By ADLEY H. CUMMINGS.

The mythology of various tribes and races has of late attracted much attention, while that of our own ancestors of the North has been studied with the greatest care.

Little attention, however, has been devoted to the religious belief of the ancient Slavonic race, and yet it is replete with interest for all who yield to the fascination of ancient myth.

We unfortunately possess no Slavic Edda, or Veda, to throw illumination upon the ancient creed of the tribes, but a few scattered facts have come down to modern times—principally contained in popular songs—but sufficient to enable us to observe the similarity between Slavonic mythology and that of the other members of the Indo-European stock—all pointing to that immensely ancient time when the ancestors of the combined race could have been gathered within the circuit of the same camp; when they passed the same lives and worshiped the same divinities; wept when the “serpents of the night” strangled the god appointed to preside over the day, and rejoiced together with an exceeding great joy when the day-god, victorious over his foes, gilded the hills again.

In Slavonic tradition Swarog is represented as the most ancient of their gods, as the one who was originally—before Perkunas—the supreme deity of those tribes, corresponding to Sanskrit Surya, like Helios in Greece, the dweller in the orb of the sun. Swarog was the pervading, irresistible luminary, the solar deity, par excellence, of the race, and vague recollections of him still exist. In some places Swarog seems to have yielded to another solar deity, Dazhbog, the god of fruitfulness, represented as the son of Swarog.

The etymological signification of Dazhbog is the “day-god.” With him, as a representative of the sun, was a god named Khors—probably, however, but another name of the day-god.

Ogon, answering closely to Sanskrit Agni, Latin, ignis (fire), was the god of fire, brother of Dazhbog; his worship was principally connected with the domestic hearth.

But the deity who stands out most prominently, who became the supreme divinity of the race, though corresponding to the Scandinavian Thor, was Perkunas, or Perun, whose name, yielding to certain laws of phonetic change, may correspond to Greek Keraunos (thunder), but more closely to Sanskrit Parjanya, called in the Rig-Veda, “The thunderer, the showerer, the bountiful, who impregnates the plants with rain.” This god was forgotten by the Hellenic Aryans, who exalted Dyaus (Zeus, Jove) to the supreme position, but the Letto-Slavonic tribes bestowed upon him the endearing appellation of the “All-Father,” a title which they only conferred upon the creator of the lightnings. It is said that the Russians still say, when the thunder rolls, “Perkuna gromena;” in Lithuanian, “Perkuns grumena.”

The South-Slavic term for the rainbow is “Perunika,” “Perun’s flower,” or “beauty.”

“White-Russian traditions,” says Afanasief,[C] “describe Perun as tall and well shaped, with black hair and a long golden beard. He rides in a flaming car, grasping in his left hand a quiver full of arrows, and in his right a fiery bow.”

He is also represented as carrying a mace, answering to Thor’s hammer, mjolnir.

After the introduction of Christianity the prophet Elijah became credited with many of the honors and functions of Perkunas. He was termed, “Gromovit Ilija” (Thunder Elijah), and the origin of the notion, and the strange metamorphosis of that sweet spirit into a Boanerges, undoubtedly lie in his flight to heaven in a chariot of fire, and in his power, when on earth, of calling down fire from heaven, and of bringing the rain. Thus, II. Kings, i:10, he says, “If I be a man of God, then shall fire come down from heaven and consume thee and thy fifty.” Again, Kings, i., 18:41, “And Elijah said unto Ahab: Get thee up; eat and drink, for there is a sound of abundance of rain.”

The Slavs considered that the thunder and lightning were given into the prophet’s hands, and that he closed the gates of heaven, i. e., the clouds, to sinful men, who thus might not share in his blessed reign. There is evidence of the same belief among the Teutonic tribes, and in the old High-German poem, “Muspilli,” a form of that saga which prevailed throughout all the middle ages with regard to the appearance of anti-Christ shortly before the end of the world. Elijah takes the place which Thor assumes in Scandinavian myth at Ragnarok, and fights the evil one:

The poem then proceeds to say that Elijah shall be wounded, and recounts the many signs and wonders that shall occur before the Muspell-doom, the Judgment Day.

Volos, or Veles, was another solar deity. It has been held that the Greek Helios appears in this name, while others have identified him with Odin, or Woden, pronounced with an epenthetic l, and with other changes, but the etymology seems far-fetched.

He was the special protector of cattle. The name survives to Christian times in St. Blasius. Mr. Ralston says: “In Christian times the honors originally paid to Volos were transferred to his namesake, St. Vlas, or Vlasy (Blasius), who was a shepherd by profession. To him the peasants throughout Russia pray for the safety of their flocks and herds, and on the day consecrated to him (February 11) they drive their cows to church, and have them secured against misfortune by prayer and the sprinkling of holy water.... Afanasief considers that the name was originally one of the epithets of Perun, who, as the cloud-compeller—the clouds being the cattle of the sky—was the guardian of the heavenly herds, and that the epithet ultimately became regarded as the name of a distinct deity.”

By the names of Volus and Perun the Russians used to swear and confirm their sayings and treaties by oath.

Stribog was the wind-god. According to Russian ideas the four winds are the sons of one mother, and in the Old-Russian Igor song the wind is addressed as Sir. These winds are called Stribog’s grandsons. So in India, the winds are regarded as sentient beings; thus in the NalopÁkhyÁnam:

Byelbog and Chernobog, the representatives of light and darkness, are of antagonistic nature—the warring principles of good and evil. Byelbog is the white, shining god, the bringer of the day, the benignant Phoebus, while Chernobog, a black god, belongs to the diabolical order.

The goddess of spring and love was Lada—corresponding closely to Freya in the Scandinavian traditions. Lovers and the newly married addressed their prayers to her, praising her name in songs. Lado, the Slavonic counterpart of Norse Freyr, has many of the same attributes as the goddess Lada, to whom the same adoration and praise were offered. Mr. Ralston says that “one Lithuanian song distinctly couples the name Lado with that of the sun. A shepherd sings, ‘I fear thee not O wolf! The god with the sunny curls will not let thee approach. Lado, O Sun-Lado!’ In one of the old chronicles Lado is mentioned as the god of marriage, of mirth, of pleasure, and of general happiness, to whom those about to marry offered sacrifices in order to secure a fortunate union.”

KupÀlo was the god of harvests, and before the harvest—on the 23d of June—sacrifices were offered to him. Young people lighted fires and danced around them in the evening, adorned with garlands of flowers, singing harvest ditties to the god. This custom still survives in the fires kindled on St. John’s eve, through which sometimes the people jump and drive their cattle. The Poles and other Slavonians, especially in remote districts, keep up many of their ancient heathen rites.

The 24th of December was sacred to the goddess Kolyada, a solar deity, to whom songs were sung in celebration of the renewed life of the sun after the winter solstice “when the gloom of the long winter nights begins to give way to the lengthening day.” This festival became blended with the Christmas celebration upon the advent of Christianity, and songs are still to be heard at that time containing the name of the goddess, as

These ditties are called Kolyadki.

Inferior deities were believed in and many supernatural beings were supposed to haunt the woods and waters. The Russalkas, which are naiads, though no more seen, are still believed in, and are of a nature similar to the elves and fairies of western nations. “They are generally represented under the form of beauteous maidens, with full and snow-white bosoms, and with long and slender limbs. Their feet are small, their eyes are wild, their faces are fair to see, but their complexion is pale, their expression anxious. Their hair is long and thick and wavy, and green as is the grass.” The Russians are very superstitious in regard to them, fearing to offend them, while the maidens go into the woods and throw garlands to them, asking for rich husbands in return.

Then there are Mavkas, or Little-Russian fairies and water-nymphs, wood demons, house spirits and numerous other minor spirits and powers which teem in the folk songs of the peasants.

Among the eastern Slavs there seem to have been no temples or priests, while the contrary was true of the west. They burned their dead and greatly reverenced the spirits of the departed, in whose honor festivals were held.

A form of Sutteeism undoubtedly prevailed, widows destroying themselves in order to accompany their husbands to the spirit land, while slaves were sometimes sacrificed upon the same occasions—a practice common to most barbarous states of society.

Upon a general view of ancient Slavonic mythology we observe the same characteristics as among all the other Indo-European tribes—the same nature-worship and inclination to personify the powers of the air and sky; to worship the beneficent sun, which brings to man prosperity, light and happiness; to execrate the night, the enemy of the bright, the beautiful god of day. Men in the childhood of the human race were as simple as children ever have been. The same characteristics mark them. When the mother leaves her child for a moment, the babe with piteous cries calls on her to return. Why is this so? Because in the mind of the child there is no connecting link between the ideas of her going and returning; in other words, the child cannot reason enough to consider it possible—not to say probable, certain—that she will return.

Thus in the simple pastoral days of extreme antiquity, when the glorious sun, the light of men’s eyes, the joy of their hearts, sank below the horizon, the idea of its return failed to suggest itself to their minds. Each sun-setting was a grief, each rising of the blessed orb a joy unspeakable.

And thus upon the plains of Iran, in the flowery meads of Asia Minor and on the Russian steppes, when man beheld the sun, his joy appeared, he fell on his face and thanked the regent of the sky for his light again.

Had the earth been nearer to the sun the face of Comparative Mythology had been changed; the sun-myth would have had to seek a different origin and home, and the history of that greatest of all studies—the study of man—would have had a different course.

It is sincerely to be hoped that the future of the Slavonic tribes may be such as God and nature have intended for them, and that their name may be changed again from slaves to Slavs—“men of glory”—is the aspiration of all who have hopes for the race; in short, of all who wish well to our common humanity.