ in terra, stette svenuta un 'ora.
La formicuccia si buttÒ su il letto,
Con le calcagna si batteva il petto.
Tinfillul.," &c.

[79] Cfr. Zacher, Pseudo-Callisthenes, Halle, 1867.[80] Pliny, Hist. Nat. xi. 31.[81] IyattikÂ ÇakuntikÂ sakÂ ?aghÂsa te visham; ?igv. i. 191, 11.[82] iv. 1.[83] De Quad. Dig. Viv. ii.[84] i. 49.[85] ii. 22.[86] The forgetfulness of the lynx, as well as of the cat, is proverbial. St Jerome, in the Ep. ad Chrisog.—"Verum tu quod natura lynces insitum habent, ne post tergum respicientes meminerint priorum, et mens perdat quod oculi videre desierint, ita nostrÆ es necessitudinis penitus oblitus." Thus of the lynx it is said by Ælianos that it covers its urine with sand (like the cat), so that men may not find it, for in seven days the precious stone lyncurion is formed of this urine. The cat that sees by night, the lynx that sees through opaque bodies, the fable of Lynkeus, who, according to Pliny, saw in one day the first and the last moon in the sign of Aries, and the lynx that, according to Apollonios, saw through the earth what was going on in hell, recall to us the moon, the wise and all-seeing fairy of the sky, and the infernal moon.[87] Quoted by Benfey in the Einleitung to the Pancatantram.[88] v. 5421-5448.[89] "Let no man, apprised of this law, present even water to a priest who acts like a cat;" iv. 192, version of Jones and Graves' Chamney Haughton, edited by Percival, Madras, 1863.—In a Russian story quoted by Afanassieff in his observations to the first volume of his stories, the cat Eustachio feigns itself penitent or monk in order to eat the mouse when it passes. It being observed that the cat is too fat for a penitent, it answers that it eats from the duty of preserving its health.[90] iii. 147, Stuttgart, Cotta, 1857.[91] Translation by Ch. Potvin, Paris and Brussels, 1861.[92] From the peasant-woman Uliva Selvi, who told it to me at Antignano, near Leghorn.[93] Cfr. Afanassieff, v. 32, where a cat is bought by a virtuous workman for the price of a kapeika (a small coin), the only price that he had consented to take as a reward for his work; the same cat is bought by the king for three vessels. With another kapeika, earned by other work, the workman delivers the king's daughter from the devil, and subsequently marries her.[94] Cfr. analogous subjects in Chapter I., e.g., Emilius the lazy and stupid youth, and the blind woman who recovers her sight.[95]

[96] In the eighteenth story of the third book of Afanassieff it is in company with the lamb (in the nineteenth, with the he-goat) that the cat terrifies the wolf and the bear.[97]

"Idiot kot na nagÁh,
V krasnih sapagÁh;
Nessiot sabliu na plessiÉ;
A palocku pri bedriÉ,
Hociet lissu parubÍt,
IeiÀ dushu zagubÍt."

Puss-in-boots (le chat bottÉ), helps the third brother in the tale of Perrault.[98] In Tuscany the previously mentioned story-teller, Uliva Selvi, at Antignano, near Leghorn, narrated it to me as follows:—A mother has a number of children and no money; a fairy tells her to go to the summit of the mountain, where she will find many enchanted cats in a beautiful palace, who give alms. The woman goes, and a kitten lets her in; she sweeps the rooms, lights the fire, washes the dishes, draws water, makes the beds, and bakes bread for the cats; at last she comes before the king of the cats, who is seated with a crown on his head, and asks for alms. The great cat rings the golden bell with a golden chain, and calls the cats. He learns that the woman has treated them well, and orders them to fill her apron with gold coins (rusponi). The wicked sister of the poor woman also goes to visit the cats, but she maltreats them, and returns home all scratched, and more dead than alive from pain and terror.[99] Cfr. Rochholtz, Deutscher Glaube und Brauche, i. 161.[100] Ib.—I find the same belief referred to in the twenty-first Esthonian story of Kreutzwald.[101] It is almost universally believed that when the cat cleans itself behind its ears with its wet paw, it presages rain. And yet the Latin proverb says—

"Catus amat pisces, sed aquas intrare recusat;"

and the Hungarian proverb, that the cat does not die in water. It is for this reason, perhaps, that it is said, in a watery autumn the cat is worth little—("The cat of autumn and the woman of spring are not worth much;" Hung. prov.)[102] Polier, Mythologie des Indes, ii. 571.[103] MÛsho na ÇiÇnÂ vy adanti mÂdhya? stotÂra? te Çatakrato; ?igv. i. 105, 8.—The commentator now interprets ÇiÇnÂ by sutrÂni, threads, and now calls the reader's attention to the legend of the mice that lick their tails after plunging them into a vase full of butter, or some other savoury substance; but here vy adanti can only mean, they lacerate by biting, as in the preceding strophe we have the thought that tears by biting, as the wolf tears the thirsty wild beast (mÂ vyanti Âdhyo na t?ish?a?am m?igam).—The mouse in the jar of provisions also occurs in the fable of the mouse and the two penitents in the Pancatantram, in the Hellenic fable of the son of Minos and of PasiphÄe, who, pursuing a mouse, falls into a jar of honey, in which he is suffocated, until recalled to life by a salutary herb.[104] Den MÄusen pfeifen, heisst den Seelen ein Zeichen geben, um von ihnen abgeholt zu werden; ebenso wie der RattenfÄnger zu Hameln die Lockpfeife blÄst, auf deren Ton alle MÄuse und Kinder der Stadt mit ihm in den Berg hineinziehen, der sich hinter ihnen zuschliesst. MÄuse sind Seelen. Die Seele des auf der Jagd entschlafenen KÖnigs Guntram kommt schlÄngleinartig aus seinem Munde hervor, um so in einen nÄchsten Berg und wieder zurÜckzulaufen. Der goethe'sche Faust weigert sich dem Tanz mit dem hÜbschen HexenmÄdchen am Blocksberg fortzusetzen:—

"Den mitten im Gesange sprang
Ein rothes MÄuschen ihr aus dem Munde."
—Rochholtz, Deut. Glaube u. Brauch, i. 156, 157.

[105] i. 268.[106] The mouse that passes over the yarn occurs again in German tradition:—"Gertrudenbuchlein ab: Zwei MÄuschen nagen an einer flachsumwundenen Spindel; eine Spinnerinn sitzt am St Gertrudentag, noch in der Zeit der ZwÖlften, wo die Geister in Gestalt von MÄusen erscheinen, darf gesponnen werden;" Rochholtz, ut supra, i. 158.[107] Cfr. Pentamerone, iii. 5.—In the story, iv. 1, the grateful mice assist Minec Aniello to find the lost ring by gnawing the finger on which the magician wears it.[108] AlÂyyasya paraÇur nanÂÇa tam Â pavasya (pavasva according to Aufrecht's text, and according to the commentator—cfr. Bollensen, Zur Herstellung des Veda, in the Orient und Occident of Benfey, ii. 484) deva soma; Âkhu? cid eva deva soma; ?igv. ix. 67, 30.[109] Cfr. the AntigonÊ of Sophocles, v. 973, et seq.[110] This dass no of the Piedmontese means "if not," and is evidently of Germanic origin. The Piedmontese dialect has also taken from the Germanic languages the final negative.—In Germany, children sing to the snails—

"SchneckhÛs, peckhÛs,
StÄk dÎn vÊr hÖrner rÛt,
SÜst schmÎt ick dÎ in'n graven
Da frÊten dÎ de raven."
—Cfr. Kuhn und Schwartz, N. d. S. M. u. G., p. 453.

[111] In Rabelais, i. 38, when Gargantua has eaten five pilgrims in his salad, another still remains hidden under a leaf of lettuce. His father says to him—"Je crois que c'est lÀ une corne de limasson, ne le mangez point. Pourquoy? dist Gargantua, ilz sont bons tout se moys."[112] Simrock, Handbuch der Deutschen Mythologie, 2te Aufl., p. 516.[113] LopÂÇa? si?ham pratyancam atsÂ?; ?igv. x. 28, 4.[114] Avaruddha? paripada? na sinha?; x. 28, 10.[115] ÇaÇah kshuram pratyancam ?agÂra; x. 28, 9.[116] Krosh?Â varÂha? nir atakta kakshÂt; x. 28, 4.[117] Vatso v?ishabha? ÇÛÇuvÂna?; x. 28, 9.[118] Sinha? ÇaÇamivÂlakshya garu?o vÂ bhu?aÑgamam; RÂmÂy. xxiii.[119] Cfr. MÉmoires sur les ContrÉes Occidentales, traduits du Sanscrit par Hiouen Thsang, et du Chinois par St Julien, i. 375.[120] Redimunt ea parte corporis, propter quam maxime expetuntur; Pro Æmilio Scauro. It is said that when the beaver is pursued by hunters, it tears off its testicles, as the most precious part for which beavers are hunted, popular medical belief attributing marvellous virtues to beavers' testicles.[121] xii. 35.[122] Cited by Afanassieff in the observations on the first volume of the Russian stories.[123] Cfr. Afanassieff, i. 14, ii. 24, v. 42.[124] Ye p?ishatÎbhir ?ishtibhi? sÂka? vÂÇÎbhir an?ibhi?—a?Âyanta svabhÂnava?; ?igv. i. 37, 2.[125] Upo ratheshu p?ishatÎr ayugdhvam prash?ir vahati rohita?; i. 39, 6.[126] Sa hi svas?it p?ishadaÇvo yuvÂ ga?a?: i. 87, 4.[127] Â vidyunmadbhir maruta? svarkÂi rathebhir yÂtha ?ish?imadbhir aÇvaparnÂi?; i. 88, 1.[128] AÇvÂir hira?yapÂ?ibhi?; viii. 7, 27.[129] Çubhe sammiÇlÂ? p?ishatÎr ayukshata; iii. 26, 4.[130] A?seshu etÂ?; ?igv. i. 166, 10.—Concerning the use of similar skins for dress in India, cfr. the long and instructive note of Professor Max MÜller, ?igveda-Sanhita Translated and Explained, i. 221-223.[131] i. 1665.[132] i. 3811, et seq.; i. 4585, et seq.[133] ii. 13, translated by Wilson.[134] iii. 40, 48, 49.[135] Cfr. Simrock, the work quoted before, p. 354.[136] ii. 258, Rosen's version.[137] Oft fÜhrt der Hirsch nur zu einer schÖnen Frau am Brunnen; sie ist aber der Unterwelt verwandt und die Verbindung mit ihr an die Bedingung geknÜpft, dass die ungleiche Natur des Verbundenen nicht an den Tag gezogen werde.[138] Du Cange adds: "Quoad baptismam, quomodo cervus ad fontes aquarum, summo desiderium perveniendum esse monstraretur."[139] Cfr. Porchat, Contes Merveilleux, xiii.[140] M?igÂ iva hastina? khÂdathÂ vanÂ yad ÂrunÎshu tavishÎr ayugdhvam; ?igv. i. 64, 7.[141] M?igo na hastÎ tavishÎm ushÂ?a?; ?igv. iv. 16, 14.[142] DÂnÂ m?igo na vÂra?a? purutrÂ caratha? dadhe; ?igv. viii. 33, 8.[143] YÂhi rÂ?evÂmavÂn ibhena; ?igv. iv. 4, 1.[144] RÂmÂy. i. 42.[145] iii. 36.[146] iii. 47.[147] RÂmÂy. v. 3[148] vi. 3.[149] ii. 71.[150] iii. 39.[151] i. 1353, seq.[152] RÂmÂy. iv. 63.[153] v. 55.[154] For the connection between the seven ?ikshas (?ishayas, wise men, stars, or bears) of the Hindoos and the septemtriones, the seven stars of the she-bear (Arktos, Arkturus), and the Arctic regions, cfr. the interesting discussion of Professor Max MÜller, in the second series of his Lectures.—The seven ?ishayas are the same as the seven AÑgirasas, the seven harayas, and the Marutas, who are seven (multiplied by three, that is, twenty-one). In the Marutas, as harayas, we have the monkeys. Even the wife of the king of the monkeys is named TÂrÂ, or, properly, the star. Thus there seems to exist between the monkey and the star the same relation as between the bear and the star, a new argument to vindicate the identity of the two animals in mythology.[155] PriyÂ tash?Âni me kapir vyaktÂ vy adÛdushat Çiro nv asya rÂvisha? na suga? dushk?ite bhuva? viÇvasmÂd indra uttara?; str. 5.[156] i. 2628.[157] iii. 75.[158] iv. 5.[159] v. 2, vii. 39.[160] v. 3.[161] RÂmÂy. v. 4, v. 5.[162] v. 55.[163] RÂmÂy. iv. 12, v. 6.—The monkey on the sea is also to be found in a Greek apologue, but the subject is somewhat different. A monkey, which during a tempest had been washed from a ship, and tossed about upon the stormy waves under the promontory of Attica, is mistaken by a dolphin for a man; the dolphin, having great affection for the race to which he presumed he belonged, takes him up and carries him towards the shore. But before letting him touch firm ground, he asks him whether he is an Athenian; the monkey answers that he is of illustrious birth; the dolphin asks if he knows the PirÆus; the monkey, thinking that it is a man's name, answers that he is a great friend of his; upon which the dolphin, indignant at having been deceived, lets the monkey fall again into the sea.[164] RÂmÂy. v. 56.[165] v. 8.[166] v. 37.[167] RÂmÂy. v. 56.[168] v. 50.—In the Pancatantram, v. 10, it is said, on the contrary, that monkeys possess the virtue of healing the wounds of horses that have been scalded or burned, as the sun of morning chases the darkness away. According to a variety of this story contained in the Tuti-Name, i. 130, the bite of a monkey can be cured only by the blood of the very monkey who had inflicted it.[169] A?natakulaÇÎle 'pi prÎti? kurvanti vÂnarÂ? ÂtmÂrthe ca na rodanti; BÖhtlingk, Indische SprÜche, 107.[170] v. 36.[171] i. 266.[172] ?iksho na vo mÂruta? ÇimÎvÂ? amo dadhro gÂuriva bhÎmayu? ?igv. v. 56, 3.[173] AmÎ ya ?ikshÂ nihitÂsa uccÂ; ?igv. i. 24, 10.[174] RÂmÂy. i. 60-62.[175] vi. 46.[176] vi. 6.[177] v. 59.[178] v. 25.[179] This story, with some variations, was already known in the sixteenth century: "Demetrius Moschovitarum legatus Romam missus, teste Paulo Jovio (quoted by Aldrovandi), narravit proximis annis viciniÆ suÆ agricolam quÆrendi mellis causa in prÆgrandem et cavam arborem superne desiliisse, eumque profundo mellis gurgite collo tenus fuisse immersum et biduo vitam solo melle sustinuisse, cum in illÂ solitudine vox agricolÆ opem implorantis ad viatorum aures non perveniret. Tandem hic, desperata salute, ursÆ beneficio extractus evasit, nam hujus ferÆ ad mella edenda more humano in arboris civitatem se demittentis, pellem tergoris manibus comprehendit et inde ab ursa subito timore exterrita et retrocedente extractus fuit."—The bear is also celebrated in Kriloff's fables as an eater of honey.—In an apologue of Abstemius, the bear, when searching for honey, is stung by a bee; he avenges himself by destroying the honeycombs, but the swarms of bees fly upon him, and sting and torment him on every side; the bear then complains that by not having known how to support a small evil he had drawn upon himself a very grave one.—The pears of the Italian proverb in connection with the bear also refer to hydromel or to honey. The Italian proverbs are as follows: "Dar le pere in guardia all' orso" (to give the pears to be guarded by the bear); "Chi divide la pera (or il miele) all' orso ne ha sempre men che parte" (he who divides the pear (or the honey) with the bear, always has less than a part, that is, the bear eats it all), and "L'orso sogna pere" (the bear dreams of pears). To catch the bear is the same as to be inebriated; the bear, in fact, is, in the legends, often inebriated himself with honey, as the Vedic Indras with the ambrosia, and as BalarÂmas in the spirituous liquor contained in the fissure of a tree (Vish?u-P. v. 25). The sun in the cloud or in the rainy or wintry season drinks more than necessary. Cfr. also Ralston, Songs of the Russian People, p. 182.[180] In the fifteenth story of Afanassieff, the bear revenges himself upon an old man who had cut off one of his paws with a hatchet; the bear makes himself a paw from the wood of a linden-tree, takes the old man and the old woman by surprise in their house and devours them. In the nineteenth story of the fourth book, the bear allies himself with the fox lamed by the peasant, and with the gadfly that the peasant had placed behind the straw, in order to revenge himself upon the peasant, who, promising to cover him with spots like the horse, had struck him here and there on the body with a red-hot axe, so that the bones were left bare. This fable is perhaps connected with the Hindoo superstition that the burns of a horse are cured by means of a monkey. As to the wooden paws, they are doubtless the branches of the cloudy or nocturnal forest. In the Edda of SÖmund it is said that the Alfes are accustomed to call the trees the beautiful arms; we already know the meaning of the boy with the golden hand.[181] In the tenth story of the third book of Afanassieff, Nadzei, the son of a virgin who is the daughter of a priest, makes himself formidable by cutting down the forest and drawing, without assistance, out of the forest the bear that destroyed the cats.[182] In a description of the last Sunday of the Roman carnival of the thirteenth century, in Du Cange, s. v. Carnelevarium, we read: "Occidunt ursum, occiditur diabolus, id est, temptator nostrÆ carnis."—In Bohemia it is still the custom at the end of the carnival to bring the bear,—that is, a man disguised as a bear, with straw, who goes round to ask for beer (or hydromel, which takes the place of the mythical honey or ambrosia). The women take the straws to put them into the place where the hens lay their eggs, to make them lay better. In Suabia the straw bear is accused of having killed a blind cat, and therefore condemned, with all formality, to death, after having had, before his death, two priests to console him; on Ash-Wednesday the bear is solemnly buried.—Cfr. Reinsberg von DÜringfeld, Das festliche Jahr.—The poet Hans Sachs, quoted by Simrock, covers with a bear's skin two old women who are to be presented to the devil.[183] Cfr., moreover, Afanassieff, ii. 33.—In a popular Norwegian story, the fox makes the bear catch fish with his tail, which is frozen in the water.[184] Afanassieff, v. 2.[185] viii. 10.[186] iv. 13.[187] i. 6.[188] Concerning the bear's sleep, it is interesting to read the curious information furnished by Aldrovandi (De Quadr. Dig. Viv. i.): "Devorant etiam ursi ineunte hyeme radices nomine nobis adhuc ignotas, quibus per longum temporis spatium cibi cupiditas expletur et somnus conciliatur. Nam in Alpibus Helveticis aiunt, referente Gesnero, vaccarum pastorem eminus vidisse ursum, qui radicem quemdam manibus propriis effossam edebat, et post ursi discessum, illuc se transtulisse; radicemque illam degustasse, qui postmodum tanto somni desiderio affectus est, ut se continere non potuerit, quin in viÂ stratus somno frueretur." The bear, as a nocturnal and wintry animal, must of necessity conciliate sleep.[189] Cfr. Afanassieff, vi. 5.—According to Hellenic tradition, Paris and Atalanta were nourished with the milk of a she-bear.[190] Cfr. Afanassieff, v. 27, v. 28.—According to Cardano, to meet with a bear's cub just born indicated a change of fortune for the better.[191] Cfr. the work of Schade, Die Sage von der Heiligen Ursula. She is also to be found among the Leggende del Secolo Decimoquarto, published at Florence by Signor Del Lungo (Barbera, publisher).[192]

"... il parle, on l'entend, il sait danser, baller
Faire des tours de toute sorte
Passer en des cerceaux."
—La Fontaine, Fables, ix. 3.

In La Fontaine, the monkey is again identified with the ass, as a judge on the tribunal between the wolf and the fox, and afterwards as dressed in the skin of the dead lion. In the fourth fable of the eleventh book, La Fontaine makes the monkey M.A. narrate the story of the asinus asinum fricat; in the second fable of the twelfth book the monkey scatters the miser's treasure, as in Hindoo tradition it spoils the sacrificial offerings.[193] Cfr. Aldrovandi, De Quadr. Dig. Viv.[194] Cfr. Ueber den Zusammenhang indischer Fabeln mit griechischen, Berlin, DÜmmler, 1855.[195] In a German tradition referred to by Schmidt, Forschungen, s. 105, we have the deity who presents himself as a fox to the hunter voluntarily to be sacrificed; the hunter flays him, and the flies and ants eat his flesh. In a Russian story of which I shall give an abridgment, the wolf eats the fox when he sees it without its hairy covering.[196] i. 5566, et seq.[197] i. 16, iv. 2; cfr. also iv. 10, and the chapter on the Hare.—In the story, iii. 14, of the Pancatantram, the jackal cheats the lion who has occupied his cave, by making him roar; and thus assuring himself that the lion is in the cave, he is able to escape.[198] iii. 29.[199] Cfr. Pancatantram, i. 10; Tuti-Name, ii. 146.[200] i. 2, ii. 3.—In the nineteenth Mongol story, the young man who passes himself off as a hero is ordered to bring to the queen the skin of a certain fox which is indicated to him; on the way the youth loses his bow; returning to look for it, he finds the fox dead close to the bow, which it had tried to bite, and which had struck and killed it.[201] iv. 4.[202] i. 134, 135.[203] Tuti-Name, ii. 125.—In the stories of the same night (the twenty-second) of the Tuti-Name, we have the lynx (lupus cervarius) who wishes to take the house of the monkey who occupies the lion's house, and the jackal who runs after the camel's testicles, as in the Pancatantram he runs after those of the bull. In the story, ii. 7, the fox lets his bone fall into the water in order to catch a fish (a variety of the well-known fable of the dog and of the wolf or devil as fisherman).[204] Tuti-Name, ii. 142, 143.[205] i. 168, et seq.[206] Querolus, i. 2.[207] In the eighteenth story of the fourth book of Afanassieff, an extraordinary cake escapes from the house of an old man and woman, and wanders about; it finds the hare, the wolf, and the bear, who all wish to eat it; it sings its story to them all, and is allowed to go; it sings it to the fox, too, but the latter praises the song, and eats the cake, after having made it get upon his back.[208] In Afanassieff, i. 14, the hero, Theodore, finds some wolves fighting among themselves for a bone, some bees fighting for the honey, and some shrimps fighting for caviare; he makes a just division, and the grateful wolves, bees, and shrimps help him in need.[209] Cfr. Lou loup penjat in the Contes de l'Armagnac, collected by BladÉ, Paris, 1867, p. 9.[210] Cfr. the English expression applied to the moon, "made of green cheese;" this is the connection between green and yellow previously mentioned.[211] Afanassieff, iv. 10.[212] It is here, perhaps, to be remarked that in the Piedmontese dialect lightning is called loszna.[213] Afanassieff, iv. 11. In the fourth story of the second book of the Pentamerone, instead of a fox, it is the cat that enriches Pippo Gagliufo and runs before him. In the same way as in the Russian stories the man shows himself ungrateful towards the fox, so in the Pentamerone the cat ends by cursing the ungrateful Pippo Gagliufo whom she had done good to. In the following story the fox offers herself as companion to the young bride who is looking for her lost husband.[214]

"PietushÓk, pietushÓk,
ZalatÓi grebeshÓk,
MÁsliannaja galovka,
Smiatanij lobÓk!
Vighliani v oshko;
Dam tebie kashki,
Na krasnoi loszkie."

In an unpublished Tuscan story which I heard related at Antignano near Leghorn, a chicken wishes to go with its father (the cock) into the Maremma to search for food. Its father advises it not to do so for fear of the fox, but the chicken insists upon going; on the way it meets the fox, who is about to eat it, when the chicken beseeches him to let it go into the Maremma, where it will fatten, lay eggs, bring up young chickens, and be able to provide the fox with a much more substantial meal than it now could. The fox consents. The chicken brings up a hundred young ones; when they are grown up, they set out to return home; every fowl carries in its mouth an ear of millet, except the youngest. On the way they meet the fox waiting for them; on seeing all these animals each with a straw in its beak, the astonished fox asks the mother-hen what it is they carry. "All fox's tails," she answers, upon which the fox takes to its heels.—We find the fox's tail in connection with ears of corn in the legend of Samson; the incendiary fox is also found in Ovid's Fasti, iv. 705; (from the malice with which the story-teller (a woman) relates the fable, it is probable that the fox's tail has here also a phallic meaning).—In Sextus Empiricus we read that a fox's tail hung on the arm of a weak husband is of great use to him.[215] Thus, in the myth of Kephalos, his dog cannot, by a decree of fate, overtake the fox; but inasmuch as, on the other hand, no one also, by decree of fate, can escape from the dog of Kephalos, dog and fox are both, by the command of Zeus, changed into stone (the two auroras, or dying sun and dying moon).[216] This work has, on the other hand, been already almost accomplished, as regards the Franco-Germanic part, in the erudite and interesting introduction (pp. 5-163) which Ch. Potvin has prefixed to his translation into verse of the Roman du Renard, Paris, BohnÉ; Bruxelles, Lacroix, 1861. I am told that Professor Schiefner read a discourse two years since at St Petersburg upon the story of the fox, but I do not know whether it has been published.[217] V?ikÂya ci? ?asamÂnÂya Çaktam; ?igv. vii. 68, 8.—The grateful wolf and crow are found united to assist Ivan Tzarevic in the twenty-fourth story of the second book of Afanassieff.[218] xix. 108, 109.[219] Aru?o mÂ sak?id v?ika? pathÂ yantam dadarÇa hi u? ?ihÎte nicÂyya; ?igv. i. 105, 18.[220] YÂvayÂ v?ikya? v?ika? yavaya stenam Ûrmya; ?igv. x. 127, 6.—A wolf seen in a dream, according to Cardano, announces a robber.[221] Yo na? pÛshann agho v?iko du?Çeva ÂdideÇati apa sma tvam patho ?ahi—Paripanthinam mashÎvÂ?a? huraÇcitam—DvayÂvina?; ?igv. i. 42, 2-4.[222] Svaya? ripus tanva? rÎrishÎsh?a; ?igv. vi. 51, 6, 7.[223] MÂyinam m?iga?; ?igv. i. 80, 7.[224] Te na Âsno v?ikÂ?Âm ÂdityÂso mumocata; ?igv. viii. 56, 14.—Parshi dÎne gabhÎra Â? ugraputre ?ighÂ?sata?; ?igv. viii. 56, 11.[225] Matsya? na dÎna udani kshiyantam; ?igv. x. 68, 8.[226] iii. 45.—In the twenty-second night of the Tuti-Name, the wolf enters, on the contrary, into the house of the jackal; here wolf and jackal are already distinguished in it from one another,—that is, as red wolf and black wolf.[227] i. 253.[228] i. 271.[229] Cfr. Afanassieff, vi. 51, v. 27, and v. 28.[230] It is also said that the nurse of the Latin twins was a strumpet, because lupÆ or lupanÆ foeminÆ were names given to such women, whence also the name of lupanaria given to the houses to which they resorted: "Abscondunt spurcas hÆc monumenta lupas." Olaus Magnus wrote, that wolves, attracted by smell, attack pregnant women, whence the custom that no pregnant woman should go out unless accompanied by an armed man. The ancients believed that the phallos of the wolf roasted and eaten weakened the Venus.[231] In the Legendes et Croyances Superstitieuses de la Creuse, collected by Bonnafoux, GuÉret, 1867, p. 27, we read concerning the loup garou, that the wolf thanks whoever wounds him. It is said that they who are disguised in the skin of the loup garou are condemned souls: "Chaque nuit, ils sont forcÉs d'aller chercher la maudite peau À un endroit convenu et ils courent ainsi jusqu'À ce qu'ils rencontrent une Âme charitable et courageuse qui les dÉlivre en les blessant."[232]

The sheep were right, however, to flee. In the Edda, the fourth swallow says, "When I see the wolf's ears, I think that the wolf is not far off." The twilight is the shadow or ear of the wolf.[233] Lous loups-garous soun gens coumo nous autes; mÈs an heyt un countrat dab lou diable, e cado sÉ soun fourÇatz de se cambia en bestios per ana au sabbat e courre touto la neyt. Y a per aco un mouyÉn de lous goari. Lous can tira sang pendent qu' an perdut la forme de l'home, e asta leu la reprengon per toutjour; BladÉ, Contes et Proverbes Populaires recueillis en Armagnac, Paris, 1867, p. 51.[234] We ought perhaps to add here the tradition cited by CÆsarius Heisterbacensis of a wolf who, biting the arm of a girl, drags her to a place where there is another wolf; the more she cries the more fiercely the wolf bites her. The other wolf has a bone in his throat, which the girl extracts; here the girl takes the place of the crane or stork of the fable; the bone may be now the moon, now the sun.[235] In another passage in the Edda, the eagle sits upon the wolf. According to the Latin legend of the foundation of Lavinium, the Trojans saw a singular prodigy. A fire arises in the woods; the wolf brings dry twigs in his mouth to make it burn better, and the eagle helps him by fanning the flames with his wings. The fox, on the other hand, dips its brush in the river to put out the fire with it, but does not succeed.[236] Cfr. Afanassieff, iii. 19.[237] Les loups, qui ont trÈs peu d'amis en France, et qui sont obligÉs d'apporter dans toutes leurs dÉmarches une excessive prudence, chassent presque toujours À la muette. J'ai ÉtÉ plusieurs fois en position d'admirer la profondeur de leurs combinaisons stratÉgiques; c'est effrayant de sagacitÉ et de calcul; Toussenel, L'Esprit des BÊtes, ch. i.—And Aldrovandi, De Quadrup. Dig. Viv. ii. "Lupi omnem vim ingenii naturalem in ovibus insidiando exercent; noctu enim ovili appropinquantes, pedes lambunt, ne strepitum in gradiendo edant, et foliis obstrepentibus pedes quasi reos mordent."[238] In Piedmont it is also said in jest, that a man once met a wolf and thrust his hand down its throat, so far down that it reached its tail on the other side; he then pulled the tail inside the wolf's body and out through its throat, so that the wolf, turned inside out, expired.[239] In an unpublished, though very popular Piedmontese story, Piccolino is upon a tree eating figs; the wolf passes by and asks him for some, threatening him thus: "Piculin, dame Ün fig, dass no, i t mangiu." Piccolino throws him down two, which are crushed upon the wolf's nose. Then the wolf threatens to eat him if he does not bring him a fig down; Piccolino comes down, and the wolf puts him in a sack and carries him towards his house, where the mother-wolf is waiting for him. But on the way the wolf is pressed by a corporeal necessity, and is obliged to go on the roadside; meanwhile, Piccolino makes a hole in the sack, comes out and puts a stone in his place. The wolf returns, shoulders the sack, but thinks that Piccolino has become much heavier. He goes home and tells the she-wolf to be glad, and prepare the cauldron full of hot water; he then empties the sack into the cauldron; the stone makes the boiling water spurt out upon the wolf's head, and he is scalded to death.[240] Cfr. the well-known English fairy-tales of Tom Thumb and Hop-o'-my-Thumb.[241] Inferno, c. i.[242] HÊraklÊs, Hektor, Achilles, among the Greek heroes; Wolfdieterich, and several other heroes of Germanic tradition, have these animals for their ensigns; the lion is the steed of the hero Hildebrand. Cfr. Die Deutsche Heldensage von Wilhelm Grimm, Berlin, DÜmmler, 1867.—When Agarista and Philip dreamed of a lion, it was considered an augury, the one of the birth of Pericles, and the other of that of Alexander the Great.[243] Ubhe tvash?ur bibhyatur ?ÂyamÂnÂt pratÎcÎ sinham prati ?oshayete; ?igv. i. 95, 5.[244] v.[245] Te svÂnino rudriyÂ varshanir?i?ah si?hÂ na heshakratava? sudÂnava?; ?igv. iii. 26, 5.—In the Bohemian story of grandfather Vsievedas, the young hero is sent by the prince who wishes to ruin him to take the three golden hairs of this grandfather (the sun).[246] Si?ho na bhÎma ÂyudhÂni bibhrat; ?igv. iv. 16, 14. Cfr. i. 174, 3.[247] Si?ha? nasanta madhvo ayÂsa? harim aru ha? divo asya patim; ?igv. ix. 89, 3.[248] In the Greek apologue, Ptolemy, king of Egypt, wishes to send some money to Alexander in homage to him; the mule, the horse, the ass, and the camel offer themselves of their own accord to carry the sacks. On the way, they meet the lion, who wishes to join the party, saying that he too carries money; but not being accustomed to such work, he modestly begs the other four to divide his load among themselves. They consent; soon afterwards, passing through a country rich in herds, the lion feels inclined to stay, and demands his portion of the money, but as his money resembles that of the others, not to mistake, he takes by force both his own and theirs.[249] ii. 62.[250] vi. 5, 35.[251] v. 43.[252] i. 229.[253] The anecdote of Androkles and the lion grateful for having a thorn extracted from his foot, is also related in almost the same words of Mentor the Syracusan, Helpis of Samos, the Abbot Gerasimos, St Jerome and (as to the blinded lion whose sight is given back to him) of Macharios, the confessor. The thorn in the lion's foot is a zoological form of the hero who is vulnerable in his feet. In the sixth of the Sicilian stories published by Signora Gonzenbach, the boy Giuseppe takes a thorn out of a lion's foot; the grateful lion gives him one of his hairs; by means of this hair, the young man can, in case of necessity, become a terrible lion, and as such, he bites off the head of the king of the dragons.[254] Thus, the ancients attributed to the lion a particular antipathy to strong smells, such as garlic, and the pudenda of a woman. But this superstition must be classed with that which ascribes sterility to the lioness. The women of antiquity, when they met a lioness, considered it as an omen of sterility. In the Æsopian fable, the foxes boast of their fruitfulness before the lioness, whom they laugh at because she gives birth to only one cub. "Yes," she answers, "but it is a lion;" under the sign of the lion, the earth also becomes arid, and consequently unfruitful.[255] Horace, Carm. i. 16.[256] Sculpebant Ethnici auro vel argento leonis imaginem, et ferentes hujusmodi simulacra generosiores et audaciores evadere dicebantur; idcirco non est mirum si Aristoteles (in lib. de Secr. Secr.) scripserit annulum ex auro vel argento, in quo coelata sit icon puellÆ equitantis leonem die et hora solis vagantis in domicilio leonis gestantes, ab omnibus honorari; Aldrovandi, De Quadrup. Dig. Viv. i.—In the signs of the Zodiac, Virgo comes after upon Leo; Christians also celebrate the assumption of the Virgin into heaven towards the middle of August, when the sun passes from the sign of the lion into that of the virgin.[257] Cfr. BÖhtlingk, Indische SprÜche, 2te Auflage, i. 1.[258] Ktesias explains this word as "devourer of men," but by means of Sansk?it it can only be explained by substituting to the initial m one of the words that signify man, such as nara, ?ana, manava, mÂnusha, &c. Antikora would seem to be derived from the Sansk?it antakara = destroyer, who puts an end to, killer.[259] ?igv. ii. 38, 4.—In the fifty-fourth story of the fourth book of Afanassieff, the king who has no children makes the maiden seven years old manufacture a fisherman's net in the space of only one night.[260] In the German legend we have the spinner in the moon. "Die AltmÄrkische Sage bei Temme 49, 'die Spinnerin im Monde,' wo ein MÄdchen von seiner Mutter verwÜnscht wird, im Monde zu sitzen und zu spinnen, scheint entstellt, da jener Fluch sie nicht wegen Spinnens, sondern Tanzens im Mondschein trifft;" Simrock, Deutsche Mythologie, 2te Aufl. p. 23.—Cfr. also the first chapter of this work, and that on the bear, where we read of a girl dancing with the bear in the night.—Perhaps there is also some correspondence between the Vedic word rÂkÂ and a-rachnÊ.[261] Vy uchÂ duhitar divo mÂ cira? tanutha apa? net tvÂ stena? yathÂ ripu? tapÂti sÛro arcishÂ; ?igv. v. 79, 9.[262] Vritram avÂbhinad dÂnum Âur?avÂbham; ?igv. ii. 11, 18.—?a?nÂno nu Çatakratur vi p?ichad iti mÂtaram ka ugrÂ? ke ha Ç?i?vire Âd Îm Çavasy abravÎd Âur?avÂbham ahÎÇuvam te putra santu nish?ura?; ?igv. viii. 66, 1, 2.[263] i. 802, 825.[264] I observe, moreover, how in the Russian fables of Kriloff the same part is attributed to the spider as in the West to the wren (the regulus) and to the beetle. The eagle carries, without knowing it, a spider in its tail upon a tree; the spider then makes its web over it. Bird and spider therefore exchange places.[265] ?igv. i. 72, 9.[266] Vir na par?Âi?; Ib. i. 183, 1.[267] Aru?a? supar?a?; Ib. x. 55, 6.[268] Vayo na sÎdann adhi barhishi priye; Ib. i. 85, 7.[269] ManmasÂdhano ve?; Ib. i. 96, 6.[270] Â te supar?Â aminanta? evÂi? k?ish?o nonÂva v?ishabho yadÎdam; Ib. i. 79, 2.[271] VanÂni vibhyo nakir asya tÂni vratÂ devasya savitar minanti; Ib. ii. 38, 7.[272] Ut te vayaÇcid vasater apaptan; Ib. i. 124, 12.—In the twenty-third story of the second book of Afanassieff, when the beautiful girl Helen, another form of the aurora, is at the king's ball, she throws bones with one hand, when birds spring up, and water with the other, when gardens and fountains spring up.[273] Abhi no devÎr avasÂ maha? Çarma?Â n?ipatnÎ? achinnapatrÂ? sacantÂm; ?igv. i. 22, 11.—If the goddesses are here the same as the nymphs, they may be the same as the clouds, and I should refer to this passage, the legend of the RÂmÂya?am (v. 56), according to which the lofty mountains were once winged (the clouds) and wandered about the earth at pleasure; Indras, with his thunderbolt, cut their wings, and they fell down.[274] DvÂ supar?Â sayu?Â sakhÂyÂ samÂna? v?iksham pari shasva?Âte tayor anya? pippala? svÂdv atty anaÇnann anyo abhi cÂkaÇÎtÎ—YatrÂ supar?Â am?itasya bhÂgam animesha? vidathÂbhisvaranti; ?igv. i. 164, 20.—Perhaps we should compare to this legend the two birds Amru and Camru of the Khorda-Avesta, of which one makes the seeds of the three mythical trees fall, and the other scatters them about.[275] Calcutta, 1851.[276] i. 4305.[277] Sixth canto.[278] Professor Spiegel says in a note, Khorda-Avesta, p. 147: "Die BeschwÖrung vormittelst einer Feder ist gewiss eine alteranische Vorstellung."—In a story, hitherto unpublished, of the Monferrato, communicated to me by Signor Ferraro, a woman, who had gone to eat parsley in the garden of a sorceress, was obliged to give her daughter up to her as a penalty for the offence. The girl was afterwards subjected to three difficult trials; to sunder in one day a mountain of wheat and millet into the grains composing it, to eat in one day a mountain of apples, and to wash, dry, and iron in one hour all the linen of a year. In the first trial, by means of two bird's feathers, she calls up a thousand birds, who separate the grain from the millet.—In the fourth story of the fifth book of the Pentamerone, the birds strip themselves of their feathers to fill a mattress which the witch has ordered the young Permetella to make. In a Tuscan story, for the possession of a peacock's feather, the young brother is killed.[279] In Afanassieff, v. 38, a similar little bird ravages during the night the field of a lord; the youngest of the three brothers, who is believed to be foolish, catches it and sells it to the king, who shuts it in a room under lock and key. The king's son releases the little bird, which in gratitude gives him a horse that wins battles, and a golden apple, by means of which he is able to wed a princess.—In the story v. 22, the young man who has been instructed by the devil transforms himself into a bird and tells his father to sell him, but not to give up the cage. The devil buys the bird, but does not obtain the cage; he puts the bird into a handkerchief to take it to his daughter, but when he comes home the bird has disappeared.—In the story v. 42, the king of birds releases Ivan from the witch who wishes to eat him, and takes him to his betrothed. The witch tears a few feathers off the king of birds, but does not succeed in stopping him.—In the story v. 46, the devil teaches the language of birds to the young hero.—In the story vi. 69, the wise maiden goes to take into the kingdom of darkness the bird that speaks, the tree that sings, and the water of life, with which she brings to life her two brothers, born before her, whom a witch had thrown into a fountain (the aurora delivers the AÇvinÂu).—In the fifth Sicilian story of Signora Gonzenbach, brother and sister go into the witch's castle to take the water that dances and the bird that speaks. The bird tells the water, in the king's presence, the story of the two young people.—In the fifth story of the second book of the Pentamerone, the fox teaches the young Grannonia what birds say.—In the seventh story of the fifth book of the Pentamerone, it is the youngest of the five brothers that acquires the faculty of understanding the language of birds.—In Pietro de Crescenzi (x. 1), we find a "rex Daucus (Dacus?) qui divino intellectu novit naturam accipitrum et falconum et eos domesticare ad prÆdam instruere, et ab Ægritudinibus liberare."—In the legend of St Francis of Assisi, the great saint was able to make himself understood to birds, and to make the swallows be silent; the same saint made a wolf mild and tame; the miracle of Orpheus is repeated in numerous other legends.—In the sixteenth Mongol story of SiddhikÜr, a wise dwarf, who understands the language of birds, hears two birds, father and son, speak to each other on the summit of a tree about the king's son, who had been assassinated by the son of the minister.—In the Edda, Atli has a long dialogue with a bird whose language he understands.—Finally, the whole of the comedy of Aristophanes entitled The Birds (Ornithes) shows the wisdom and divining power of birds, and, as animals of presage, their intimate relation with the thunderbolts of Zeus.—According to the German belief, the fat of a serpent teaches how to understand the language of birds. Cfr. Simrock, the work previously quoted, p. 457.[280]

"Die zwei Cypressen sind die Himmelsseiten,
Die beiden, die uns GlÜck und Leid bereiten;
Der Vogel, der drin nistet, ist die Sonne,
Sie giebt beim Schneiden Schmerz, beim Kommen Wonne."
—Schack, Heldensagen von Firdusi, p. 122.

[281] A variety of the myth of Priapos, mentioned in the chapter on the Ass.[282] Sinicka letat i gavarÍt: Sin da charosh.—The dark-blue bird is a symbol of the azure sky of night or winter, whilst, on the other hand, the wooden bird, at which the maidens of Westphalia throw sticks on St John's Day, seems to be a phallical symbol; she who hits the bird is queen. The bird is a well-known phallical symbol; and a phallical origin must be ascribed to the popular superstition that a bird may be rendered helpless by putting salt upon its tail. The salacitas of an animal, when given way to, takes every energy from it; the Ûrdhvaretas alone is strong. It was perhaps for a similar reason that in the Middle Ages, when a city was destroyed to its foundations, it was the custom to throw salt upon it, in order that it might never rise again. Salt thrown away is like seed sown in the desert, where it is fruitless.[283] It is a mountaineer of the province of Siena that speaks: "I perceived by the song of the birds that the weather was about to change; their voice told me, it was so merry;" Giuliani, MoralitÀ e Poesia del Vivente Linguaggio della Toscana, p. 149.[284] Cfr. among others, the words albanellus (haubereau) avis auguralis species, and aucellus.[285] De Proeparat. Evang. lib. ix.[286] i. 76.[287] Amongst the Romans, on the contrary, the flight to the left was an excellent omen; thus Plautus in the Epidicus: "Tacete, habete animum bonum, liquido exeo foras auspicio, ave sinistra." (But this change from right to left may depend upon the various positions taken by the observer in placing himself.) In the mediÆval legend of Alexander, a bird with a human face (a harpy) meets Alexander and advises him to turn to the right, when he will see marvellous things.—Cfr. Zacher, Pseudo-Callisthenes, Halle, 1867, p. 142.[288] RÂmÂy. iii. 64.[289] Pra Çyena? Çyenebhya ÂÇupÂtvÂ—AcakrayÂ yat svadhayÂ supar?o havyam bharan manave deva?ush?am; ?igv. iv. 26, 4.—The soma? ÇyenÂbh?ita? is also mentioned in the ?igv. i. 80, 2, iv. 27, ix. 77, and other passages.[290] Çatam mÂ pura ÂyasÎr arakshann adha Çyeno ?avasÂ nir adÎyam; ?igv. iv. 27, 1.[291] Yam te ÇyenaÇ cÂrum av?ika? padÂbharad aru?am mÂnam andhasa?—enÂ vayo vi tÂry Âyur ?ivasa enÂ ?agÂra bandhutÂ; ?igv. x. 144, 5.[292] In the MahÂbhÂratam (i. 2383), the ambrosia takes the shape of sperm. A king, far from his wife GirikÂ, thinks of her; the sperm comes from him and falls upon a leaf. A hawk carries the leaf away; another hawk sees it and disputes with it for the possession of the leaf; they fight with one another and the leaf falls into the waters of the YamunÂ, where the nymph AdrikÂ (equivalent to GirikÂ), changed by a curse into a fish, sees the leaf, feeds upon the sperm, becomes fruitful, and is delivered; cfr. the chapter on the Fishes.[293] Çyeno 'yopÂsh?ir hanti dasyÛn; ?igv. x. 99, 8.—In the Russian stories the hawk and the dog are sometimes the most powerful helpers of the hero.[294] Gh?ishu? ÇyenÂya k?itvana Âsu?; ?igv. x. 144, 3.—Yam supar?a? parÂvata? Çyenasya putra Âbharat Çatacakram; ?igv. x. 144, 1.[295] Sa pÛrvya? pavate ya? divas pari Çyeno mathÂyad ishitas tiro ra?a? sa madhva Â yuvate yevi?Âna it k?iÇÂnor astur manasÂha bibhyushÂ; ?igv. ix. 77, 2.[296] iii. 3, 26.[297] Anta? patat patatry asya par?am; ?igv. iv. 27, 4.—Cfr. for this mythical episode the texts given by Prof. Kuhn and the relative discussions, Die Herabkunft d. F. u. d. S., pp. 138 seq. and 180 seq.[298] Çyeno na bhÎta?; ?igv. i. 32, 14.[299] Anya? divo mÂtariÇvÂ ?abhÂrÂmathnÂd anyam pari Çyeno adre?; ?igv. i. 93, 6.[300] Â vÂ? ÇyenÂso aÇvinÂ vahantu—ye apturo divyÂso na g?idhrÂh; ?igv. i. 118, 4.[301] G?idhreva v?iksha? nidhimantam acha; ?igv. ii. 39, 1.[302] ?igv. i. 88, 4.—In fact, in the hymn i. 165, 2, the Marutas are explicitly compared to hawks that fly through the air (ÇyenÂ? iva dhra?ato antarikshe).[303] Drapsa? samudram abhi ya? ?igÂti paÇyan g?idhrasya cakshasÂ; ?igv. x. 123, 8.[304] i. 1078, seq.[305] Mbh. i. 1495.[306] Ib. i. 1496, seq.[307] RÂmÂy. vii. 6.[308] Ib. vii. 7.[309] Ib. vi. 26.[310] Mbh. i. 1337, seq.[311] iii. 20.[312] iii. 29.[313] RÂmÂy. iv. 58, 59.[314] For the numerous Eastern varieties of this legend, cfr. the Einleitung to the Pancatantram, of Prof. Benfey, p. 388, seq.—In the fifth story of the first book of Afanassieff (cfr. the sixth of the same book), Little John is carried back from the bottom of the earth into Russia upon the wings of an eagle. When the eagle is hungry it turns its head, and Johnny gives it food; when the provisions come to an end, Johnny feeds it with his own flesh.—In the twenty-seventh story of the second book, the two young people are carried from the world of darkness into that of light on the wings of the bird Kolpalitza; when the provisions come to an end, it is the girl that gives flesh, cut off her thigh, to the bird. But the youth, who has with him the water of life, heals the amorous maiden; cfr. also Afanassieff, v. 23, and v. 28, where, instead of the eagle, we find the hawk.—The same sacrifice of himself is made in a Piedmontese story, recorded by me in first number of the Rivista Orientale, by a young prince, who wishes to cross the sea in order to see the princess that he loves; the same is done by the young hero of the following unpublished Tuscan story, which I heard from a certain Martino Nardini of Prato:—"A three-headed dragon steals during the night the golden apples in the garden of the king of Portugal; the three sons of the king watch during the night: the first two fall asleep, but the third discovers the thief and wounds him. The day after, the three brothers follow the track caused by the robber's blood: they come to a beautiful palace, in which there is a cistern, into which the third brother is lowered down, taking a trumpet with him to sound when he wishes to be taken up. Following a dark path he comes to a fine meadow, where there are three splendid palaces, one of bronze, one of silver, and one of gold; following the trace of blood, he goes to the palace of bronze; a beautiful maiden opens the gate to him, and wonders why he has come down to the world underground; the young couple are pleased with each other, and promise to marry one another; the maiden has a crown of brilliants, of which she gives him half as a pledge. The dragon comes back home, and says:—

"Ucci, ucci
O che puzzo di Cristianucci,
O ce n' È, o ce n' È stati,
O ce n' È di rimpiattati."

The maiden, who has concealed the young hero, caresses the dragon and makes him fall asleep. When he is asleep, she brings the young man out of his concealment, gives him a sword and tells him to cut the three heads off at one blow. Helped by a second maiden, the young hero prepares to accomplish a second undertaking in the silver palace of the five-headed dragon. He must cut the five heads off at a blow, for if one remains, it is as if he had cut none off. After having killed the dragon, he promises to marry the second maiden too. Finally, he knocks at the gate of the golden palace, which is opened by a third maiden; she too asks, "What ever induced you to come to lose your life in the lower world? The seven-headed dragon lives here." He promises to marry her; the dragon does not wish to go to rest this night; but the maiden persuades him to do so, upon which the youth cuts off the seven heads in two strokes. The three girls, who were three princesses carried off by the dragons, are released, and take all the riches that they can find in order to carry them into the upper world. They come to the cistern, the hero sounds the trumpet, and the two brothers draw up all the riches, the three maidens, shutting up the entrance with a stone, and leaving their young brother alone in the subterranean world. The two elder brothers force the three princesses to declare that they had delivered them; they then go to the King of Portugal and boast of this feat, saying, that the third brother is lost. The three princesses are sad, at which the King of Portugal wonders. The elder brothers wish to marry the maiden who was in the bronze palace; but she declares that she will only marry him who brings to her the other half of the crown of brilliants. They send to all the goldsmiths and jewellers to find one who can make it. Meanwhile, the third brother, abandoned underground, cries out for aid; an eagle approaches the tomb, and promises to carry him into the world above, if he will allay its hunger. The young hero, by the eagle's advice, puts lizards and serpents into a sack, and calls the eagle after having made a plentiful provision of food. He fastens the sack round his neck in order to give an animal to the eagle each time that it asks for food. When they are a few arms' length distant from the upper world, the sack is empty; the youth cuts his flesh off with a knife and gives it to the eagle, which carries him into the world, when the young man asks him how he can return home. The bird directs him to follow the high road. A charcoal-seller passes by; the young man proposes himself as his assistant, on condition that he give him some food. The charcoal-seller takes him with himself for some time, and then recommends him to an old man, his friend, who is a silversmith. Meanwhile, the king's servants have been six months wandering towards the sunset, searching for a silversmith capable of making the other half of the crown, but in vain; they then wander for six months towards the sunrise till they come to the dwelling of the poor silversmith where the third brother serves as an assistant. The old man says he is not able to make the half crown; but the young man asks to see the other half, recognises it, and promises to give it back entire in eight days. At the expiration of this time, the king sends for the crown and the manufacturer, but the youth sends his master instead of himself. The princess, however, insists upon seeing the young assistant too; he is sent for and brought to the palace; the king does not recognise him, and asks what reward he wants; he answers that he wishes for what the crown cost to the princess. The latter recognises him, after which his father does so too. The young hero weds the princess to whom he had promised himself; and the two brothers are covered with inflammable gums, and used as lamps to light up the wedding.[315] In a hitherto unpublished story of the Monferrato, communicated to me by Signor Ferraro, a king with three sons is blind; he would be cured if he could bathe his eyes in oil with a feather of the griffon-bird, which lives upon a high mountain. The third brother succeeds in catching one, having been kind to an old woman; he brings the griffon-bird to his father, who recovers his sight and his youth.—Cfr. the third story of the fourth book of the Pentamerone, in which a hawk that is a princess transformed, also gives to the brother of his wife one of his feathers, which he is to throw to the ground in case of necessity; indeed, when young Tittone requires it, a battalion of hawks appear in order to free the imprisoned maiden loved by Tittone.—In the fifth story of the fifth book of the Pentamerone, the hawk serves as a guide to a young king to find a beautiful princess whom a witch has put to sleep, and who is believed to be dead. This princess becomes the mother of two sons, who are called Sun and Moon.—In the sixth Sicilian story of Signora Gonzenbach, a young man releases an eagle that was entangled in the branches of a tree; the grateful eagle gives him one of its feathers; letting it fall to the ground, the youth can become an eagle at pleasure.[316] In the ninth Esthonian story it is the eagle that takes the message to the thunder-god to enable him to recover his weapon, which the devil had carried off.—In the first Esthonian story, the eagle also appears as the propitious messenger of the young prince.[317] In the story of Santo Stefano, La Principessa che non ride, the eaglets have the same faculty of drawing after themselves everything that they touch; and, as forms of the winds (or the clouds), in which character they sometimes appear, we can understand this property of theirs; the wind, too, draws after itself everything that comes in its way, and especially the violent north wind (aquilo).—In Russian stories we have, instead, now the funereal storks, now the marvellous goose taking the place of the eagle that drags things behind it.[318] In the tenth Sicilian story of Signora Gonzenbach, it is in the shape of a silver eagle that the king of the assassins penetrates into the room where the young wife of the king sleeps, upon whom he wishes to avenge himself.—Stephanus Stephanius, the interpreter of Saxo Grammaticus, writes, that among the English, the Danes, and other Northern nations, it was the custom when an enemy was defeated, to thrust a sword, as a greater mark of ignominy, into his back, in such a manner as to separate the backbone on both sides by a longitudinal wound; thence stripes of flesh having been cut off, they were fastened to the sides, so as to represent eagle's wings. (In Russian popular stories, when heroes and monsters fight, we find frequent reference to a similar custom.)[319] PanravÍlas satanÁ lucshe yasnavo sakalÁ, Afanassieff, vi. 16.—The proverb, however, may have another sense, viz., better the devil in person than a beautiful but diabolical shape. The devil sometimes assumed the form of a hawk, as we learn from the legend of Endo, an English man-at-arms, who became enamoured of one into which the devil had transformed himself, in Guillelmus Neubrigensis, Hist. Angl. i. 19.[320] In Plato's PhÆdon, rapacious men are transformed into wolves and kites.[321] Cfr. Aldrovandi, Ornith. v.—And, moreover, in the same Aldrovandi:—"Narrant qui res Africanas literis mandarunt Aquilam marem aliquando cum Lupa coire ... producique ac edi Draconem, qui rostro et alis avis speciem referat, cauda serpentem, pede Lupum, cute esse versicolorem, nec supercilia posse attollere."[322] I recommend, to whoever wishes to find all these circumstances united, the perusal of the first volume of the Ornithologia of Aldrovandi, who dedicated in it to birds of prey a long and detailed study.—Cfr. also Bachofen. Die Sage von Tanaquil, Heidelberg, 1870.[323] Comparative popular medicine might be the subject of a special work which could not fail to be instructive and interesting.[324]

[325] Cfr. Afanassieff, v. 27.[326] Itin. i.[327] In the first chapter of the first book we saw how the witch sucked the breasts of the beautiful maiden.—In Du Cange, s. v. Amma, we read as follows: "Isidorus, lib. xii. cap. vii. bubo strix nocturna: 'HÆc avis, inquit ille, vulgo Amma dicitur ab amando parvulos, unde et lac prÆbere dicitur nascentibus.' Anilem hanc fabulam non habet Papias MS. EcclesiÆ Bituricensis. Sic enim ille: Amma avis nocturna ab amando dicta, hÆc et strix dicitur a stridore."[328] MÂ mÂm ime patatri?Î vi dugdhÂm; ?igv. i. 158, 4.—In Sicily, the bat called taddarita is considered as a form of the demon; to take and kill it, one sings to it—

"Taddarita, 'ncanna, 'ncanna,
Lu dimonio ti 'ncanna
E ti 'ncanna pri li peni
Taddarita, veni, veni."

When it is caught, it is conjured, because, when it shrieks, it blasphemes. Hence it is killed at the flame of a candle or at the fire, or else is crucified.[329] According to a Sicilian story, as yet unpublished, communicated to me by Dr Ferraro, a siren once carried off a girl, and bore her out to sea with her; and, though she occasionally allowed her to come to the shore, she secured her against running away by means of a chain which was fastened to her own tail. The brother released his sister by throwing bread and meat to the siren to satiate her hunger, employing seven blacksmiths the while to cut the chain.[330] Cfr. the Pentamerone, iv. 7; and the legend of Lohengrin, in the chapter on the Swan.[331] ?aghÂsa te visham; ?igv. i. 191, 11.[332] Communicated to me by Dr Ferraro.—A similar story is still told in Pomerania, Brandenburg, and Ireland, with the variation of the stork as the eagle's rival in flying: when the stork falls down tired out, the wren, which was hidden under one of its wings, comes forth to measure itself with the eagle, and not being tired, is victorious.—In a popular story of Hesse, the wren puts all the animals, guided by the bear, to flight by means of a stratagem.[333] Atyunnati? prÂpya nara? prÂvÂra? kÎtako yatha sa vinaÇyatyasa?deham; BÖhtlingk, Indische SprÜche, 2te Aufl. Spr. 181.[334] The same superstition exists in some parts of England, where the children address it thus:—

"Cow-lady, cow-lady, fly away home;
Your house is all burnt, and your children are gone."

The English names for this beetle are ladybird, ladycow, ladybug, and ladyfly (cfr. Webster's English Dictionary). The country-people also call it golden knop or knob (Cfr. Trench On the Study of Words).[335]

"Boszia KarÓvka
PaletÍ na niebo.
Bog dat tibiÉ hleba."

[336]

"La galiÑa d' San Michel
BÜta j ale e vola al ciel."

[337] Sacred, no doubt, to St Lucia. In the Tyrol, according to the Festliche Jahr of Baron Reinsberg, St Lucia gives presents to girls, and St Nicholas to boys. The feast of St Lucia is celebrated on the 15th of September; that evening no one need stay up late, for whoever works that night finds all the work undone in the morning. The night of St Lucia is greatly feared (the saint loses her sight; the summer, the warm sunny season, comes to an end; the Madonna moon disappears, and then becomes queen of the sky, the guardian of light, as St Lucia), and conjurings are made against nightmare, devils, and witches. A cross is put into the bed that no witch may enter into it. That night, those who are under the influence of fate see, after eleven o'clock, upon the roofs of houses a light moving slowly and assuming different aspects; prognostications of good or evil are taken from this light, which is called Luzieschein.[338]

"Santu Nicola, Santu Nicola
Facitimi asciari ossa e chiova."
(St Nicholas, St Nicholas,
Make me find bone and coin.)

[339] Cfr. Menzel, Die Vorchristliche Unsterblichkeits-Lehre.[340] Cfr. Rochholtz, Deutscher Glaube und Brauch.[341] Kuhn und Schwartz, N. d. S. M. u. G., p. 377.[342] In another Tuscan variety, the song begins—

"Lucciola, Lucciola, bassa, bassa,
Ti darÒ una materassa," &c.

(Firefly, firefly, down so low, I will give you a mattrass.)[343] Pliny, too, wrote in the eighteenth book of his Natural History: "Lucentes vespere cicindelas signum esse maturitatis panici et milii." G. Telesius of the Cosentino wrote an elegant Latin poem upon the firefly or cicindela, in the seventeenth century.[344]

"'Ntr' À to vucca latti e meli,
'Ntr' À mÈ casa saluti e beni."

[345] Madhu priyam bharatho yat saradbhya?; ?igv. i. 112, 21.[346] Ha?sÂso ye vÂm madhumanto asridho hira?yapar?Â uhuva ushar-budha? udapruto mandino mandinisp?iÇo madhvo na maksha? savanÂni gachathah; ?igv. iv. 45, 4. Here makshas, in conjunction with madhvas, gives us the sense of madhumakshas and madhumakshika, which means bee, and not fly, as it was interpreted by other translators, and by the Petropolitan Dictionary, whose learned editors will be all the more induced to make this slight correction in the new Verbesserungen, as in this hymn, as well as in the hymn i. 112, the bees are considered in connection with the AÇvinÂu.[347] iii. 1333.[348] The god of thunder (or Indras), in opposition to the bees, is also found in a legend of the Cerkessians quoted by Menzel. The god destroys them; but one of them hides under the shirt of the mother of God, and of this one all the other bees are born.—According to the popular superstition of Normandy, in De Nore, quoted by Menzel, the bees (the same is said of the wasps and the horseflies) are revengeful when maltreated, and carry happiness into a house when treated well. In Russia it is considered sacrilege to kill a bee.[349] Cfr. Addison, Indian Reminiscences.[350] ii. 112.[351] PerÌ ton en OdÜsseia tÔn NÜmphÔn antron.[352] Die Bienen gebeten werden: "Biene, du WeltvÖglein, flieg in die Weite, Über neun Seen, Über den Mond, Über die Sonne, hinter des Himmelssterne, neben der Achse des Wagengestirns; flieg in den Keller des SchÖpfers, in des AllmÄchtigen Vorrathskammer, bring Arznei mit deinen FlÜgeln, Honig in deinem Schnabel, fÜr bÖse Eisenwunden und Feuerwunden;" Die Vorchristliche Unsterblichkeits-Lehre. In this work, to which I refer the reader, Menzel treats at length of the worship of bees, and of honey.[353] In the Engadine in Switzerland, too, it is believed that the souls of men emigrate from the world and return into it in the forms of bees. The bees are there considered messengers of death; cfr. Rochholtz, Deutscher Glaube und Brauch, i. 147, 148.—When some one dies, the bee is invoked as follows, almost as if requesting the soul of the departed to watch for ever over the living:—

"Bienchen, unser Herr ist todt,
Verlass mich nicht in meiner Noth."

In Germany, people are unwilling to buy the bees of a dead man, it being believed that they will die or disappear immediately after him:—"Stirbt der Hausherr, so muss sein Tod nicht bloss dem Vieh im Stall und den Bienen im Stocke angesagt werden;" Simrock, the work quoted before, p. 601.—In the East, as is well-known, it was the custom to bury great men in a tomb sprinkled over with honey or beeswax as a symbol of immortality.[354] Der Adel der Bienen ist vom Paradies entsprossen und wegen der SÜnde des Menschen kamen sie von da heraus und Gott schenkte ihnen seinen Segen, und deshalb ist die Messe nicht zu singen ohne Wachs; Leo, Malberg. GlossÆ, 1842.[355] Baluz. Capitulor. tom. ii. p. 663, in oratione ad revocandum examen apum dispersum ex Cod. MS. S. GallÏ.[356] In Du Cange: "Apis significat formam virginitatis, sive sapientiam, in malo, invasorem."—Papias M. S. Bitur; ex illo forsitan officii Ecclesiast. in festo S. CeciliÆ: "Cecilia famula tua, Domine, quasi Apis tibi argumentosa deservit," &c.[357] Cfr. the chapters on the Hare, the Lion, and the Elephant. The louse and the flea have the same mythical nature as the mosquito and the fly.—In the ninth Esthonian story, the son of the thunder, by means of a louse, obliges the thunder-god to scratch his head for a moment, and thus to let fall the weapon of thunder, which is instantly carried off to hell. The lice that fall down from the head of the witch combed by the good maiden, or from that of the Madonna combed by the wicked maiden, have already been mentioned. The Madonna that combs the child is, moreover, a subject of traditional Christian painting.—In the fifth story of the first book of the Pentamerone, we read of a monstrous louse. The king of Altamonte fattens a louse so much that it grows to the size of a wether. He then has it flayed, orders the skin to be dirtied, and promises to give his daughter to wife to whoever guesses what skin this is. The ogre alone guesses, and carries the maiden off, whom seven heroes afterwards go to deliver towards the aurora "subito che l'Aucielle (the birds) gridaro: Viva lo Sole."[358]

"Quando la cicala il c. batte
L'ha del m. chi non si fa la parte."

[359] Peri ZÔÔn idiotÊtos, xxiv., with the additions of Joachim Camerarius.[360] Plutarch, in the Life of Sylla, cites among the prognostics of the civil war between Marius and Sylla, the incident of a sparrow lacerating a cicada, of which it left part in the temple of Bellona, and carried part away.[361] ?igv. vii. 104, 22.[362] Kanikrada? ?anusham prabruvÂ?a iyarti vÂcam ariteva nÂvam sumaÑgalaÇ ca Çakune bhavÂsi mÂ tvÂ kÂ cid abhibhÂ viÇvyÂvidat. Ma tvÂ Çyena ud vadhÎn ma supar?o mÂ tvÂ vidad ishumÂn vÎro astÂ; pitryÂmanu pradiÇa? kanikradat sumaÑgalo bhadrÂvÂdÎ vadeha. Ava kranda dakshi?ato g?ihÂ?Âm sumaÑgalo bhadravÂdÎ Çakunte; ?igv. ii. 42.[363] St Anthony of Padua said of the partridge: "Avis est dolosa et immunda et hypocritas habentes, ut dicit Petrus, oculos plenos adulterii et incessabilis delicti signa."—Partridge's foot (perdikos pous) meant, in the Greek proverb, a deceitful foot.[364] Indische Studien, i. 117, 118.[365]

Stuti? tu punar evÉchanam indro bhÛtvÂ kapin?ala?
Risher ?igamishor ÂÇÂm vavÂÇe prati dakshi?Âm
Sa tam Ârshe?a sa?prekshya cakshushÂ pakshirÛpi?am
ParÂbhyÂm api tush?Âva sÛktÂbhyÂ? tu kanikradat.

[366] i. 66.[367] ii. 79.[368] Cfr. the chapter on the Woodpecker. A whoop, kept by me for some time with its young ones, had been taken with its nest from the trunk of a tree which had been cut down, and which it had scooped out in its higher part in order to build its nest in the lowest and deepest part of the trunk.[369] I, for instance, kept for some time a young cuckoo which had been found in the nest of a little granivorous singing bird, which is very common in Tuscany, and is called scoperina or scopina.[370] VillemarquÉ, Barzaz Breiz, sixiÈme Éd. p. 493.[371] The old English popular song celebrates it as the bringer of summer—

"Sumer is icumen in, lhude sing cuccu."

The old Anglo-Saxon song of St Guthlak makes the cuckoo the announcer of the year (geacas gear budon). The ancient song of May in Germany welcomes it with the words—

"The cuckoo with its song makes every one gay."

The popular Scotch song caresses it thus—

"The cuckoo's a fine bird, he sings as he flies;
He brings us good tidings, he tells us no lies.
He sucks little bird's eggs to make his voice clear,
And when he sings 'cuckoo,' the summer is near."

In Shakspeare (Love's Labour Lost, v. 2), the owl represents winter, and the cuckoo spring—"This side is Hiems, winter, this Ver, the spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo."

In a mediÆval Latin eclogue recorded in the third volume of Uhland's Schriften (Abhandlung Über die deutschen Volkslieder), the death of the cuckoo is wept over—

"Heu cuculus nobis fuerat cantare suetus,
QuÆ te nunc rapuit hora nefanda tuis?
Omne genus hominum Cuculum complangat ubique!
Perditus est cuculus, heu perit ecce meus.

Non pereat Cuculus, veniet sub tempore veris
Et nobis veniens carmina lÆta ciet.
Quis scit, si veniat? timeo est submersus in undis,
Vorticibus raptus atque necatus aquis."

A popular German song shows us the cuckoo first wet, and then dried by the sun—

"Der Kuckuck auf dem Zaune sass,
Kuckuck, kuckuck!
Es regnet sehr und ward nass.
Darnach da kam der Sonnenschein,
Kuckuck, kuckuck!
Der kuckuck der ward hÜbsch und fein."

—Cfr. also the "Entstehung des Kukuks" in Hahn's Albanesische MÄrchen, ii. 144, 316.[372] s. v. cucullus.[373] Cfr. the chapter on the Peacock.[374] Cfr. Uhland's Schriften, iii. 25.[375] Cfr. Afanassieff, i. 12.[376] VillemarquÉ, Barzaz Breiz, sixiÈme Éd. p. 392.[377] "Quand il le tint, se mit À rire de tout son coeur. E il l'Étouffa, et le jeta dans le blanc giron de la pauvre dame. Tenez, tenez, ma jeune Épouse, voici votre joli rossignol; c'est pour vous que je l'ai attrapÉ; je suppose, ma belle, qu'il vous fera plaisir;" VillemarquÉ, Barzaz Breiz, p. 154.[378] iii. 5.[379] Dixon, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England; cfr. also on the traditions relating to the cuckoo and the nightingale in Russia, Ralston, The Songs of the Russian People.[380] Currum DeÆ prosequentes, gannitu constrepenti lasciviunt Passeres; De Asino Aureo, vi.[381] A woman of Antignano, near Leghorn, once told me the story of a beautiful princess who stayed upon a tree till her husband returned, who had gone in quest of robes for her. Whilst she is waiting, up comes a negress to wash clothes, and sees in the water the reflection of the beautiful princess. She induces her to come down by offering to comb her hair for her, and puts a pin into her head, so that she becomes a swallow. The negress then takes the maiden's place by her husband. The swallow, however, finds means of letting herself be caught by her husband, who, stroking her head, finds the pin, and draws it out; then the swallow becomes again a beautiful princess. The same story is narrated more at length in Piedmont, in other parts of Tuscany, in Calabria, and in other places; but instead of the swallow we have the dove, as in the Tuti-Name.[382] Pra yÂ ?igÂti khargaleva naktam apa druhÂ tanva? gÛhamÂnÂ; ?igv. vii. 104, 17.[383] Yad ulÛko vadati mogham etad yat kapota? padam agnÂu k?i?oti, yasya dÛta? prahita esha etat tasmÂi yamÂya namo astu m?ityave; ?igv. i. 165, 4.[384] iii. 73.[385] iii. 15, 128, and HitopadeÇas, iv. 47.[386] iii. 308, x. 38.[387] vi. 64.[388] In the articles against Bernard Saget in the year 1300, recorded by Du Cange, I read—"Aves elegerunt Regem quemdam avem vocatam Duc, et est avis pulchrior et major inter omnes aves, et accidit semel quod Pica conquesta fuerat de Accipitre dicto Domino Regi, et congregatis avibus, dictus Rex nihil dixit nisi quod flavit (flevit?). Vel (veluti) idem de rege nostro dicebat ipse Episcopus, qui ipse est pulchrior homo de mundo, et tamen nihil scit facere, nisi respicere homines."[389] Among the Tartars, according to Aldrovandi, the feathers of the male owl are worn as an amulet, probably to conjure the owl himself away, in the same way as, in the Vedic hymns, Death is invoked in order that it may remain far off. In the Khorda Avesta (p. 147), translated by Spiegel, the hero Verethraghna derives his strength from the owl's feathers.—We are acquainted with the funereal moon in the form of Proserpine; the Hindoos considered Manus in relation with the moon, with which, moreover, it was also identified. Manus, as the first and the father of men, is also the first of the dead. Manus gives the somas to Indras. The dying sun is exchanged in the funereal kingdom for the moon; but of the moon's kingdom the souls come down, and to the moon's kingdom they return. With Manus the word Menerva is joined, a Latin form, as a goddess, of the Greek AthÊnÊ. The owl, the symbol of Minerva, may be equivalent to Manus as the moon. The intimate connection which exists in myths and legends between the maiden aurora and the maiden moon is well-known; they reciprocally do services to each other. AthÊnÊ may very well have represented equally the two wise maidens—the moon, who sees everything in the dark night; the aurora, who, coming out of the gloomy night, illumines everything. The head of Zeus, out of which AthÊnÊ comes, appears to be a form of the eastern sky.[390] "Selbst in sternloser Nacht ist keine Verborgenheit, es lauert eine grÄmliche Alte, die Eule; sie sitzt in ihrem finstern KÄmmerlein, spinnt mit silbernen Spindelchen und sieht Übel dazu, was in der Dunkelheit vorgeht. Der Holzschnitt des alten Flugblattes zeigt die Eule auf einem StÜhlchen am Spinnrocken sitzend."[391]

"Wenn durch die dÜnne Luft ein schwarzer Rabe fleucht
Und krÄhet sein Geschrei, und wenn des Eulen Fraue
Ihr Wiggen-gwige heult: sind Losungen sehr rauhe."
—Rochholtz, the work quoted before, i. p. 155.

[392] i. 175.[393] ii. 5.[394] i. 1152.[395] ii. 105, v. 3.[396] Ib.[397] ii. 105; cfr. also Du Cange, s. v. corbitor.—In the German legend of the Emperor Frederic Barbarossa, the emperor, buried under a mountain, wakens and asks, "Are the crows still flying round the mountain?" he is answered that they are still flying. The emperor sighs and lies down again, concluding that the hour of his resurrection has not yet arrived.[398] In the Ornithologia of Aldrovandi. The messenger crow is of frequent occurrence in legends.[399] In Plutarch, two crows guide Alexander the Great, when he goes to consult the oracle of Zeus AmmÔn.[400] Hence the name of Avis S. Martini also given to the crow, because it often comes about St Martin's day. In Du Cange and in the Roman du Renard we also find indicated the auspices to be taken from the crow's flight; for the same custom in Germany, cfr. Simrock, the work quoted before, p. 546.[401] Horace, Carm. iii. 27.—In Afanassief, again (iv. 36), the rook is asked where it has flown to. It answers, "Into the meadows to write letters and sigh after the maiden;" and the maiden is advised to hurry towards the water. The maiden declares that she fears the crab. In this maiden, that is afraid of the crab, I think I can recognise the zodiacal sign of Virgo (attracted by the crab of the summer),—the virgin who approaches the water, the autumn and the autumnal rains; the virgin loved by the crow, who is the friend of the rains.[402] Horace, Carm. iii. 27.[403] SÂka? yakshma pra pata cÂshe?a kikidÎvinÂ; ?igv. x. 97, 13.[404]

SarÓvka, sarÓvka,
Kasha varlla
Na parÓk skakÁla,
Gastiei saszivÁla.

[405] The magpie is proverbial as a babbler; hence, from its Italian name gazza, the name gazzetta given to newspapers, as divulging secrets.—In the Dialogus Creaturarum, dial. 80, it is written of the magpie, called Agazia: "Pica est avis callidissima.... HÆc apud quemdam venatorem et humane et latine loquebatur, propter quod venator ipsam plenaria fulciebat. Pica autem non immemor beneficii, volens remunerare eum, volavit ad Agazias, et cum eis familiariter sedebat et humane sermocinabatur. AgaziÆ quoque in hoc plurimum lÆtabantur cupientes et ipsÆ garrire humaneque loqui."[406] Hence the request made in the popular song to the stork, to bring a little sister; cfr. the songs of the stork in Kuhn and Schwarz, N. S. M. u. G. p. 452. As the bringer of children, the stork is represented as the serpent's enemy; cfr. Tzetza, i. 945.[407] Cfr. Phile, vi. 2; and Aristophanes in the Ornithes—

"DeÎ tous neotous t' patÉra palin trephein."

[408]

"Lacte quis infantes nescit crevisse ferino?
Et picum expositis sÆpe tulisse cibos?"
—Ovid, Fasti, iii.

[409] Compare pin?Ûlas with pin?alas and pin?aras.—In the hymn, x. 28, 9, of the ?igvedas, we also have the mountain cleft from afar by a clod of earth: Adri? logena vy abhedam ÂrÂt. This analogy is so much the more remarkable, as in the same hymn, 4th strophe, the wild boar is also spoken of.[410] The same virtue of opening the mountain by means of an herb I find attributed to the little martin, in connection with Venus, in Simrock, the work quoted before, p. 415: "Schon in einem Gedichte Meister Altschwerts, ed. Holland, s. 70, wird der Zugang zu dem Berge durch ein Kraut gefunden, das der Springwurzel oder blauen SchlÜsselblume unserer Ortssagen gleicht. Kaum hat es der Dichter gebrochen, so kommt ein MartinsvÖgelchen geflogen, das guter Vorbedeutung zu sein pflegt; diesem folgt er und begegnet einem Zwerge, der ihn in den Berg zu Frau Venus fÜhrt."[411] Carm. iii. 27.[412]

"Thou shalt not lack
The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azured hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweetened not thy breath; the ruddock would,
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!), bring thee all this."
—iv. 2.

[413] Cfr. what is said on the whoop, the stork, and the lark.—Concerning the bird gaulus, I find in Du Cange as follows: "Gaulus Merops avis apibus infensa, unde et Apiastra vocitatur. Papias: 'Meropes, Genus avium, idem et Gauli, qui parentes suos recondere, et alere dicuntur, sunt autem virides et vocantur ApiastrÆ.'"[414] TÂittiriya Ya?urv. vii. 1, 4.[415] Hence Gregory of Tours relates, in Du Cange: "In Ecclesia Arverna, dum matutinÆ celebrarentur VigiliÆ, in quadam civitate avis Corydalus, quam Alaudam vocamus, ingressa est."[416] VartikÂ? grasitÂm amuncatam; ?igv. i. 112, 8.—Amuncata? vartikÂm a?hasa?; i. 118, 8.—Âsno v?ikasya vartikÂm abhÎke yuva? narÂ nÂsatyÂmumuktam; i. 116, 14.—V?ikasya cid vartikÂm antar ÂsyÂd yuva? ÇaÇÎbhir grasitÂm amuncatam; x. 39, 13.[417] The same fable is also related in a different way: Jove cohabits with Latona, and subsequently forces her sister, Asterien, who is, in pity, changed by the gods into a quail. Jove becomes an eagle to catch her; the gods change the quail into a stone—(cfr. the stories of Indras as a cuckoo and RambhÂ, of Indras as a cock and AhalyÂ. It is a popular superstition that quails, like the crane, when they travel, let little stones fall in order to recognise on their return the places by which they passed the first time)—which lies for a long time under water, till by the prayer of Latona it is taken out.[418] Ælianos says that the cock is in the moon's favour, either because it assisted Latona in parturition, or because it is generally believed (as a symbol of fecundation) to be the facilitator of childbirth. As a watchful animal it was natural to consider it especially dear to the moon, the nocturnal watcher.—The cock, as an announcer of news, was sacred to Mercury; as the curer of many diseases, to Æsculapius; as a warrior, to Mars, Hercules, and Pallas, who, according to Pausanias, wore a hen upon her helmet; as an increaser of the family, to the Lares, &c. Even Roman Catholic priests will deign to receive with especial favour, ad majorem Dei gloriam, the homage of cocks, capons, and chickens.[419] This year, my quails cried out six times; and the corn in Italy is very dear, the spring having been a very rainy one.[420] iii. 12,437.[421] i. 49.[422] MÂ no vadhÎr indra mÂ parÂ dÂ mÂ na? priyÂ bho?anÂni pra moshÎ? Â??Â mÂ no maghavan chakra nir bhen mÂ na? pÂtrÂ bhet saha?ÂnushÂ?i; ?igv. i. 104, 8.[423] Der Vogel der den Namen Parodars fÜhrt, o heiliger Zarathustra, den die Übelredenden Menschen mit den Namen KahrkatÂÇ belegen, dieser Vogel erhebt seine Stimme bei jeder gÖttlichen MorgenrÖthe: Stehet auf, ihr Menschen, preiset die beste Reinheit, vertreibet die DÂeva; Vendidad, xviii. 34-38, Spiegel's version.—The cock Parodars chases away with his cry especially the demon BÛshya?Çta, who oppresses men with sleep, and he returns again in a fragment of the Khorda-Avesta (xxxix.): "'Da, vor dem Kommen der MorgenrÖthe, spricht dieser Vogel Parodars, der Vogel der mit Messern verwundet, Worte gegen das Feuers aus. Bei seinem Sprechen lÄuft Bushya?Çta mit langen HÄnden herzu von der nÖrdlichen Gegend, von den nÖrdlichen Gegenden, also sprechen, also sagend: "Schlafet o Menschen, schlafet, sÜndlich Lebende, schlafet, die ihr ein sÜndiges Leben fÜhrt." As in the song of Prudentius, the idea of sleep and that of sin are associated together; the song of Prudentius suggests the idea that it was written by some one who was initiated in the solar mysteries of the worship of Mithras.[424] Cfr. Du Cange, s. v.—And the same Du Cange, in the article gallina, quotes an old mediÆval glossary in which gallina is said to mean Christ, wisdom, and soul.—The cock of the Gospel announces, reveals, betrays Christ three times, in the three watches of the night, to which sometimes correspond the three sons of the legends.[425] According to a legend of St James, an old father and mother go with their young son on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella in Spain. On the way, in an inn at San Domingo de la Calzada, the innkeeper's daughter offers her favours to the young man, who rejects them; the girl avenges herself upon him by putting a silver plate in his sack, for which he is arrested and impaled as a thief. The old parents continue their journey to Santiago; St James has pity upon them, and works a miracle which is only known to be his afterwards. The old couple return to their country, passing by San Domingo; here they find their son alive, whom they had seen impaled, for which they there and then offer solemn thanks to St James. All are astonished. The prefect of the place is at dinner when the news is brought to him; he refuses to believe it, and says that the young man is no more alive than the roasted fowl which is being set upon the table; no sooner has he uttered the words, than the cock begins to crow, resumes its feathers, jumps out of the plate and flies away. The innkeeper's daughter is condemned; and in honour of the miracle, the cock is revered as a sacred animal, and at San Domingo the houses are ornamented with cock's feathers. A similar wonder is said, by Sigonio, to have taken place in the eleventh century in the Bolognese; but instead of St James, Christ and St Peter appear to perform miracles.—Cfr. also the relationship of St Elias (and of the Russian hero Ilya) feasted on the 21st of July, when the sun enters the sign of the lion, with Helios, the hellenic sun.[426]

[427] Cfr. Afanassieff, i. 3, ii. 30; sometimes, instead of the hen's feet we have the dog's paws; cfr. v. 28.[428] Concerning this subject I can add an unpublished story which Signor S. M. Greco sends me from Cosenza in Calabria:—A poor girl is alone in the fields; she plucks a rampion, sees a stair, goes down, and comes to the palace of the fairies, who at sight of her are smitten with love. She asks to be allowed to go back to her mother, and obtains permission; she tells her mother that she hears a noise every night, without seeing anything, and is advised to light a candle and she will see. Next evening the girl does so, and sees a youth of great beauty with a looking-glass on his breast. The third evening she does the same, but a drop of wax falls upon the looking-glass and wakens the youth, who cries out lamentably, "Thou shalt go hence." The girl wishes to go away; the fairies give her a full clew of thread, with the advice that she must go to the top of the highest mountain and leave the clew to itself; where it goes, thither must she follow. She obeys, and arrives at a town which is in mourning on account of the absence of the prince; the queen sees the girl from the window and makes her come in. After some time she gives birth to a handsome son, and a shoemaker, who works by night, begins to sing—

"Sleep, sleep, my son;
If your mother knew some day
That you are my son,
In a golden cradle she would put you to sleep,
And in golden swaddling-clothes.
Sleep, sleep, my son."

The queen then learns from the girl, that he who sings thus is the prince, who is destined to stay far from the palace until the sun rises without him perceiving it. Orders are then given to kill all the fowls in the town, and to cover all the windows with a black veil scattered over with diamonds, in order that the prince may believe it is still night and may not perceive the rising of the sun. The prince is deceived, and marries the maiden who is the fairies' favourite, and they lived happy and contented,

Whilst I, if you will believe me,
Found myself with a thorn in my foot.

[429] Die schlaue Alte brachte bald heraus, was der Dorfhahn hinter ihrem RÜcken der jungsten Tochter ins Ohr gekrÄht hatte; Kreutzwald u. LÖwe, Ehstnische MÄrchen.[430] In the annals of the city of Debreczen, in the year 1564, we read as follows: "Æterna et exitialis memoria de incendio trium ordinum in anno prÆsenti: feria secunda proxima ante fest. nat. MariÆ gloriosÆ exorta est flamma et incendium periculosum in platea Burgondia; eadem similiter ebdomade exortum est incendium altera vice, de platea Csapo de domo inquilinari Stephani literati, multas domos ... in cinerem redegit, et quod majus inter cÆtera est, nobilissimi quoque templi divi AndreÆ et turris tecturÆ combustÆ sunt, ex qua turri et ejus pinnaculo, gallus etiam Æreus, a multis annis insomniter dies ac noctes jejuno stomacho stans et in omnes partes advigilans, flammam ignis sufferre non valens, invitus devolare, descendere et illam suam solitam stationem deserere coactus est, qui gallus tantÆ cladis commiserescens ac nimio dolore obmutescens de pinnaculo desiliendio, collo confracto in terram coincidens et suÆ vitÆ propriÆ quoque non parcens, fidele suum servitium invitus derelinquendo, misere expiravit et vitam suam finivit sic."[431] Reinsberg von DÜringsfeld observes (Das festliche Jahr), that sometimes, for jest, in North Walsham, instead of the cock an owl is put,—another funereal symbol with which we are already acquainted.[432] Not only the egg of the hen is a symbol of abundance, but even the bones of fowls served in popular tradition to represent matrimonial faith and coition. In Russia, when two (probably husband and wife) eat a fowl together, they divide the bone of the neck, the English merrythought, between them; then each of them takes and keeps a part, promising to remember this rupture. When either of the two subsequently presents something to the other, the one who receives must immediately say, "I remember;" if not, the giver says to him, "Take and remember." The forgetful one loses the game. A similar game, called the verde or green, is played in Tuscany during Lent between lovers with a little twig of the box-tree.[433] The sun is an egg at the beginning of day; he becomes, or finds, an apple-tree in the evening, in the western garden of the Hesperides.[434] The Indian word kapotas, which means a dove, also indicates the grey colour of antimony, the colour of the commonest species of doves, and of those which are fed on St Mark's Place at Venice.[435] Çiva? kapota ishito no astu anÂgÂ devÂ? Çakuno g?iheshu; str. 2.—For the fourth strophe, cfr. the chapter which treats of the Owl.[436] ii. 9.[437] ii. 239.—Cfr. the chapter on the Eagle.[438] It appears to me that the same confusion arose between coluber and columba as between chelÜdros, a kind of serpent, and chelidÔn, a swallow. The beautiful maiden upon a tree occurs even in the Tuti-Name, i. 178, seq.[439] ii. 7, and v. 9[440] They were related to me at Antignano near Leghorn by the peasant woman Uliva Selvi:—

A gentleman had twelve sons and one daughter, who had, by enchantment, been metamorphosed into an eagle, and was kept in a cage. The father takes the twelve sons to mass every day; every day he meets an old beggar-woman and gives alms to her; one day, however, he has no money with him, and therefore gives her nothing; the old woman curses him, wishing that he may never see his sons again. No sooner said than done; the twelve sons become twelve doves and fly away. The despairing father and mother begin to weep; in their despair they forget to feed the eagle. Opposite the gentleman's house the king lived, who becomes enamoured of the eagle as though of a beautiful maiden; he has her stolen and replaced by another eagle. Not far thence there lived a washerwoman who had such a beautiful daughter that she never let her go out except at night. They wash at the fountain surrounded by poplar-trees; at midnight, as they wash, they hear a noise among the poplar-trees, and the maiden is afraid. One night they listen and hear the doves speaking and telling one another the incidents of the day, where they had been and what they had been doing. They then fly into a beautiful garden; the girl follows them; they enter into a beautiful palace, and the washerwoman relates what she has seen to the gentleman, who rejoices, and promises a great reward to the washerwoman if she will show him where his sons go to sleep. Both father and mother go to see; the pigeons speak, and say, "Were our mother to see us ..."; they then fly away. The gentleman then consults an astrologer, who advises him to allure the old witch into his house by the promise of alms, to shut her up in a room, and to compel her by main force to indicate the means of turning the pigeons into youths once more, or else to kill her. The old woman gives a powder which, when scattered on the highest mountain, will make the pigeons return home. The father goes to the mountain, scatters the powder and returns home, where he finds his sons, who are inquiring after the eagle. They go to see it and do not recognise it; they complain to their mother of this. Meanwhile, the young king is always near his eagle as if making love to it; and his mother is displeased at it. The twelve brothers meet a fairy who, for some alms, tells who has their eagle, and that it will soon return home a beautiful maiden. And the eagle becomes a beautiful girl and is married by the king.

There was once a king who had a handsome son, enamoured of a beautiful princess. He is carried off with two servants by the magicians and transformed into a pigeon; the servants undergo the same metamorphosis; one becomes green, one red, and the other greyish violet (pavonazzo). They take him into a beautiful palace where he must stay for seven years. Each has a large basin,—one is of gold, another of silver, and the third of bronze. When they plunge into them, they become three handsome youths. The princess, meanwhile, is dying to know where her lover is gone; she goes to have her hair combed on a terrace; the three pigeons carry away her looking-glass, then the ribbon of her hair, and then her comb. A great festival occurs in this town, to which the girls of the land go by night; on the way, one of them, near the break of day, turns aside for a few minutes; she sees a golden gate, finds a little gold key on the earth, opens the door and enters into a fine garden. At the end of the path there is a beautiful palace, into which she goes; she finds the three basins of gold, silver, and bronze, and sees the pigeons become young men. Meanwhile the king's daughter falls ill of grief, and is to all appearance dying; the king resolves to have her cured at any cost. The girl who had been in the place relates to the king's daughter all that she has seen; the latter is cured and goes with the girl to the palace; they find it, enter, and see a table laid for three persons; the two girls hide themselves. The prince and the princess meet with one another; but the prince, upon seeing her, is full of despair, saying that her impatience has prolonged the enchantment for seven years more, whilst it had at the time only three more days to run. He becomes a pigeon again; she must stay for seven years upon a tower exposed to all the inclemency of the seasons. Seven years pass by; the princess has become so ugly that she looks like a beast, with long hair all over her burned skin. The enchantment comes to an end for him after seven years; he goes to look for her; she says, "How much have I suffered for you!" The prince does not recognise her, and leaves her; she is left naked in a dense forest, and goes to seek her father. Night comes on, and the princess and her servant-maid do not know where to take refuge; they climb up a tree, whence they perceive a light. They walk towards it and find a beautiful little palace; a beautiful lady, a fairy, shows herself, and asks, "Is this you, Caroline?" This was the princess's name. But the fairy can give no news of the prince, and sends her on to another fairy, her sister, with the same result; she then goes to a third fairy, walking a double distance each time. The three fairies were three queens who had been betrayed by the same young prince. The third fairy gives to the princess a magical rod; she must go to the prince and do to him what he did to her—spit in his face, to wit. She is brought in a boat before the young king's palace, and there, following the fairy's instructions, she raises, by means of the rod, a beautiful palace, a palace more beautiful than that of the king, with a beautiful fountain. The young king wishes to go and see it; he sees a beautiful princess and kisses his hand to her, but she shuts the window in his face. He then invites her to dinner, but she refuses. He sends her a magnificent diamond, which she gives to her majordomo, saying that she has many more beautiful. He then sends her a splendid dress, which can be taken in the palm of the hand; she tears it into pieces and gives it to the cook to be used for kitchen purposes. The young king becomes passionately enamoured of her, and sends to her his best watch, which she gives also to her majordomo. He falls ill of a dreadful fever and wishes to marry her; he sends his mother. The princess laughs at the prince and refuses to come, saying, "Why does he not come himself?" His mother begs again that she will come. "Let him come," she answers; and at last she consents to come if they will make from her palace to that of the king a covered way so well and thickly made that not a ray of light can enter, and which she may be able to pass through with her equipage. Half way, the covering opens, and the sunbeams enter, upon which she disappears. (Cfr. the Indian myth of UrvaÇÎ). The king being about to die, his mother returns to the princess, who demands that they bring him to her as if dead, in a bier. The king confesses that he has betrayed four maidens, and that it is on account of the fourth that he is coming to such a miserable end. The princess laughs at him and spits twice in his face; the third time he rises again, they are reconciled and married. (The spitting of the princess, which makes the dead prince rise again, is the dew of the ambrosia, or of spring, which brings the sun to life again.)—Cfr. the stories ii. 5, iv. 8, of the Pentamerone, and v. 22 of Afanassieff.[441] It is said of the widowed turtle-dove that it will never drink again in any fountain of limpid water for fear of reviving the image of its lost companion by seeing its own in the water. The Christians pretend that the voice of the turtle-dove represents the cry, the sighing, and afterwards, for the resurrection of Christ, the joy of Mary Magdalen. Ælianos says that the turtle-dove is sacred not only to the goddess of love, and to the goddess of harvests, but also to the funereal ParcÆ.[442] In the legend of St Remy it is a dove that carries to the saint the flagon of water with which he must baptize King Clodoveus.[443]

"Et ille nunc superbus et superfluens
Perambulabit omnium cubilia,
Ut albulus columbus, aut Adoneus?
CinÆde Romule, hÆc videbis et feres?"

The chastity and the proverbial conjugal fidelity attributed to doves is here denied. Catullus had evidently closely observed the habits of these animals, which are sometimes, on the contrary, of a shameless infidelity. I have seen a white dove, who, in the presence of his wife, intent upon hatching her eggs, violated the nuptial bed of a gray dove, at a moment when the jealous husband was eating; the wife accepted the caresses of the husband and of the lover in the same passive attitude.[444] We may also record here another Italian proverb, "To take two doves with one bean." In Italian anatomy a part of the phallos is called a bean (fava). The birds, and especially the thrushes and the doves, according to the popular belief, not only have the faculty of making other birds, but even plants fruitful. The words of Pliny, Hist. Nat. xvi. 44, have already been quoted by Prof. Kuhn: "Omnino autem satum nullo modo nascitur, nec nisi per alvum avium redditum, maxime palumbis ac turdis."[445] Çvasity apsu ha?so na sÎdan kratvÂ cetish?ho viÇÂm usharbhut; ?igv. i. 65, 9.[446] BÎbhatsÛnÂ? sayu?am ha?sam Âhur apÂ? divyÂnÂ? sakhye carantam; x. 124, 9.[447] Ha?sÂir iva sakhibhir vÂvadadbhir aÇmanmayÂni nahanÂ vyasyan b?ihaspatir abhi kanikradad gÂ; x. 67, 3.[448] SasvaÇ cid dhi tanva? ÇumbhamÂnÂ Â ha?sÂso nÎlap?ish?hÂ apaptan; vii. 59, 7.[449] Cfr. the chapter which treats of the Bee.[450] vi. 2.[451] Adhi b?ibu? pa?ÎnÂ? varshish?he mÛrdhann asthÂt uru? kaksho na gÂÑgya?; ?igv. vi. 45, 31.—B?ibu? sahasradÂtama? sÛri? sahasrasÂtamam; vi. 45, 33.—Cfr. also the 32d strophe.[452] ?igv. vi. 46.[453] The goose is found in connection with robbers in the twenty-third story of the sixth book of Afanassieff. Two servants stole a precious pearl from the king; being about to be found out, they give the pearl, by the advice of an old woman, to the grey goose in a piece of bread; the goose is then accused of having stolen the pearl. It is killed, the pearl is found, and the two robbers escape.[454] v. 55.—In the forty-ninth story of the fifth book of Afanassieff, a riddle occurs where the betrothed wife is represented as a duck. A father sends his son to find the wife who is predestined for him, with the following enigmatical order: "Go to Moscow; there there is a lake; in the lake there is a net; if the duck has fallen into the net, take the duck; if not, withdraw the net." The son returns home with the duck—that is to say, with his betrothed wife.[455] ii. 46.[456] iv. 11.[457] iii. 75.[458] Cfr. Afanassieff, vi. 17, and a variety of the vi. 19.[459] Cfr. an interesting variety of this story in the Griechische und Albanische MÄrchen of Hahn.[460] Thus, in a Norwegian story, the dirty cinder-girl carries silver ducks away from the magicians.—In the eighth Esthonian story, the third brother is sent to hell for the ducks and geese with golden feathers.[461] In a Scandinavian and Italian variety of this story, instead of the goose we have the eagle and eaglets; the goose returns, in the first story of the fifth book of the Pentamerone, to do the same duty as in the Russian story, but with some more vulgar and less decent incidents.[462] The image of the legs which, when they move, make flowers grow up, is very ancient; students of Hindoo literature will remember the pushpi?yÂu carato ?anghe of the Âitareya Br., in the story of Çuna?Çepas.[463] The ninth of the Novelline di Santo Stefano di Calcinaia is an interesting variety of this; the beautiful maiden who feeds the geese is disguised in an old woman's skin; the geese, who see her naked, cry out: "CocÒ, la bella padrona ch 'i' ho," until the prince, by means of a noiseless file, makes the cook enter the room and carry the old woman's skin away while she sleeps, and then weds her.—The following unpublished story, communicated to me by Signor Greco from Cosenza in Calabria, is a variation of that of the Pentamerone:—

Seven princes have a very beautiful sister. An emperor decides upon marrying her, but upon the condition that if he does not find her to his taste, he will decapitate her seven brothers. They set out altogether, and the mother-in-law with her daughter follow them. On the way, the sun is hot, and the elder brother cries out, "Solabella, defend me from the heat, for you must please the king." The step-mother advises her to take off her necklaces and to put them on her half-sister. The second brother next complains of the heat, and the step-mother advises her to take off her gold apparel and to put it on her half-sister. By such means the step-mother at last succeeds in making her naked; they come to the sea, and the step-mother pushes her in; she is taken by a siren, who holds her by her foot with a golden chain. The princes arrive with the ugly sister; the king weds the ugly wife and cuts off the heads of the seven brothers. When the maiden is wandering about in the sea, she asks the king's ducks for news of her brothers; the ducks answer that they have been executed. She weeps; the tears become pearls and the ducks feed upon them. This marvel comes to the ears of the king, who follows the ducks and asks the girl why she shuns the society of men; to which she answers: "Alas! how can I, who am fastened by a golden chain?" and then relates everything. Having recognised his bride, the king gives her this advice: she must ask how, after the siren's death, she would be able to free herself; and then he departs. Next day, Solabella tells the king that the siren will not die, because she lives in a little bird, enclosed in a silver cage which is shut up in a marble case, and seven iron ones, of which she has the keys, and that if the siren died, a horseman, a white horse, and a long sword would be necessary to cut the chain. The king brings her a certain water, which he advises her to give the siren to drink; she will then fall asleep, and the girl will be able to take the keys and kill the little bird. When it is killed, the white horse plunges into the sea, and the sword cuts the chain. Then the king takes his beautiful bride to his palace, and the old step-mother is burned in a shirt of pitch; the seven brothers are rubbed with an ointment which brings them to life again, each exclaiming, "Oh! what a beautiful dream I have had!"[464] The old ogress of the ninth story of the fifth book of the Pentamerone, who keeps three beautiful maidens shut up in three citron-trees, and who feeds the asses which kick the swans upon the banks of the river, is a variety of the same myth.[465] Instead of geese, swans were also solemnly eaten; a popular mediÆval German song in Latin offers the lamentation of the roasted swan; cfr. Uhland's Schriften, iii. 71, 158.—In the Pancatantram, we have the swan sacrificed by the owl. In order to allure the swan, the funereal owl, who wishes to kill it, invites it into a grove of lotus-flowers, only, however, to decoy it subsequently into a dark cavern, where the swan is killed by some travelling merchants, who believe it to be an owl.[466] In the Eddas, when the hero Sigurd expires, the geese bewail his death.[467] Cfr. also, with regard to this subject, the twenty-fourth Esthonian story of the princess born in the egg, of whom her brother, born in a more normal manner of the queen, becomes enamoured.[468] The parrot is sung of by Statius in connection with the same birds in the second book of the SylvÆ—

"Lux volucrum plagÆ, regnator EoÆ
Quam non gemmata volucri Junonia cauda
Vinceret, aspectu gelidi non phasidis ales."

[469] A pathetic elegy in Sansk?it distiches, of a Buddhist character, of which I do not now remember the source, presents us the Çukas, or parrot, who wishes to die when the tree aÇokas, which has always been his refuge, is dried up.[470] Such as, for instance, the following unpublished story, communicated to me by Dr Ferraro, which is related in the Monferrato, and of which I have also heard, in my childhood, a variation at Turin:—A king, going to the wars, and fearing that another king, who is his rival, will profit by his absence to seduce his wife, places by her side one of his friends transformed into a parrot; this friend warns her to remain faithful every time that the rival king sends to tempt the queen by means of a cunning old woman. The queen pays attention to the parrot's advice, and remains faithful till the husband's return. This is, in a few words, the contents of the seventy Hindoo tales of the parrot, of which the Tuti-Name is a Persian version.—In the story which I heard at Turin, the wife is, on the contrary, unfaithful and covers the parrot's cage that it may not see; she then fries some fishes in the guest's honour; the parrot thinks that it is raining. The fish and the rain remind us of the myth of the phallical and pluvial cuckoo.[471] Cfr. the chapter on the Crow.[472] "Wie wir den Hugschapler sogar auf den Pfauen schwÖren sehen, legten sie die Angelsachsen auf den Schwan ab (R. A. 900), den wir wohl nach den obigen Gesange NgÖrdhs, S. 343 als den ihm geheiligten Vogel (ales gratissima nautis, Myth. 1074) zu fassen haben, &c." Simrock, the work quoted before, p. 347.—A Hindoo proverb considers the dove in connection with the peacock; it says, "Better a pigeon to-day than a peacock to-morrow" (Varamadya kapoto na Çvo mayÛra?). According to the Ornithologia of Aldrovandi, the peacocks are the doves' friends, because they keep serpents and all venomous animals at a distance.[473] The Russian fable of Kriloff presents to us the ass as a judge between the nightingale (the kokilas of Western poets) and the cock in a trial of singing; in Sansk?it Çikhin, or crested, means cock and peacock; besides mayÛras, peacock, we have mayÛraca?akas, the domestic cock. MayÛras is also the name of a Hindoo poet.—In the chapter on the Cuckoo we saw the cuckoo and the nightingale as rivals in singing; the kokilas and the peacock are the equivalents of the nightingale and the cuckoo; we have also identified the cuckoo with the swallow, and seen the swallows as rivals of the swans in singing; cfr. the chapter on the Crow.[474] Hence Aldrovandi writes with reason, that the smoke of the burnt feathers of a peacock (that is, of the celestial peacock), when taken into the eyes, cures them of their redness.[475] Â mandrÂir indra haribhir yÂhi mayÛraromabhi?; ?igv. iii. 45, 1.[476] Â tvÂ rathe hira?yaye harÎ mayÛraÇepyÂ; viii. 1, 25.—Klearchos relates in AthÊnaios, that a peacock in Leucas loved a maiden so much, that when she died it also immediately expired.[477] According to the Pancatantram (i. 175), in the very house of Çivas (the phallical god), the animals make war against each other; the serpent (the night) wishes to eat the mouse (which seems here to be the grey twilight); the peacock (here, perhaps, the moon), wishes to eat the serpent (cfr. the preceding notes; according to Ælianos, a certain man who wished to steal from the King of Egypt a peacock, supposed to be sacred, found an asp in its stead); the lion (the sun) wishes to eat the peacock. (The Hindoo name of mayÛrÂris, or enemy of the peacock, given to the chameleon, is remarkable; the animal which changes its colour is the rival of the bird which is of every colour; gods and demons are equally viÇvarÛpÂs and kÂmarÛpas.)[478] Indras, as a warlike god, does not know fear, or rather, he kills fear (the hymn says, "Aher yÂtÂra? kam apaÇya indra h?idi yat te ?aghnuso bhÎr agacchat"; ?igv. i. 32, 14), and lets himself be terrified by a trifle, which may be either a nightly shadow (the dark man of fairy tales), or the terror caused to him by some fish (the moon) which leaps upon him in the waters which he himself has set free.—In the twenty-second of the Tuscan stories published by me, the young hero who passed through all the dangers of hell without being afraid, dies at the sight of his own shadow. (We have also referred to this when treating of the dog and the lion who meet with their death, allured by their own shadow.)—In the forty-sixth story of the fifth book of Afanassieff, the merchant's son, who did not know fear, who feared neither darkness nor brigands nor death, is terrified and dies when he falls into the water, because the little perch entered into his bosom whilst he was sleeping in his fishing-boat.—It is also easy to pass from the idea of Indras, who inebriates himself in the soma to that of the fish, when we consider that the Hindoo word matsyas, the fish, properly means the inebriated, from the root mad, to inebriate and to make cheerful.[479] AÇnÂpinaddham madhu pary apaÇyam matsya? na dÎna udani kshiyantam; ?igv. x. 68, 8.[480] Mbh. 2371-2392.[481] Mbh. i. 5078-5086.—In another variety of the same myth, the semen of the wise BharadvÂ?as comes out at the sight of a nymph; the sage receives it in a cup, out of which comes Dro?as, the armourer and archer par excellence; i. 5103-5106.[482] v. 27.[483] RÂmÂy. ii. 92.[484] Cfr. BÖhtlingk, Indische SprÜche, i. 59.[485] Revad uvÂha sacano ratho vÂ? v?ishabhaÇ Ça Çi?ÇumÂraÇ ca yuktÂ.[486] Our readers will not be astonished at seeing the dolphin, the whale, and the sea-urchin classed here with fishes. We are not treating of natural history according to the classifications of science, but of the gross classifications made by impressionable popular imaginations. Thus, amongst the animals of the water we shall find the serpent described, although it be amphibious, because popular belief makes the dragon watch over the waters.[487] The pike becomes in spring of an azure or bluish or greenish-blue colour; hence the name of golubbi—perÒ (that is, of the azure or bluish fins; in German, the bluish colour is called echt-grau—that is, grey of pike; in the nineteenth of the Russian stories of Erlenwein, golden fins are ascribed to the pike), which is also given to it in Russia. Golub, or brown, violet and azure, is a name given in Russia to the dove; so in Italy we say, that the dove is pavonazzo (properly the colour of the peacock, which is generally blue and green). But in Sansk?it, amongst the names of the peacock there is that of haris, a word which represents both the moon and the sun. By the same analogy, the bluish or greenish pike may represent the moon. But another analogy, caused by a similar conception, is found again in the word ÇyÂmas, which means black, azure, and also silvery; whence it serves to represent the convolvolus argenteus (we must remember that the Latin name of the pike is lucius; the Greek, lÜkios—that is, the luminous one). The pike takes the colour of the water in which it lives, and the waters are dark, black, azure, greenish, silvery; as being azure, or greenish, or silvery, the pike represents the moon; as being dark, the tenebrific night, the cloud, the wintry season.—In the thirty-second story of the fourth book of Afanassieff, the little perch relates that the pike was once luminous (that is, in spring), and that it became black after the conflagration which took place in the Lake of Rastoff from the day of St Peter (June 29) to the day of St Elias (July 20), or in the beginning of summer. As we learn in the Pseudo-Callisthenes, near the black stone, which makes black whoever touches it, there are fishes which are cooked in cold water, and not at the fire, I recollect here also that the Hecht-kÖnig, or king of pikes, is described as yellow and black-spotted.[488] Afanassieff, v. 22.[489] Afanassieff, i. 2.—Cfr. the eleventh of the Novelline di Santo Stefano di Calcinaia; a monstrous fish devours the princess; the fish is said to be a shark (pesce cane); and v. 8 of the Pentamerone.[490] Cfr. Afanassieff, ii. 24.[491] Cfr. Afanassieff, v. 55, vi. 32.—It is the same fish which, saved by the girl who is persecuted by her step-mother, comes to her assistance, separates the wheat from the barley for her (like the Madonna, the purifying moon-fairy, the nightly cleanser of the sky), and gives splendid robes to her, in vi. 29.—In the story v. 54, instead of the pike as a foecundator we find the bream, which is also called "of the golden fins" (szlatopioravo), of which the colours are the same as those of the pike.[492] In the nineteenth Russian story of Erlenwein, and in a variety of the same in the last book of Afanassieff's stories.—In an unpublished story of the Monferrato, communicated to me by Dr Ferraro, a fisherman catches a large fish which says to him, "Let me go, and you will always be fortunate." The wife of the fisherman opposes this, roasts and eats the fish, from whose bones are born to the fisherman three sons, three horses, and three dogs. Evidently the story has been corrupted.[493] Cfr. Salvianus, Aquatilium Animalium HistoriÆ, RomÆ, 1554.[494] At Berlin, children sing on the first of April—

"April! April! April!
Man kann den Narren schicken wohin man will."

[495] Another custom concerning herrings is described by Baron von Reinsberg, relating to Ash-Wednesday, when people return from church in Limburg: "Begiebt man sich zuerst nach Hause, um nach gewohnter Weise den HÄring abzubeissen. Sobald man nÄmlich aus der Kirche kommt, wird ein HÄring, nun muss jeder mit geschlossenen Beinen, die Arme fest an den Leib gedrÜckt, in die HÖhe springen und dabei suchen, ein StÜck abzubeissen." And Karl Simrock, the work quoted before, p. 561, writes: "In der Mark muss man zu Neujahr Hirse oder HÄringe essen, im Wittenbergischen Heringssalat, so hat man das ganze Jahr Über Geld."[496] Cfr. Salvianus, ut supra. The habit certain fishes have of ejecting froth from the mouth may have suggested a phallical image.[497] Bei Hans Sachs, NÜrnberger, Ausgabe von 1560, ii. 14, 96, Eine Frau und Magd essen den fÜr den Herrn bestimmten Aal; eine Elster schwatzt es aus; ran sich zu rÄchen, rupfen die Weiber ihr den Kopf kahl. Daher man sprichwÖrtlich von einem kahlen MÖnche sagt: der hat gewiss vom Aale ausgeschwatzt; Menzel, Die Vorchristliche Unsterblichkeits-Lehre.[498] In the same: "So erzÄhlt Gilbert bei Leibnitz Script. rer. Brunsw. i. 987. Ein Frauenzimmer, welches Aal gegessen, habe plÖtzlich Alles sehen kÖnnen was unter Wasser war."[499] It is well known that the word ikshvÂkus has been referred to the word ikshus, the sugar-cane. In the fortieth canto of the first book of the RÂmÂya?am, one of the two wives of Sagaras gives birth to a son who continues his race; the other wife gives birth to an ikshvÂkus (gourd or cane) containing 60,000 sons.[500] Cfr, Du Cange, s. v., and Salvianus, the work quoted before.[501] In the thirteenth story of the first book of Afanassieff (of which the Bohemian story of Grandfather Vsievedas is a well-known variety), the whale complains that all the footmen and horsemen pass over it and consume it to the bones. It begs the hero Basilius to ask the serpent how long it has still to undergo this fate; the serpent answers, when it has vomited forth the ten vessels of the rich Mark.—In the eighth story of the fourth book of the Pentamerone, the whale teaches Cianna the way to find the mother of time, requiring her, in recompense, to be informed of the way in which the whale may be able to swim freely to and fro in the sea without encountering rocks and sandbanks. Cianna brings back for answer, that it must make friends with the sea-mouse (lo sorece marino, perhaps the same as the sea-urchin), which will serve as its guide.—In the eighth story of the fifth book of the Pentamerone, the little girl is received in the sea by a large enchanted fish, in whose belly she finds beautiful companions, gardens, and a beautiful palace furnished with everything. The fish carries the girl to the shore.[502] If I am not mistaken, the German words Narr, fool, and nass, wet, are in connection with each other by the same analogy which gives us the Sansk?it mattas, drunk, and the Latin madidus, damp, from the root mad.[503] A superstitious belief quoted by Pliny concerning the cramp-fish merits being recorded here: "Mirum quod de Torpedine invenio, si capta cum Luna in Libra fuerit, triduoque asservetur sub dio, faciles partus facere postea quoties inferatur."[504] s. v. citula, Du Cange writes concerning the fish faber or Zeus: "Idem forte piscis, quem Galli doream vocant ab aureo laterum colore, nostri et Hispani Galli Baionenses jau, id est gallum, a dorsi pinnis surrectis veluti gallorum gallinaceorum cristis." The fish Zeus lives in solitude; hence it appears to me to be the same sacred fish, called anthias, of which Aristotle, in the ninth book of the History of Animals, says that it lives where no other animal is found.[505] We know that lynx's eyes, or lynx-like eyes, mean very sharp-sighted ones; ancient physicians recommended against the stone or the disease of the gravel, now the lyncurium, the stone which was supposed to be made of the urine of the lynxes, given by India to Bacchus, according to Ovid's expression, and now crab's eyes. The moon destroys with its light the stone-sky, the sky of night; hence crab's eyes are recommended against the disease of the stone. When the moon is not in the sky of night, the stone is there.[506] Cfr. the Sansk?it roots, kar, kur, gur, gÛr.[507] i. 1353-1456.[508] SavitÂ vÂi prasavÂnÂmiÇo.—Âit. Br. The story of Cuna?Çepas; he appears evidently as a form of Pra?Âpatis.[509] The Koribantes remind us of the Salii of the Latins, to whom Numa gives the arms and the words, to be sung leaping. According to Ovid's distich—

[510] It is interesting in this connection to find in the translation of Lane a passage from the A?ÁÏb-el-Makhloo?Át (Marvels of Creation), a work of the thirteenth century: "The tortoise is a sea and land animal. As to the sea tortoise it is very enormous, so that the people of the ship imagine it to be an island. One of the merchants relates as follows regarding it: 'We found in the sea an island elevated above the water, having upon it green plants, and we went forth to it, and dug [holes for fire] to cook; whereupon the island moved, and the sailors said, "Come ye to your place, for it is a tortoise, and the heat of the fire hath hurt it, lest it carry you away." By reason of the enormity of its body,' said he [i.e., the narrator above mentioned], 'it was as though it were an island, and earth collected upon its back in the length of time, so that it became like land, and produced plants.'" Evidently here the tortoise occupies the same place as, in popular tradition, the lunar whale recorded by us in the chapter on the Fishes. Cfr. Lane, The Thousand and One Nights, London, 1841, vol. iii. chap. xx. n. 1 and 8, p. 80 seq.—Grein, Bibliothek der angelsÄchsischen Poesie, GÖttingen, 1857, 1, 235, the Celtic legend of St Brandan and the Pseudo-Callisthenes.[511] Cfr. the first story of the fourth book of the Pancatantram, where the king of the frogs invokes the help of a black serpent to avenge himself upon certain frogs who are his enemies, and, instead of this, draws down death upon all the frogs and upon his own son.[512] VÂr in ma??Ûka ichatÎndrayendo pari srava; ?igv. ix. 112.[513] A similar tradition was current concerning the tarantula (stellio). Ceres, being thirsty, wished to drink; the boy Stelles prevented her, and the goddess transformed him into a stellio. According to Ulpianus, from the stellio was derived the crimen stellionatus.[514] Cfr. also Afanassieff, vi. 55; Masha (Mary), the wife of Ivan, at first appears as a goose, afterwards as a frog, a lizard, and a spindle.[515] In the eighth story of the first book of the Pentamerone it is a lacerta cornuta (horned lizard, the moon) which watches over the destiny of the girl Renzolle (the aurora).[516] It was thus that I heard it recited, but it should, as it appears to me, be corrected both in rhyme and sense, and gragna changed into grama, unless gragna is a verb and stands for grandina (hail); in Italy, there is a superstitious belief that the toads are generated of the first large drops of rain which fall into the dust at the beginning of a tempest.[517] A similar superstition is current in Germany, as I find in Rochholtz, the work quoted before, i. 147: "Auch die HauskrÖte, Unke, Muhme genannt, wohnt im Hauskeller und hÄlt durch ihren Einfluss die hier verwahrten Lebensmittel in einem gedeihlichen Zustand. Dadurch kommt Wohlstand ins Haus, und das Thier heisst daher SchatzkrÖte. In Verwechslung mit dem braunschwarzen Kellermolch wird sie auch GmÖhl genannt und soll eben so oft ihre Farbe verÄndern, als der Familie eine VerÄnderung bevorsteht."—The various popular superstitions concerning the salamander are well known,—viz., that it resists the power of fire, that it lives in fire, that it becomes like fire: "immo ad ignem usque elementarem orbi lunari finitimum ascendere" (according to Aldrovandi), and that, devoid of hairs itself, it causes the hairs of others to fall out by means of its saliva, whence Martial, cursing the baldness of a woman's head—

"Hoc salamandra caput, aut sÆva novacula nudet."

Pliny therefore recommends against the poisonous venom which is ascribed to the salamander, the seeds of the hairy and stinging nettle, with broth of a tortoise (which it resembles by its yellow spots). The salamander of popular superstition seems to me to represent the moon which lights itself, which lives by its own fire, which has no rays or hairs of its own, and which makes the rays or hairs of the sun fall.[518] It was narrated to me by a peasant woman who heard it at Cavour in Piedmont:—

A man who is paralytic has three daughters, Catherine, Clorinda, and Margaret; he sets out on a journey to consult a great doctor, and asks his daughters what they wish him to bring them when he returns; Margaret will be content if he bring her a flower. He arrives at his destination, a castle; everything is prepared to receive him, but the doctor is not to be found; he sets out to return home, but on the way he recollects the flower, which he had forgotten; he goes back to the garden of the castle and is about to pluck a daisy (margherita), when a toad warns him that he will die in three days if he does not give it one of his daughters to wife. The father informs his daughters of this, upon which the two eldest refuse; but the youngest, in order to save her father's life, consents. Her father is cured, and the wedding takes place; during the night the toad becomes a beautiful youth, but warns his bride never to tell any one, for if she does, he will always remain a toad, and he gives her a ring by means of which she will obtain whatever she wishes for. The sisters have an inkling of some mystery, and make her confess; the toad falls ill and disappears; she calls him with the ring, but in vain; seeing this, she throws the ring, as useless, into a pond, upon which the beautiful youth steps out, and never becomes a toad again; their happiness together thereafter is unbroken.

In an unpublished Tuscan story, related to me by Uliva Selvi at Antignano near Leghorn, instead of the toad we have a magician of frightful aspect. The father of the three daughters is a sailor; he promises to fetch a shawl to the first, a hat to the second, and a rose to the third. When the voyage is over, he is about to return, but, having forgotten the rose, the ship refuses to move; he is compelled to go back to look for the rose in a garden; a magician hands the rose with a little box to the father to give it to one of his daughters, whom the magician is to marry. At midnight, the father, having returned home, relates to his third daughter all that happened. The little box is opened; it carries off the third daughter to the magician, who happens to be king of Pietraverde, and is now a handsome young man. He shows her, in the palace, three rooms, of which one is red, one white, and another black. They live together happily. Meanwhile, the eldest sister is to be married; the magician conducts his wife into the red room; she wishes to go to the wedding, and the magician consents, but warns her not to say either who he is, or aught she knows of him, if she does not wish to lose him, as to recover him again she would have to wait till she should wear out as many shoes as there are in the world. He gives her a dress which, as she goes, is heard rustling a long way off; and he tells her, if her pin should drop, to let the bride pick it up and keep it; warning her, moreover, not to drink or to eat of anything they may offer her. All this she observes to the letter. The second sister is about to be married; the magician leads his wife into the white room and repeats the same instructions, only, instead of the pin, she is to let her ring of brilliants drop. The father dies; the magician then takes his wife into the black room, the chamber of melancholy. She wishes to go to the funeral, and is permitted, after the usual warnings; the magician, moreover, gives her a ring; if it become black, she will lose him; she forgets the warning and loses him. She wanders about for seven years, and no one can give her any news of the king of Pietraverde; she then disguises herself as a man, and arrives at a city where the king's hostler takes her into his service; no sooner does she touch the carriages than they become clean. The queen passes by and wonders at the personal appearance of the youth; she engages him to work in her kitchen, then to serve at table, and finally to be her valet de chambre. The queen falls in love with him, and wishes to have him at any cost; in vain; she then accuses him of designing to take her life. The king, although unwillingly, has him put in prison; soon he has pity upon him and lets him free. The fictitious youth continues to wander about; he arrives at the city, and asks for news of the king of Pietraverde; they tell her that he has long been dead, and point her to a room where his bier is supported by columns of wax, or candles; he will not awake until the candles are consumed. She goes up and weeps; the king takes three hairs from his beard and recommends her to preserve them carefully. She continues her wanderings, still dressed as a man, and is engaged by other hostlers of a king as assistant. The news of her bravery reach the king, who takes her into his kitchen. The queen sees him and falls in love with him; in vain; she accuses him to the king, who puts her in prison; she is condemned to death, and the guillotine is prepared. While going to execution, she remembers the three hairs, and burns one; an army of warriors appear, sent by the king of Pietraverde; they terrify all the king's people, whom they compel to postpone the execution till next day. The next day she does the same with the same result. The third day she brings out the third hair; the cavalry appear again, commanded this time by the king of Pietraverde in person, dressed so that he shone like a brilliant, that he appeared like a sun; he releases the youth from the execution; the king of Pietraverde has the young girl dressed as a princess; she is tried in a court of justice; her innocence is established; the queen's head is cut off.[519] "Suessanus tradit, quod bufonem quempiam obviam fieri felicissimum augurium fuisse antiquitas existimavit.—Anno 1553, in villa quadam Thuringia ad Unstrum, a muliere bufo caudatus natus est, quemadmodum in libro de prodigiis et ostentis habetur. Nec mirum, quia Coelius Aurelianus et Platearius scribunt mulieres aliquando cum foeto humano bufones et alia animalia hujus generis eniti. Sed hujus monstrosÆ conceptionis causam non assignant. Tradit quidem Platearius illa prÆsidia, quÆ ad provocandos menses commendantur, ducere; etiam bufonem fratrem Salernitanorum quemadmodum aliqui lacertum fratrem Longobardorum nominant. Quoniam mulieres SalernitanÆ potissimum in principio conceptionis succum apii et porrorum potant, ut hoc animal interimant, antequam foetus viviscat. Insuper mulier quÆdam ex Gesnero, recens nupta cum omnium opinione prÆgnans diceretur, quatuor animalia bufonibus similia peperit et optime valuit."—Aldrovandi also reads: "apud Heisterbacensem in historia miraculorum," that some monks found a living toad inside a hen in place of intestines. In the same author, a priest finds an immense toad at the bottom of a jar of wine; whilst he is wondering how such a large toad should have been able to enter by such a small orifice, the toad disappears.[520] Cfr. Targioni Tozzetti, Lezioni di Materia Medica, Florence, 1821.[521] Some extraordinary lizards of which Aldrovandi speaks are of a half sacred and half monstrous nature: "PrÆter illud memorabile, quod Mizaldus recitat accidisse anno Domini 1551, mense Julii in Hungaria prope pagum Zichsum juxta Theisum fluvium nimirum in multorum hominum alvo lacertas naturalibus similes ortas fuisse. Interdum contingit, ut animadvertit Schenchius, lacertam viridem in cÆti magnitudinem excrescere, qualis aliquando LutetiÆ visa est. SÆpe etiam lacertÆ duobus et tribus caudis refertÆ nascuntur, quas vulgus ludentibus favorabiles esse nugatur."[522] In the MahÂbhÂratam, i. 981-1003, it is said that the serpents amphisbhÆnÆ (du??ubhÂs, du??avas, nÂgabh?itas, the same, I think, as the mannuni of Malabar,) being good, must not be killed; an amphisbhÆna relates that it had once been the wise SahasrapÂd (properly of the hundred feet; the amphisbhÆna appears to be a lizard without feet, and with a tail the same size as its head, for which reason the belief arose that it had two heads; it seems to be another personification of the circular year, like the serpent), and that it became a serpent by a curse, because it had once frightened a BrÂhman with a fictitious serpent made of grass; at the sight of the wise Kurus, the amphisbhÆna is released from its malediction.[523] St Augustine, Hom. 36, says of the devil: "Leo et draco est; Leo propter impetum, Draco propter insidias;" in Albania, the devil is called dreikj, and in Romania, dracu.[524] A proverb of the RÂmÂya?am says, that "only a female serpent can distinguish the feet of a male serpent" (v. 38): Ahireva hyahe? pÂdÂu vi?ÂniyÂnna sa?Çaya?). The feet of the serpent, like those of the devil, which is the tail (or the phallos of the male) can be perceived by a female alone; women know where the devil has his tail.[525] Tom. i., "Sunt qui in aquÆ inspectione umbras dÆmonum evocant, et imagiones vel ludificationes ibi videre et ab iis aliqua audire se perhibent."[526] In the seventh book De Civitate Dei, the saint writes: "Ipse Numas ad quem nullus Dei propheta, nullus Sanctus Angelus mittebatur, Hydromantiam facere compulsus est, ut in aqua videret imagines deorum vel potius ludificationes dÆmonum, a quibus audiret, quid in sacris constituere atque observare deberet quod genus divinationis idem Varro a Persis dicit allatum."[527] It also exists in Roumania, where the new solar year is celebrated by the benediction of the waters, as if to exorcise the demons that inhabit them.[528] Codex Reg., 5600 ann. circ. 800, fol. 101, in Du Cange: "Sunt aliqui rustici homines, qui credunt aliquas mulieres, quod vulgum dicitur strias, esse debeant, et ad infantes vel pecora nocere possint, vel dusiolus, vel Aquatiquus, vel geniscus esse debeat." Neptunus, vel aliquis genius, quia quis prÆest designari videtur.[529] The monsters which mount into heaven by magical deceits, killed by Indras, are said to creep like serpents: MÂyÂbhir utsis?ipsata indra dyÂm; ?igv. viii. 14, 14.[530] The name of Arbudas, given to the monster which Indras, the ram (meshas), crushes (for ni-kram seems to me to have this meaning) under his foot while it is lying, is nothing else than a serpent; moreover, he, whose people is the sarpÂs or serpents, is the king of the serpents. To arbud-as I would refer the Latin words rep-ere, rept-are, reptil-is.[531] ApÂd ahasto ap?itanyad indram Âsya va?ram adhi sÂnÂu ?aghana; ?igv. i. 32, 7.—Yo vya?sa? ?ah?ishÂ?ena manyunÂ ya? Çambara? yo ahan piprum avratam; i. 101, 2.—ApÂdam atram mahatÂ vadhena ni duryo?a Âv?i?aÑ m?idhravÂcam; v. 32, 8.[532] Ahann ahim parvate ÇiÇ?iyÂ?am; i. 32, 2.—Ahann enam prathama?Âm ahÎnÂm; i. 32, 3.[533] NÎcÂvayÂ abhavad v?itraputrendro asyÂ ava vadhar ?abhÂra—uttarÂ sÛr adhara? putra ÂsÎd dÂnu? Çaye sahavatsÂ na dhenu?; i. 32, 9. Properly speaking, the verse speaks here of V?itras, and not of Ahis; but the coverer and the constrictor being equivalent, it seems to me that there are not here two beings distinguished, in the same hymn, by two analogous appellations.[534] DÂsapatnÎr ahigopÂ atish?han niruddhÂ Âpa? pa?ineva gÂva?; i. 32, 11.—The reader will remember the discussion concerning the proverb of shutting the stable after the oxen are stolen, in the first chapter of the first book.[535] AvÂdaho diva Â dasyum uccÂ; i. 33, 7.[536] GuhÂhitam guhya? gÛ?ham apsu apÎv?itam mÂyina? kshiyantam uto apo dyÂm tastabhvÂ?sam ahann ahi? Çura vÎrye?a; ii. 11, 5.[537] ÂÇayÂnam ahim va?re?a maghavan vi v?iÇca?; iv. 17, 7.[538] Sapta prati pravata ÂÇayÂnam ahi? va?re?a vi rÎ?Â aparvan; iv. 19, 3.[539] Sasanta? va?re?Âbodhayo 'him; i. 103, 7.[540] Navantam ahi? sa? pi?ag ?i?Îshin; vi. 17, 10.[541] Sa mÂhina indro ar?o apÂm prÂirayad ahihÂchÂ samudram a?anayat sÛrya? vidad gÂh; ii. 19, 3.—S?i?a? sindhÛ?r ahinÂ ?agrasÂnÂn; ?igv. iv. 17, 1.—Ahann ahim anv apas tatarda pra vaksha?Â abhinat parvatÂnÂm; i. 32, 2.[542] Yad indrÂhan prathama?Âm ahÎnÂm Ân mÂyinÂm aminÂh prota mÂyÂ?—Ât sÛrya? ?anayan dyÂm ushÂsa? tÂdÎtnÂ Çatru? na kilÂ vivitse; i. 32, 4.[543] Ahan v?itra? v?itratara? vya?sam indro va?rena mahatÂ vadhena skand?a?sÎva kuliÇenÂ viv?iknÂhi? Çayata upap?ik p?ithivyÂ?; i. 32, 5.—Ud v?iha raksha? sahamÛlam indra vriÇca madhyam praty agra? Ç?inÎhi; iii. 30, 17.[544] ÇayÂnam mano ruhÂnÂ ati yanty Âpa?; i. 32, 8.[545] Anu tvÂ patnÎr h?ishita? vayaÇ ca viÇve devÂso amadann anu tvÂ; i. 103, 7.—AsmÂ id u gnÂÇ cid devapatnÎr indrÂyÂrkam ahihatya Ûvu?; i. 61, 8.[546] Striyo hi dÂsa ÂyudhÂni cakre; ?igv. v. 30, 9.[547] Sa v?itrahendra? k?ish?ayonÎ? pura?daro dÂsÎr Âirayad vi; ii. 20, 7.—V?itras the killer of Piprus, Indras pura?-daras, properly, who wounds the full one, who cleaves the full or the swollen one, and hence who wounds, the city, and Indras the lacerator of the witches with the black wombs are equivalent; cfr. what was said concerning the thunderbolt as a phallos, in the first chapter of the first book, where the cuckoo is spoken of, and in the chapter on the Cuckoo in the second book.—In the hymn, i. 32, 9, Indras also wounds underneath the mother of the monster: Indro asyÂ ava vadhar ?abhÂra.[548] Uto nu cid ya o?asÂ Çush?asyÂ??Âni bhedati ?eshat svarvatÎr apa?; ?igv. viii. 40, 10.—In the hymn i. 54, 10, it is said that the cloud-mountain is found amongst the intestines of the coverer; one might say that the serpent binds the cloud in the form of bowels. The reader will recollect what we observed concerning the intestines, the heart, and the liver, of the sacrificed victim in the first chapter of the first book.[549] In the twentieth story of the fifth book of Afanassieff we find a singular variety, which is of some importance in the history of mythology and language. A princess asks the serpent, her husband, by what his death can be caused. The serpent answers that his death can be brought about by the hero Nikita Kaszemiaka, who, in fact, comes up and kills the serpent by submerging him in the sea. Nikita is called, it is said, Kaszemiaka, because his occupation was that of tearing skins. The torn skins (cfr. here also the Jupiter Aegiocus) take here the place of the duck's egg broken upon the serpent, and of the eggs of the monster broken by Indras. In Italian, coccio, means a piece of a broken vase, and also, in botany, the skin of a seed; incocciarsi signifies to be angry. In Piedmont, it is said of one who annoys people, that he breaks the boxes, and, more vulgarly, that he breaks the testicles.[550] Hira?yakeÇo 'hi?; ?igv. i. 79, 1.[551] Vi Ç?iÑgi?am abhinac chush?am indra?; i. 33, 12.[552] AhiÇushmasattvÂ; v. 33, 5.[553] Ahimanyava?; i. 64, 9.[554] CakrÂ?Âsa? parÎ?aham p?ithivyÂ hira?yena ma?inÂ ÇumbhamÂnÂ?; i. 33, 8.[555] vi. 1, 1.[556] The passage cited before.[557] i. 3, 22.—In Russian stories, we frequently find the incident of a serpent, or witch, who endeavours to file, or pierce through, with her tongue the iron doors which enclose the forge in which the pursued hero has taken refuge; he, from within, helped by divine blacksmiths, draws the witch's tongue in with red-hot pincers and causes her death; he then opens the gates of the forge, which represents now the red sky of evening, now the red sky of morning.[558] i. 792, et seq.—Cfr. also the second Esthonian tale, where the young hero, in the kingdom of the serpents, drinks milk in the cup of the king of the serpents himself.[559] Mbh. i. 5008, et seq.[560] i. 1283-1295.[561] v. 4, 23.[562] Cfr. RÂmÂya?am, i. 46, and MahÂbhÂratam, i. 1053, 1150.—In the RÂmÂya?am (vi. 26), the arrows of the monsters are said to bind like serpents; the bird Garu?as appears and the serpents untie themselves, the fetters are loosed; RÂmas and Lakshma?as, supposed to be dead, rise again stronger than before.[563] As we have seen that mandaras is equivalent to mantharas, a name of the tortoise which, according to the cosmogonic legend, sustains the weight of the mountain, or enormous stick which produces the mountain, so Anantas, in another Hindoo legend (cfr. Mbh. i. 1587-1588) sustains the weight of the world.—The rod of pearls which when placed in fat enables the young prince to obtain whatever he wishes for, seems to have the same originally phallical meaning as the mandaras; it is the king of the serpents who presents it to the young prince. The fat may, in the mythical sky, be the milk of the morning dawn, or the rain of the cloud, or the snee, or the dew; as soon as the thunderbolt touches the fat of the clouds, or of the snee, or as soon as the sunbeam touches the milk of the dawn, the sun, riches, and fortune come forth.[564] The coitus is also called a game of serpents in the Tuti-Name. Preller and Kuhn have already proved the phallical signification of the caduceus (tripetÊlon) of HermÊs, represented now with two wings, now with two serpents. The phallical serpent is the cause of the fall of the first man.[565] VinatÂ is also the name of a disease of women; and, as far as we can judge from the passage of the MahÂbhÂratam (iii. 14,480), which refers to it, it is the malignant genius who destroys the foetus in the womb of the pregnant mother. He is defined as ÇakunigrÂhÎ, properly the seizer of the bird. KaÇyapas, the universal phallos, the Pra?Âpatis, certainly unites himself to VinatÂ in the form of a phallos-bird, as to KadrÛ in that of a phallos-serpent.[566] vi. 37-38, 46.[567] Cfr. for this subject the first and second chapters of the first book.[568] i. 949, 974.[569] i. 1671, 1980, et seq.[570] iv. 16.[571] RÂmÂy. vii. 104, 105.[572] Cfr. concerning this subject in particular, the first chapter of the first book, the chapter on the Wolf and that on the Frog.[573] iii. 8.[574] Cfr. the discussion concerning the gandharvÂs in the chapter on the Ass.[575] RÂmÂy. vi. 82.—This nymph becomes grÂhÎ, because she had once struck a holy BrÂhman with her chariot. The same reason is assigned for the malediction which falls upon King Nahushas, who became an enormous serpent; this serpent squeezed the hero BhÎmas in its mortal coils; his brother, Yudhish?hiras, runs up, and answers in a highly satisfactory manner to the abstruse philosophical questions addressed to him by the serpent, which then releases BhÎmas, casts off its skin, and ascends in the form of Nahushas to heaven; Mbh. iii. 12, 356, et seq.[576] RÂmÂy. iii. 8.[577] iii. 2609, et seq.[578] TriÇÎrshÂ iva nÂgapotÂs; 12, 744.[579] Cfr. Papi, Lettere sulle Indie Orientali, Lucca, 1829; it is the cobra de capello of the Portuguese.[580] Cfr. Simrock Deutsche Mythologie, pp. 478, 513, 514, and Rochholtz Deutscher Glaube und Brauch, i. 146.[581] Cfr. again the legend of Adam and Eve, of the tree and the serpent, and the original sin. In the mediÆval comedy La Sibila del Oriente, Adam when dying says to his son, "Mira en cima de mi sepulcro, que un arbol nace." In Russian stories the young hero will be fortunate, now because he watched at his father's tomb, now because he defended the paternal cypress from the demon who wished to carry it off. In the legend of the wood of the cross, according to a sermon of Hermann von Fristlar (cfr. Mussafia, Sulla Leggenda del legno della Croce), the tree upon the wood of which, made into a cross, Christ died, is said to have been a cypress. The same mediÆval legend describes the terrestrial paradise whence Adam was expelled, and where Seth repairs to obtain for Adam the oil of pity. The tree rises up to heaven, and its root goes down to hell, where Seth sees the soul of his brother Abel. On the summit there is a child, the Son of God, the promised oil. The angel gives to Seth three grains which he is to put into Adam's mouth; three sprouts spring up which remain an arm's-length in height till the time of Moses, who converts them into miraculous rods, and replants them before his death; David finds them again, and performs miracles with them. The three sprouts become one plant which grows proudly into a tree. Solomon wishes to build the temple with this wood; the workmen cannot make use of it; he then has it carried into the temple; a sybil tries to sit upon it, and her clothes take fire; she cries out, "Jesus, God and my Lord," and prophesies that the Son of God will be hanged upon that wood. She is condemned to death, and the wood thrown into a fish-pond, which acquires thaumaturgic virtue; the wood comes out and they wish to make a bridge of it; the Queen of the East, Saba, refuses to pass over it, having a presentiment that Jesus will die upon that wood. Abia has the wood buried, and a fish-pond appears over it.—Now, this is what an author, unsuspected of heresy, writes concerning the symbol of the serpent (Martigny, Dictionnaire des AntiquitÉs ChrÉtiennes): "Les ophites, suivant en cela les nicolaites et les premiers gnostiques, rendirent au serpent lui-mÊme un culte direct d'adoration, et les manichÉens le mirent aussi À la place de JÉsus Christ (S. Augustin. De Hoeres. cap. xvii. et xlvi.) Et nous devons regarder comme extrÊmement probable que les talismans et les amulettes avec la figure du serpent qui sont arrivÉs jusqu' À nous, proviennent des hÉrÉtiques de la race de Basilide, et non pas des paÏens, comme on le suppose communÉment." To the continuers of the admirable studies of Strauss and Renan will be reserved the office of seeking the sense hidden in this myth, made poetical by the evangelical morals. When we shall be able to bring into Semitic studies the same liberty of scientific criticism which is conceded to Âryan studies, we shall have a Semitic mythology; for the present, faith, a natural sense of repugnance to abandon the beloved superstitions of our credulous childhood, and more than all, a less honourable sentiment of terror for the opinion of the world, have restrained men of study from examining Jewish history and tradition with entire impartiality and severity of judgment. We do not wish to appear Voltairians, and we prefer to shut our eyes not to see, and our ears not to hear what history, studied critically and positively, presents to us less agreeable to our pride as men, and to our vanity as Christians.[582] Cfr. YaÇna, ix. 25-27; cfr. also Prof. Spiegel's introduction to the Khorda Avesta, pp. 59, 60.[583] Cfr. the chapter concerning the Fishes and that on the Tortoise.[584] Cfr. Prof. Spiegel's introduction to the Khorda-Avesta, p. 60.[585] xxxviii. 36.[586] A variety of the Hindoo legend of the hawk (Indras), of the dove (Agnis), and of King Çivis, who, to save the dove from the hawk, his guest, gives some of his own flesh to the hawk to eat. Here the serpent is identified with the hawk or eagle; in the Mongol story, however, the dragon is grateful to the man who delivered him from the bird Garu?as; the king of the dragons keeps guard over the white pearls, arrives upon a white horse, dressed in white (probably the snow of winter, or the moon); the king of the dragons rewards the hero by giving him a red bitch, some fat, and a string of pearls.—In the sixth story of the Pancatantram, we have the serpent and the crow, one at the foot of a tree, the other on the summit; the serpent eats the crow's eggs, and the crow avenges itself by stealing a golden necklace from the queen and throwing it into the snake's hole; the men go to seek the necklace, find the serpent and kill it.[587] We have seen in the chapter on the Ant how the ants make serpents come out of their holes; in Bavaria, according to Baron Reinsberg von DÜringsfeld, the work quoted before, p. 259, an asp (natter) taken in August must be shut well up in a vase in order that it may die of heat and of hunger; then it is placed upon an ants' nest, that the ants may eat all its flesh; of what remains, a sort of paternoster is made, which is supposed to be very useful against all kinds of eruptions upon the head.[588] Cfr. the interminable riches of the uhlan-serpent in the story vi. 11, of Afanassieff.[589] Here we have a serpent which expels and ruins another. In a similar manner, before the times of San Carlo Borromeo, a bronze serpent, which had been carried from Constantinople by the Archbishop Arnolfo in the year 1001, was revered in the basilica of St Ambrose at Milan; some said that it was the serpent of Æsculapius, others that of Moses, others that it was an image of Christ; for us it is enough to remark here that it was a mythical serpent, before which Milanese mothers brought their children when they suffered from worms, in order to relieve them, as we learn from the depositions of the visit of San Carlo to this basilica: "Est quÆdam superstitio de ibi mulierum pro infantibus morbo verminum laborantibus." San Carlo put down this superstition.[590] These marvels are always three, as the apples are three, the beautiful girls three, the enchanted palaces in the kingdom of the serpents which they inhabit three (cfr. Afanassieff, i. 5). The heads of the dragon are in this story and generally three, but sometimes also five, six (cfr. Afanassieff, v. 28), seven (cfr. Pentamerone, i. 7, and Afanassieff, ii. 27; the serpent of the seven heads emits foul exhalations), nine (iii. 2, v. 24), or twelve (cfr. Afanassieff, ii. 30).—In the twenty-first story of the second book of Afanassieff, first the serpent with three heads appears, then that with six, then that with nine heads which throw out water and threaten to inundate the kingdom. Ivan Tzarevic exterminates them. In the twenty-second story of the same book the serpent of the Black Sea, with wings of fire, flies into the Tzar's garden and carries off the three daughters; the first is obtained and shut up by the five-headed serpent, the second by the seven-headed one, and the third by the serpent with twelve heads; the young hero Frolka Sidien kills the three serpents and liberates the three daughters.[591] Cfr. also, for the legend of the blind woman, the first chapter of the first book.[592] When the mythical serpent refers to the year, the hours correspond to the months, and the months during which the mythical serpent sleeps seem to be those of summer, in contradiction to what is observed in nature.[593] In the fifth story of the second book of the Pentamerone, a serpent has itself adopted, as their son, by a man and woman who have no children, and then asks for the king's daughter to wife; the king, who thinks to turn the serpent into ridicule, answers that he will consent when the serpent has made all the fruit-trees of the royal garden become golden, the soil of the same garden turn into precious stones, and his whole palace into a pile of gold. The serpent sows kernels of fruits and egg-shells in the garden; from the first, the required trees spring up; from the second, the pavement of precious stones; he then anoints the palace with a certain herb, and it turns to gold. The serpent comes to take his wife in a golden chariot, drawn by four golden elephants, lays aside his serpent's disguise, and becomes a handsome youth.[594] Cfr. Mone, Anzeig. iii. 88.[595] Cfr. on this subject the stories recorded in the first and second chapters of the first book.[596] Origines, xiv. 4.[597] Cfr. the same, Afanassieff, vi. 10, where the cunning workman, in reward for having vanquished the little devil in whistling, and for having made it believe that he could throw a stick upon the clouds, obtains the money which can remain in a hat which never fills.

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