and interpreters. All that they contain of original, amounts merely to the following addition, viz. :— "On this occasion, the person or animal was placed among the stars." Here and there a conceit is introduced, as when a later poet says, that the Bear never goes down, because Hera, the Ocean-goddess, vowed never to receive her rival Callisto. Sometimes, too, a name is altered; but this, I think, is more likely to have been the result of carelessness and frequent repetition, than of design; thus, the legend of the Greater is transferred to the Lesser Bear, and the name of the metamorphosed nymph is straightway changed from Callisto to Phonice.1 Or a turn is even given to some indifferent circumstance in the original mythus, so as to make room for an astronomical allusion; thus, Euphorion2 fabled, and perhaps he was the first to do so, that Artemis killed Orion, by means of a Scorpion, with obvious reference to the fact, that Orion goes down when the Scorpion appears in the heavens. Here it is impossible not to see, that we are indebted to the astronomical learning of the poet for the addition of the destroying animal. In like manner, there are to be found in this class of fables, various other distinct references and collateral allusions to the rising and setting of stars, which, however, do not necessarily require even a modification of the fable, but could be developed by merely a skilful selection and arrangement of mythi, as in the case of the Centaur and the Horse. On the other hand, although I have carefully examined Hyginus, the so-called Eratos

1 Eratosth., 2.

2 According to the Schol. Ven. Il. xviii. 486.

thenes, and the scholia to Germanicus, I, at least, have not discovered a single fable invented for the express purpose of illustrating the form and position of

a constellation. Even where a more ancient and direct notice was wanting, it seemed to me that I could, invariably, from the tenor of the narrative itself, detect its derivative character. But this, indeed, cannot be pointed out in particular cases, without the circumstantial treatment of a mass of local traditions.

CHAPTER X.

How to separate the Mythus from the Modifications of Poets and Prose-Writers.

AFTER these considerations on the Idea and the Sources of the Greek Mythus, as well as the Manner of its Origin and its Age, we shall now try to point out the way in which we may be enabled to decipher it with some degree of certainty. The author will neither conceal from himself nor others, that even after the establishment of many preliminary points, the path is still dubious, every step attended with difficulties; and if complete and general satisfaction be attainable, it is at best but a distant goal. In that which is to us the source of the mythus, the additions of poets and other authors must be separated from the genuine tradition; but the mythus is of an essentially changeable

L

and fluctuating character. Even at its birth, it contains elements which are to us heterogeneous; one and the same object, also, is often, from the outset, treated variously in mythi: so that a learned author1 speaks with good reason of "the luxuriant richness and charming variety of the materials," against which the greatest order and regularity, in the treatment, must be brought to bear.

2

"But," some one might object, "will the anticipated profit compensate for all this labour and trouble; and can we find no better employment than the interpretation of mythi?" I think, that the more difficult the task, (which required, according to Plato, even in his day, a man of great zeal and industry, and without any sanguine hope of good fortune,) and the less clear gain it promises, the more ought we to thank those who undertake it: for mythology must, at any rate, be subjected to philosophical treatment; and whoever wishes to obtain a vivid knowledge of Hellenic antiquity, must desire such a treatment. We know, too, that mythi, as the ground-work of poetry and art, were, for centuries, the favourite occupation of the Grecian people; and how were it possible, without a knowledge of these mythi, and their origin, to form an idea of the state of intellectual life at that period? The internal, as well as the external history of the Greeks, is cut away by the roots, if we reject the mythus as of no avail to the science, or, perhaps, substitute for this only genuine source, mere arbitrary suppositions and chimeras. If any one

has, in addition to this,-what is, indeed, of rare oc

Welcker, Appendix to Schwenk, p. 338.

2 Phæd., p. 229.

currence in our days,-a susceptibility for the manifold expression of religious feelings, he will be attracted, in a particular manner, by antiquity, and, most of all, by the mythus.

Now, what, I would ask, do we chiefly require from history? To see men act and think just as we act and think, and to regard with self-complacency our own elevation in the scale of improvement? Turn, then, your attention rather to actual life, and observe what is now going on in cabinets and salons. But history ought to raise us above such narrow views, and teach us to place humanity, in general, above an insulated epoch. We should also learn to understand in its real nature what is at variance with our notions. In my opinion, an acquaintance with antiquity tends to exalt and humanize the mind, for no reason more than this,-that it places before us a novel aspect of humanity, in all the breadth, energy, and completeness of its existence. And does not mythology, of all branches of ancient knowledge, carry us away furthest from the sphere of the present into laboratories of ideas and forms whose entire plan and construction are still an historical problem?

I daresay that many others, who have earnestly devoted themselves to mythology, and experienced the manifold attractions of this study, will feel inclined to pronounce on it a still higher eulogium. I must apply myself to the subject which now demands our attention. Our aim is, to obtain a right knowledge of the mythus; in other words, we wish to learn what internal or external activity, what thoughts or actions, are by means of it conveyed to

ns.

We already know that it usually attained, only by slow degrees, the form in which we have received it; but, on the other hand, in order to arrive at a complete understanding, we desire to ascertain its first and original form. But how can this be done? We can begin nowhere, but with the transmitters of mythi, the authors who relate them. The first step in the process must therefore be, to separate what they added, whether it might be poetical embellishment, pragmatic connexion, or philosophical interpretation. Now, what is to be regarded as such can only be determined, with any degree of accuracy, by an acquaintance with the different authors, and their mode of proceeding, of which the third chapter merely furnished the first outlines. I shall here add a few remarks on the method of handling mythi, observed by poets and historical writers, in general.

From Homer1 downwards, the psychological springs of events were left entirely under the control of the POETS. Tradition was silent as to what Agamemnon and Achilles thought: it was enough that it spoke of the wrath of the princes, and the destruction thereby brought upon the Greeks. Hence, the motives assigned were different in different authors; and the lyric, as well as the tragic poet, was left entirely to his own discretion. Eschylus, in his Prometheus, took from Hesiod merely the external facts,-the fire-theft, the chaining to the rock, the deliverance by Hercules, &c. For the motives of the actors, and, therefore, the internal import of the action, he drew entirely on his own invention. Accordingly, when 1 Comp. above, p. 24.