CHAPTER VII.

DEATH AND BIRTH AS TRANSFORMATION.

{182}

In the course of our examination of tales of Supernatural Birth we

have more than once found that birth was to the hero merely a new

manifestation. He had previously existed in other shapes, and by

undergoing birth (preceded sometimes, but not always, by death) he was

entering on a new career, he was ascending a new stage of being. The

child in the Annamite story of Posthumous Revenge had been an eel,

with liberty of metamorphosis into other forms. Marjatta’s child in

the half-heathen postscript to the _Kalevala_ had been the creator of

the sun and moon. Yehl, the Thlinkit hero-god, repeatedly became the

son of ladies, who were beguiled into swallowing a pebble, a blade of

grass, or even a drop of water, which was no other than the divinity

in disguise. The subject, however, is so important, not merely in the

general study of savage ideas, but in relation to the myth of Perseus,

especially in its modern forms, that it is necessary to deal with it a

little more at length.

The oldest known story wherein transformation of this kind forms an

incident is that of _The Two Brothers_. The manuscript now in the

British Museum was written by the scribe Enna, or Ennana, and belonged

to the Egyptian {183} monarch Seti II., of the nineteenth dynasty,

before he came to the throne. We have the story, therefore, in the

shape it bore about the earlier half of the thirteenth century before

Christ. It is a long one, and I have only space for a very meagre

abstract. There were, thus it runs, two brothers, Anpu and Bata, of

whom Anpu, the elder, was married, and Bata served him. Anpu’s wife

fell in love with the younger brother, and tempted him as Potiphar’s

wife tempted Joseph, and with a similar result. The elder brother,

when his wife denounced Bata to him, became like a panther with rage,

and lay in wait behind the stable-door to slay his brother when he

returned from the field. The oxen, however, warn the youth, who flees

and invokes the Sun-god Horus to judge between himself and his

brother. With the god’s assistance he escapes; and Chnum, at Horus’

request, makes a wife for him, that he may not dwell alone. His

happiness, however, is not lasting. The sea carries one of the woman’s

fragrant locks to Egypt, where it is taken to the king, who sends to

seek its owner, and makes her his favourite. Now Bata kept his heart

in the top of the flower of the Cedar. This was known to the woman;

and by her advice the king sent and cut down the Cedar. The flower

fell to the ground, and Bata’s heart with it; and he died. When he

escaped from his brother, Bata had found means to convince him of his

innocence, and had given him a sign, saying that when Anpu should take

a jug of beer in his hand and it should turn into froth, then he

should know that Bata was dead, and he should come and look for him.

Anpu, warned in this way of his brother’s death, sought and found him;

and after a long search he discovered his heart lying beneath the

Cedar. He picked it up and put it into a cup of cold {184} water. Bata

thereupon revived, and having drunk up the water and his heart with

it, he became as he had been before. The next day he assumed the form

of a great bull with all the sacred marks, which his brother brought

and gave to the king. In this form Bata found means to make himself

known to his wife. She for her part was by no means pleased to see

him; and having wheedled an oath out of the king that he would grant

her whatsoever she asked, she demanded the bull’s liver. As he was

being slain two drops of his blood fell upon the king’s door-posts,

and forthwith grew up two mighty persea-trees. One of these trees

spoke to the Favourite, accusing her of her crimes, and declaring: “I

am Bata, I am living still, I have transformed myself.” She caused the

trees to be cut down; but while she stood by to watch, a splinter flew

off, and, entering her mouth, rendered her pregnant. In due time she

gave birth to a son, who became prince, and upon the king’s death

succeeded to the throne. Then he summoned the nobles and councillors;

his wife was brought to him, and he had a reckoning with her.[184.1]

There are many points of exceeding interest in this, one of the oldest

fairy-tales on record. For us, however, they centre on Bata’s

transformations. He changes first into a sacred bull without

undergoing death. He is then slain; and from his blood spring up two

persea-trees. These are cut down; and his final metamorphosis is, by

the medium of birth, once more into a human being; for there can be no

doubt that the child born of the king’s Favourite is regarded as Bata

himself. A modern Transylvanian _märchen_ unfolds a similar series of

adventures; though {185} it is wanting in the consummate irony of the

Egyptian tale, which makes the lady become pregnant of her foe and

give him at last the life to avenge himself of her villainies. A king

overhears two maidens boasting of what they would do, the one, if she

were married to him, the other, if she were his cook. He marries the

former, and makes the other his cook. But the latter is jealous; and

when the queen bears twins, a boy and a girl with golden hair, she

contrives to bury them in the dung-heap, and impose upon the king and

court with a cat and dog, which she alleges to be the queen’s

offspring. The king therefore buries his queen alive, and marries the

cook. Out of the dung-heap grew two golden fir-trees, in whose beauty

the king took great pleasure. His new wife, on the contrary, is

uneasy, and declares she cannot rest unless on boards made from those

very trees. The king reluctantly has them cut down; and now she would

be happy, but that in the night she hears the boards beneath the royal

bed conversing as brother and sister. Accordingly the next day she

causes them to be burnt in the oven; but two sparks fall among some

barley, which is given to an ewe. The ewe drops two lambs with golden

fleeces. As soon as she sees them, the queen falls sick and craves for

their hearts to eat. Once more compliant, her husband allows them to

be killed. Their hearts are roasted for the queen; their entrails are

thrown into the river. Two pieces are carried by the water and thrown

on a distant shore, where the two children with golden hair reappear

from them, and so charm the sun with their beauty that he stands to

watch them and goes not down for seven whole days. God, wondering why

the night so long delayed, went to inquire of the sun, and was shown

the twins. By His means they were restored to their father, {186} the

wicked queen was punished, and their mother brought back to

life.[186.1]

M. Cosquin, commenting on the Egyptian tale, has brought together a

number of analogues, chiefly European. I proceed to notice some of

these, and a few others containing a similar chain of incidents. In a

Roumanian story which follows the main lines of the Transylvanian, an

emperor’s son weds the youngest of three daughters. The heroine’s

foes, however, are not her sisters, but her husband’s stepmother and

_her_ daughter. As she had foredoomed, she bears twin sons with golden

hair and a golden star on the forehead. By his stepmother’s treachery

her husband is induced to believe that she has given birth to two

puppies; and he orders her to be buried in the earth to the breast,

that the world might know what was her punishment who would betray the

emperor’s son. Then he married his stepsister. The twins had been

interred beneath the emperor’s window; and out of their grave grew two

fair aspen-trees. In three days they had attained the stature of three

years, and the emperor took great pleasure in them. Long did his wife

beg for permission to cut them down ere he yielded; but, after all,

emperors are but men. So cut down they were, and made by his command,

the one into a bedstead for himself and the other for the empress. But

the bedsteads talked, as in the Transylvanian tale, and the empress

overheard them. The next day she caused them to be burnt, and their

ashes thrown {187} to the winds. When the fire was hottest there flew

out two sparks and fell into the deep water that flowed through the

realm. There they became two fish with golden scales. They were caught

by the imperial fishermen, and then changed back into their original

form of twin boys with golden hair and golden stars. When they had

grown up they made their way to the palace and told their tale, to the

confusion and condemnation of their enemies, and the restoration of

their mother to her rightful place.[187.1] According to a Sicilian

variant, the heroine, married against the will of the queen, her

mother-in-law, bears thirteen children, twelve sons and a daughter.

They are thrown into the garden, where they grow up as twelve

orange-trees and a lemon-tree. A goat eats them and bears the children

anew.[187.2] In a Bengalee tale the heroine kindly relieves her

fellow-wife by accidentally tumbling into a well. A rishi explains to

her husband that she was not of royal blood, but had been born a rat,

and changed by him at her own wish into a cat, then into a dog, a

boar, an elephant and a beautiful girl, successively. He directs the

well to be filled up, and causes a poppy-tree to grow up out of her

flesh and bones; and that is the origin of opium.[187.3]

A German tale belonging to an entirely different cycle approaches the

Egyptian _märchen_ in representing the transformations as incidents

of a contest between a man and a woman, wherein the man is ultimately

victorious. The hero, having disenchanted a king and all his court,

obtains a magical sword and becomes the champion of the unspelled

monarch against an aggressive neighbour. The {188} latter has a clever

daughter, who entraps the champion by her wiles and makes off with his

sword. This results in his total defeat and capture by her father, who

all-to hacks him, stuffs the pieces into a bag and sends it to the

invaded king with his compliments, and there was his champion. The

hero is, however, restored to life by a master-sorcerer, and endowed

with the power of assuming what shape he will. He takes that of a

magnificent horse, which the invading king is induced to buy. The

king’s daughter scents a trick, and the horse’s head is cut off. Three

drops of his blood fall into the apron of the king’s cook, and she

buries the apron, as the horse has previously directed her, under the

eaves. A cherry-tree grows up on the spot; and when the princess cuts

it down, the cook throws three chips into the pond, where they change

into three golden ducks. The princess kills two, and, capturing the

third, takes it into her bedchamber. There it finds the stolen sword

and flies off with it. Resuming his proper form, the hero defeats and

destroys the aggressive king and his whole family, and marries the

compassionate cook.[188.1] In a Russian story, the hero is betrayed by

his wife to the Turks, and killed. Recalled to life, he changes into a

marvellous horse with a golden mane, which the sultan buys. But

Cleopatra, the hero’s wife, recognises her husband through his magical

disguise. When the horse is slain, from his blood arises a bull with

golden hair. Cleopatra kills it in turn, and from its head an

apple-tree springs with fruit of gold. The apple-tree is cut down; and

its first chip is transformed into a golden duck, which overswims the

river and on the other side regains its pristine form as the

hero.[188.2] A Breton {189} tale represents the hero as changing

himself into a horse. When the horse is put to death, a ball of his

curdled blood is put on a stone in the sun and sprinkled with magical

water. A cherry-tree grows out of it, laden with fine red cherries.

When the cherry-tree is cut down, a cherry is sprinkled, and a

beautiful blue bird comes out of it. The treacherous wife is desirous

of catching it; and her new husband lays down the hero’s magical sword

to enable him to move more freely. The bird then seizes the sword,

and, rapidly changing back into the hero, puts his false wife and her

second choice to death.[189.1]

In none of the foregoing stories do we find the hero victorious by

means of a second birth from a woman. In a White-Russian variant of

_The Outcast Wife_ group, the heroine, married to a king, has two

sisters, who deceive the king as to her offspring and cause her twin

boys to be buried alive. Out of their graves grow two maples, one with

a golden, the other with a silver, stem. The king puts away his wife,

and marries one of her sisters. She has the maples cut down to make a

bed, and afterwards burns the bed and sprinkles the ashes on the road.

An ewe swallows some of the ashes, and bears two lambs, marked like

the boys, with a moon on the head and a star on the nape of the neck.

The new queen orders the lambs to be slaughtered, and their entrails

to be thrown out into the street. Her divorced sister having gathered

up the entrails, cooks and eats them, and thus becomes once more

mother to her sons. When they are grown up they reveal the whole story

to the king, and obtain the reinstatement of their mother and the

punishment of her guilty sister.[189.2] {190} A curious tale from

Cyprus brings before us a girl who is fated to wed her own father, of

whom she is to have a son, and that son she is afterwards to take for

husband. In order to defeat the prophecy she contrives her father’s

murder. From the ground where the body is buried an apple-tree springs

up and produces beautiful apples. The heroine buys some, and, eating

them, becomes pregnant. When she learns where the apples grew she

determines to kill her child. As soon as it is born, therefore, she

stabs it in the breast, nails it up in a coffer, and flings the coffer

into the sea. It is picked up by a vessel; and the captain, finding

the child still living, adopts it. It grows up to manhood and fulfils

the prophecy. From the wound-marks on his breast the mother recognises

in her husband her own child; and on hearing his story she understands

at last how useless it is to struggle against fate, and puts an end to

her own life.[190.1]

Quite another group is reached when we come to a series wherein the

heroine first appears in the shape of a fruit. This is opened by the

hero, and a maiden comes out. In a _märchen_ from Asia Minor the

maiden is, in the hero’s absence, thrown into a well by a black slave,

who takes her place. In the well she becomes a golden fish. When the

prince catches it the slave gets him to kill it and make broth of it

for her. But three drops of its blood fall to the ground and shoot up

into a cypress-tree. The tree is cut down and burnt. A chip clings to

the dress of an old woman who comes and asks for a light; and this

chip changes again into the heroine.[190.2] In Basile’s version the

slave sticks a needle into the lady’s temple and transforms {191} her

into a dove. The dove is caught, killed, scalded and plucked, in order

to be cooked; and the water and feathers are thrown into the garden.

Within three days a citron-tree, like that out of which the heroine

originally came, rises, and bears three fine citrons. The king plucks

them; and when he has opened them, his true love emerges from the

third, and condign punishment is meted out to the slave.[191.1] A tale

from the Deccan presents a maiden, brought up in an eagle’s nest,

after sundry adventures happily married to a rajah. She is pitched

into the water-tank by her jealous fellow-wife. A sunflower grows up

in the tank; and the jealous woman, when she finds her husband

becoming fond of it, orders her servants to dig it up and burn it. A

mango-tree grows up on the spot where the sunflower has been burnt,

bearing one magnificent mango. It is gathered by a milk-woman, and

turns into the heroine.[191.2] A variant, which looks like an earlier

form of the story, brings the heroine originally out of a bél-fruit.

The sunflower is replaced by a lotus; and when the false wife tears

the lotus-flower to pieces a bél-tree grows on the spot, bearing one

fruit, which contains the Bél-princess once more.[191.3] In a

Cinderella tale, told by the Tjames, Kajong, persecuted by her

foster-sister Halœk, throws herself into a lake and suffers

transformation into a golden turtle. The king marries Halœk instead,

but cannot forget Kajong. The golden turtle is caught, and in the

king’s absence his wife kills and eats it, throwing the shell behind

the house. A bamboo springs up from the shell. When Halœk cooks and

eats the bamboo-shoot, the husk becomes a bird. She cooks the bird;

and the {192} feathers, thrown away, turn into a mœkya-tree, the

fruit of which bears a resemblance to the outline of a woman. Out of

the fruit the heroine comes again.[192.1]

There is a group of stories very popular in Europe and known to the

farthest extremities of Asia and Africa. As usually told, a girl or a

boy is killed by an envious brother and buried. Some time after, a

bone is picked up and fashioned into a shepherd’s pipe; or a reed

growing on the grave is cut and made into a similar instrument. No

sooner does the musician put the pipe to his mouth than the voice of

the murdered child is heard within it, reciting his death and accusing

his murderer. Occasionally, however, the tree, or plant, which grows

from the grave sings or speaks of itself, as in the Dahoman version,

where a mushroom appears on the grave. The mother of the murdered boy

is about to pluck it, when it says to her: “Mother, pluck not. I was

with my comrades. They gave me two thousand cowries. They only gave

one thousand to my brother. Then he cruelly killed me; my brother

killed me!” Sometimes it is a rose which speaks of itself, or when it

is put to the mouth; sometimes a flute made from the branch of a tree

which has grown on the grave. In one case it is a pomegranate from

such a tree: when the fruit is brought to the king it changes into the

head of the murdered man. At other times the crime is revealed by a

whistle, or pipe, which has belonged to the victim, or has fallen in

his blood. Again, a bird will proclaim itself the victim and tell the

story, or lead the avenging kindred to the grave. A Chinese drama,

believed to be founded on a folktale, represents the body as burnt by

the assassin, {193} and the ashes made into a dish. The dish denounces

the criminal.[193.1]

The old Scottish ballad of _Binnorie_ belongs to this group, though in

all its British variants it has been modernised. Scott’s version, the

best known, is only half traditional. The elder sister drowns the

younger for the sake of her lover. The body is found by the miller in

“the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.”

“A famous harper passing by

The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.

. . . . . .

“He made a harp of her breast-bone,

Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.

“The strings he framed of her yellow hair,

Whose notes made sad the listening ear.”

Here the ballad has obviously been manipulated; but a comparison of

other versions shows that the sense has been preserved.

“He laid this harp upon a stone,

And straight it began to play alone.

“‘O yonder sits my father, the king,

And yonder sits my mother, the queen.

“‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh,

And by him my William, sweet and true!’

“But the last tune that the harp played then,

Binnorie, O Binnorie!

Was ‘Woe to my sister, false Helen!’

By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.”

{194}

“According to all complete and uncorrupted forms of the ballad,” says

Professor Child, comparing not only British examples, but also a large

number from Denmark, Scandinavia, Iceland and the Färoe Islands,

“either some part of the body of the drowned girl is taken to furnish

a musical instrument, a harp or a viol, or the instrument is wholly

made from the body.” And he suggests that the original conception was

the simple and beautiful one found in several variants, that the

king’s harper, or the girl’s lover, takes three locks of her yellow

hair to string his harp with. I venture to think he is wrong. The

tradition supplied by the singer of one of the Swedish versions,

though lost from the ballad itself, is much nearer the mark in

relating that the drowned maiden floated ashore and grew up into a

lime-tree, from whose wood the harp was made. As a matter of art it

may be that, as Professor Child goes on to remark, “the restoration of

the younger sister, like all good endings foisted on tragedies,

emasculates the story.” But art is a slow growth, a growth of

civilisation, and this tragedy is an ancient, a barbarous tale. Here

the good ending has not been foisted on. It is of the very essence and

primitive matter of the plot. It is not found in the more modern and

cultured versions, but in the ruder and more archaic. It does not

occur once in England and Scotland, where the influence of culture has

been most decisive.[194.1]

Without tarrying to discuss these ballads any further, let me refer

briefly to three variants of an unmistakably antiquated character

collected among the Santal aborigines of Bengal. In one of them the

maiden is drowned by her seven brothers’ wives. She reappears as a

bamboo growing {195} on the embankment of the tank where she had lost

her life. Out of the bamboo a fiddle is made which, when played, seems

to wail as in bitter anguish, and moves the hearers to tears. It is

acquired by a village chief. In the absence of the household the

maiden comes out of it and prepares the family meal. The chief’s son

watches, discovers and marries her. A second version relates that the

maiden was given by her brothers to the water-spirit to obtain water

in a tank they had made. Right in the middle of the tank where she was

drowned there sprang up an upel-flower, the purple sheen of which

filled the beholder with delight. The bridegroom, to whom she had been

betrothed previously to her sacrifice, comes to claim his bride, and

gathers the flower. Ere the bridal procession reaches the bridegroom’s

dwelling on its return, the flower has become the bride. The third

version is more striking still. Here the heroine was eaten by a

monkey. The monkey died, and from the place where his body decayed a

gourd sprang and grew, and bore a fruit. A banjo was made of this

gourd, which emitted wonderful music and sang the maiden’s fate. Her

sister, the rani, cheated the minstrel out of the instrument and hid

it in her own room. There the maiden, coming out, was discovered by

the rajah, her sister’s husband; and matters were arranged more

happily than in the Scottish ballad, by the two sisters’ sharing one

spouse.[195.1]

In most of the cases we have dealt with, the metamorphoses {196}

undergone by the hero or heroine are, as in the Egyptian tale, stages

of a contest. A curious example, where the contest is between a

_mbulu_, or supernatural female, and a woman, is given in a Zulu tale.

The _mbulu_ was found out and put to death. From the spot where she

was buried a pumpkin came up and tried to kill the child of the woman

who had married the _mbulu’s_ husband. But the people chopped the

pumpkin into pieces, burned them and threw the ashes into the river,

so that nothing more could come of that _mbulu_.[196.1] In the Russian

story of _The Fiend_, the struggle is with a supernatural being over

whose personality Christianity has thrown a deeper tint of horror. The

heroine, having fallen under the Fiend’s power, dies. By her

directions and her wise old grandmother’s advice, her body is not

carried out through the doorway, but (according to an old custom, the

object of which was to prevent the dead from finding the way back) by

a hole dug under the threshold, and is buried at a crossway. A

wondrous flower arises from the spot. Taken home by a young lord and

placed in a flower-pot, the blossom falls at night from its stem and

turns into a lovely maiden, whom of course the nobleman weds.[196.2]

The stories cited in previous chapters of the hermit burnt to death

and then born anew from a girl who eats, or smells, his heart, or some

other portion of his body, are unconnected with a contest. So is the

Eskimo tale of the young woman who was caught by a whale. After living

with him some time she fled and lived with the seals in the form of a

seal. In that shape she was harpooned by a man and cut to pieces. Her

head was taken home and thrown beneath the bench, whence she slipped

into the womb of {197} the man’s wife and was born anew. The name she

received in this fresh birth was her old and euphonious name of

Avigiatsiak.[197.1] A Tjame tale speaks of a youth who dies of

hopeless love of a princess. Before his death he begs his mother, as

soon as he has yielded up the ghost, to take out his liver, dry it and

preserve it in a box. The king is attacked with a disease of the eyes,

and is advised by his astrologers to steep the dried liver of a man in

water and bathe his eyes with it. The lover’s is the only one to be

procured. In bathing his eyes with the water the king observes a

little babe playing in the basin. He calls his daughters to look at

it; and it draws the youngest of them, the object of the dead man’s

love, into the basin, where she disappears. Recourse is had again to

the astrologers, who on consulting the lots discover the history of

the dead lover and the cause of the princess’ disappearance. In the

end, as the astrologers predict, the king’s wife bears a boy, who is

no other than the lover born again, and his first mother bears a girl.

When they grow up the king marries them; and on his death the boy

becomes king.[197.2] Numerous Chinese tales are founded on the same

superstition. In one, a man on dying contrives to avoid drinking the

oblivious potion to which all the dead are condemned, and thus

remembers his transformations. For his crimes he is next born as a

horse, then as a puppy, afterwards as a snake, and lastly as a human

being once more.[197.3] In another, the son of the Thunder-god takes a

man for a trip among the clouds. In the course of his adventures he

manages to steal a small star, which he brings back with him to the

earth. By day it looked an ordinary, dull stone, but at {198} night it

became brilliant and lighted up the house. One evening it began to

flit about like a fire-fly, and finally entered his wife’s mouth and

went down her throat. That night the husband dreamed that an old

friend long dead appeared to him, and said: “I am the Shao-wei star.

Your friendship is still cherished by me, and now you have brought me

back from the sky. Truly our destinies are knitted together, and I

will repay your kindness by becoming your son.” His wife afterwards

bore him a boy.[198.1]

A favourite theme in Western folk-song, a theme also known as far away

as China, is that of the lovers, brought, like Tristram and Isolte, to

a tragic end, from whose graves two trees grow and intertwine their

branches, as if they joined in a lasting embrace. It is obvious that

the trees are merely the lovers transformed. Some of the variants in

ballad or _märchen_ make this clear. Such is the ballad of Count

Nello of Portugal. The hero there falls in love with the Infanta. But

her father opposes the match, and cuts off the lover’s head. The

Infanta then dies, and is buried before the altar, while her lover is

laid near the church-porch. On the one grave sprouts a cypress, on the

other an orange-tree; and their branches unite. The king orders them

to be cut down. Blood flows from the cuts; and from the one tree flies

forth a dove and from the other a wood-pigeon.[198.2] So in the

Highland story of Deirdre the lovers are buried on either side of a

loch. A fir-shoot grows out of either grave, and they unite in a knot

above the loch. Twice the king orders them to be cut down, and twice

they grow again. The third time they are allowed to shoot forth and

unite in peace.[198.3]

{199}

But this theme is found not only in _märchen_ and ballad. It is not

less frequent in saga. In Kurdestan were shown the graves of two

lovers, renowned in Kurdish story, which were, in the sixteenth

century, if we may believe the native writer Ahmed Khain of Bayazid, a

place of pilgrimage. On each of the graves grew a rose-tree, whose

branches entwined themselves together in token, as we are told, of

love.[199.1] In Germany many tales are told of white lilies growing in

sign of innocence and purity out of graves. Zingerle cites, among

others, the case of William of Montpellier, from whose mouth sprang a

lily wherein the words _Ave Maria_ were to be read. From the grave of

Saint Andrew of Rinn in the Tirol a snow-white lily also appeared, on

whose leaves, as they opened, letters were seen. It was plucked by a

boy before the letters could be read; and the deed cost his family

dear, for few of them there were who did not come to a violent or a

premature end.[199.2] In Pomerania, a lad who learned with difficulty,

and only succeeded in remembering the words “Our Father who art in

heaven,” died unconfirmed. The commune would not permit his burial in

consecrated earth, so he was laid outside the churchyard, close to the

fence. Out of his tomb arose a beautiful white lily, bearing plainly

to be read the words “Our Father who art in heaven.” On digging, it

was found to be rooted in his heart. Near Wollin, on the road to

Poblotz, is a spot covered with dog-roses, where, years {200} ago, a

woman was burnt as a witch and her remains buried. Before the end came

to her sufferings she said: “If I be a witch, thorns will grow on my

grave; if not, then roses.”[200.1] Space does not admit of our

following the tale in this shape through all the countries of Europe;

and it is needless. We may turn instead to note a few analogous

superstitions elsewhere. Among the Kirghiz every one on whose grave a

tree spontaneously grows is deemed a saint; while among the Gallas of

Abyssinia wood that has been burning a little is placed upon the grave

after the funeral, and if it grow it is taken as a sign that the dead

man is happy.[200.2] The Santals believe that good men enter into

fruit-bearing trees.[200.3] In the Molucca Islands there is a tree

which bears during the night, from sunset to sunrise, a rapid

succession of fragrant white flowers. To account for this phenomenon

the inhabitants of Ternate have a tradition that there was once a

beautiful woman who was beloved by the sun, and who, being deserted by

her fickle lover, slew herself. Her body was, in accordance with the

custom of the country, burnt; and from her ashes arose the tree,

called by the early Portuguese voyagers the Tree of Sorrow.[200.4] The

legend current among the inhabitants of Nias, an island off the coast

of Sumatra, to account for the origin of the cocoa-nut-tree, relates

that Halu hada, a supernatural being, one {201} day sneezed so

violently that he sneezed his head off. It fell to earth, and, being

covered up, the precious tree, indispensable to man, sprang from the

spot.[201.1] A German practice is manifestly a relic of a belief

similar to that recorded in these tales and superstitions. If a farmer

have several times a foal or calf die, he buries one of them in the

garden, planting a young willow in its mouth. When the tree grows up

it is never polled or lopped, but is allowed to grow its own way, and

is believed to guard the farm from future casualties of the same

kind.[201.2]

But though the identity of the tree with the dead man, or as in the

last-cited custom with the animal, is clear in all these traditions,

it is not precisely affirmed as would seem to be the case with the

story of the pomegranate referred to a few pages back, or with an Arab

_märchen_ from Tunis, in which a vine grows up from the very place

where the blood of a murdered man had flowed. The murderer finds one

enormous bunch of grapes upon it, although the season of grapes is not

yet. Struck with its beauty, as well as with the uncommon occurrence,

he takes the bunch to the sultan. On opening the basket the sultan

found no grapes, but a man’s head freshly cut off, dropping with

blood. The murderer, horror-stricken, confessed his crime, and was

summarily executed.[201.3] Thus too in Ojibway legends, reproduced by

Longfellow, that mysterious being

“… the young Mondamin,

With his soft and shining tresses,

With his garments green and yellow,

With his long and glossy plumage,”

came and wrestled thrice with one of their heroes. The {202} third

time the Ojibway was victorious. His antagonist was overthrown, killed

and buried. The victor watched the grave,

“Kept the dark mould soft above it,

Kept it clean from weeds and insects,

Drove away with scoffs and shoutings

Kahgahgee, the king of ravens.

Till at length a small green feather

From the earth shot slowly upward,

Then another and another,

And before the summer ended

Stood the maize in all its beauty,

With its shining robes about it,

And its long, soft, yellow tresses;

And in rapture Hiawatha

Cried aloud: ‘It is Mondamin!

Yes, the friend of man, Mondamin!’”

The Brazilians have a parallel tradition about the manioc. It was a

maiden who died, and, being buried in her mother’s house, grew up as a

plant, flourished and bore fruit.[202.1] Among some tribes of Kaffirs,

when twins are born they are examined, and the one appearing the more

delicate is suffocated by placing a clod of earth in its mouth. When

dead, it is buried near the doorway of the hut, and a dwarf aloe is

planted over the grave. “The aloe is regarded in some way as the

living representative of the dead infant; its spirit or shade is

supposed to be in it, or to be hovering about it. When it is planted,

its spines are carefully cut away that the survivor may play about it,

and drag himself up by it, and make himself strong, as he would have

done with his fellow-twin had he been permitted to live.”[202.2] It

{203} would be difficult to find a practice which would better explain

that of the German farmer with his dead calf.

In classical legends we meet everywhere cases of transformation,

either before or after death, of men and women into trees or plants,

or into some of the lower animals. The most famous case, and one which

has recently been submitted to careful examination by two

distinguished living anthropologists, is that of Attis, who was

changed into a pine-tree and in that form worshipped. It would be

impertinent in me, after the acute and exhaustive discussions by Mr.

Frazer and Mr. Grant Allen, to occupy any space with the consideration

either of the legend or the cult. I only refer to them in this place

as an illustration of ancient belief in metamorphosis, and for the

purpose of recalling the reader’s attention to its identity with the

superstitions of savage tribes, as well as those preserved in modern

folklore, which we are now reviewing. The cult of Attis may not have

been based, as Mr. Grant Allen thinks, on the worship of a dead man.

“The tree-spirit and the corn-spirit, like most other deities,” may

not “originate in the ghost of the deified ancestor.”[203.1] We need

not go the length of Mr. Herbert Spencer’s Euhemerism; on the

contrary, we may regard it as a child (one among many) of his passion

for explaining everything quite clearly, for stopping up all gaps and

stubbing up all difficulties in his synthesis, rather than an

all-sufficient account of the beginnings of religion. It is certain,

however, that the legend as we have it, the worship as it is recorded

for us, implied a belief in metamorphosis as a possible and actual

occurrence consequent upon death. This belief had descended to {204}

classic times from savagery, for to the savage mind death very often

is merely metamorphosis. Nor, as we have seen, is the metamorphosis

confined to vegetable forms. The pious Æneas beheld his father

Anchises in a snake that crept from his tomb. The Zulu, not less

pious, beholds his father in a snake lurking about his kraal.[204.1]

The ancient Egyptians held that the souls of the departed could assume

animal forms.[204.2] The Yorubas think the souls of the dead are

sometimes born again in animals, or, though more rarely, in

plants.[204.3] In the East Indies, a Dyak who dies by accident, as by

drowning, is not buried, but carried into the forest and simply laid

down there. It is believed that his soul enters a tree, a fish, or

some other brute. Accordingly certain kinds of fish are not eaten, and

certain kinds of wood are not used, because they willingly harbour

souls. On the other hand, the soul of a man over whom all proper

funeral rites have been performed enters the City of Souls. But it

cannot abide there for ever. After a life seven times as long as on

the earth it dies and returns to this world, where it enters a

mushroom, a fruit or a leaf, in the hope that it may be eaten by a

human being or one of the lower animals. In such case the deceased is

born again in the next offspring of the living creature which has

eaten it; otherwise he comes to an end.[204.4] The inhabitants of Nias

believe that the soul at death divides into three parts. One of them

goes to the village of the dead, and there often takes brute-form.

Thus murderers become grasshoppers, those who die without male issue

become {205} night-flying moths, old men become hogs, and young

children earthworms. Another part, called the _ehèha_, must be

received in his mouth by the son of the dying person from the mouth of

the latter, else it turns into a small animal and lingers about the

body until search be made for it. When found, it is safely conveyed

into a statuette representing the deceased.[205.1] The natives of Ugi,

in the Solomon Islands, believe that the souls of the dead pass into

fireflies.[205.2] The Moquis of North America maintained that death

was nothing but a process of transmutation, and that the body was

changed into animals, plants, and inanimate objects.[205.3] The

medicine men and women of the Sioux, it was believed, might be changed

after death into wild beasts.[205.4] Among the Gallinomero of

California bad men were thought to return in the shape of coyotes,

just as the Buddhist population of Ladak hold that a malicious person

is reincarnated as a marmot.[205.5] A Tirolese tale exhibits the

shapes even yet believed over a wide extent of Christendom to be

assumed by guilty and by innocent souls. For many years, it is said, a

large toad haunted the steps of a vaulted grave at Meran. Flung away

it was, and killed it was; but the next Ember Day there it would be

sitting again upon the steps. At last a pious woman guessed that it

was a poor soul, and spoke to it, asking what were the conditions of

its deliverance. They were hard, but she fulfilled them; and as soon

as atonement was made the toad changed into a dove, white as a

stainless flower, and {206} flew up before its deliverer’s eyes into

heaven.[206.1] The numerous British legends of ghost-laying, in which

the dead unquiet soul appears as a bull, a black dog, a toad, a fly,

or what not, recur to the mind in this connection. The beast that is,

after a struggle, imprisoned by the parson, or some other conjurer, in

a boot, a snuff-box, or a bottle, or bricked up in the haunted

chamber, is only the changed form of a once living man or woman. But

the superstition as thus presented has been so often and so well

commented on, that it is needless to illustrate it further.

We can now understand the Bulgarian ballad cited in Chapter IV.,

containing the pathetic narrative of the hyacinths growing out of the

dead man’s grave and causing his mother to give birth to another son.

The flowers were a new manifestation of the youth who had been

untimely slain; and by them he entered again into his mother’s womb

and was born. This and others of the tales referred to in the same

chapter and that which follows it are parallel with the tale of _The

Two Brothers_ in the transformations they present. And both they and

many of the practices detailed in the last chapter point very clearly

to the belief that a dead person can be born again, if only the right

means be taken for that end.

All our illustrations of the doctrine of Transformation have been

drawn from cases where the hero is conceived as having begun his

career in human shape, whether as man or deity, save in the one

instance of the Annamite story of _Posthumous Revenge_. There his

pristine figure was an eel. But if the power of metamorphosis be such

that human beings can be changed by means of death {207} and a fresh

birth into brute and vegetable form, brutes and vegetables may equally

be changed by the same agency into human beings. The _märchen_ of

_The King of the Fishes_ displays this power. In the light of the

transmutations we have passed in review, it is abundantly evident that

the fisherman’s sons, their horses, dogs and life-tokens, are nothing

more nor less than the ancestor-fish in a new mould. In previous

chapters we have examined cases in which men and women deceased have

been held to reappear as human babes without undergoing any

intermediate change into lower forms; and we have others yet to

examine. What is expressly affirmed in tales where pregnancy is caused

by tasting the ashes of a corpse, what is implicit in the disgusting

superstitions which lead women to swallow portions of dead bodies,

must also be understood in the parallel cases where fishes and fruit

are eaten and result in the production of children. Here then we have

the real meaning of the tales and superstitions considered in the last

three chapters. At their root lies the belief in Transformation.

Flowers, fruit, and other vegetables, eggs, fishes, spiders, worms,

and even stones, are all capable of becoming human beings. They only

await absorption in the shape of food, or in some other appropriate

manner, into the body of a woman, to enable the metamorphosis to be

accomplished. In some cases, as where drugs and other compounds are

used, or where water or sunbeams are the fructifying power, this

meaning has been forgotten. The virtue of such means is usually

imputed to magical or divine power. But this does not appear to be the

original belief. The original belief is intimately bound up with the

savage theory of the universe. In that theory no strict line of

cleavage runs across Nature. All things may change their {208} shape,

some at will, others on the fulfilment of certain conditions, whereof

death, as applying to all animal and vegetable life, is perhaps the

most usual. Most of the instances of death and new birth we have yet

to deal with have little apparent relation to this point. But, so far

as they add to the general evidence as to the reappearance of the dead

in fresh births, even the least relevant of them are not without

value.

According to the classical mythology, when Orion’s two daughters

sacrificed themselves for Thebes, two young men sprang from their

ashes. Ovid describes the goblet presented by Anius, the priest-king

of Delos, to Æneas, as carved with a representation of the scene:

“Out of their maiden embers, lo! twin youths,

Lest the race fail, arise, Coronæ named,

And lead the funeral pomp.”[208.1]

Although the poet speaks of the devoted virgins as their mothers, we

shall probably not be far wrong in conjecturing that the youths were

originally regarded as new and worthier manifestations of the maidens

whose virile courage had not hesitated at self-inflicted death, in

pursuance of the oracle, to save their devoted city from the plague.

However this may be, elsewhere we frequently find stories of men who

have died and been born again. The Mogul emperor Akbar is said to have

declared that he had formerly been a Brumhuchari, named Mukundu.

Worldly desires were excited in his mind by cow’s hairs in some milk

which he had drunk; and he began to long for wisdom and greatness. The

pipul-tree under which he was sitting had the power of granting any

wish. Therefore, laying hold of it, he {209} renounced life in Gunga,

and reappeared as Akbar.[209.1] A Mongolian tale relates that Shêduir

Van, a Khotogait prince, having been guilty of plotting insurrection

against the emperor of China, was caught and condemned to execution.

Before being beheaded, he said: “I am to be executed; but that is no

misfortune; my soul shall enter the womb of the emperor’s wife.” The

empress accordingly gave birth to a son, who had a cicatrice on the

neck. The wise men advised the emperor that the soul of Shêduir Van

had entered her womb. The child was therefore destroyed. The empress

conceived once more, and bore a son with a scar. The emperor, again

advised by his wise men that this was the soul of Shêduir Van,

ordered the babe to be thrown into the fire; but the charcoal went out

and changed into water. After this, we are told that the soul of

Shêduir Van did not again enter the empress’ womb, but revealed

itself as a hairless bay mare, whose hide is preserved to the present

day.[209.2]

Like the story of the great monarch Akbar, that of Shêduir Van has

probably been influenced by Buddhistic thought. But in both cases the

influence would be that of Buddhistic thought only as popularly

understood. The common people of India, we may safely assume--still

less the tribes of Tibet and the practical Chinese--never absorbed

into their minds the abstract doctrines of Karma and the Skandhas. It

is, indeed, more than doubtful whether these philosophical

speculations have ever penetrated the intellects of the greatest

doctors of the Northern Church. The current belief is illustrated in

the Chinese tales I have quoted. Even more strikingly is it

exemplified {210} in the successive incarnations which provide a

perpetual succession of Grand Lamas at Lhasa, and of skooshoks for

minor monasteries. While as to the Southern Church, we are not

dependent for our assumption upon the folklore and the general culture

of the Cingalese and the peoples of Further India. In the _Játakas_,

or parables attributed to Gautama, we have irrefragable witness of the

teaching current from a very early period in Buddhist history. They

are apologues, most of them probably of much older date, which have

acquired sacredness by being fitted to alleged events in the ministry

of the Buddha. The Master is represented as taking occasion, from some

remark made by his disciples upon a passing occurrence, to declare

that in a former birth the same things had happened to them; and in

illustration of his statement he tells the tale. The following may

stand for a typical conclusion or application. It is that of the

parable of the cruel crane outwitted by the crab: “When the Teacher

had finished this discourse showing that ‘Not now only, O mendicants,

has this man been outwitted by the country robe-maker, long ago he was

outwitted in the same way,’ he established the connection, and summed

up the Játaka, by saying, ‘At that time he [the crane] was the

Jetavana robe-maker, the crab was the country robe-maker, but the

Genius of the Tree was I myself.’” To the personages of the tale is

thus ascribed complete identity with the Buddha and his

contemporaries. Transmigration, in short, as conceived in popular

Buddhism, was no product of the subtleties of Hindu metaphysics. It

was no refined philosophical doctrine. It is undiscoverable in the

_Rig-Veda_, the earliest sacred book of the Sanskrit-speaking

conquerors of India. Its ethical value, even, if we may judge from the

_Játakas_, was of the smallest. Such as it was, Transmigration {211}

was a direct evolution of the more savage belief in Transformation, as

we have seen that belief exemplified in the present chapter, and

hardly distinguishable from it, either in its terms or in its

consequences.

Far in the west the Celts are reported to have held the dogma of

Transmigration. This report, coming to us from writers imbued with

Greco-Roman philosophy, and interpreting, according to the custom of

classical antiquity, the religions of barbarous races in the terms of

their own, has been understood to imply an elaborate philosophical

system such as those of Pythagoras and Buddha. That the Celts had

imbibed Buddhist theories we cannot suppose. The doctrines of

Pythagoras may, indeed, have penetrated into Gaul by commercial routes

or by contact with Greek colonies. Yet, if they did, it is strange

that no other vestige of the Pythagorean philosophy is imputed to the

Celts, and that the Druidical religion, whereof we are told the dogma

in question was part, blossomed, as it is said to have done, most

perfectly in Britain, where it was furthest removed from all foreign

influences. We know directly little concerning Druidism. Our

knowledge, as far as it goes, leads us to think the religion of the

ancient Britons and Gauls was of the same general character as other

barbarous cults. Arising thus from the common ground of savagery,

there is no reason why Celtic opinion may not have begun to develop in

the same direction as popular Buddhism. Neither Celtic mythology,

however, as known to us, nor Celtic folklore, as reported by mediæval

and modern writers, affords ground for supposing that metempsychosis

in any philosophical sense was part of the ancient Celtic creed. In

touching, a few pages back, on Barguests, as ghosts in animal mould

are technically called, we disposed {212} of the most salient point of

modern Celtic folklore, for we found it to be an expression, in no way

divergent from that of other uncultivated peoples, of the universal

doctrine of Transformation. We shall now briefly discuss the examples

to be found in what remains to us of the ancient mythology.

The story of Taliessin, though only found in a manuscript of the

seventeenth century, comes, it is generally conceded, within this

category; for its coincidences with the older Celtic traditions are

too striking to allow of any other explanation. Ceridwen, the wife of

Tegid the Bald, had, among other children, a son of such extreme

ugliness that she thought he was not likely to be admitted amongst men

of noble birth unless he had some exalted merits or knowledge. So she

undertook, with the aid of the books of Fferyll--that is to say,

Vergil the Magician, a character which Vergil the poet is made to

sustain in mediæval tradition--to boil a caldron of Inspiration and

Science for his benefit. Now, this caldron required to be boiled for a

year and a day; at the end of which time three precious drops would be

obtained, the rest of its contents being poisonous, and indeed highly

explosive. The caldron was placed in charge of Gwion the Little and a

blind man named Mordav, while Ceridwen herself went to gather herbs of

virtue. But before the expiration of the year and a day the three

precious drops flew out of the caldron and fell upon Gwion’s finger,

which he instinctively put to his mouth to allay the scalding. He at

once became possessed of all knowledge, and foresaw his danger from

Ceridwen’s rage when she found her preparations had been in vain. He,

therefore, fled, hotly pursued by the witch. To elude her he changed

into a hare, whereupon she took the shape {213} of a greyhound. He ran

towards the river, and became a fish, to chase which she assumed the

form of an otter. Gwion then flew up as a bird. He soon found himself

followed by a hawk, which was no other than his enemy; and just as she

was about to stoop upon him he dropped among a heap of winnowed wheat

on the floor of a barn, and turned himself into one of the grains.

From a hawk to a black hen the transformation was easy; and Ceridwen

thus pecked up the grain in question and swallowed it. She became by

this means pregnant, and gave birth to a beautiful boy--a new

manifestation of Gwion the Little; and when he was born she wrapped

him up in a hide and cast him into the sea, by which he was ultimately

thrown upon the weir of Gwyddno. From thence he was rescued to become

the king of the bards, Taliessin.[213.1] Two poems attributed to

Taliessin enumerate many more metamorphoses than are mentioned in the

tale. The exact date of these poems is, in the present state of Welsh

scholarship, unascertainable; but they are certainly not later than

the fourteenth century. One of them speaks of the poet’s original

country as the region of the summer stars, and identifies him with

Merlin and other sages and bards. Confining our attention, however, to

the narrative, we may lay aside the earlier changes as links of a

chain of incidents common in fairy-tales, and known technically as the

Transformation-fight. An example of it familiar to every reader is the

contest between the princess and the Jinn in the story of the Second

Calender in the _Arabian Nights_. These changes are not effected by

death and birth as are the ones we are considering now. In the final

{214} change, on the other hand, Gwion is devoured by the witch and

reproduced as her son, just as Bata is swallowed in the shape of a

splinter of the persea-tree by the king’s Favourite, and born again of

her, to become her destruction.

So far the Welsh mythology: a parallel instance is afforded by the

Erse. Both have suffered from the Euhemerism of the Middle Ages that

has preserved them for us; but the true lines of the tales are not too

far obliterated for our present purpose. The story of Tuan mac

Cairill, then, as we find it embalmed in the Irish chronicles, makes

him the sole survivor of the band of Partholon, who first colonised

the island after the Deluge. Fallen into decrepitude after many years,

he saw a new immigration led by Nemed, flying from which he fasted

three days, lay down to sleep and was changed into a stag. Again he

fell into old age, fasted, and was metamorphosed into a wild boar.

Meanwhile, the descendants of Nemed had all died out. Semion, then,

the ancestor of the three tribes of the Fir Domnann, the Fir Bolg and

the Galiûin, established himself in the land. After a time the

process was repeated, and Tuan became a great sea-eagle. Beothach,

from whom descended the Tuatha De Danann, seized the island, and

afterwards the sons of Mile, whose descendants are the living race.

The sea-eagle found himself in the hole of a tree on the bank of a

river. There he fasted nine days, and, sleeping, awoke as a salmon in

the stream. For a long time he escaped the fishermen’s nets; at last

he was caught and carried to the wife of Carell, king of that

district. She saw the fish, longed for it, cooked it, and ate it up.

But this was far from being the end of Tuan. From her he was born

again, {215} wise man and prophet, and was called Tuan, son of Carell.

He lived not only to be baptized at the coming of Saint Patrick, but

to converse with Saint Columba, and to narrate the whole history of

Ireland, as he remembered it during his various transformations, to

Saint Finnen in the middle of the sixth century. All the ancient

history, all the old genealogies rest upon his authority.[215.1]

Etain, another mythological figure of Ireland, had a somewhat similar

adventure. She was one of the two wives of Mider, who belonged to the

Tuatha De Danann. Oengus, son of the Dagde, and foster-son of Mider,

carried her off, and she became his wife. Her first husband, however,

had not ceased to remember her, and he sought if by any means he might

recover her. His other wife, bent on frustrating him, and watching her

opportunity, sent a wind that blew Etain out of the bower built for

her by Oengus, and deposited her on the roof of a house where the

lords of Ulster and their wives were engaged in a drinking-bout. Upon

the table beneath stood a golden cup of beer beside one of the ladies.

From the roof, by the opening which did duty for a chimney, Etain fell

into the cup. The lady swallowed her unperceived in the next draught,

and gave birth to her again after nine months. Thus Etain began a new

life. She became the loveliest of Irish maidens, and wedded the

supreme king Eochaid Airem, who reigned at Tara. But Mider had not yet

ceased to love her. Disguised as a warrior, he sought the king and

challenged him to a game of chess. When the board was set: “Play,”

said he to the king. “I do not play without stakes,” replied the

monarch. Mider, on his side, bet fifty {216} brown horses,

large-breasted, with limbs slender and agile. “For my part,” said the

king, sure of success, “if I lose, I will pay what you like.” They

played; the king lost, and Mider demanded his wife. The king objected

that he was entitled to his revenge; and his adversary, with a bad

grace, yielded. A year passed, during which the king saw nothing of

Mider; though he often appeared to Etain and wooed her, but without

success; for she proved faithful to her husband. At the end of the

year Mider came and claimed the second game. They played; again

Eochaid lost, and Mider demanded to put his arms around Etain and give

her a kiss. “Come back in a month,” replied the king, “and it shall be

granted you.” When the fatal day arrived, his rival found Eochaid

surrounded by his warriors, the fortress closed and guarded on every

side. The day passed, and no antagonist presented himself. But at

night Mider stood all at once in the midst of the hall, the beautiful

Mider, more beautiful than ever. No one had seen him enter. The lady

blushed when he boldly named his errand. “Do not blush,” quoth Mider;

“thou hast no reason to reproach thyself. For a whole year I have not

ceased to woo thee with jewels and wealth--thee, the fairest of the

women of Ireland; and thou hast refused to listen to me so long as thy

husband gave thee no permission.” “I have told thee,” replied she,

“that I will not follow thee, unless my husband yield me. I will only

be taken if Eochaid give me to thee.” “I will not give thee,” cried

the king. “I only consent that he put his arms around thee here in

this hall, as has been agreed.” “It shall be done,” said Mider. Laying

his lance in his left hand, he seized Etain with his right; and,

rising in the air, he disappeared with her through the smoke-hole in

{217} the palace-roof. The warriors that surrounded the king, ashamed

at their own impotence, rushed from the hall to pursue the fugitives.

They only saw, high above Tara, two swans whose long white necks were

encircled and bound together by a yoke of gold. The story adds that

afterwards, by the magical might of his Druids, Eochaid forced an

entrance to the mysterious subterranean palace of Mider and took

possession once more of his wife, so lovely, so beloved. But Mider’s

hate was one day revenged on the posterity of Eochaid and Etain by the

tragic death of Conaire, their grandson.[217.1] The Druidical doctrine

of metempsychosis would appear, alike from these ancient mythological

tales and from modern folklore, to have been nothing more than

Transformation as we find it among savages in all parts of the world.

Before turning to rites and superstitious beliefs, we may notice the

legend of Oankoitupeh, son of the Red Cloud, the hero of the North

American Maidus. A maiden sees a beautiful red cloud, and hears sweet

music. The next day, while picking grass-seed pinole, she finds an

arrow trimmed with yellow-hammer feathers; and suddenly a man is

standing beside her, who is none other than the red cloud she had seen

the day before. The bright and resplendent stranger declares his love;

and the maiden replies: “If you love me, take and eat this basket of

grass-seed pinole.” He touches the basket, and its contents vanish.

Thereupon the girl swoons. When she returns to consciousness, behold!

she has given birth to a son. The Red Cloud tells her: “You love me

now; that is my boy, but he is not of this world.… He shall be greater

than {218} all men; he shall have power over all, and not fear any

that live. Therefore shall his name be Oan-koi-tu-peh (the

Invincible). Whenever you see him, think of me. This boy has no life

apart from me; he is myself.”[218.1] Compare with this the statement

concerning Cuchulainn, one of the epic heroes of Ireland. It will be

recollected that he was a new birth of the god Lug. The great epic

cycles took final shape after the wars with the Danes in the eleventh

century. One of the manuscripts of that period relates that the men of

Ulster took counsel about Cuchulainn, because they were troubled and

afraid that he would perish early, “so for that reason they wished to

give him a wife that he might leave an heir; for they knew that his

re-birth would be of himself.”[218.2]

These passages, though related of more than common men, point to a

belief shared by the ancient Irish with the ancient Californians, that

the son is in some sense identical with his father--a new birth, a new

manifestation of the same person. This curious belief finds

categorical expression in the great Brahman compilation known as the

_Laws of Manu_. There we are told: “The husband, after conception by

his wife, becomes an embryo and is born again of her; for that is the

wifehood of a wife, that he is born again by her.”[218.3]

Corresponding with this declaration, the ritual prescribes, among

other ceremonies when a boy is born, that the husband should address

the babe thus: “From limb by limb thou art produced; and of the heart

thou art born. Thou indeed art the self (_atman_) called son; so live

a hundred autumns.” In the {219} same words he addresses the boy every

time he himself returns from a journey, embracing his head and kissing

him thrice.[219.1]

Traces of the notion that a child is neither more nor less than the

reappearance of an ancestor are found almost all over the world. It

seems to be a general opinion among the Negroes of the western coasts

of Africa that the ghostly self of a dead man enters the body of a

newborn babe belonging to the same family. In Guinea, and among the

Wanika, the resemblance, physical or mental, borne by a child to its

father is attributed to this cause. The Yorubas inquire of their

family god which of the deceased ancestors has returned, in order to

name the child accordingly; and they greet its birth with the words

“Thou art come!” as if addressing some one who has returned.[219.2] On

the Gold Coast, parents who have lost several children sometimes cast

into the bush the body of the infant who has last died. They believe

the next born to be the same child returned; and if it have any

congenital deformity or defect, that is attributed to injuries

received from wild beasts or other evil influences in the

jungle.[219.3] Caution, however, is required {220} in dealing with

some of these cases, for the subtlety of savage metaphysics is

marvellous. An acute observer points out that among the Tshi-speaking

peoples of the Gold Coast and the Ewe-speaking tribes of the Slave

Coast, a distinction is drawn between the ghostly self that continues

the man’s existence after death in the spirit-world, and his _kra_ or

_ñoli_, which is capable of being born again in a new human body. In

the eastern Ewe districts and in Dahome the soul is, by either an

inconsistency or a subtlety, believed to remain in the land of the

dead and to animate some new child of the family at one and the same

time; but it never animates an embryo in a strange family.[220.1] Not

very different seems to be the opinion of the Khonds of Orissa.

Anthropologists have often quoted Macpherson’s description of the

divination for determining a child’s name. The priest drops grains of

rice into a cup of water, naming with each grain a deceased ancestor.

From the movements of the seed in the fluid, and from observations

made on the infant’s person, he pronounces which of the progenitors

has reappeared in it; and the babe is usually named accordingly. Khond

psychology endows every one with four souls. Out of such a company

there is no difficulty in arranging that one of them shall be attached

to some tribe and perpetually born again into it. This, in fact, is

what is believed to happen.[220.2]

In New Zealand the priest, after certain ceremonies, first recited to

the child the following stave:

{221}

“Wait till I pronounce your name.

What is your name?

Listen to your name,

This is your name----”

Then followed strings of ancestral names, until the babe sneezed. The

name being uttered at the moment of the sneeze was the one

chosen.[221.1] We are not expressly told that the object of this rite

was to identify the child with one of his forefathers. But, as Dr.

Tylor remarks, we may always suspect it in such a case; and the verses

seem to point to some such purpose. It was difficult to distinguish

between gods and ancestors among the Maori,[221.2] as, in truth, it

often is, if we may not use a stronger expression, among savage

peoples. The worship of the kindred inhabitants of Samoa was

totemistic. During the mother’s labour, first the family god of the

father, and then that of the mother was invoked. The god being invoked

at the instant of birth was looked upon as the child’s special _aitu_

(Maori, _atua_) or god; and during infancy the child was called and

actually named “_merda_ of Tongo” or “of Satiā,” or whatever other

deity it might be.[221.3] This would seem to go a step beyond the

Maori creed, and to indicate that at one time the child was identified

with the totem-god. In the island of Aurora, New Hebrides, where the

people are Melanesians, women often speak of a child as the _nunu_, or

echo, of some dead person. Dr. Codrington says: “It is not a notion of

metempsychosis, as if the soul of the dead person returned in the

newborn child; but it is thought that there is so close a connection

that the infant takes the place of the {222} deceased.”[222.1] We may

set this explanation beside the statement quoted by Dr. Tylor from

Charlevoix that “some North American Indians were observed to set the

child in place of the last owner of its name, so that a man would

treat as his grandfather a child who might have been his

grandson.”[222.2] Whatever may be the fact as regards the Melanesians,

it is certain that North American tribes, like the Mengwe and the

Thlinkits, believed in the new birth of the dead. Among the latter, if

a pregnant woman dreamed of a dead man, it was said that the ghost had

taken up its abode in her body; and if a newborn child had the least

resemblance to a deceased relative, the latter was believed to have

returned, and the child was called by his name.[222.3] Even in Norway,

if a pregnant woman dream of one who is dead, the child must be named

after him. If the dream be of a man, and a girl be born, the man’s

name must be feminised, and _vice versâ_. If she dream of more than

one person, the names of all must be given.[222.4] The last practice

perhaps resulted from the uncertainty as to which of the dead who

appeared was to be identified with the coming stranger. Returning to

America, we find that the Tacullies and Sicamies, tribes allied to the

Thlinkits, inquire of the dead if they will return to life or not. The

shaman inspects the naked breast of the body, and if satisfied on the

point he blows the soul into the air, that it may seek a new body or

puts his hands on the head of one of the mourners, thereby conveying

the spirit into him, to be embodied in his next offspring. The

relation thus favoured, we are {223} told, added the name of the

deceased to his own.[223.1] It is said that the Dakotas believed that

their medicine-men and women ran their career four times in human

shape.[223.2] In the Amazons Valley the Ticunas, and yet further to

the south the Bakaïrí and their allied tribes, name a child from one

of its forefathers. In Southern India the same practice is followed by

the Yenadies;[223.3] and, indeed, it may be said, whatever be its

motive, to be a common practice in many parts of the globe. An

Esthonian babe is baptized by the name of one of its

grandfathers.[223.4] In the Romagna it is usual to give the names of

grandfathers, uncles and other relatives, to children, but not the

names of relatives who are living, lest their death be accelerated--a

vague reminiscence probably of the real reason.[223.5] Elsewhere in

Italy the superstition that a baby is a dead relative returned {224}

appears to be extant.[224.1] Among the Andaman islanders, “if a woman

who has lost a baby be about to become a mother, the name borne by the

deceased is bestowed on the fœtus, in the expectation that it will

prove to be the same child born again. Should the infant at birth

prove to be of the same sex as the one who had died, the identity

would be considered sufficiently established.”[224.2] The same belief

was current among the people of Old Calabar.[224.3] Huron philosophy

posited the existence of two souls in a man. One was changed into a

turtle-dove, or went to the village of souls. The other remained

attached to the body, never to leave it “unless some one gave birth to

it again.” The Hurons, moreover, as we have seen, buried in the road

their little children who died, in order that they might secretly

enter into the wombs of passing women, and be born again.[224.4] As to

the beliefs of the Eskimo there seems a little question. As to their

practice of naming children after deceased persons (either relatives

or intimate friends) there is no doubt. Dr. Tylor cites from Crantz

the assertion that a helpless widow would seek to persuade some father

that the soul of a dead child of his had passed into a living child of

hers, or _vice versâ_, thus gaining to herself a new relative and

protector. Dr. Rink, on the other hand, considers that the deceased

person whose name a child {225} bore was only looked upon as a kind of

guardian spirit. His statement, however, that the child when grown up

was bound to brave the influences that had caused his namesake’s

death--for instance, if the namesake had perished at sea, his

successor had all the greater inducement to become a skilful

kayaker--points to identity; and so do the stories I have cited from

Rink’s collection in previous pages.[225.1] It may be suggested that

the discrepancy is to be accounted for by the gradual change in Eskimo

ideas under contact with civilised travellers and missionaries.

We have now reviewed a large number of _märchen_ wherein the hero or

heroine is said to have suffered by death and new birth

transfiguration into a variety of forms, both brute and human. We

have, moreover, found the same plot in sagas in both hemispheres. And,

advancing to savage theory and its correlative customs, I hope I have

made it plain that stories of metamorphosis, whether _märchen_ or

sagas, have been founded upon the belief that at death men are not

annihilated, but pass into fresh forms, sometimes appearing as plants

and trees, sometimes as animals of the lower creation, and sometimes

as men and women born again into their own kindred or among strangers.

This is a creed held so widely that--though subject, perhaps, to

varying stress, according to the degree and direction of the evolving

civilisation, or, possibly yet more, to the different capacities and

opportunities of travellers who report the characteristics of savage

life and thought often far removed from their own--it may yet be

regarded as practically universal. I have not attempted to distinguish

{226} between Transformation and Transmigration. When a man, either

without passing through death and birth, or passing through death

only, changes into a wolf or an ant, it is no more than

Transformation. But if the metamorphosis be effected by death and

growth into a tree, or a fresh birth from brute or human mother, it is

obvious that there is more difficulty in affirming identity between

the new substance and the old. In some cases, if we may trust our

authorities, and if we rightly interpret the tales and ritual and

beliefs they report, the savage sets this difficulty at defiance: the

proofs of identity overcome it. Oftener, it may be, the identity

established is of an inner and more elusive self. For want of a better

word we call this kernel of a man his soul, or spirit, both of which

words connote to us an immaterial object, with none of the attributes

of physical existence. To the savage, however, as to our own

forefathers, and to the _folk_ of all civilised countries still, the

idea of an incorporeal soul is incomprehensible. He may not be able to

see it at all times; he may not be able to handle it when he will: but

this kernel, this inner self, of friend or foe, comes to him in

dreams; he beholds it in the snake or the toad, the insect or the

dove, that haunts the tomb of one who was dear to him, or in the

rose-bush or the lily growing upon the grave; or he fetches it back in

the shape of a white stone to his beloved child, who has sickened at

its absence, and is like to die. Thus it is everywhere in the lower

culture conceived as material, though capable of changing its form and

appearance without losing its identity. And this identity is the real

identity of the man, suffusing and transfusing his entire being. Hence

the dividing line between Transformation and Transmigration {227} is

frequently so thin and faint. Transmigration as popularly understood

(for I am not speaking of the speculations of philosophers, whether

Indian or Greek) is a natural and imperceptible development of

Transformation. As regards the popular Buddhistic belief of ancient

Hindustan I have already shown this from the _Játakas_; and what is

true of that holds good of other popular forms of belief, at all

events where Judaism and its daughter-faiths, Christianity and

Mohammedanism, have not too deeply penetrated.

Some races, as we have seen, divide the soul into two or more

entities, whereof one alone may be capable of re-manifestation. To

discuss the reason for this would lead us away from our subject. It

will be enough to suggest that it is an attempt to escape from the

dilemma imposed by the meeting of two or more lines of speculation as

to the future life. A reconciliation must be attained between the

reasoning which would lead to the belief in a place of the dead

elsewhere than here, and that which inclines to the opinion that the

deceased remains among his friends, or amid his decaying dust, ready

and eager to appear again. The divisibility of the inner self succeeds

in this object; and if we meet with such a device less frequently than

we might expect, it is no doubt because the savage mind, unaccustomed

to consecutive and abstract thought, is slow in realising a

contradiction, and unwilling to solve the difficulty, unless where

circumstances have compelled the attention and the necessary effort.

The study of the belief in the re-incorporation of the soul in a human

body has no direct bearing on the legend of Perseus, but some account

of it was required to {228} complete our view of savage thought upon

the subject of Transformation by means of death and birth--a subject

necessary to be understood in approaching the incident of the

Life-token. To that incident we have next to address ourselves.

[End of vol. I]

LIST OF SOME OF THE WORKS REFERRED TO

Note.--In the notes Roman numerals placed _before_ the name of a

work or author indicate the volume, placed _after_ the name indicate

the book or chapter, cited; Arabic numerals generally indicate the

page or verse.

Allen, Grant, _Attis._ The Attis of Caius Valerius Catullus

Translated into English Verse, with Dissertations on the Myth of

Attis, on the Origin of Tree-Worship, and on the Galliambic Metre by

Grant Allen, B.A. London, 1892.

_Am Urquell._ Am Urquell. Monatsschrift für Volkskunde. Herausgegeben

von Friedrich S. Krauss. 4 vols. Wien, 1890-3. [Still proceeding.]

_Anthropologie._ L’Anthropologie paraissant tous les deux mois sous la

direction de MM. Cartailhac, Hamy, Topinard. 4 vols. Paris, 1890-93.

[Still proceeding.]

_Antiquary._ The Antiquary: a Magazine devoted to the Study of the

Past. 29 vols. London, 1880-94. [Still proceeding.]

_Archivio._ Archivio per lo Studio delle Tradizioni Popolari. Rivista

trimestrale diritta da G. Pitrè e S. Salamone-Marino. 12 vols.

Palermo, 1882-93. [Still proceeding.]

_Arch. Rev._ The Archæological Review. 4 vols. London, 1888-90.

_Asbjörnsen._ Norwegische Volksmärchen, gesammelt von P. Asbjörnsen

und Jörgen Moe. Deutsch von Friederich Bresemann. 2 vols. Berlin,

1847.

Aubrey, _Miscellanies._ Miscellanies upon Various Subjects. By John

Aubrey, F.R.S. London, 1857.

Auning. Ueber den lettischen Drachen-Mythus (Puhkis). Ein Beitrag

zur lettischen Mythologie von Robert Auning. Mitan, 1892.

_Bahar-Danush._ Bahar-Danush; or Garden of Knowledge. An Oriental

Romance. Translated from the Persic of Einiaut Oollah. By Jonathan

Scott. 3 vols. Shrewsbury, 1799.

Bancroft. The Native Races of the Pacific States of North America.

By Hubert Howe Bancroft. 5 vols. London, 1875-6.

Basile. Lo Cunto de li Cunti (Il Pentamerone) di Giambattista

Basile. Testo conforme alla prima stampa del 1634-6 con introduzione e

note di Benedetto Croce. Vol. I. Napoli, 1891. [Only one volume yet

published.]

Bent, _Cyclades._ The Cyclades or Life among the Insular Greeks by

J. Theodore Bent, B.A. London, 1885.

Bérenger-Féraud. Traditions et Réminiscences Populaires de la

Provence (Coutumes, Légendes, Superstitions, etc.). Par

Bérenger-Féraud. Paris, 1886.

Bladé, _Agenais._ Contes Populaires recueillis en Agenais par M.

Jean-François Bladé. Paris, 1874.

---- _Contes Pop. Gasc._ Contes Populaires de la Gascogne, par M.

Jean-François Bladé. 3 vols. Paris, 1886.

_Blätt. f. Pomm. Volksk._ Blätter für Pommersche Volkskunde.

Monatsschrift für Sage und Märchen [etc.]. Herausgegeben von O.

Knoop und Dr. A. Haas. vols. Stettin. 1892--.

Bötticher. Der Baumkultus der Hellenen nach den gottesdienstlichen

Gebräuchen und den überlieferten Bildwerken dargestellt von Carl

Boetticher. Berlin, 1856.

Braga, _Contos._ Theophilo Braga. Contos Tradicionaes do Povo

Portuguez. 2 vols. Porto, N.D.

Brinton, _Amer. Hero-Myths._ American Hero-Myths. A Study in the

Native Religions of the Western Continent. By Daniel G. Brinton, M.D.

Philadelphia, 1882.

Brinton, _Lenâpé._ The Lenâpé and their Legends; with the

complete text and symbols of the Walam Olum, a new translation, and an

inquiry into its authenticity. By Daniel G. Brinton, A.M., M.D.

Philadelphia, 1885.

---- _Myths._ The Myths of the New World. A Treatise on the Symbolism

and Mythology of the Red Race of America by Daniel G. Brinton, A.M.,

M.D. New York, 1868.

Browne, _Vulgar Errors._ Pseudodoxia Epidemica: or Enquiries into

very many received Tenents and commonly presumed Truths. By Thomas

Browne, Doctor of Physick. London, 1646.

_Bull. de F.L._ Bulletin de Folklore Organe de la Société du

Folklore Wallon. 2 vols. London, 1892-3. [Still proceeding.]

Burton, _Gelele._ A Mission to Gelele, King of Dahome by Richard F.

Burton. 2 vols. London, 1864.

---- _Nights._ A plain and literal translation of the Arabian Nights

Entertainments, now entituled The Book of the Thousand Nights and a

Night, with introduction, explanatory notes [etc.], by Richard F.

Burton. 10 vols. Privately printed, 1885.

---- _Suppl. Nights._ Supplemental Nights to The Book of the Thousand

Nights and a Night with notes anthropological and explanatory by

Richard F. Burton. 6 vols. Privately printed, 1886-88.

---- _Wanderings._ Wanderings in West Africa from Liverpool to

Fernando Po. By A F.R.G.S. 2 vols. London, 1863.

---- _Wit and Wisd._ Wit and Wisdom from West Africa, compiled by

Richard F. Burton. London, 1865.

Busk, _Sagas from the Far East._ Sagas from the Far East; or Kalmouk

and Mongolian Traditionary Tales. With historical preface and

explanatory notes. By the Author of “Patrañas,” etc. London, 1873.

Callaway, _Rel. Syst._ The Religious System of the Amazulu.

Isinyanga Zokubula; or Divination, as existing among the Amazulu, in

their own words, with a translation into English, and notes. By the

Rev. Canon Callaway, M.D. Natal, 1870.

---- _Tales._ Nursery Tales, Traditions, and Histories of the Zulus,

in their own words, with a translation into English, and notes. By the

Rev. Canon Callaway, M.D. Vol. I. London, 1868. [Only one vol.

published.]

Campbell. Popular Tales of the West Highlands orally collected with

a translation by J. F. Campbell. 4 vols. Edinburgh, 1860-62.

Campbell, _Santal F.T._ Santal Folk Tales. Translated from the

Santali by A. Campbell. Pokhuria, 1891.

Carnoy. Contes Français recueillis par E. Henry Carnoy. Paris,

1885.

Casalis. Les Bassoutos ou vingt-trois années de séjour et

d’observations au sud de l’Afrique par E. Casalis. Paris, 1859.

Cavallius. Schwedische Volkssagen und Märchen. Nach mündlicher

Ueberlieferung gesammelt und herausgegeben von Gunnar Olof Hyltén

Cavallius und George Stephens. Deutsch von Carl Oberleitner. Wien,

1848.

Chambers, _Pop. Rhymes._ Popular Rhymes of Scotland. Robert

Chambers. London, 1870.

Child. The English and Scottish Popular Ballads edited by Francis

James Child. 8 parts. Boston, N.D. [1882-92, still proceeding.]

Codrington. The Melanesians. Studies in their Anthropology and

Folklore by R. H. Codrington, D.D. Oxford, 1891.

Coelho. Contos Populares Portuguezes colligidos por F. Adolpho

Coelho. Lisbon, 1879.

Comparetti. Novelline Popolari Italiane pubblicate ed illustrate da

Domenico Comparetti. Vol. I. Torino, 1875. [Only one volume yet

published.]

_Compte-Rendu du Congrès._ Congrès International des Traditions

Populaires. Première Session. Paris, 1889. Compte-Rendu des Séances.

Paris, 1891.

_Congress Report._ The International Folklore Congress, 1891. Papers

and Transactions. Edited by Joseph Jacobs and Alfred Nutt. London,

1892.

Cosquin. Emmanuel Cosquin. Contes Populaires de la Lorraine. 2 vols.

Paris, N.D. [Preface dated Août 1886.]

_County F.L., Suffolk._ County Folklore. Printed Extracts. No. 2:

Suffolk. Collected and edited by the Lady Eveline Camilla Gurdon.

London, 1893. [Folklore Society.]

Cox, Miss, _Cinderella._ Cinderella. Three hundred and forty-five

variants of Cinderella, Catskin, and Cap o’ Rushes, abstracted and

tabulated, with a discussion of mediæval analogues, and notes, by

Marian Roalfe Cox. London, 1893.

Crane. Italian Popular Tales by Thomas Frederick Crane, A.M. London,

1885.

Crantz. The History of Greenland: containing a Description of the

Country and its Inhabitants. By David Crantz. Translated from the High

Dutch. 2 vols. London, 1767.

Curtin, _Russians._ Myths and Folktales of the Russians, Western

Slavs and Magyars by Jeremiah Curtin. London, 1890.

_Cymmrodor._ See _Y Cymmrodor_.

Dalton. Descriptive Ethnology of Bengal, by Edward Tuite Dalton,

C.S.I.Col. Calcutta, 1872.

D’Arbois de Jubainville, _Cycle Myth._ Le Cycle Mythologique

Irlandais et la Mythologie Celtique, par H. D’Arbois de Jubainville.

Paris, 1884.

---- _Épopée Celtique._ L’Épopée Celtique en Irlande, par H.

D’Arbois de Jubainville. Vol. I. Paris, 1892. [One volume only yet

published.]

Dasent. Popular Tales from the Norse by Sir George Webbe Dasent,

D.C.L. Edinburgh, 1888.

Davids. See Rhys Davids.

Day. Folktales of Bengal by the Rev. Lal Behari Day. London, 1883.

De Charencey, _Le Fils de la Vierge_. Le Fils de la Vierge par H. de

Charencey. Havre, 1879.

---- _Trad. rel._ Les Traditions relatives au Fils de la Vierge par H.

de Charencey. Paris, 1881.

De Gubernatis. Le Novelline di Santo Stefano raccolte da Angelo de

Gubernatis. Torino, 1869.

---- _Zool. Myth._ Zoological Mythology or The Legends of Animals by

Angelo de Gubernatis. London, 1872.

De Gubernatis, _Trad. Pop._ Le Tradizioni Popolari di S. Stefano di

Calcinaia raccolte da Alessandro de Gubernatis. Roma, 1894. [Includes

a new edition of the _Novelline_.]

De Nino. Usi e Costumi Abruzzesi descritti da Antonio de Nino. 5

vols. Firenze, 1879-91. [The first volume bears only the title _Usi

Abruzzesi_.]

Dennys. The Folklore of China, and its Affinities with that of the

Aryan and Semitic Races. By N. B. Dennys, Ph.D., F.R.G.S. London,

1876.

De Rochemonteix. Quelques Contes Nubiens par Maxence de

Rochemonteix. Cairo, 1888.

Dorman. The Origin of Primitive Superstitions and their Development

into the Worship of Spirits and the Doctrine of Spiritual Agency among

the Aborigines of America. By Rushton M. Dorman. Philadelphia, 1881.

_Early Trav._ Early Travels in Palestine, comprising the narratives of

Arculf, Willibald [etc.]. Edited with notes by Thomas Wright, Esq.,

M.A., F.S.A. London, 1848.

Elliot, _N. W. Prov._ Memoirs on the History, Folklore, and

Distribution of the Races of the North Western Provinces of India;

being an amplified edition of the original Supplemental Glossary of

Indian Terms by the late Sir Henry M. Elliot, K.C.B. Edited, revised,

and rearranged by John Beames, M.R.A.S. 2 vols. London, 1869.

Ellis, _Polyn. Res._ Polynesian Researches, during a residence of

nearly eight years in the Society and Sandwich Islands. By William

Ellis. 4 vols. London, 1831.

---- _Ewe-speaking Peoples._ The Ewe-speaking Peoples of the Slave

Coast of West Africa. Their Religion, Manners, Customs, Laws,

Languages, etc. By A. B. Ellis. London, 1890.

---- _Tshi-speaking Peoples._ The Tshi-speaking Peoples of the Gold

Coast of West Africa. Their Religion, Manners, Customs, Laws,

Language, etc. By A. B. Ellis. London, 1887.

---- _Yoruba._ The Yoruba-speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast of West

Africa. Their Religion, Manners, Customs, Laws, Language, etc. By A.

B. Ellis. London, 1894.

Featherman. Social History of the Races of Mankind. By A.

Featherman. 7 vols., not numbered, but distinguished as follows:--1st

Division: Nigritians. 2nd Division: Papuo- and Malayo-Melanesians. 2nd

Division: Oceano-Melanesians. 3rd Division: Aoneo-Maranonians. 3rd

Division: Chiapo- and Guarano-Maranonians. 4th Division:

Dravido-Turanians, Turco-Tatar-Turanians, Ugrio-Turanians. 5th

Division: Aramæans. London, 1881-91.

Finamore. Tradizioni Popolari Abruzzesi raccolte da Gennaro

Finamore. 2 vols. [Vol. I. in 2 parts, separately paged.] Lanciano,

1882-86.

---- _Trad. Pop. Abr._ Tradizioni Popolari Abruzzesi raccolte da

Gennaro Finamore. Torino, 1894. [A separate work from, but apparently

a continuation of, the above.]

_F.L. Journ._ The Folk-lore Journal. 7 vols. London, 1883-89. [Organ

of the Folklore Society.]

_F.L. Record._ The Folk-lore Record. 5 vols. London, 1878-82. [Organ

of the Folklore Society.]

_Folklore._ Folk-Lore, a Quarterly Review of Myth, Tradition,

Institution, and Custom. 4 vols. London, 1890-93. [Organ of the

Folklore Society, still proceeding.]

Frazer, _Golden Bough._ The Golden Bough A Study in Comparative

Religion by J. G. Frazer, M.A. 2 vols. London, 1890.

Frere. Old Deccan Days; or Hindoo Fairy Legends current in Southern

India. Collected from Oral Tradition by M. Frere. London, 1870.

Friend. Flowers and Flower Lore. By the Rev. Hilderic Friend, F.L.S.

2 vols., paged continuously. London, 1884.

Garnett, _Women._ The Women of Turkey and their Folk-lore by Lucy M.

J. Garnett. 2 vols. London, 1890-91.

Gerv. Tilb. Des Gervasius von Tilbury Otia Imperialia. In einer

Auswahl neu herausgegeben und mit Anmerkungen begleitet von Felix

Liebrecht. Hannover, 1856.

Gibb. The History of the Forty Vezirs or The Story of the Forty

Morns and Eves written in Turkish by Sheykh-Zāda done into English by

E. J. W. Gibb, M.R.A.S. London, 1886.

Giles. Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio. Translated and

annotated by Herbert A. Giles. 2 vols. London, 1880.

Gonzenbach. Sicilianische Märchen. Aus dem Volksmund gesammelt von

Laura Gonzenbach. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1870.

Grimm, _Tales._ Grimm’s Household Tales. With the Author’s Notes

Translated from the German and edited by Margaret Hunt. 2 vols.

London, 1884.

---- _Teut. Myth._ Teutonic Mythology by Jacob Grimm Translated from

the Fourth Edition with Notes and Appendix by James Steven

Stallybrass. 4 vols., paged continuously. London, 1880-88.

Grinnell, _Blackfoot L.T._ Blackfoot Lodge Tales. The Story of a

Prairie People by George Bird Grinnell. London, 1893.

Grundtvig. Dänische Volksmärchen. Nach bisher ungedruckten Quellen

erzählt von Svend Grundtvig. Uebersetzt von Willibald Leo. 2 vols.

Leipzig, 1885.

Guppy. The Solomon Islands and their Natives, By H. B. Guppy, M.B.,

F.G.S. London, 1887.

Hahn, _Tsuni_-ǁ_goam._ Tsuni-ǁgoam the Supreme Being of the

Khoi-Khoi by Theophilus Hahn, Ph.D. London, 1881.

Haltrich. Deutsche Volksmärchen aus dem Sachsenlande in

Siebenbürgen. Gesammelt von Josef Haltrich. Wien, 1885.

Hanway. An Historical Account of the British Trade over the Caspian

Sea: with a Journal of Travels through Russia into Persia and back

again through Russia Germany and Holland. By Jonas Hanway, Merchant. 4

vols. London, 1753.

Hodgetts. Tales and Legends from the Land of the Tzar. A Collection

of Russian Stories. Translated from the original Russian by Edith M.

S. Hodgetts. London, 1890.

Hunter, _Rural Bengal._ The Annals of Rural Bengal. By W. W. Hunter,

C.I.E., LL.D. London, 1883.

Imbriani. La Novellaja Fiorentina Fiabe e Novelline Stenografate in

Firenze dal dettato popolare da Vittorio Imbriani. Ristampa

accresciuta di molte novelle inedite, [etc.,] nelle quale è accolta

integralmente La Novellaja Milanese dello stesso raccoglitore.

Livorno, 1877.

Im Thurn. Among the Indians of Guiana being Sketches chiefly

anthropologic from the Interior of British Guiana by Everard F. im

Thurn, M.A. London, 1883.

_Internat. Archiv._ Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie. 6 vols.

Leiden, 1888-93. [Still proceeding.]

Jacobs, _Celtic F.T._ Celtic Fairy Tales selected and edited by

Joseph Jacobs. London, 1892.

---- _Indian F.T._ Indian Fairy Tales selected and edited by Joseph

Jacobs. London, 1892.

James, _The Long White Mountain._ The Long White Mountain. A Journey

in Manchuria with some Account of the History, People, Administration

and Religion of that Country. By H. E. M. James. London, 1888.

Jeremias, _Izdubar-Nimrod._ Izdubar-Nimrod. Eine altbabylonische

Heldensage. Nach den Keilschriftfragmenten dargestellt von Dr. Alfred

Jeremias. Leipzig, 1891.

Jevons, _Plutarch’s Romane Questions._ Plutarch’s Romane Questions.

Translated A.D. 1603 by Philemon Holland, M.A., Fellow of Trinity

College, Cambridge. Now again edited by Frank Byron Jevons, M.A. With

Dissertations on Italian Cults [etc.]. London, 1892.

_Journ. Am. F.L._ The Journal of American Folklore. 6 vols. Boston,

1888-93. [Organ of the American Folklore Society, still proceeding.]

_Journ. Anthrop. Inst._ The Journal of the Anthropological Institute

of Great Britain and Ireland. 23 vols. London, 1872-94. [Still

proceeding.]

_Journ. Anthr. Soc._ Journal of the Anthropological Society of London.

8 vols. London, 1863-70.

_Journ. Ethnol. Soc., N.S._ Journal of the Ethnological Society of

London. Published quarterly. 2 vols. London, 1869-70.

_Kathá._ The Kathá-sarit-Ságara or Ocean of the Streams of Story

translated from the original Sanskrit by C. H. Tawney, M.A. 2 vols.

Calcutta, 1880-84.

Kaindl. Die Huzulen. Ihr Leben ihre Sitten und ihre

Volksüberlieferung geschildert von Dr. Raimund Friedrich Kaindl.

Wien, 1894.

_Kalevala._ Kalewala, das National-Epos der Finnen, nach der zweiten

Ausgabe ins Deutsche übertragen von Anton Schiefner. Helsingfors,

1852.

Klunzinger. Upper Egypt: its People and its Products. A Descriptive

Account of the Manners, Customs, Superstitions and Occupations of the

People of the Nile Valley [etc.]. By C. B. Klunzinger, M.D. London,

1878.

Knight. Where Three Empires Meet. A Narrative of recent Travel in

Kashmir, Western Tibet, Gilgit and the adjoining Countries by E. F.

Knight. London, 1893.

Knoop. Volkssagen, Erzählungen Aberglauben, Gebräuche und Märchen

aus dem östlichen Hinterpommern. Gesammelt von Otto Knoop. Posen,

1885.

Knowles. Folktales of Kashmir. By the Rev. J. Hinton Knowles,

F.R.G.S., M.R.A.S. London, 1888.

Kohlrusch. Schweizerisches Sagenbuch. Nach mündlichen

Ueberlieferungen, Chroniken und andern gedruckten und

handschriftlichen Quellen herausgegeben von C. Kohlrusch. Leipzig,

1854-56. [Only one volume and a portion of a second published.]

Kolbe. Hessische Volks-Sitten und Gebräuche im Lichte der

heidnische Vorzeit. Von Wilhelm Kolbe. Marburg, 1888.

Krauss, _Sagen._ Sagen und Märchen der Südslaven. Zum grossen Teil

aus ungedruckten Quellen von Dr. Friedrich S. Krauss. 2 vols. Leipzig,

1883-84.

---- _Sitte und Brauch._ Sitte und Brauch der Südslaven. Nach

heimischen gedruckten und ungedruckten Quellen von Dr. Friedrich S.

Krauss. Wien, 1885.

Kremnitz. Rumänische Märchen übersetzt von Mite Kremnitz.

Leipzig, 1882.

Kreutzwald. Ehstnische Märchen aufgezeichnet von Friedrich

Kreutzwald. Aus dem Ehstnischen übersetzt von F. Löwe. Halle, 1869.

Kuhn und Schwartz. Norddeutsche Sagen, Märchen und Gebräuche aus

dem Munde des Volkes gesammelt und herausgegeben von A. Kuhn und W.

Schwartz. Leipzig, 1848.

Landes, _Annamites._ Contes et Légendes Annamites par A. Landes.

Saigon, 1886.

---- _Tjames._ Contes Tjames traduits et annotés par A. Landes.

Saigon, 1887.

Lane. An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians,

written in Egypt during the years 1833, -34, and -35, partly from

notes made during a former visit [etc.]. By Edward William Lane. 2

vols. London, 1842.

Le Braz. La Légende de la Mort en Basse Bretagne. Croyances,

Traditions et Usages des Bretons Armoricains par A. Le Braz. Paris,

1893.

_Leg. Panjâb._ The Legends of the Panjâb. By Captain R. C. Temple. 2

vols. Bombay, N.D.

Legrand. Recueil des Contes Populaires Grecs traduits sur les textes

originaux par Émile Legrand. Paris, 1881.

Leland, _Gip. Sorc._ Gipsy Sorcery and Fortune-telling, illustrated

by numerous incantations, specimens of medical magic, anecdotes and

tales by Charles Godfrey Leland. London, 1891.

Leskien. Litauische Volkslieder und Märchen aus dem Preussischen

und dem Russischen Litauen, gesammelt von A. Leskien und K. Brugman.

Strassburg, 1882.

Liebrecht. Zur Volkskunde. Alte und Neue Aufsätze von Felix

Liebrecht. Heilbronn, 1879.

_Llyvyr Coch._ See _Mabinogion_.

Luzel, _Contes Bretons._ Contes Bretons par F. M. Luzel. Quimperlé,

1870.

---- _Contes Pop._ Contes Populaires de la Basse Bretagne par F. M.

Luzel. 3 vols. Paris, 1887.

_Mabinogion._ The Mabinogion. From the Welsh of the Llyfr Coch o

Hergest (The Red Book of Hergest) in the Library of Jesus College,

Oxford. Translated, with notes, by Lady Charlotte Guest. London, 1877.

_Y Llyvyr Coch o Hergest._ [Diplomatic reproduction of the MS.

referred to above. No general title-page. The first volume contains

the Mabinogion. Edited by John Rhŷs, M.A., and J. Gwenogvryn Evans.

Oxford, 1887.]

Macdonald. Africana; or The Heart of Heathen Africa. By the Rev.

Duff Macdonald, M.A., B.D. 2 vols. London, 1882.

Macpherson, _Memorials._ Memorials of Service in India from the

Correspondence of the late Major Samuel Charters Macpherson, C.B.,

edited by his brother William Macpherson. London, 1865.

Mango. Novelline Popolari Sarde raccolte e annotate dal Dott.

Francesco Mango. Palermo, 1890.

Markham, _Rites and Laws._ Narratives of the Rites and Laws of the

Yncas. Translated from the original Spanish MSS., and edited by

Clements R. Markham, C.B., F.R.S. London, 1873.

Marsden. The History of Sumatra, containing an Account of the

Government, Laws, Customs, and Manners of the Native Inhabitants

[etc.]. By William Marsden, F.R.S. London, 1811.

Martinengo-Cesaresco, Countess. Essays in the Study of Folk-songs.

By the Countess Evelyn Martinengo-Cesaresco. London, 1886.

Maspero. Les Contes Populaires de l’Égypte Ancienne, traduits et

commentés par G. Maspero. Paris, 1882.

Maurer. Isländische Volkssagen der Gegenwart, vorwiegend nach

mündlicher Ueberlieferung gesammelt, und verdeutscht von Dr. Konrad

Maurer. Leipzig, 1860.

Maury, _Légendes Pieuses._ Essai sur les Légendes Pieuses du Moyen

Age, ou Examen de ce qu’elles renferment de Merveilleux [etc.]; par L.

F. Alfred Maury. Paris, 1843.

_Meddygon Myddfai._ The Physicians of Myddvai; Meddygon Myddfai, or

the Medical Practice of the celebrated Rhiwallon and his sons, of

Myddvai, in Carmarthenshire, Physicians to Rhys Gryg, Lord of Dynevor

and Ystrad Towy, about the middle of the thirteenth century. From

ancient MSS. in the Libraries of Jesus College, Oxford, Llanover, and

Tonn; with an English translation; and the legend of the Lady of Llynn

y Van. Translated by John Pughe, Esq., F.R.C.S., and edited by the

Rev. John Williams ab Ithel, M.A. Llandovery, 1861.

Meier, _Märchen._ Deutsche Volksmärchen aus Schwaben. Aus dem

Munde des Volkes gesammelt und herausgegeben von Dr. Ernst Meier.

Stuttgart, N.D. [3rd edition.]

---- _Sagen._ Deutsche Sagen, Sitten und Gebräuche aus Schwaben,

gesammelt von Ernst Meier. 2 vols., paged continuously. Stuttgart,

1852.

_Mélusine._ Mélusine Recueil de Mythologie Littérature Populaire,

Traditions et Usages, publié par MM. H. Gaidoz et E. Rolland. 6 vols.

Paris, 1878-93. [Still proceeding. The later volumes edited by H.

Gaidoz alone.]

_Mem. Anthr. Soc._ Memoirs read before the Anthropological Society of

London. 3 vols. London, 1865-70.

Milenowsky. Volks-märchen aus Böhmen. Von J. Milenowsky. Breslau,

1853.

Modigliani. Un Viaggio a Nías di Elio Modigliani. Milano, 1890.

Morris and Magnússon, _Heimskringla._ The Stories of the Kings of

Norway called The Round World (Heimskringla) by Snorri Sturluson done

into English out of the Icelandic by William Morris and Eiríkr

Magnússon. Vol. I. London, 1893. [One volume only yet issued.]

Müller, _Amer. Urrel._ Geschichte der Amerikanischen Ur-religionen.

Von J. G. Müller. Basel, 1867.

_Nat. Mus. Rep._, 1888. Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the

Smithsonian Institution, for the year ending June 30, 1888. Report of

the U.S. National Museum. Washington, 1890.

O’Donovan, _Four Masters._ Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland, by the

Four Masters, edited by John O’Donovan, Esq. 5 vols. Dublin, 1851.

_Pentamerone._ Der Pentamerone oder Das Märchen aller Märchen von

Giambattista Basile. Aus dem Neapolitanischen übertragen von Felix

Liebrecht. 2 vols. Breslau, 1846.

Pigorini-Beri. Caterina Pigorini-Beri. Costumi e Superstizioni dell’

Appennino Marchigiano. Città di Castello, 1889.

Pitrè. Biblioteca delle Tradizioni Popolari Siciliane per cura di

Giuseppe Pitrè. 18 vols. Palermo, 1871-88.

---- _Nov. Pop. Toscane._ Novelle Popolari Toscane illustrate da

Giuseppe Pitrè. Firenze, 1885.

Placucci. Usi e Pregiudizj dei Contadini della Romagna di Michele

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Ploss, _Kind._ Das Kind in Brauch und Sitte der Völker.

Anthropologische Studien von Dr. H. Ploss. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1884.

---- _Weib._ Das Weib in der Natur- und Völkerkunde. Anthropologische

Studien von Dr. H. Ploss. Nach dem Tode des Verfassers bearbeitet und

herausgegeben von Dr. Max Bartels. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1891.

_Popol Vuh._ Popol Vuh. Le Livre sacré et les Mythes de l’Antiquité

Américaine, avec les livres héroïques et historiques des Quichés.

Ouvrage original des Indigènes de Guatemala, Texte Quiché et

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l’Abbé Brasseur de Bourbourg. Paris, 1861.

Powell and Magnússon. Icelandic Legends. Collected by Jón Arnason.

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Powers. Tribes of California. By Stephen Powers. Washington, 1877.

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Preller, _Röm. Myth._ Römische Mythologie von L. Preller. 3te

Auflage von H. Jordan. 2 vols. Berlin, 1881-3.

_Proc. Soc. Bibl. Arch._ Proceedings of the Society of Biblical

Archæology. 15 vols. London, 1879-93. [Still proceeding.]

Pröhle, _Kinder- und Volksm._ Kinder- und Volksmärchen. Gesammelt

von Heinrich Pröhle. Leipzig, 1853.

Radloff. Proben der Volkslitteratur der Türkischen Stämme

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der Volkslitteratur der nördlichen Türkischen Stämme._]

Ralston, _Russian F.T._ Russian Folktales by W. R. S. Ralston, M.A.

London, 1873.

---- _Songs._ The Songs of the Russian People, as illustrative of

Slavonic Mythology and Russian Social Life. By W. R. S. Ralston, M.A.

London, 1872.

---- _Tibetan Tales._ Tibetan Tales derived from Indian Sources.

Translated from the Tibetan of the Kah-gyur by F. Anton von Schiefner.

Done into English from the German by W. R. S. Ralston, M.A. London,

1882.

Reade, Winwood. Savage Africa: being the Narrative of a Tour in

Equatorial, South-Western, and North-Western Africa, by W. Winwood

Reade. London, 1863.

_Records of the Past._ Records of the Past: being English translations

of the Assyrian and Egyptian Monuments. 12 vols. London, N.D.

Reed. Japan: its History, Traditions, and Religions, With the

Narrative of a Visit in 1879. By Sir Edward J. Reed, K.C.B., F.R.S.,

M.P. 2 vols. London, 1880.

_Rep. Austr. Ass._ Report of the Second Meeting of the Australasian

Association for the Advancement of Science, held at Melbourne,

Victoria, in January 1890. Edited by W. Baldwin Spencer, M.A.

Published by the Association. Sydney, N.D.

_Rep. Bur. Ethn._ Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology to the

Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution. By J. W. Powell, Director.

Washington. [9 vols, published, from 1879-80, still proceeding.]

_Rev. Celt._ Revue Celtique, dirigée par H. Gaidoz. 14 vols. Paris,

1890-93. [Still proceeding. Recent volumes edited by H. D’Arbois de

Jubainville.]

_Rev. Trad. Pop._ Revue des Traditions Populaires. 8 vols. Paris,

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proceeding.]

Rhys, _Hibbert Lectures._ The Hibbert Lectures, 1886. Lectures on

the Origin and Growth of Religion as illustrated by Celtic Heathendom.

By John Rhys. London, 1888.

Rhys Davids, _Buddhism._ Buddhism: being a Sketch of the Life and

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Rink. Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo by Dr. Henry Rink.

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Risley. The Tribes and Castes of Bengal. By H. H. Risley.

Ethnographic Glossary. 2 vols. Calcutta, 1891.

Rivière. Recueil de Contes Populaires de la Kabylie du Djurdjura

recueillis et traduits par J. Rivière. Paris, 1882.

Rodd. The Customs and Lore of Modern Greece by Rennell Rodd. London,

1892.

Rydberg. Teutonic Mythology by Viktor Rydberg, Ph.D. Authorised

translation from the Swedish by Rasmus B. Anderson, LL.D. London,

1889.