Tradition, Principally with Reference to Mythology and the Law of Nations

by Baron John Francis Arundell Arundell of Wardour

HEA OR HOA.

“The third god of the first triad was Hea or Hoa, the Ana of Damascius. This appellation is perhaps best rendered into Greek by the Ὠη of Helladius, the name given to the mystic animal, half man half fish, which came up from the Persian Gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the Euphrates and Tigris. It is perhaps contained in the word by which Berosus designates this same creature—Oannes (Ὠáννης), which may be explained as Hoa-ana, or the god Hoa. There are no means of strictly determining the precise meaning of the word in Babylonian, but it is perhaps allowable to connect it provisionally with the Arabic Hiya, which is at once life and ‘a serpent,’ since, according to the best authority, ‘there are very strong grounds for connecting Hea or Hoa with the serpent of Scripture, and the paradisaical traditions of the tree of knowledge and the tree of life.’

“Hoa occupies in the first triad the position which in the classical mythology is filled by Poseidon or Neptune, and in some respects he corresponds to him. He is ‘the lord of the earth,’ just as Neptune is γαιήοχος; he is the ‘king of rivers,’ and he comes from the sea to teach the Babylonians, but he is never called the ‘lord of the sea.’ That title belongs to Nin or Ninip. Hoa is the lord of the abyss or of ‘the great deep,’ which does not seem to be the sea, but something distinct from it. His most important titles are those which invest him with the character so prominently brought out in Oë and Oannes, of the god of science and knowledge. He is ‘the intelligent guide,’ or, according to another interpretation, ‘the intelligent fish,’ ‘the teacher of mankind,’ ‘the lord of understanding.’ One of his emblems is the ‘wedge’ or ‘arrow-head,’ the essential element of cuneiform writing, which seems to be assigned to him as the inventor, or at least the patron, of the Chaldæan alphabet. Another is the serpent, which occupies so conspicuous a place among the symbols of the gods on the black stones recording benefactions, and which sometimes appears upon the cylinders. This symbol here, as elsewhere, is emblematic of superhuman knowledge—a record of the primeval belief that ‘the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field.’ The stellar name of Hoa was Kimmut.... The monuments do not contain much evidence of the early worship of Hoa. His name appears on a very ancient stone tablet brought from Mugheir (Ur), but otherwise his claim to be accounted one of the primeval gods must rest on the testimony of Berosus and Helladius, who represent him as known to the first settlers.... As Kimmut, Hoa was also the father of Nebo, whose functions bear a general resemblance to his own.”—Rawlinson’s Ancient Monarchies, i. 152.[154]

I have said that I shall not rely too much on the resemblance of name, Hoa; but I must draw attention to the curious resemblance which lurks in the name “Aüs” to the words upon which the Vicomte D’Anselme has founded an argument in the appended note.[155]

In the above extract from Rawlinson, although Hoa is said not to be “the true fish-god,” yet he is called “the intelligent fish,” and is associated with that mystic animal, half man half fish, which came up from the Persian Gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on Euphrates and Tigris.

Let us compare this information with the following “History of the Fish,” which the Abbé Gainet, i. 199, has translated from the Mahâbhârata. The same history has been translated from the Bhagavad Pourana by Sir W. Jones (“Asiatic Researches”). Indeed, as the Abbé Gainet argues, as this same history is found in all the religious poems of India, there is a certain security that it would not have been taken from the Hebrews.

I shall merely attempt to give the drift of the legend from the Abbé Gainet’s original translation of that portion of the Matysia Pourana which has reference to Noah:—

“The son of Vaivaswata (the sun) was a king, and a great sage, a prince of men, resembling Pradjapati in eclat. In his strength, splendour, prosperity, and above all, his penitence, Manou surpassed his father and his grandfather.[156]... One day a small fish approached him, and begged him to remove him from the water where he was, ‘because the great fish always eat the little fish—it is our eternal condition.’ Manou complies, and the fish promises eternal gratitude. After several such migrations, through the intervention of Manou, the fish at each removal increasing in bulk, he is at length launched in the ocean. The fish then holds this discourse with Manou:—‘Soon, oh blessed Manou, everything that is by nature fixed and stationary in the terrestrial world, will undergo a general immersion and a complete dissolution. This temporary immersion of the world is near at hand, and therefore it is that I announce to you to-day what you ought to do for your safety.’ He instructs him to build a strong and solid ship, and to enter it with the seven richis or sages.[157] He instructs him also to take with him all sorts of seeds, according to certain Brahminical indications. ‘And when you are in the vessel you will perceive me coming towards you, oh well-beloved of the saints, I will approach you with a horn on my head, by which you will recognise me.’ Manou did all that was prescribed to him by the fish, and the earth was submerged accordingly, as he had predicted. ‘Neither the earth, nor the sky, nor the intermediate space, was visible; all was water.’ ‘In the middle of the world thus submerged, O Prince of Bharatidians, were seen the seven richis or sages, Manou, and the fish. Thus, O King, did this fish cause the vessel to sail’ (with a rope tied to its horn), ‘for many years, without wearying, in this immensity of water.’ At length the ship was dragged by the fish on to the highest point of the Himalaya. ‘That is why the highest summit of the Himaran (Himalaya) was called Nanbundhanam, or the place to which the ship was attached, a name which it bears to this day—Sache cela, O Prince des Bharatidians.’ Then le gracieux, with placid gaze, thus addressed the richis—‘I am Brahma, the ancestor (l’ancestre) of all creatures. No one is greater than I. Under the form of a fish I came to save you from the terrors of death. From Manou, now, shall all creatures, with the gods, the demons (au souras), and mankind, be born.... This is the ancient and celebrated history which bears the name of the ‘History of the Fish.’”[158]

Here we seem to see what looks like the commencement of the legendary origin of the fish symbol; and here also we see it unmistakeably in connection with Noah. We have, moreover, seen the connection of Hoa with the fish.[159]

Let us now turn to his reduplication, as I conceive, in Nin, or Ninip, who is said to be “the true fish god.”

“His names, Bar and Nin, are respectively a Semitic and a Hamitic term, signifying ‘Lord,’ or ‘Master,’” (p. 166). Astronomically Nin “should be Saturn.” However, a set of epithets which seem to point to his stellar character are very difficult to reconcile with the notion that, as a celestial luminary, he was (the dark and distant) Saturn. We find him called, “the light of heaven and earth,” “he who, like the sun, the light of the gods, irradiates the nations.” All this is very difficult to reconcile with legends arising out of the simple worship of a celestial luminary, but perfectly consistent with the supposition of the patriarch Noah, after deification, being located in the planetary system. The phrase, “he who, like the sun, the light of the gods, irradiates the nations,” is perfectly applicable to him who, as Oannes, we have ever regarded as “the god of science and of knowledge” and who “taught astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the Euphrates and Tigris.” Let us glance at the other epithets applied to Nin in the inscriptions. He is the “lord of the brave,” “the champion,” “the warrior who subdues foes,” “he who strengthens the hearts of his followers.” [The Scripture mentions the repeated assurances of the Almighty to Noah, that there should not be another Deluge; and the above is in keeping with the tradition that the early inhabitants long hesitated to quit the mountains for the plains, and only did so incited by the example of the patriarch.] “The destroyer of enemies,” “the reducer of the disobedient,” “the exterminator of rebels,” “he whose sword is good.” Like Nergal, or Mars, he is a god of battle and the chase. (I shall refer later on to these warlike epithets as applied to Noah.) At the same time he has qualities which seem wholly unconnected with any that have been hitherto mentioned. He is the true “fish-god” of Berosus, and is figured as such in the Scriptures. (I hope I may persuade some reader, who may be interested in this inquiry, to compare the figure of Nin, in Rawlinson, i. 167, with figure 23, Dupaix’s “New Spain” in Lord Kingsborough’s “Mexico,” representing an emblematic figure with fish[160] (as in the representation of Nin) over a human head, which also has inverted tusks. Compare also with representations of Neph, associated with snake and ram’s head, and also with “History of the Fish,” supra, [p. 197.]) To continue—in this point of view he (Nin) is called the “god of the sea,” “he who dwells in the deep” and again, somewhat curiously, “the opener of the aqueducts.” Now, as applied to Noah, this is not at all strange, and corresponds to the Scriptural phrase, “He opened the fountains of the deeps.” Subsequently to deification we cannot be surprised to find all that was done by the Almighty attributed to the individual to whom it was done; as in Prometheus we have a double legend of the Creator, who created man with the vital spark, and of Prometheus, the man who was so created. “Besides these epithets he has many of a more general character, as ‘the powerful chief,’ ‘the supreme,’ ‘the favourite of the gods,’ ‘the chief of the spirits,’ and the like.”

I must, moreover, request attention to the following from Rawlinson, i. 168,—“Nin’s emblem in Assyria is the man-bull, the impersonation of strength and power. He guards the palaces of the Assyrian kings, who reckon him their tutelary god, and gives his name to their capital city. We may conjecture that in Babylonia his emblem was the sacred fish, which is often seen in different forms upon the cylinders.”[161]

I turn to Gainet, i. 198, and I find this legend concerning the man-bull from Bertrand’s “Dict. des Religions,” 38, i. ii.[162]

“D’après les livres Parsis, le souverain Créateur sut que le mauvais génie se disposait à tenter l’homme. Il ne jugea pas à propos de l’empêcher par lui-même; il se contenta d’envoyer des anges pour veiller sur l’homme. Cependant le mal augmenta; l’homme se perdit; Dieu envoya un Deluge, qui dura dix jours et dix nuits et détruisit le genre humain. L’apparition de Kaioumons (l’homme-taureau), le premier homme, y est aussi précédée de la creation d’une grande eau.” Here, in a confused tradition, with Adam—just as Nin is confused with Hercules and Saturn—the man-bull is apparently associated with a great flood.

In the curious Etruscan monument commemorative of the Deluge—discovered in 1696—and to which Cardinal Wiseman draws attention in his “Conferences” (vide Gainet, i. 190), being a vase supposed to represent the ark, and containing figures of twenty couples of (12) animals, (6) birds, (2) serpents, &c., and several human figures represented in the act of escaping from an inundation, there were also discovered certain signets and amulets. These consisted of hands joined, heads of oxen, and olives. Now the olive in connection with the Deluge will speak for itself,—the hands joined are the symbol of Janus (vide next chapter), and heads of oxen—here unmistakably connected with the Deluge—may also be conjectured to have allusion to the man-bull above referred to.

Thus Nin, through both his emblems (bull and fish), is brought into contact with the Noachic tradition.[163] It is also said (Rawlinson, i. 174) of Nergal, vide supra, who is clearly identified with Nimrod,—“Again, if Nergal is the man-lion, his association in the buildings with the man-bull would be exactly parallel with the conjunction which we so constantly find between him and Nin in the inscriptions.”

It is true that the majority of the inscriptions, p. 169, assert that Nin was the son of Bel-Nimrod. This may be referred to that tendency, previously noted in ancient nations, to place the ancestor with whom they were themselves identified at the head of every genealogy. One inscription, however, “makes Bel-Nimrod the son of Nin instead of his father.” Nin, in any case, is unquestionably brought into close historical relationship with Bel-Nimrod, an historical character, and we must, in fine, choose whether we shall admit him to be Noah—to whom all the epithets would apply—or whether, upon the more literal construction of the inscriptions, we shall believe him to be some nameless son or successor of Nimrod.

There is one god more in whom I fancy I see a counterpart of Noah, or at least a counterpart of Hoa and Nin—viz.

NEBO.

I base my conclusion upon the epithets applied to him in common with Hoa and Nin, and inconsistently applied if, according to the evidence, p. 177, “mythologically he was a deity of no very great eminence,” but in no way conflicting with the supposition that he represented the tradition of Noah, the counterpart to the tradition of Hoa and Nin, among some subordinate nationality, and such appears to be the fact. “When Nebo first appears in Assyria, it is as a foreign god, whose worship is brought thither from Babylonia,” p. 178.

Of Nebo it is said, “his name is the same or nearly so, both in Babylonian and Assyrian, and we may perhaps assign it a Semitic derivation, from the root ‘nibbah,’ to prophesy. It is his special function to preside over knowledge and learning. He is called ‘the god who possesses intelligence’—‘he who hears from afar’—‘he who teaches,’ or ‘he who teaches and instructs.’ In this point of view he of course approximates to Hoa, whose son he is called in some inscriptions, and to whom he bears a general resemblance. Like Hoa, he is symbolised by the simple wedge or arrow-head, the primary and essential element of cuneiform writing, to mark his joint presidency with that god over writing and literature. At the same time Nebo has, like so many of the Chaldæan gods, a number of general titles, implying divine powers, which, if they had belonged to him only, would have seemed to prove him the supreme deity. He is ‘the lord of lords, who has no equal in power,’ ‘the supreme chief,’ ‘the sustainer,’ ‘the supporter,’ the ‘ever ready,’ ‘the guardian over the heavens and the earth,’ ‘the lord of the constellations,’ ‘the holder of the sceptre of power,’ ‘he who grants to kings the sceptre of royalty for the governance of their people’” (Rawlinson, i. 177).

There is just a possibility, however, that Nebo may be Sem or Shem. He would be the son of Hoa as Nebo was stated to be.

I think, moreover, a striking resemblance will be seen between the above epithets and the traditions concerning Shem, collected by Calmet (Dict. “Sem.”)

“The Jews attribute to Sem the theological tradition of the things which Noah taught to the first men.... They say that he is the same as Melchisedek.... In fine, the Hebrews believe that he taught men the law of justice, the manner of counting the months and years, and the intercalations of the months. They pretend that God gave him the spirit of prophecy one hundred years after the Deluge, and that he continued to prophesy during four hundred years, with little fruit among mankind, who had become very corrupt. Methodius says that he remained in the isle of the sun, that he invented astronomy, and that he was the first king who ruled over the earth.”[164]

The difficulty, however, is in understanding how the worship of Shem came to Assyria from Babylonia. I can only reconcile it upon a theory that all idolatry came from Babylonia, i.e. from the Hamitic race.

There remains a difficulty which will doubtless occur to every one who has read the chapter in Rawlinson to which I must acknowledge myself so much indebted, and it is a difficulty which I ought, perhaps, to have dealt with before; and that is, that there is in the pages of Rawlinson (I. vii. 184) the most distinct identification of Noah with Xisuthrus. Of this there can be no doubt, from his direct connection with the Deluge, the circumstances of which are perfectly recorded in the Babylonian tradition.[165] This establishes the fact that the tradition of Noah and the Deluge was still among them when Berosus wrote. But if Xisuthrus is Noah, then it may be said Hoa, Oannes, and Nin cannot be Noah. It is a non sequitur, but will still, I fear, be very influential with many. It is difficult to understand the tendency to reduplication, and still more difficult to realise how a tradition so clear and decided could be contemporaneous with other identical traditions so entangled and confused. I believe this explanation to be that the account of Xisuthrus was part of the esoteric tradition to which Rawlinson refers, and which was also the tradition of their learned men—“Vixere fortes ante Agamemnon”;—and we cannot suppose that Berosus (of whom we should have known nothing if his works had not been preserved to us at third or fourth hand) was the first chronicler of his nation.[166]

I shall pursue this inquiry into the classical mythology in the next chapter, and then recapitulate the results as regards this inquiry.

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CHAPTER X
THE TRADITION OF NOAH AND THE DELUGE

I now come to a different set of illustrations still more germane to my subject.

Calmet says:—“Plusieurs scavans out remarqué que les pagans ont confondu Saturne, Deucalion, Ogyges, le Dieu Cœlus ou Ouranus, Janus, Prothée, Prométhée, Virtumnus, Bacchus, Osiris, Vadimon, Nisuthrus avec Noë.”

I must add that this enumeration by no means exhausts the list. It is not my purpose, however, to pursue the subject in all its ramifications. I shall limit myself to the examination of one or two of these counterparts of Noah.

I. And in the first place, “Him of mazy counsel, Saturn,” the expression of Hesiod (τ’ Ιαπετον τε ιδε Κρονον ἀγκὔλομήτην), Hesiod. Theog. v. 19, which so well befits the intermediary between God and the survivors of the Deluge. “Under Saturn,” as Plutarch tells us, “was the golden age.” Calmet says (Dict. “Saturne”), “Quant aux traits de ressemblance qui se trouvent entre Noë et Saturne, ils ne peuvent être plus sensibles.[167] Il (Saturne) est représenté avec une faulx comme inventeur de l’agriculture[168]: Noë est nommé ‘vir agricola’ (Gen. ix. 20) et il est dit qu’il commença à cultiver la terre. Les Saturnales, qu’on célébrait dans le vin et dans la licence et où les serviteurs s’égaloient à leurs maitres—marquent l’ivresse de Noë et sa malédiction qui assujettit Chanaan à ses frères tout égal qu’il leur étoit par sa naissance.” [I have little doubt that this Bacchanalian recollection originated the tradition of the equality of conditions in the golden age, contrary to the facts of Scripture and history.] “On disoit que Noë avait dévoré tous ses enfans à l’exception de Jupiter, de Neptune, et de Pluton. Noë vit périr dans les eaux du déluge tous les hommes de son temps dont plusieurs étoient ses parents et plus jeunes que lui. Dans la stile de l’écriture on dit souvent que l’on fait ce qu’on n’empêche pas, ou même ce que l’on prédit.” Further resemblances are traced in Calmet.

Now, I find in Sanchoniathon,[169] i.e. in the most ancient Phœnician historian, a tradition running exactly parallel with this Greek tradition as interpreted by Calmet:—“Ces genies, ces sages, ces dieux, nous expliquent les autres dieux qui, d’après Berose, forment l’homme du sang de Bélus, et tous les dieux que Sanchoniaton nous représente saisis d’épouvante à la vue de Saturne, faisant périr par le déluge son fils Sadid.”—(Le Peuple Primitif; Rougemont, i. 303, quoted by Gainet, iii. 561, with reference to the worship of spirits.) I adduce it in evidence of the connection in tradition between Saturn and the Deluge, and in corroboration of Calmet’s interpretation, which clears the Greek myth of what is grotesque and repulsive in it.

If I have sufficiently identified Saturn with Noah and the period of the Deluge, the lines of Virgil (Æneid, 8th Book, 315), besides bearing testimony in the same direction, appear to me to acquire a new meaning and significance:—

“Primus ab ætherio venit Saturnus Olympo,

Arma Jovis fugiens, et regnis exul ademptis,

Is genus indocile, ac dispersum montibus altis

Composuit; legesque dedit; Latiumque vocari

Maluit.”...

“Aurea, quæ perhibent, illo sub rege fuerunt

Sæcula; sed placidâ populos in pace regebat,

Deterior donec paulatim ac discolor ætas

Et belli rabies et amor successit habendi.”[170]

Allowing for the confusion incidental to the deification of Noah in the person of Saturn, which necessitates his descent from heaven, the rest of the verses seem merely to describe what is recorded in tradition, if not implied in the scriptural narrative, that Noah, a voyager and exile, his possessions having been lost in the Flood, flying the wrath—not indeed as directed against himself, but the consequences of the wrath of the Almighty[171]—persuaded the survivors of the Flood to abandon the mountains, to which they clung in fear of a second Deluge, and brought them into the plains, incited and encouraged by his example,—he who, if he be the same (vide supra, [208], [209]) with Nin and Nebo, we have seen called “the sustainer,” “the supporter,” “he who strengthens the hearts of his followers,” who taught them the cultivation of the soil, and of whom it is now said more distinctly than we have seen it heretofore stated, legesque dedit.[172]

There is no doubt much that is monstrous and grotesque in the classical conception of Saturn, but I must again suggest that as all traditions met in Noah, and were tradited through him, we must not be surprised to find all antediluvian traditions confused in Noah. Thus even the tradition of Lamech, which we have seen (vide supra, [178]) variously distorted in the legends of Perseus and Œdipus, are again repeated in the legends of Saturn.

There are, no doubt, also divers astral complications arising out of Saturn’s place in the planetary system. When, however, we are told that Saturn was son of Cœlus and Tellus or Cœlus and Vesta,[173] the same as Terra (Montfauçon), it seems to occur to us, as a thing “qui saute aux yeux,” that this was only a mode of expressing a truth, applicable to all men in general, and Saturn as a primal progenitor in particular, and having reference to the composite nature of man; in other words, that this was simply the tradition which Noah would have handed down that he was created,[174] as were all other men, out of the earth, yet with something ethereal in his composition which came direct from the Deity. What the astral explanation may be I am at a loss to imagine. It cannot by any possibility be supposed to have reference to their relative positions in the heavens.

I shall return to Saturn, under the representation of Oceanus, when I come to speak of Janus.

II. Bacchus.—The Saturnalia may be taken as the connecting link between Saturn and Bacchus, and I think that it is sufficiently remarkable that there should be this link of connection.

But as the legends of Saturn are not all derived from Noah, so neither do all the traditions concerning Bacchus appertain to Saturn. I shall simply separate and note such as appear to me to be in common, e.g. “that Bacchus found out the making of wine, the art of planting trees, and many things else commodious for mankind.” [“And Noah, a husbandman, began to till the ground, and planted a vineyard, and drinking the wine was made drunk,” Gen. ix. 20.][175] It is said there were several Bacchuses. This may be only a reduplication, such as we have seen in the case of Oannes, Nin, and Nebo, or as in the multiplications of Jupiter. “Joves omnes reges vocarunt antiqui.”[176]

On this subject Montfauçon says (i. 155)[177] apropos of a point to which I shall again refer, viz. that Bacchus was Tauricornis.

“Diodorus Siculus says that the horns are only ascribed to the second Bacchus, the son of Jupiter and Proserpine; but these distinctions of various Bacchus were minded only in the more ancient times, hardly known in their worship.... This will also hold good of most of the other gods who were multiplied in the same manner.”

Vicomte d’Anselme (Gainet, i. 224), asks with reference to his Greek name of Dionysius, “Pourquoi les Grecs donnaient-ils le nom de Dionysos ou de divin Noush (dios nous ou Noë) à l’inventeur du vin?”—Vide supra, [ch. ix.]; vide also Gainet, i. 225.

Bacchus is by some called “Tauricornis” (compare supra, [p. 203], Nin) “or Bucornis, and moreover he is frequently so represented,” (i.e. not only with the horn in hand, a “bull’s horn,” as he is sometimes, which might be a drinking horn or cornucopia, in its way emblematical of the vir agricola”), “but also with horns on the head. Horace calls him “Bicorniger,” Orpheus, Βουκερως; Nicander, Ταυροκερως.“—Montfauçon, i. 147, 155; comp. p. 204, [note] to “Nin.”

One Bacchus, Cicero tells us, “was King of Asia and author of the Laws called Subazian.”—Montfauçon, i. 144. It is, moreover, said that Bacchus travelled through all nations as far as India,[178] doing good in all places, and teaching many things profitable to the life of man. His conquests are said to have been easy and without bloodshed. But it is also noted that amidst his benevolence to mankind, he was relentless in punishing all want of respect for his divinity, and indeed the conduct and punishment of Chanaan may be said to be narrated in the history of Pentheus.—Vide Montf. i. 161.[179]

III. Janus.—Janus represented the most ancient tradition of Noah in Italy; subsequent migrations brought in the legend of Saturn, and thus we find them variously confounded—Saturn sometimes figuring as his guest, sometimes as his son, sometimes as his colleague on the throne. Like Saturn he appears as double-headed or bifrons, he is said to have introduced civilisation among the wild tribes of Italy, and under him, as under Saturn, there appears to have been a golden age.

I have made reference to Saturn as Oceanus (vide Montfauçon, i. 5), and as Oceanus his representations are very remarkable. In one he appears as an old man sitting on the waves of the sea, with a sea monster on one side of him, and his spear or rod in his hand. In another as sitting on the waves of the sea with ships about him; he is “holding an urn and pours out water, the symbol of the sea, and also of rivers and fountains.”

But Janus is also represented in his medals “with a prow of a ship on the reverse,” and he is said to have first invented crowns, ships, and boats, and to have coined the first money.

“According to the accounts of mythologists,” says Macrobius, “all families in the time of Janus were full of religion and holiness.” “Xenon says he was the first that built temples and instituted sacred rites,” and was therefore always mentioned at the beginning of sacrifices.

With reference to his description as “bifrons,” Macrobius says (some say) he was so called “because he knew the past and future things.... Some pretend to prove that Janus is the Sun, and that he is represented with two faces, because he is master of the two doors[180] of heaven, and opens the day at his rising and shuts it at his setting.”

A good secondary explanation is,[181] that “as Janus always began the year” (whence January) “the two heads do look on and import the old and new year” but then occurs the question—and this is why I submit that it is only a secondary explanation—how came Janus to commence the year?

In the nomenclature of the calendar connected with any system of hero worship, worship of ancestors, or even spirit worship, who more fitly chosen to commence the year than Janus, supposing him to be Noah?

There are, however, two what we may call primary explanations, and we must take our choice. The epithet is either applied to him, as exactly according with the reminiscence of Noah, who was pre-eminently acquainted with the past and the future; or we can take the astral explanation that Janus was called Bifrons,[182] because he opened the sun at his rising and shut it at his setting. As a symbol of Noah this double head appears to me very simple and natural, Noah forming the connecting link between the antediluvian and modern worlds; but as applied to the Sun or to Janus as in relation to the Sun, even allowing for personification, this twofold head of man strikes me as incongruous in the extreme. Besides, if it be allowed that it might apply to Saturn and Janus through the connecting idea of Chronos, how does it apply to Bacchus? Let us press this argument further. Here is a symbol common to Bacchus, Saturn, and Janus, and combining harmoniously in each instance with the representation of Noah. Can this symbol, common to these three, combine even congruously with any solar or astral legend? I have somewhere seen it noted as suspicious and as tending to confirm the solar theory that these mythological personages all “journey from east to west, and meet their fate in the evening.” But is this so? Have we not just seen that Bacchus, according to mythology, travelled from the west into India?

But not only were Saturn, Janus, and Bacchus represented as “bifrons,” but so also was Cecrops. Cecrops will present a difficulty the more in the way of any solar theory; but Cecrops,[183] like all founders or supposed founders of states, has something in common with Noah. Like Saturn and Janus in Italy, Cecrops was said to have brought the population of Attica into cities, to have given them laws, taught them the worship of the idols, planted the olive, and finally, was represented as half man, half serpent.[184]

To return to Janus. Before concluding I must note that Janus is called Eanus by Cicero, which may perhaps have analogy with “Hea and Hoa” ([ch. ix.], and with Eannes and “Oannes,” although Cicero derives it from “eundo.”

Janus was also called “consivius a conserendo,” because he presided over generation, a title singularly appropriate to Noah as the second founder of the race, and through whom the injunction was given “to increase and multiply.”[185] He is moreover called “Quirinus or Martialis,” “because he presided over war,” which is precisely the aspect under which it is the original and main purpose of this dissertation to consider Noah; and here I think I am entitled to urge, that if I have succeeded on other grounds in showing that Nin, Hoa, Janus, &c., represented Noah, then that these epithets, “Quirinus,” “Martialis,” “King of Battle,” &c., can only be applied to him whose conquests were bloodless in the sense of controlling and regulating war.[186] In connection with this title of “Martialis,” as applied to Janus—and, by the by, all the traditions concerning him are altogether peaceful and bloodless—it will be remembered that his temple was open in war and shut in peace, and closed for the third and last time at the moment of the birth of our Lord.

His name was also invoked first in religious ceremonies, “because, as presiding over armies,” &c., through him only could prayers reach the immortal gods. Is not this a reminiscence of the communications of the Almighty to man through Noah?

IV. Ogyges and Deucalion.—I might pass over these traditions of Noah, since, having reference only to the fact of the Deluge and the personality of Noah, they will not furnish matter for the special purpose of this inquiry; but on these grounds the investigation may be justified, and moreover seems necessary, for the completion of this chapter, and to indicate the independent source and derivation of the classical tradition.

It appears to me manifest that the deluges of Ogyges and Deucalion were neither locally historical nor partial deluges, but merely the reminiscences of the universal Deluge. Of the universal Deluge, whether we call it the Mosaic Deluge or not, there is evidence and tradition in all parts of the world; though in every instance it is localised in its details and its history of the survivors.[187]

Since, however, there is nothing to be said against the possibility of subsequent partial inundations, there will, I suppose, always be found persons ready to maintain that the deluges of Ogyges and Deucalion were partial and historical; although I submit that the arguments which were formerly used to prove the priority of Ogyges to Deucalion, and the posteriority of both to the general Deluge, turned upon points of chronology which will hardly be sustained at the present day.

If, however, I can succeed in showing that the deluge of Deucalion is identical with the deluge of Noah, I shall consider that I shall have also proved the point for the deluge of Ogyges, which all agree to have been much older!

The following is Mr Grote’s narrative collating the different traditions respecting the deluge of Deucalion:—

“Deukalion is important in Grecian mythical narration under two points of view. First, he is the person specially saved at the time of the general deluge; next, he is the father of Hellên, the great eponym of the Hellenic race; at least that was the more current story, though there were other statements which made Hellên the son of Zeus.” [This was merely the incipient process of the apotheosis of their more immediate founder.] “The enormous iniquity with which the earth was contaminated, as Apollodorus says, by the then existing brazen race, or, as others say, by the fifty monstrous sons of Sykorôn, provoked Zeus to send a general deluge.” “The latter account is given by Dionys. Halic. i. 17; the former seems to have been given by Hellenikus, who affirmed that the ark after the Deluge stopped upon Mount Othrys, and not upon Mount Parnassus (Schol. Pind. ut supra), the former being suitable for a settlement in Thessaly.” [I have already pointed out how the general tradition is everywhere localised.] “An unremitting and terrible rain laid the whole of Greece under water except the highest mountain-tops, where a few stragglers found refuge. Deukalion was saved in a chest or ark, which he had been forewarned by his father Prometheus to construct. After he had floated for nine days on the water, he at length landed on the summit of Mount Parnassus. Zeus hearing, sent Hermes to him, promising to grant whatever he asked. He prayed that men and companions might be sent him in his solitude: accordingly Zeus directed both him and Pyrrha to cast stones over their heads, those cast by Pyrrha became women, those by Deukalion men. And thus the ‘stony race of men’ (if we may be allowed to translate an etymology which the Greek language presents exactly, and which has not been disdained by Hesiod, by Pindar, by Epicharmes, and by Virgil), came to tenant the soil of Greece. Deukalion on landing from the ark sacrificed a grateful offering to Zeus Phyxios, or the God of Escape; he also erected altars in Thessaly to the twelve great gods of Olympus. The reality of this deluge was firmly believed throughout the historical ages of Greece (localising it, however, and post-dating it to 1528 B.C.) Statements founded upon this event were in circulation throughout Greece even to a very late date. The Magarians ... and in the magnificent temple of the Olympian Zeus at Athens, a cavity in the earth was shown, through which it was affirmed that the water of the Deluge had retired. Even in the time of Pausanias the priests poured into this cavity holy offerings of meal and honey. In this, as in other parts of Greece, the idea of the Deukalionian deluge was blended with the religious impressions of the people, and commemorated by their most sacred ceremonies.”—Grote’s “History of Greece,” vol. i. ch. v. 132, 133, “The Deluge.”[188]

Mr Max Müller (comp. “Myth.,” “Chips.,” ii. 12), incidentally speaking of the legend of Deucalion, treats it with great contempt. “What is more ridiculous,” he says, “than the mythological account of the creation of the human race by Deucalion and Pyrrha throwing stones behind them (a myth which owes its origin to a mere pun on λαός and λᾶας).” And ridiculous it certainly is from any point of view from which Mr Max Müller could regard it, i.e. either as the invention of a mythic period, or as a fugitive allegory arising out of some astral or solar legend: per contra, I shall submit that there is nothing forced in supposing that this legend arose out of some one of the processes of corruption to which all tradition is prone, of the known fact that the human race was re-propagated by Deucalion or Noah.[189] If I am asked to explain how it came about that there should have been this identity between the word for a “man” and a “stone,” I must simply confess my ignorance. Perhaps if Mr Max Müller could be brought to look at things more from the point of view of biblical traditions, he might be enabled to see it. All that I can suggest is, that perhaps it may have a common origin with that Homeric expression quoted by Mr Max Müller at [p. 175] (vide supra), “Thou art not sprung from the olden tree or from the rock.” I consider that I shall definitely establish, however, that it originates in a tradition and not “a mere pun,” and at any rate that it is not local, it is not Greek. It is no doubt singular that the word for man, λαός, populus, should so closely resemble the word for a stone, λᾶας; but not only is this coincidence found in the Greek, but we shall see that it is widely spread in all parts of the world. In proof, I adduce the following extract from Dr Hooker’s inaugural lecture at Norwich in 1868, (since the publication of Mr Max Müller’s work):—

“It is a curious fact that the Khasian word for a stone, ‘man,’ as commonly occurs in the names of their villages and places as that of man, maen, and men does in those of Brittany, Wales, Cornwall, &c.; thus Mansmai signifies in Khasia the Stone of Oath; Manloo, the Stone of Salt; Manflong, the Grassy Stone; and just as in Wales Pen mæn maur signifies the Hill of the Big Stone; and in Britanny a Menhir is a standing stone, and a Dolmen a table stone,” &c.[190]

Here it is seen that the word for stone in these respective places is the same with our word “man” it is not specifically said that the word would carry this sense also in the places indicated, but I infer it from the analogy which runs through homo, homme, and by a connection of ideas through the Greek ὠμός to the Sanscrit—thus “âma-ad” (ὠμος-εδω]), are names applied “in the Sanscrit” to “barbarians” who are cannibals. (Max Müller, ii. p. 44.) And I am not sure that Mr Max Müller does not say so directly, in reference to the word “Brahman,” for although the word originally is said to mean power (i. 363), yet “another word with the accent on the last syllable, is Brahmán, the man who prays.”—Max Müller, i. 72.[191]

Also Kenrick (“Essay on Primæval History,” p. 59), “Thus the Hindus attribute the origin of their institutions and race to Manu, whose name is equivalent to man. The Germans made Tuisto (Teutsch) and his son Mannus to be the origin and founder of their nation.” Also Sir W. Jones’ “Asiat. Res.” i. 230; Rawlinson’s “Bamp. Lect.” lect. ii. 67:—“From Manu the earth was re-peopled, and from him mankind received their name Manudsha.”

Gainet (i. 170) says:—“The stones changed then into men by Deucalion and Pyrrha, are they not their children according to nature? In Syriac the word ‘Eben’ signifies equally a child and a stone. In spite of these confusions their accounts of the Deluge are striking as well on account of their resemblance, as on account of their universality, as the reader will soon be able to convince himself.”—Vide Gainet, i. 167.[192]

But if the whole human race were re-propagated by Deucalion and Pyrrha, how are we to locate the anterior legend of Ogyges, occurring among the same people? It is barely possible that the memory of a long antecedent and partial deluge may have remained in the memories of the survivors of the subsequent and universal calamity, but the much more reasonable conjecture seems to be that it was by a different channel the reminiscence of the same event. It must be remembered that it was the Ogygian deluge which was said to have been partial and to have inundated Attica. The deluge of Deucalion by all accounts, except by Pindar, was considered to have been universal, and corresponds in its details with Mosaic accounts, e.g. it was universal, covering the tops of the highest mountains; it was caused by the depravity of mankind; the single pair who were saved, were saved in a ship or an ark, and floated many days on the waters. In the end, they settled on the top of a mountain, went to consult the oracle (as Noah is said to have sacrificed and to have had communications with God), and re-peopled the earth. The version of Lucian gives particulars which brings the tradition to almost exact correspondence. Deucalion and his wife were saved (on account of their rectitude and piety) together with his sons and their wives. He was accompanied into the ark by the pigs, horses, lions, and serpents, who came to him in pairs. If the account of Lucian is somewhat recent, on the other hand it is the account of a professed scoffer, and moreover, shows what I do not remember to have seen noted from this point of view that the tradition was common to Syria as well as Greece.

This brings us to the contrary, but, as it appears to me, much less formidable objection—bearing in mind that the tradition of the Deluge is common to Mexico, India, China, the islands of the Pacific, &c. &c.—viz. that the tradition came to Greece from Asia.

This is Mr Kenrick’s objection[193] (vide Preface to Grote’s “History of Greece,” 2d ed.) The most direct, and, as it appears to me, sufficient answer, seems to be that it was necessarily so; since, ex hypothesi, the population itself came to Greece from Asia. Mr Kenrick says, “It is doubtful whether the tradition of Deucalion’s flood is older than the time when the intercourse with Greece began to be frequent,” i.e. about the fifth century B.C. (p. 31.) But as the Septuagint, according to Mr Kenrick himself, could not have influenced Greece till the third century, this tradition can only have been the primeval tradition. Mr Kenrick is a fair opponent, and I must do him the justice to add that he repudiates the Voltairean suggestion that this tradition originated in a Hebrew invention. If then the inhabitants of Greece, who came originally from Asia, had not the tradition, or had it imperfectly, when they arrived, it can only have been because they had lost it; but as admittedly they recovered it at a later period, the presumption, even on this showing, is, at least for those who can realise how difficult it would be to make a pure fiction, as distinguished from a corrupt tradition, run current, more especially among different nationalities and during a lengthened period,—that when circumstances brought them again into contact with Asia, they added fresh incidents, only because they found the tradition fresher there than among themselves. Voila tout! for Mr Kenrick’s whole argument depends entirely upon this—that “as we reach the time when the Greeks enjoyed more extensive and leisurely communication with Asia, through the conquests of Alexander ... we find new circumstances introduced into the story which assimilates it more closely to the Asiatic tradition.”

It has been allowed (vide supra) that the tradition of Deucalion is as old as the fifth century B.C., and, not to speak of the deluge of Ogyges, connected with what was earliest in Grecian history, the following passage from Kenrick seems to me in evidence of long antecedent traditions among the Greeks themselves, which they must have brought with them originally from Asia.[194]

Mr Kenrick says (p. 31):—

“The account of Deucalion, given by Apollodorus (i. 7, 2), bears evident marks of being compounded of two fables originally distinct, in one of which, and probably the older, the descent of the Hellenes was traced through Deucalion to Prometheus and Pandora, without mention of a deluge. In the other, the destruction of the brazen race by a flood, the re-peopling the earth by the casting of stones, is related in the common way. That these two narratives cannot originally have belonged to the same myths is evident from their incongruity; for as mankind were created by Prometheus, the father of Deucalion, there was no time for them to have passed through those stages of degeneracy by which they reached the depravity of the brazen age.”

Here are evidently two early traditions, ostensibly Greek, distinct, it is true, yet perfectly compatible. The one the tradition of Grecian descent through Noah to Adam and Eve, the other the tradition of the Deluge. But after what we have already seen (vide supra, pp. [157], [158]) of reduplications and inversions, can a serious argument be based upon the expression that Deucalion (Noah) was the son of Prometheus (Adam)?[195] Is it not a most natural and inevitable façon-de-parler to connect the descendant directly and immediately with his remote ancestor, e.g. “Fils de St Louis—fils de Louis Capet—montez au ciel!”

I do not of course attempt, within this narrow compass, to grasp Mr Kenrick’s entire view. I am merely dealing with the special argument; but it is curious to note how the line of reasoning adopted by Mr Kenrick, whilst it sustains the Greek traditions, as traditions (though not Greek), unconsciously neutralises the arguments which would dispose of the testimonies derived from them, by saying that they were not traditions of a general, but of a local and a partial deluge.

These latter arguments appear to have had weight with one against whom I hardly venture to run counter, Frederick Schlegel (“Phil. of Hist.” p. 79)—“The irruption of the Black Sea into the Thracian Bosphorus is regarded by very competent judges in such matters as an event perfectly historical, or at least, from its proximity to the historical times, as not comparatively of so primitive a date.” Compare with passage from Mr Kenrick.[196] Schlegel adds:—“All these great physical changes are not necessarily and exclusively to be ascribed to the last general Deluge. The presumed irruption of the Mediterranean into the ocean, as well as many other mere partial revolutions in the earth and sea, may have occurred much later, and quite apart from this great event” (p. 79). But it may also have occurred much earlier, as is clear from the following passage from Schlegel, to which I wish to direct the attention of geologists, and in which Schlegel speaks according to the original insight of his own mind, and not in deference to the opinions of others:—

“These words (‘the earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep; but the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters,’ Gen. x.), which announce the presage of a new morn of Creation, not only represent a darker and wilder state of the globe, but very clearly show the element of water to be still in predominant force. Even the division of the elements, of the waters above the firmament, and of the waters below it, on the second day of creation, the permanent limitation of the sea for the formation and visible appearance of the dry land, necessarily imply a mighty revolution in the earth, and afford additional proof that the Mosaic history speaks not only of one but of many catastrophes of nature, a circumstance that has not been near enough attended to in the geological interpretation and illustration of the Bible.”—Schlegel, p. 82.

The point that is material to this discussion is to decide whether or not those disruptions in Thrace are historical and subsequent to the Deluge. Now, here Mr Kenrick’s main theory, that “speculation is the source of tradition,” comes in with fatal effect to dispose of the arguments I am combating, and yet in no way at this point militates against the view I am urging, that these supposed inundations were localisations of the tradition of the general Deluge which the Pelasgi brought with them from Asia.

Mr Kenrick says (p. 36):—

“It was a λογος, a popular legend, among the Greeks, that Thessaly had once been a lake, and that Neptune had opened a passage for the waters through the vale of Tempe (Herod. 7, 129). The occupation of the banks of the rivers of this district by the Pelasgi tribes, which must have been subsequent to the opening of the gorge, is the earliest fact in Greek history, and the ‘logos’ itself no doubt originated in a very simple speculation. The sight of a narrow gorge, the sole outlet of the waters of a whole district, naturally suggests the idea of its having once been closed, and, as the necessary consequence, the inundation of the whole region which it now serves to drain.”

Now, if this reasoning is just, it seems to establish two things pretty conclusively: First, That the current legend among the Greeks was not the tradition of a local deluge; but, if not a reminiscence, was at any rate the observation of the evidences of a deluge previous to their arrival. Moreover, the deluge of their tradition exceeding the actual facts is in evidence of their recollection of an event adequate to such effects. Second, That the tradition, if it arose out of a speculation, must have arisen out of a speculation made in the earliest commencement of Greek history.

It is difficult to reconcile the latter conclusion with Mr Kenrick’s view that the tradition was imported from Asia in the fifth century B.C.

It is impossible to reconcile the former with the acceptation of a local and historical inundation in the time of the Ogyges and Deucalion of popular history.

This digression on the legend of Deucalion has led me away from what is properly the subject-matter of this inquiry; and I therefore propose now to summarise the results of the last two chapters. To pursue the tradition of Noah in all its ramifications would extend the inquiry beyond the scope which is necessary for the purposes of my argument. It will have been seen, I think, that my object has not been merely antiquarian research. I have sought to bring into prominence the reminiscences of Noah, which recall him at any rate as the depository of the traditions, if not the expositor of the science of mankind, as the channel, if not the fountain-head, of law, which thus became the law of nations—as the intermediary through whom the communications of the Most High passed to mankind, and under whose authority mankind held together during some three hundred years.[197]

Let me collect more directly and more fully the epithets in this sense which are dispersed in the above traditions.

We have seen that Calmet properly identifies Saturn with Noah; that according to Virgil and Plutarch “under Saturn was the golden age” Saturn of whom Hesiod says:—“Him of mazy counsel, Saturn” that in the tradition, as we see it in Virgil, he is described as bringing his scattered people into social life, and the noticeable phrase is used legesque dedit;[198] that in Bacchus, directly connected with Saturn through the Saturnalia, we also see much in his characteristics in common with Saturn, all which equally identifies him with Noah; and Bacchus, as we are told by Cicero, was the author of the “laws called Subazian.”[199] In Janus, too, we find great resemblances to Saturn, and in the very respects which would identify him with Noah. Under Janus as under Saturn was the golden age, and it is added that in the time of Janus, “all families were full of religion and holiness,” and although his rule is described as singularly peaceful, he is called Quirinus and Martialis, as presiding over war. The closing and opening of his temple, too, had a conspicuous and direct connection with peace and war.

If we turn back to the mythological prototypes in Assyria we find him as Hoa in connection with “the mystic animal, half-man half-fish, which came up from the Persian Gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on the Euphrates and Tigris,” himself “known to the first settlers” he is called “the intelligent guide, or, according to another interpretation, the intelligent fish,” “the teacher of mankind,” “the lord of understanding” “one of his emblems is the wedge or arrow-head, the essential emblem of cuneiform writing, which seems to be assigned to him as the inventor, or at least the patron of the Chaldæan alphabet.” In the Vedic tradition as Satiavrata (vide Rawlinson’s “Bampton Lect.,” lect. ii. 67), having been saved “from the destroying waves” in “a large vessel” sent from heaven for his use—which he entered accompanied “by pairs of all brute animals”—he is thus addressed, “Then shalt thou know my true greatness, rightly named the Supreme Godhead; by my favour all thy questions shall be answered and thy mind abundantly instructed” and it is added that “after the deluge had abated,” Satiavrata was “instructed in all human and divine knowledge.” In fine, if we recognise him as Hoa, we shall find his benefactions to mankind thus summed up in Berosus. (Vide the original in Rawlinson’s “Ancient Monarchies,” i. 154.)[200]

“He is said to have transmitted to mankind the knowledge of grammar and mathematics, and of all the arts, of the polity of cities, the construction and dedication of temples, the introduction of laws (καί νομων εἰσηγήσεις); to have taught them geometry, and to have shown them by example the modes of sowing the seed and gathering the fruits of the earth,” [the “vir agricola” of Genesis], and along with them to have tradited all the secrets which tend to humanise life. And no one else at that time was found more super-eminent than he.”—Vide Rawlinson, i. 155.

We have seen that he was known to “the first settlers on the Euphrates and Tigris.” The Abbé de Tressan says, Berosus begins his history with these words:—“In the first year appeared this extraordinary man” (Oannes). Now, with “the early settlers” on the Euphrates and Tigris the commencement of all things would have been naturally dated from the Deluge.

It appears to me worth while, in conclusion, to place more succinctly before the reader the identical terms in which the ancients (various authors) spoke of the first founders of states or their earliest progenitor—compelling the conclusion that allusion was made to one and the same individual and epoch.

Bryant (“Myth.” ii. 253) says that Noah was represented as Thoth, Hermes, Menes, Osiris, Zeuth, Atlas, Phoroneus, and Prometheus, &c. &c. “There are none wherein his history is delineated more plainly, than in those of Saturn and Janus.” These I will now omit, as we have just seen them to be identical—and so too Bacchus, who equally with them plants the vine, teaches them to sow, and gives them laws.

Phoroneus, “an ancient poet quoted by Clemens Alex. (i. 380) calls him the first of mortals, φυρονευς πατηρ θνητων ανθρωπων.” The first deluge took place under Phoroneus: “He was also the first who built an altar. He first collected men together and formed them into petty communities.”—Pausanias, lib. 2, 145. He first gave laws and distributed justice.—Syncellus, 67, 125. They ascribed to him the distribution of mankind, “idem nationes distribuit” (Hyginus’ Fab. 143), “which is a circumstance very remarkable.”

Poseidon’s epithets connected with the ark are very striking (Bryant, ii. 269, Deucalion, vide ante, [p. 232]); but he is also said (Apollon. Rhod. lib. 3, v. 1085) to have been “the first man through whom religious rites were renewed, cities built, and civil polity established in the world.”

Cecrops (vide ante, [p. 220]), the identical terms are used.

Myrmidon, “a person of great justice.” “He is said to have collected people together, humanised mankind, enacted laws, and first established civil polity.”—Scholia in Pindar, Ode 3, v. 21.

Cadmus, vide ante, [p. 221].

Pelasgus also is described as equally a benefactor to mankind, and instructed them in many arts.—Pausanias, 8, 599. He is said to have built the first temple to the deity “ædem Jovi Olympis primum fecit Pelasgus.”—Hyginus’ Fab. 225, 346. Bryant says, “I have taken notice that as Noah was said to have been ἁνθρωπος γης,” a man of the earth—this characteristic is observable in every history of the primitive persons; and they are represented as ‘νομιοι,’ ‘αγριοι’, and ‘γηγενεις.’ Pelasgus accordingly had this title (Æschy. “Supplicants,” v. 250), and it is particularly mentioned of him that he was the first husbandman. Pelasgus first found out all that is necessary for the cultivation of the ground.”—Schol. in Eurip. “Orestes,” v. 930.

Osiris.—The account of Osiris in Diodorus Siculus is exactly similar. He travels into all countries like Bacchus. He builds cities; and although represented as at the head of an army, is described with the muses and sciences in his retinue. In every region he instructed the people in planting, sowing, and other useful acts.—Tibullus, i. E. 8, v. 29. He particularly introduced the vine, and when that was not adapted to the soil, the use of ferment and wine of barley. He first built temples, and was a lawgiver and king (Diod. Sic.).—Bryant, ii. 60.

Chin-nong (vide also Bunsen, supra, [p. 63]) “was a husbandman, and taught the Chinese agriculture, &c., discovered the virtues of many plants. He was represented with the head of an ox, and sometimes only with two horns.”—Comp. Bryant, iii. 584.

Manco Capac.—Peru, vide infra, [ch. xiii.]; very curious.

Strabo, 3, 204, says of the Turditani in Spain (Iberia), “They are well acquainted with grammar, and have many written records of high antiquity. They have also large collections of poetry (comp. [ch. vii.]), and even their laws are described in verse, which they say is of six thousand years standing.”

Deucalion, according to Lucian, was saved from the Deluge on account of his wisdom and piety—“εὐβουλιης τε και εὐσεβιης εἱνεκα.” [εὐβουλια—literally, “good counsel.”]

Mercury gave Egypt its laws—“Atque Egyptiis leges et literas tradidisse.”—Cicero, “De Natura Deorum,” iii. 22.

Apollo.—Cicero says the fourth Apollo gave laws to the Arcadians (comp. infra, [p. 331]): “Quem Arcades Νομιον appellant, quod ab eo se leges ferunt accepisse,” id. iii. 23; vide also Plato, “Leges,” i. 1.

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CHAPTER XI
DILUVIAN TRADITIONS IN AFRICA AND AMERICA.

Boulanger (1722–59), a freethinker, and the friend and correspondent of Voltaire, was so dominated by his belief in the universal Deluge as a fact, that he made its consequences the foundation of all his theories. Writing in the midst of a scepticism very much resembling that of the present day, he says, “What! you believe in the Deluge?” Such will be the exclamation of a certain school of opinion, and this school a very large one. Nevertheless, this profound writer, by the exigencies of his theory, was irresistibly brought to the recognition of the fact. “We must take,” he continues, “a fact in the traditions of mankind, the truth of which shall be universally recognised. What is it? I do not see any, of which the evidence is more generally attested, than those which have transmitted to us that famous physical revolution which, they tell us, has altered the face of our globe, and which has occasioned a total renovation of human society: in a word, the Deluge appears to me the true starting-point (la veritable epoque) in the history of nations. Not only is the tradition which has transmitted this fact the most ancient of all, but it is moreover clear and intelligible; it presents a fact which can be justified and confirmed.” He proceeds, and the drift and animus of the writer will be sufficiently apparent in the passage—“It is then by the Deluge that the history of the existing nations and societies has commenced. If there have been false and pernicious religions in the world it is to the Deluge that I trace them back as to their source; if doctrines inimical to society have been broached, I see their principles in the consequences of the Deluge; if there have existed vicious legislations and innumerable bad governments, it will be upon the Deluge that I lay the charge.” It is, then, only in attestation of the fact that I adduce this author; and in his proof he has accumulated a large mass of indirect evidence, which a certain school of opinion find it convenient altogether to ignore in reference to this subject. In this class are the various institutions among different nations to preserve the memory of the Deluge, as for instance, the “Hydrophories ou la fête du Deluge à Athenes,” and at Ægina, the feast of the goddess of Syria at Hierapolis, both having strange resemblances with the Jewish feasts of “Nisue ha Mâim, or the effusion of waters,” and the tabernacles, in their traditional aspects, i.e. in their observances not commanded by Moses; the “effusion des eaux a Ithome ... et de Siloe” the feast of the Deluge (of Inachus) at Argos; a feast, the effusion of water, in Persia, anterior to its Mahometanism; similar festivals in Pegu, China, and Japan; in the mysteries of Eleusis; in the “peloria,” “anthisteria,” and “Saturnalia;” and finally in the pilgrimages to rivers in India[201] and other parts of the world; “of the multitude of traditions preserved in the diluvian festivals and commemorative usages of the gulphs, apertures, and abysses which have at one time or another vomited forth or absorbed waters” (i. 84); again, the pilgrimages to the summits of mountains in India, China, Tartary, the Caucasus,[202] Peru, &c. “It is easy to see,” he adds (p. 320), “that this veneration is based upon a corrupted tradition, which has taught these people that their fathers formerly took refuge on the top of this mountain at the time of the Deluge, and subsequently descended from it to inhabit the plains.”

I shall have occasion to refer again more in detail to some of these customs[203] when drawing attention to the resemblances which I shall presently point out; but I wish previously to give, more in extenso, his description of the Hydrophoria at Athens:—

“This name denoted the custom which the Athenians had on the day of this feast of carrying water in ewers and vases with great ceremony; in memory of the Deluge, they proceeded each year to pour this water into an opening or gulf, which was found near the temple of Jupiter Olympus, and on this occasion they recalled the sad memory of their ancestors having been submerged. This ceremony is simple and very suitable to its subject; it was well calculated to perpetuate the memory of the catastrophe caused by the waters of the Deluge. Superstition added some other customs.... They threw into the same gulf cakes of corn and honey; it was an offering to appease the infernal deities.... The Greeks placed it in the rank of their unlucky days (also ‘un jour triste et lugubre’); and thus they remarked that Sylla had taken their city of Athens the very day that they had made this commemoration of the Deluge. Superstition observes everything, not to correct itself, but to confirm itself more and more in its errors. It was, according to the fable, by the opening of this gulf that the waters which had covered Attica had disappeared; it was also said that Deucalion had raised near to this place an altar which he had dedicated to Jove the Preserver. ‘Tradition also attributed to Deucalion the temple of Jupiter Olympus,’ in which these mournful ceremonies were performed. ‘This temple was celebrated and respected by the pagan nations as far as we can trace history back.’ It was reconstructed on a scale of magnificence by Pisistratus; every town and prince in Greece contributed to its adornment; it was completed by the Emperor Adrian in 126 of our era. The antiquity of this monument, the respect which all nations have shown it, and the character of the traditions which they have of its origin, ought to establish for the festival of the Hydrophoria a great antiquity. The feasts, in general, are more ancient than the temples.”—Boulanger, i. 38–40.

I will now ask the reader, if he has not read (and seen the illustrations in) Mr Catlin’s “O-kee-pa,”[204] to compare the following extract with the preceding:—

“The O-kee-pa, an annual ceremony to the strict observance of which those ignorant and superstitious people attributed not only their enjoyment in life but their very existence; for traditions, their only history, instructed them in the belief that the singular forms of this ceremony produced the buffaloes for their supply of food, and that the omission of this annual ceremony, with its sacrifices to the waters, would bring upon them a repetition of the calamity which their traditions say once befell them, destroying the whole human race excepting one man, who landed from his canoe on a high mountain in the west.[205] This tradition, however, was not peculiar to the Mandan tribe, for among one hundred and twenty different tribes that I have visited in North, South, and Central America, not a tribe exists that has not related to me distinct or vague traditions of such a calamity in which one or three or eight persons were saved above the waters on the top of a high mountain. Some of them, at the base of the Rocky Mountains, and in the plains of Venezuela and the Pampa del Sacramento in South America, make annual pilgrimages to the fancied summits where the antediluvian species were saved in canoes or otherwise, and under the mysterious regulations of their medicine (mystery) men tender their prayers and sacrifices to the Great Spirit to ensure their exemption from a similar catastrophe.”—P. 2.

Yet, strange to say, this is no proof to Mr Catlin of the universal Deluge recorded in Scripture. “If,” he says, “it were shown that inspired history of the Deluge and of the Creation restricted those events to one continent alone, then it might be that the American races came from the Eastern continent, bringing these traditions with them, for until that is proved, the American traditions of the Deluge are no evidence whatever of an eastern origin. If it were so, and the aborigines of America brought their traditions of the Deluge from the East, why did they not bring inspired history of the Creation?”[206]—P. 3. (Vide pp. [134], [135].)

The “O-kee-pa,” Mr Catlin says, “was a strictly religious ceremony, ... with the solemnity of religious worship, with abstinence, with sacrifices, with prayer; whilst there were three other distinct and ostensible objects for which it was held,—1. As an annual celebration of the ‘subsiding of the waters’ of the Deluge. 2. For the purpose of dancing what they call the Bull-dance, to the strict performance of which they attributed the coming of buffaloes. 3. For purpose of conducting the young men through an ordeal of privation and bodily torture, which, while it was supposed to harden their muscles and prepare them for extreme endurance, enabled their chiefs ... to decide upon their comparative bodily strength, endurance,” &c.—P. 9.

The torture no doubt subserved this subsidiary purpose, but it appears to me that the original intention and idea was torture for the purpose of expiation, as in the ceremonies in ancient Greece.[207] Sundry incidents narrated by Catlin seem to establish this. They prepare themselves by fasting (p. 25); after having sunk under the infliction of these horrible tortures (and from every point of view they are truly horrible), “no one was allowed to offer them aid when they lay in this condition. They were here enjoying their inestimable privilege of voluntarily intrusting their lives to the keeping of the Great Spirit, and chose to remain there until the Great Spirit gave them strength to get up and walk away” (p. 28); and when so far recovered, “in each instance” they presented the little finger of the left hand, and some also the forefinger of the same hand and the little finger of the right hand (all tending to make them pro tanto inefficient warriors) “as an offering to the Great Spirit, as a sacrifice for having listened to their prayers, and protected their lives in what they had just gone through” (p. 28).

For the description of the bull-dance,[208] and for the subsequent history and final extinction of the Mandans, I must refer my readers to Mr Catlin’s valuable testimony to the truth of Scripture, and important contributions to ethnological science.

I shall now proceed to show analogies in what will be admitted to be most unlikely ground—in the King of Dahome’s celebrated “So-sin customs,” described by Captain Richard Burton.

Before, however, proceeding further, I must point out the following features in the ceremonies or customs as common to Grecian and antique pagan; to the Mandan (Indian of North America), and to the tropical African.[209] In the first place they are cyclical; they are all of a mournful character; all are interrupted at intervals by processions, dances, and songs of a traditional character; they all close in scenes of rejoicing or rather in Bacchanalian (yet still traditionally [vide page 247, [note Boulanger]] Bacchanalian) scenes of riot and debauchery. The duration of the festivals varies from three and four to five days; the days have fantastic names, which, although different, still in their very peculiarity, and also in the drift and meaning of the names so far as it can be gathered, are suggestive of a common origin, e.g. the first day of the Anthesteria, at Athens was called “Πιθοιγια, ἀπο τοῦ πίθους οἴγειν,” “because they tapped their casks.” The fourth day of the King of Dahome’s customs is named “So (horse) nan-wen (will break) kan (rope) ’gbe (to-day).”—Burton, ii. 8. One part of the Mandan ceremony is called “Mee-ne-ro-ka-Ha-sha,” or “the settling down of the waters,” which name again closely corresponds to the ceremonies at Athens and at Hierapolis in Syria (ante), where water was poured into the opening where the waters of the Deluge were supposed to have disappeared. The fifth day of the Dahome customs is named “Minai afunfun khi Uhun-jro men Dadda Gezo"=="we go to the small mat tent under which the king sits.”—Burton, ii. 27. This approximates to the scene described by Catlin (p. 20) at the close of the bull-dance (fourth day), when “the master of ceremonies (corresponding to the king at Dahome) cried out for all the dancers, musicians,” and “the representatives of animals and birds,” “to gather again around him.” He is described as coming out of the mystery lodge and collecting them round “the big canoe.”

But the closest connection is in the nature and order of the ceremonies on the fourth day at Dahome and among the Mandans. Among the latter, interrupting the bull-dance on that day, there is an apparition of “the evil spirit,”[210] graphically described by Mr Catlin (p. 22), and at Dahome (Burton, ii. 18), there intervenes between the fourth and fifth days’ ceremonies what is called “the evil night” (there are two “evil nights”) which is the night of the horrible massacre. But on this night also, at the close of the fourth day’s ceremonies among the Mandans, the infliction of tortures (very horrible, but mild in comparison with the African butchery) commence. Now, I have already ventured the opinion that these tortures were originally of an expiatory character, and this gains confirmation by the assurance made to Captain R. Burton that the victims on “the evil night” were only “criminals” and prisoners of war, the people of Dahome, on all occasions (vide infra), preferring a vicarious mode of expiation. Captain R. Burton (ii. 19) says of these massacres:—“The king takes no pleasure in the tortures and death or in the sight of blood, as will presently appear. The 2000 killed in one day, the canoe[211] paddled in a pool of gore, and other grisly nursery tales, must be derived from Whydah, where the slave-traders invented them, probably to deter Englishmen from visiting the king. It is useless to go over the ground of human sacrifice from the days of the wild Hindu’s Naramadha to the burnings of the Druids, and to the awful massacres of Peru and Mexico. In Europe the extinction of the custom began from the time of the polite Augustus,” i.e. commenced with the advent of our Lord. [Vide a reference to MS. of Sir J. Acton in Mr Gladstone’s address to the University of Edinburgh, 1865, from which it would appear that the final extinction was not until the triumph of Christianity.]

Without carrying rashness to the excess of disputing the interpretation of Dahoman words with Captain Burton, I may yet demur to accepting his explanation of the term “So-sin” (the “So-sin customs”) absolute et simpliciter. He says (i. 315), “The Sogan (‘So’ = horse, ‘gan’ captain) opens the customs by taking all the chargers from their owners and by tying them up, whence the word So-sin. The animals must be redeemed in a few days with a bag of cowries.”[212] This is certainly a very likely definition, and although secondary, is no doubt the explanation current among the present generation of Dahomans. All I shall venture to do is to supplement it. But may not the old and primitive idea still lurk in the name? At i. 242, I perceive Captain Burton says “so” and “sin” mean water,[213] and the compound word “amma-sin” means “medicine” = “leaf-water,” and again at 244 the same word “Sin” is twice used to signify liquid. If so, in the very name of the feast we find the word water, which links it into connection with “the Mandan custom” and the festivals of ancient Greece.

The word, “So” = horse, will therefore still remain, and may perhaps stand in the same relation to the “water” celebration, that the “bull” does to the Mandan celebration of the Deluge. Captain Burton, for instance, tells us (ii. 15), a “So” was brought up to us (on the fourth day of the So-sin custom, and on the fourth day of the Mandan custom “the bull-dance” was performed sixteen times round “the big canoe”); but I will place the two descriptions side by side.

Captain Burton, ii. 15.

“A ‘So’ was brought up to us, a bull-face mask of natural size, painted black, with glaring eyes and peep-holes, the horns were hung with red and white rag strips, and beneath was a dress of bamboo fibre covering the feet, and ruddy at the ends. It danced with head on one side and swayed itself about, to the great amusement of the people.” Vide also p. 93, “Four tall men singularly dressed, and with bullocks’ tails,” &c.

Mr Catlin, p. 16.

“The chief actors in these strange scenes (bull-dance) were eight men, with the entire skins of buffaloes thrown over them, enabling them closely to imitate the appearance and motions of those animals, as the bodies were kept in as horizontal a position, the horns and tails of the animals remaining on the skins, and the skins of the animals’ heads served as masks through the eyes of which the dancers were looking.” The legs of the dancers were painted red and white” (plate 6.)

If we might (on the strength of so many words of primary necessity being in common) connect “So” = horse, with the Saxon “soc” or plough (as in the soc and service tenure), we could then see a way in which the same word might apply indifferently to ox or horse; and we would, moreover, see through the common relation to Noah how the water ceremony came to be associated with the worship of Ceres in the mysteries of Eleusis. Vide Boulanger, i. 70–107.[214]

The above enumeration does not exhaust the points of resemblance. Compare the following:—

Burton, ii. 23.

“Conspicuous objects on the left of the pavilion were two Ajalela or fetish pots made by the present king (according to the customs.) Vide note [16]. Both are lamp black, shaped like amphoræ (amphoræ, for holding wine) about 4 feet high, and planted on tripods. The larger was solid, the smaller callendered with many small holes, and both were decorated with brass and silver crescents, stars, and similar ornaments. The second, when filled with water and medicine allows none to escape, so great is its fetish power; an army guarded by it can never be defeated, and it will lead the way to Absokuta.” Compare Pongol ceremony, [p. 275].

Catlin, p. 8.

“In an open area in the centre of the village stands the ark or ‘big canoe,’ around which a great proportion of the ceremonies were performed. This rude symbol, of 8 or 10 feet in height, was constructed of planks and hoops, having somewhat the appearance of a large hogshead standing on its end, and containing some mysterious things, which none but the medicine (mystery) men were allowed to examine.”

This must be considered in connection with the following.

Burton.

In the opening procession of the third day’s customs, Captain Burton tells us (ii. 2), “First came a procession of eighteen Tansi-no or fetish women, who have charge of the last monarch’s grave.... They were preceded by bundles of matting, eight large stools, calabashes, pipes, baskets of water, grog, and meat with segments of gourd above and below, tobacco bags, and other commissariat articles; and they were followed by a band of horns and rattles.”[215]

In another procession (ii. 47), “The party was brought up by slave girls carrying baskets and calabashes. (Query, of water?) These, preceded by six bellowing horns, stalked in slowly, and with measured gait the eight Tansi-no, who serve and pray for the ghosts of dead kings. (Query, eight dead kings?) In front went their ensign, a copper measuring rod 15 feet long and tapering to a very fine end; behind it were two chauris and seven mysterious pots and calabashes wrapped in white and red checks,” and presently “three brass, four copper, and six iron pots, curiosities on account of their great size.... Eight images, of which three were apparently ship’s figureheads whitewashed, and the rest very hideous efforts of native art.”[216]

Catlin.

In Captain Burton’s account of the articles paraded in the procession, the pipes (to which great mystery is attached), the horns and rattles (vide pl.), and the baskets of water are common to the Mandan ceremony. May not the eight stools be representative of the eight diluvian survivors. Vide supra, [197], Cabiri? Let us, however, confine our attention to the “baskets of water.” Compare with the following account in Catlin.

“In the medicine (mystery) lodge ... there were also four articles of veneration and importance lying on the ground, which were sacks containing each some three or four gallons of water. These seemed to be objects of great superstitious regard, and had been made with much labour and ingenuity, being constructed of the skins of the buffaloes’ neck, and sewed together in the forms of large tortoises lying on their backs (comp. [p. 138]; also [p. 269]), each having a sort of tail made of raven’s quills and a stick like a drumstick lying on it, with which, as will be seen in a subsequent part of the ceremony, the musicians beat upon the sacks as instruments of music for their strange dances. By the sides of these sacks, which they called Ech-tee-ka (drums), there were two other articles of equal importance which they called Ech-na-da (rattles) made of undressed skins shaped into the form of gourd shells,” &c. (Note the segments of gourd accompanying the water baskets in the Dahome procession, supra.) Catlin adds—“The sacks of water had the appearance of great antiquity, and the Mandans pretended that the water had been contained in them ever since the Deluge.”—pp. 15, 16.[217]

Burton, ii. 35.

It must be remembered that at Dahome, royalty as there represented has absorbed and monopolized the most important parts of the ceremonial: it is natural, therefore, to expect that the conspicuous figures in the original (or in the Mandan), which conflicted or would not consort with royalty, would be thrown into the background. Accordingly I am only able to get a glimpse of the conspicuous figures opposite in the following passage:—“The jesters were followed by a dozen pursuivants armed with gong-gongs, who advanced bending towards the throne, and shouted the ‘strong names’ or titles. Conspicuous amongst them was an oldster in a crimson sleeveless tunic and yellow shorts: his head was red with dust, he carried a large bill-hook,[218] and he went about attended by four drums and one cymbal.”

It will be remembered (if my readers have read Mr Catlin, p. 11, 12) that the first thing “the aged white man” does on entering the mystery lodge is to call on the chiefs “to furnish him with four men,” and the next is to “receive at the door of every Mandan’s wigwam some edged tool to be given to the water as a sacrifice, as it was with such tools that the “big canoe” was built.[219]

Catlin, p. 10.

The opening scene in the Mandan customs, effectively described by Mr Catlin, begins with “a solitary human figure descending the prairie hills and approaching the village,” “in appearance a very aged man,” “a centenarian white man,” dressed in a robe of four white wolves’ skins.” He was met by the head chief and the council of chiefs, and addressed by them as “Nu-mohk-muck-a-nah” (the first and only man.) “He then harangued them for a few minutes, reminding them that every human being on the surface of the earth had been destroyed by the water excepting himself, who had landed on a high mountain in the west in his canoe, where he still resided, and from whence he had come to open the medicine (mystery) lodge, that the Mandans might celebrate the subsiding of the waters, and make the proper sacrifices to the water, lest the same calamity should again happen to them.”

Burton, ii. 38.

“The ministers ... they were conducted by a ‘Lali’ or half-head, with right side of his pericranium clean shaven, and the left in a casing of silver that looked like a cast or a half melon.”

Catlin, p. 30.

Compare with the two athletic young men (vide Plate XIII.) assigned to each of the young men who underwent the torture—“their bodies painted one half red and the other blue, and carrying a bunch of willow-boughs in one hand.”

Burton says (ii. 87), “One of the Dahoman monarch’s peculiarities is that he is double, not merely binonymous, nor dual, like the spiritual Mickado and temporal Tycoon of Japan, but two in one. Gelele, for instance, is king of the city and addo-kpon of the ‘bush’; i.e. of the farmer folk and the country as opposed to the city. This country ruler has his official mother, the Dank-li-ke.... Thus Dahome has two points of interest to the ethnologist—the distinct precedence of women and the double king.”—Vide also [p. 80].

Here two or three questions suggest themselves. If this ceremony is primitive, will not dual royalty give a clue to the duality we find so commonly in mythology, assuming the basis of mythology to be historical? 2d, Is there no clue in the name, official name, of Dank-li-ke? What does the reader guess the meaning to be? (p. 58.) Mr Burton tells us it means, “Dank (the rainbow), li (stand), and ke (the world).” Is it a forced paraphrase to construe this to mean—The rainbow is the sign that the world shall stand?

Upon the point of the precedence of woman, to which the Dahoman ceremony testifies, but to which it gives no clue, I shall, as it is so very important in more bearings than one, give at some length the following scene from Catlin:—

“When ‘the evil spirit’ enters the camp during the ceremony, he proceeds to make various attacks, which are defeated by the intervention of the master of the ceremonies. In several attempts of this kind the evil spirit was thus defeated, after which he came wandering back amongst the dancers, apparently much fatigued and disappointed.... In this distressing dilemma he was approached by an old matron, who came up slyly behind him, with both hands full of yellow dirt, which (by reaching around him) she suddenly dashed in his face, covering him from head to foot, and changing his colour, as the dirt adhered to the undried bear’s grease on his skin; ... at length another snatched his wand from his hand and broke it across her knee ... his power was thus gone ... bolting through the crowd, he made his way to the prairies.”—P. 24.

We shall not be surprised to learn, then, that when the “Feast of the Buffaloes” (distinct from the bull-dance) commences (p. 33), several old men perambulated the village in various directions, in the character of criers, with rattles in their hands, proclaiming that “the whole government of the Mandans was then in the hands of one woman—she who had disarmed the evil spirit ... that the chiefs that night were old women; that they had nothing to say; that no one was allowed to be out of their wigwams excepting the favoured ones whom ‘the governing woman’ had invited,” &c. Will not this give a clue to the precedence in Dahome, probandis probatis, and is not the precedence in Dahome thus interpreted, and the interlude above described evidence of the tradition, that the woman should break the head of the serpent? (Gen. iii. 15). It is of great significance, and, if so many points of comparison had not occurred, ought to have been stated at the outset, that at Dahome “the Sin-kwain (“sin,” water—“kwain,” sprinkling), or water-sprinkling custom follows closely upon the “So-sin or Horse-tie rites.”—Vide Burton, ii. 167.

Now, if the reader will turn to Boulanger, i. 90, 91, he will find this identical custom in Persia, Pegu, China, and Japan. But I relinquish the details, as I fear I shall have exhausted the patience of the few readers I shall have carried with me to this point; and because the King of Dahome has a custom perhaps still more demonstrably cognate to not only the ancient Grecian ceremonies on the shores of the ocean and on the banks of rivers, but with widely diffused tradition. I shall here place four writers in juxtaposition, and with this testimony I shall conclude:—

BOULANGER.

The ancient inhabitants of Italy repaired once a year to the Lake Cutilia, where they made sacrifices and celebrated secret mysteries or ceremonies (Dion. Halicarnassus, i. 2).

The pontiffs in ancient Rome also went annually to the banks of the Tiber, “là ils faisoient des sacrifices expiatoires à Saturne, ce Dieu chronique,” &c. (Dion. Hal. i. 8.)

In the kingdom of Saka in Africa their greatest solemnity was celebrated on the banks of the rivers; the king himself presides at it (Hist. Gener. des Voy., iii. 639).

The same custom has been already (supra, [p. 252]) noticed on the Indus.

In all these cases human sacrifices were offered, or substitutes.—Boulanger, i. pp. 110–11. Compare supra, [p. 243], lines from Dionysius Periegesis.

BURTON.

At Whydat the youngest brother of their triad is Hu, the ocean or sea. [Compare with Assyrian Hoa, supra, [p. 194], and Chinese Yu, p. 68.] “The Hu-no, or ocean priest, is now considered the highest of all.... At times the king sends as an ocean sacrifice from Agborne a man carried in a hammock, with the dress, the stool, and the umbrella of a Caboceer; a canoe takes him out to sea, where he is thrown to the sharks. The custom for this element is made at Whydat, in a place near the greater market, and called Hu-kpa-man. It is a round hut, with thatch and chalked walls: outside is a heap of bones, whilst skulls, carapaces of the tortoise, and similar materials, cumber the interior. The priest is a fetish woman, who offers water and kola nuts to, and expects rum from, white visitors.—ii. p. 141.

Compare also supra, in [Preface], extract from Davies’ “Celtic Researches” on the Celtic god Hu.

CATLIN.

The water ceremonies in Catlin’s account have already been sufficiently adverted to. He thus describes the medicine or mystery lodge in which they took place. Exteriorly, with the exception of the four images, it differed only in dimensions from the other wigwams, which are thus described? “They were covered with earth. They were all of one form; the frames or shells constructed of timbers, and covered with a thatching of willow boughs, and over and on that with a foot or two in thickness of a concrete of tough clay and gravel, which became so hard as to admit the whole group of inmates to recline on their tops. They varied in size from thirty to sixty feet, and were perfectly round.” For extract describing interior, vide supra, [p. 257], noting (vide Plate iii. in Catlin) the four human and four ox skulls; “the sacks of water in the form of large tortoises lying on their backs.”

N.B.—With reference to the tortoise, vide ante [p. 257].

Compare the “Buddhist Topes” in Major Cunningham’s “Bhilsa Tope,” vide [p. 243].

HUNTER.

Hunter (“Annals of Rural Bengal,” p. 153) says of the Santals: “The only stream of any consequence in their present country—the Damouda—is regarded with a veneration altogether disproportionate to its size. Thither the superstitious Santal repairs to consult the prophets and diviners, and once a year the tribes make a pilgrimage to its banks in commemoration of their forefathers.... However remote the jungle in which the Santal may die, his nearest kinsman carries a little relic of the deceased to the river, and places it in the current to be conveyed to the far-off eastern land from which his ancestors came.”

In connection with the above, it must be remembered (vide Appendix G, p. 480, “Santal Traditions”) that they have, although confused with the Creation, an unmistakable tradition of the Deluge, the intoxication of Noah, and the dispersion.

If, then, I have shown that the custom, for the preservation of which from oblivion, so far as the Mandans (now extinct) are concerned, we are indebted to Mr Catlin, and which so plainly tells its own tale, is common to Europe, Asia, and Africa, as well as America, I shall have established it as a tradition, not of a local American, but of an universal Deluge; and if the tradition of the universal Deluge is proved, then, according to Mr Catlin’s narrative itself, there is tradition of the Creation also (vide pp. 7, 13, 42).[220]

I have replied more fully, in [chap. vii]., to Mr Catlin’s objection—that though they have a tradition of a deluge, it is not the tradition of the Deluge, because they have not also the tradition of the Creation.

Mr Catlin argues upon the view that the American race “were created upon the ground on which they were found” (“Last Rambles,” p. 321, 1868); and (p. 319) adds, “I can find nothing in history, sacred or profane, against this.”

He takes his stand (in “O-kee-pa”) upon this—that there is nothing in the Mandan tradition which can be brought in proof of their migration from another continent. In reply I shall adduce their very name.

The American continent may have been peopled by way of Behring’s Straits, or from Europe in the East by way of Greenland, or by the connection of the Pacific Islands from the opposite coasts of Japan, China, and the Corea, or from the Polynesian groups in the south. The population may have poured in by all these routes. It is said (Prescott, “Conquest of Mexico,” ii. 473)[221] that MSS. exist at Copenhagen proving that the American coast was visited by the Northmen in the eleventh century. The Polynesian route we may leave out of consideration, as it will not probably have been the one by which the Mandans came. As to the route by Behring’s Straits, Mr Catlin admits “it is a possibility, and therefore they say it is probable” (p. 217, “Last Rambles”). But if, as there appears to me reason to think, they came from the opposite coast of the Corea, it might as reasonably be conjectured that the migration took the route of Behring’s Straits, or by way of the Sandwich Islands. The possibility of the former is conceded. I will confine my attention, therefore, to the latter, which Mr Catlin pronounces absolutely impossible. In the first place, the distance between the Sandwich Islands and America is not greater than between Otaheite and New Zealand.[222] Now it is admitted that New Zealand was peopled from Otaheite. Moreover (vide Sir J. Lubbock, “Pre-historic Times,” p. 390), the inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands, at two thousand miles distance, belong to the same race as those of Tahiti (Otaheite) and New Zealand, and resemble them “in religion, languages, canoes, houses, weapons, food, habits, &c.”[223] The canoes of the Pacific islanders generally (vide Captain Cook passim) were of considerable size, and of very perfect workmanship. But also Prescott (“Conquest of Mexico,” ii. 473, quoting Beechey’s “Voyage to Pacific,” 1831, p. 2 Appendix, Humboldt’s “Examen. Critique de l’Hist. de la Geog.” and Nuov. Cont. ii. 55) says, “It would be easy for the inhabitant of Eastern Tartary or Japan to steer his canoe from islet to islet quite across to the American shore, without ever being on the ocean more than two days at a time.”[224]

We may agree, then, that the Mandans might have come by this route. Is there anything which makes it probable that they came? Well, yes; in the first place their name. Mr Catlin tells us (“O-kee-pa,” p. 5), “The Mandans (Nu-mak-ká-kee, pheasants, as they call themselves) have been known from the time of the first visits made to them, to the day of their destruction, as one of the most friendly and hospitable tribes on the United States frontier.” It transpires, therefore, that they are called pheasants. Is the pheasant a native of America?—on the other hand, is it not common on the opposite Asiatic continent, and on the islands adjacent to it from New Guinea to the Corea? I have never heard of the pheasant in the American continent;[225] but in reading the accounts of the missionaries of the Corea (the only foreigners who have penetrated into the country), I read, “that clouds of pheasants and birds of all kinds perch at night in the branches of the trees” (“Life of Henri Dorie,” translated by Lady Herbert; Burns & Oates, p. 77); and if the reader will turn to p. 79 in the same Life, and will compare the description of the Coreans, which he will find there, with the description and portraits of the Mandans in Mr Catlin’s “O-kee-pa,” pp. 4, 5, he will, I think, recognise a sufficient resemblance to warrant and sustain the presumption created by their name.[226]

To the peculiarity of name, and resemblance of feature, I shall now proceed to add the evidence of some traces of their peculiar customs, or at least of some trace of the tradition out of which they arose.

I am not at present in possession of evidence to show this in the Corea itself (almost totally unknown and unexplored), but in the island of Formosa the same mode of burial is observed, only that among the Formosans other customs are added, which remind one of the commemorative customs of the Mandans.

Catlin, p. 8.

“Their (Mandan) dead, partially embalmed, are tightly wrapped in buffalo hides softened with glue and water, and placed on slight scaffolds, above the reach of animals or human hands, each body having its separate scaffold.”

The Mandan dance was round “the big canoe,” and a part of their ceremony on the roof of their wigwams.

Among the Opischeschaht Indians (vide Field, Oct. 2, 1869) there was a dance which they called “the roof dance.” “While the dance and song were going on below, leaped up and down between the roof-board, pushed aside for that purpose, making a noise like thunder.... After the dance was finished an old Seshaaht came forward, and remarked, that as it was a dance peculiar to his tribe it could not be omitted,” though “very injurious to the roof.”

Ogilby’s Japan, p. 52.

“The manner of disposing of their (Formosans’) dead and funeral obsequies is thus: When any one dies, the corpse being laid out, after twenty-four hours they elevate it upon a convenient scaffold or stage, four feet high, matted with reeds and rushes, near which they make a fire, so that the corpse may dry by degrees.... They drink intoxicating liquors. One beats on a drum made like a chest, but longer and broader, and turning the bottom upwards; the women get up, and two by two, back to back, move their legs and arms in a dancing time and measure, which pace, or taboring tread, sends a kind of murmuring or doleful sound from the hollow tree.”

N.B.—Their boats were constructed by hollowing out a tree (vide Catlin’s “Last Rambles,” p. 99).[227]

Now, compare with the above, and also with the extracts from Burton and Catlin, at [p. 254], remembering the prominence of the ox or bull (the ox and bull dance) in the Mandan customs, and the connection of the bull with Nin or Ninip, [p. 200], [203], and other mythological figures of which I believe Noah to have been the antitype. The following description of the most curious traditional representation in Japan (Ogilby, p. 279):—

“Moreover, besides the ox temple in Meaco, there is also to be seen the stately chapel dedicated to the Creator of all things (the ox in the above-mentioned temple is represented as breaking the mundane egg, vide supra, [p. 257]), who is represented in a very strange manner. In the middle of the temple is a great pot full of water surrounded with a wall, seven feet high from the ground, in the middle of which appears an exceeding great tortoise, whose shell, feet, and head stands in the water; out of its back rises the body of a great tree, on the top of which sits a strange and horrible figure” ... [then follows a good deal which has its explanation, but must be curtailed] ... “the image hath four arms” ... in one “the hand grasps a cruse, from whence water issues continually; the other hand holds a sceptre.... The tree whereon he sits is of brass, ... about the middle of this tree an exceeding great serpent hath wreathed itself twice, whose head and body is on the right side held fast by two horrible shapes, the remaining part thereof to the tail, two kings and one of Japan sages stretch forth” [evidently representing the contending influences (as in Mandan dance), one of the kings having the duplicated Janus head, supra, [p. 220].][228]

At pp. 477–78 there is perhaps a still more definite tradition of the Deluge (confused as usual with traditions of the Creation) in connection with the idol Topan. “Not far from Mettogamma (said the interpreter) lies an exceeding high mountain ... the top of which stand several temples which may be seen a great distance off at sea. In these temples the Bonzies worshipped that great God which formerly created the sun, moon, and stars, but also fifteen lesser deities which some ages since conversed upon the earth (compare pp. 63, 97.) Then follows their account of the Creation. “Mankind not only increased in number but also in wickedness, differing more and more from their heavenly extract, growing still worse and worse, mocking at thunder, rainbows, and fire; nay, they blasphemed the great God himself (whom when the interpreter named, he bowed his head to the ground), whereupon He called His inferior deities about Him, telling them that He resolved to destroy and ruin all things ... and make a round globe, in which the four elements should be all resolved into their former mass; and chiefly He commanded the idol Topan to make thunder balls to shoot through the air and fire all the kingdoms with lightning ... so that none were saved except one man and his family, that had entertained and duly worshipped the gods.” Of the god Topan it had been previously said “that some years since he saw the temple of the idol Topan, whose image stood on a copper altar, cast like clouds, himself armed as a warrior, a coronet helmet on his head, his hand grasping a mighty club, and seeming to fly through the sky and moving his club to occasion thunder. When it thundered, a Bonzi, whose head was adorned with consecrated leaves [Query, the olive or willow?] which no thunder could harm,” offered several fishes.” (Comp. [197], [203].) Vide also p. 94, representation of the fish-god in the person of their “god Canon” [where we read of their “gods Canon and Camis or Chamis;” if we were to substitute Canaan and Cham, quid vetat?][229]

To complete the circle of evidence, as regards the general tradition, I must add the following extracts from Captain Cook’s voyages, i. 110 (London, 1846):—“In the island of Huahieine, thirty-one leagues from Otaheite N.-W.,” Captain Cook came upon an erection, of which he says—“The general resemblance between this repository and the ark of the Lord among the Jews is remarkable; but it is still more remarkable that upon inquiring of a boy what it was called, he said ‘Ewharre no Eatua,’ it is the house of God. He could, however, give no account of its signification or use.” At p. 111, “Saw (at Uliatea) several Ewharre-no-Eatua or houses of God, to which carriage poles were attached as at Huahieine.... From thence we went to a long house not far distant, where among rolls of cloth and several other things we saw the model of a canoe, about three feet long, to which were tied eight human jawbones” [eight the number saved in the ark. Compare p. 197 with Kabiri. Compare with Ogilby (Japan, 177), where the god Canon (Canaan) is represented with seven heads on his breast, eight with himself, he having been substituted for Noah as the head of the race.] Captain Cook adds, however, “We had already learnt that these, like scalps among the Indians of North America, were trophies of war,” and suggests that the canoe “may be a symbol of invasion.” That I must leave to the reader to decide, but the heads might be “trophies of conquest,” and at the same time memorial heads,—the memorial heads having necessarily been replaced many times since the custom was first instituted.[230]

This leads me to the final question, When was this custom instituted? Up to this I have not considered whether the custom was good or bad, demoniac or only corrupted; and as to the time of its institution I have merely assumed from the fact of its universality that it was primeval.

Before expressing my opinion, I must fortify myself with an extract from the Rev. W. Smith’s very able work on the Pentateuch.[231]

“Strange, too, though it may appear, there is much in the outward ceremonial of the Levitical worship that indicates an Egyptian type. The fact need startle no one. For it is derogatory neither to the holiness of the Almighty nor to the inspiration of his delegate, that Moses should have borrowed from others rites which were good in themselves, and which became idolatrous only then, when employed in the worship of false gods. The most of external forms are in themselves indifferent and receive their determinate value from the feeling that prompts them, and the object to which they are directed: when given to God they are divine worship—when given to idols, they are idolatry. Nor is inspiration jeopardised because the material details may have come from a human source. Care and study and observation are not dispensed with in the mind that receives the divine communications; and Moses was instructed in all the wisdom and learning of the Egyptians for the very purpose of enabling him to use it to the best advantage ... as the Church consecrated to a higher purpose the temples and the rites and festivals found among the pagan populations at their conversion. We need not then be scandalised if we find the ark of Jehovah to be the counterpart of the shrine of Amun. The resemblance strikes us at once on a glance at the woodcut token from Lepsius’ Denkmäler, Ab. iii., Bl. 109.”

Let the reader refer to the engravings in Rev. W. Smith’s Pentateuch, 291, 292. Dr Smith does not discuss the point further, only he says (p. 294), “In Egypt it is the canopied boat in which the Deity is steered on the heavenly ocean; in Israel it is the covered chest, the form best adapted for holding the stone tables of the law.”

But if “the canopied boat” should have corresponded among the Egyptians to “the big canoe” among the Mandans, and the other similar memorials we have come upon, what more appropriate symbol could Moses have incorporated? Was not the ark of the covenant, in which the law was preserved in the widespread inundation of corruption, the counterpart of the ark in which mankind, in the persons of Noah and his family, were saved? and in carrying on and embodying the tradition, we may see a motive why there may have been an intentional alteration of the symbol—viz. in order to wean his people from the corruption into which the whole Egyptian ceremonial had sunk?[232] And why should it not have been so? Is there not a probability and fitness in the conjecture of some such commemorative sacrifices and memorials among mankind when they lived together before the dispersion in the times immediately following the Deluge?

APPENDIX TO CHAPTER XI.
THE PONGOL FESTIVAL.

“The Pongol Festival in Southern India,” by Charles E. Govat. “Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland,” new series, vol. v., part i. (1870.)

“I had seen the Pongol, the touching domestic festival it is now my chief object to describe. It had proved by its simple pathos that the Hindus were akin to the noblest nations of the world, and that in their antiquity they were worthy of the honour that has come to them of being the best and the least altered representatives of the ‘Juventus Mundi,’ which all nations count to have been the golden age.” He contrasts it with the worship in the great temple at Siringham near Trichinopoly, in which there “was ample justification for every epithet employed by Ward, Dubois, or Wilberforce.” “Yet the Pongol declared with equal force in favour of domestic love and chastity, of simple thanksgiving and rural contentment.... There is much reason to suppose that the Pongol is one of the most complete and interesting of these remnants of primitive life. That it is primitive is shown by the fact that the old Vedic deities are alone worshipped. Indra is the presiding deity. Agni is the main object of worship. A further proof of this point is given by the efforts that have constantly been made by the Brahmans to corrupt the ritual, and introduce Pauranic deities. Krishna is always declared by the Brahmans to be the Pongol god, but the tradition itself bears witness that the feast is older than the god. The tale is that when the great wave of Krishna worship passed over the Peninsula, the people were so enamoured of him that they ceased to perform the Pongol rites to Indra. This made the latter deity so angry that he poured down a flood upon the earth. The affrighted people ran to Krishna, who seized the great mountain Govardhanas, wrenched it from its place, and held it aloft on the tip of his little finger, like some huge umbrella. The people then ran beneath with their flocks and were saved.... The occasion of the festival is also primitive, for the Pongol is another feast of ingathering, the centre of Hebrew festivals, as this is of those of Southern India.... The Pongol is remarkable, as will be seen, for the strange combination of pastoral, hunting, and agricultural life. There are ‘harvest homes’ in almost every nation, but I do not know of any other example of the combination. The great days of the feast are two—one of these devoted to the new crops, the other to the cattle alone ... while the feast winds up with a grand hunt, first of the cattle themselves and next of a hare.” Compare [ch. vii].; compare Patagonian.

“Long before the commencement of the feast an unwonted activity pervades native society. The Pongol is the social festival of the year, and must be celebrated with due honour, else an ineffaceable stain will rest on the family name. It is the Christmas and Whitsuntide of England made into one.... So soon as the rains have finished, and this may be expected by about the first week in December, the carpenter, the builder, and the artists are in full work repairing the houses.... The sides of the road in the bazaar are heaped with ‘chatties’ of all sizes and shapes. Presents are bought for children. Distant relatives have no fields of their own from which to get their rice, so a sack of the new grain from the ancestral acres goes off to each. To this is added a pot of ghee, a set of brass pots, or perhaps a jewel; that the Pongol may not lack wherewith to make it joyful.” Creditors and debtors are often brought then to a compromise, or the process is postponed “till after Pongol.”

“All must be ready by the early part of January, when, according to the Hindu astrologers, the sun enters the tropic of Capricorn. The feast hangs upon this, and it will be seen that the most interesting event of the celebration must exactly coincide with the passage of the sun. The festival commences on the previous day, and lasts for seven days, of which the second marks the sun’s passage, and is called Mahâ (or great) Pongol, ... the next day is Bhôgi Pongol, or Pongol of rejoicing, equally well known by the name of Indra, ... bonfires and torches are illuminated (compare Boulanger, lib. i. ch. ii.) The feast is now begun, and all turn from the fire, as it is extinguished by the rising sun, to the bath, with which every religious rite must commence. No image is used during the whole course of the celebration, except that of Ganesa.... Indra is represented on ordinary occasions as a white man sitting on an elephant. In his left hand is a bow (compare [ch. xv]., and in his right a thunderbolt, while his body is studded with a thousand eyes. [Query, a reference to the peacock? Compare [ch. xv.]] Agni has also his special image, that of a stout man, red and hairy as Esau, riding on a goat [compare Bacchus, [p. 214]]. Sûrya is also a red man, sitting on a water lily. He has four arms and three eyes. But none of these (deities) are known at Pongol any more than they were at the time when the hymns of the Rig Veda were composed.... The gifts are laid out on trays,—a vase of sugar, or perhaps an idol, peacock or elephant, round which will be grouped smaller works in sugar for the children.... One thing may not be forgotten, that is a lime [compare ‘gourd,’ [p. 256]]. This must be as large as money can buy, and then be carefully encased in gold leaf till it looks like one of the golden apples of antiquity. The next day is Mahâ (or great) Pongol. It is often called Sûrya Pongol. At noon the sun will cross the equator, and bring the culminating glory of the feast. So great a day must commence with appropriate ceremonial, and in this instance it is bathing. In country places the women run early in the morning to the nearest tank and plunge bodily in without undressing.” [This is alluded to by Mr Gover as “an innovation so uncomfortable and possibly dangerous;” but no evidence is adduced of its being an innovation, and its being the custom of the “country parts” would incline us to the contrary belief.] The men also bathe very carefully, as if the occasion were very solemn. Reference is made to the Rig Veda, i. 23, 15–24 (Wilson, i. 57); but in these verses occur the words, “waters take away whatever sin has been found in me.”

“Dripping wet, the women proceed, without changing their clothes, to prepare the feast, ... new chatties, or earthen vessels had been purchased for the occasion; one of them is now taken and is filled with rice, milk, sugar, dholghee or clarified butter, grain, and other substances, calculated to produce a tasty dish.... The ingathering must be celebrated with things that have just been garnered. Usually Hindoos will not eat new rice, as it is indigestible” (refer to Leviticus xxiii. 10–14). Another incident is that—“The head of the house approaches the image (of Ganesa), and performs pûja. Then follows a procession of the young married couples to propitiate their mothers-in-law.... So a present, the best the house can provide, is carefully put together on a tray. It may be fruit, or brass pots, or ghee, or whatever else may be thought most acceptable. Then a small procession is formed. In front go three or four men, beating on tom-toms and blowing pipes. Then follows the gift, held aloft. Over it, if the family be respectable, is held an umbrella, carried by a servant who walks behind the bearer of the gift.... The nearest relative steps forward and asks that the daughter and her husband may come to the ‘boiling,’ to fill up the family circle. Then follows the boiling of the pot; ‘as the milk boils, so will the coming year be.’ The Pongol is one long series of visits, entertainments, and social joys.” (Comp. Mandan Festival, supra.)

“The third day of the feast is Mâttu Pongol, or the Pongol of the cattle. It commences with a general wash. They betake themselves to the nearest sacred tank, driving or dragging with them the whole bovine possessions of the village. They are then driven home, and adornment commences; the horns are carefully painted red, blue, green, or yellow,—if the owner be rich, gold leaf is employed,—heavy garlands of flowers placed on the horns. Meanwhile the women have prepared another new chatty, filling it with water, steeping within saffron, cotton seeds, and mangora leaves. The master of the ceremonial, usually the head of the house, comes for it, and places himself at the head of a procession of all the men—the women may not see the rite we now describe. In solemn silence they march round each animal four times, while the first man sprinkles the bitter water upon it and the ground as often as they pass the four cardinal points of the compass.... This done, the women and children are again admitted. The patient cattle are led out one by one to receive their final adornment.... Then, at a given signal, every rope is untied, every tom-tom, pipe, and guitar is banged or blown to the extreme of its endurance, and in an instant the herd, hitherto so patient, is careering down the street in an extremity of terror.... Any one may possess himself of whatever is carried by the cattle. No little skill and a vast amount of courage are shown by the ‘timid’ Hindoos in this dangerous and exciting pell-mell. The next day is Kanen Pongol, or Pongol of the calves.

“On the evening of this day we find the only token of corruption in the ceremonial.” ... Then follows a dance, just as is described by Catlin as closing the Mandan ceremonial, in which very similar scenes occur.

Before adverting to the points of contrast between the Pongol and the Mandan and Dahoman ceremonies, I will give an extract from a book recently published, giving an account of a country hitherto unexplored—viz. Northern Patagonia. Traces I think will be recognised of the same primitive custom, though with evidences of corruption.

“Three Years Slavery among the Patagonians,” by Guinnard (Bentley, 1871), p. 269.[233]

“At certain periods of the year the Indians keep religious festivals. The first takes place in the summer, and is consecrated to Vita-ouènetrou (the god of goodness) for the purpose of thanking him for all his past favours, and of begging him to continue them in the future. It is generally the grand cacique who fixes the date and duration of the festival.... The preparations are made with all the religious pomp of which they are capable; the Indians grease their hair and paint their faces with greater care than usual.... At the commencement of the ceremony the women move their tents provisionally to the centre of the spot chosen by the cacique. The men do not arrive until these preparations are finished, they ride three times round the place at full gallop, shouting their war cry and shaking their lances. Then, their rides ended, they range themselves in single file, and tilt their lances with such perfect regularity as to make it a striking sight. The women afterwards take the places of their husbands” (compare Catlin, sup., [p. 260]), “who, after dismounting and tying up their horses, form a second rank behind them.”

“The dance then commences without change of place, except from right to left. The women sing in a plaintive tone [laughter being expressly forbidden during the whole continuance of the ceremonies], accompanying themselves by striking a wooden drum.” Compare Catlin, sup., [257]. It is also said (Guinnard, p. 198), “The drum is composed of a sort of wooden bowl, more or less large, over which a wild-cat skin is stretched, or a piece of the paunch of a horse. This instrument ... is much used by them, especially in their religious festivals and character dances.” The drum is “decorated with colours and designs similar to those on their faces. The men pirouette, limping upon the opposite leg to that of the women.” Compare Catlin, [254], [260]. “At a signal given by the cacique presiding over the festival, cries of alarm are raised, the men spring into their saddles, abruptly interrupting the dance to take part in a fantastic cavalcade round the site of the festival, all waving their weapons, and raising the sinister cry they utter in their pillages.”

“In the intervals of these exciting diversions everybody goes visiting in the hope of tasting a little rotted milk kept in a horse-hide.” Compare Pongol Festival, [p. 280.]

“At a very early hour on the fourth day, to close the ceremony, a young horse, an ox, and two sheep, given by the richest men amongst them, are sacrificed to their god. The head turned towards the east, and the heart still palpitating is hung upon a lance and inclined towards the rising sun.”

“The second festival takes place in the autumn; it is celebrated in honour of Houacouvou (director of the evil spirits). The object of it is to conjure him to preserve them from all enchantment. As in the first festival, the Indians dress themselves in their best, and assemble by tribes only, headed by their cacique. An assemblage of all the cattle takes place en masse. The men form a double circle around, galloping unceasingly in opposite directions, so that none of these unruly animals may escape. They invoke Houacouvou aloud, throwing down, drop by drop, fermented milk out of bull’s horns, handed to them by their wives, while they are riding round the cattle. After repeating this ceremony three or four times, they sprinkle the horses and oxen with whatever remains of the milk, with the view, they say, of preserving them from all maladies; this done, each man separates his own cattle, and drives it to some distance, then returns for the purpose of assembling round the cacique, who, in a long and fervid address, advises them never to forget Houacouvou in their prayers, and to lose no time in preparing themselves to please him, by carrying desolation amongst the Christians, and increasing the number of their own flocks and herds.”

This festival, therefore, in its original conception would not appear to be a worship of the evil spirit, but of him who curbs him; the same idea of the subordination of the evil spirit will be seen in Catlin’s account of the Mandans.

There is nothing certainly in this account which directly connects these Patagonian ceremonies with the diluvian commemorations, unless, perhaps, the sacred drum; but there is much in common with the Pongol and the Mandan which we have seen to have been commemorative.

The prominence of sun worship will not have escaped observation; but this discovery cannot militate against my position, for I have already shown ([p. 160]) that such admixture was probable, and also indicated how it was likely to have come about. Any hostile argument which would seek to deprive those ceremonies of their significance must be directed to the extrusion of the diluvian symbols.

Further trace of these diluvian ceremonies might be traced in the Buddhist systems; but it would open out too large a question for discussion here.

---

CHAPTER XII
SIR JOHN LUBBOCK ON TRADITION.

De Maistre’s View.[234]

“We have little knowledge of the times which preceded the Deluge.... A single consideration interests us, and it must never be lost sight of, and that is, that chastisements are ever proportioned to crimes, and crimes always proportioned to the knowledge of the criminal; in such sort that the Deluge supposes unheard-of crimes, and that these crimes suppose a knowledge infinitely transcending that which we possess.... This knowledge, freed from the evil which had rendered it so noxious, survived in the first family the destruction of the human race. We are blinded as to the nature and advance of science by a gross sophism which has fascinated every eye; it is to judge of times when men saw effects in their causes by those in which men painfully ascend from effects to causes, in which they are only concerned with effects, in which they say it is useless to occupy themselves with causes, and in which they do not know what constitutes a cause. They never cease repeating—‘Think of the time that has been required to know such and such a thing.’ What inconceivable blindness! A moment only was required. If man would know the cause of a single phenomenon of nature, he would probably comprehend all the rest. We are unwilling to see that truths, the most difficult to discover, are very easy to understand.... ‘These things,’ as Plato says, ‘are perfectly and easily learned if any one teaches them, ει διδὰσκοι τις; but,’ he adds, ‘no one will teach them us, unless, indeed, God shows him the road, άλλ’ οὐδ ἄν διδαξειεν ει μὴ Θεος υφηγοῖτο.’ ‘I doubt not,’ said Hippocrates, ‘that the arts were in the first instance favours (θεων χαριτας) granted to men by the gods.’... Listen to sage antiquity in its account of the first men: it will tell you that they were marvellous men, and that beings of a superior order deigned to favour them with the most precious communications. On this point there is no disagreement, ... reason, revelation, all human tradition make up a demonstration which the mouth only can contradict. Not only, then, did mankind commence with science, but with a science different from ours, and superior to ours.... No one knows to what epoch remounts, I do not say the early commencements of society, but the great institutions, the profound knowledge, and the most magnificent monuments of human industry and human power.... Asia, having been the theatre of the greatest marvels, it is not astonishing that its people should have preserved a leaning to the marvellous stronger than what is natural to man in general, and than each one recognises in himself individually. Hence it comes that they have always shown so little taste and talent for our science of conclusions. One would say rather that they recalled something of primitive science and of the era of intuition. Would the enchained eagle ask for a balloon to raise himself into the air? No, he would demand only that his fetters should be broken. And who knows if these people are not destined yet to contemplate sights which will be refused to the cavilling genius of Europe? However this may be, observe, I pray you, that it is impossible to think of modern art without seeing it constantly environed with all the contrivances of the intellect and all the methods of art.... On the contrary. So far as it is possible to discover the science of primitive times at such an enormous distance, we see it always free and isolated, flying rather than marching, and presenting in all its characteristics something of the ærial and supernatural.[235]... But then comes the corollary.... If all men descend from the three couples who repeopled the universe, and if the human race commenced with knowledge, the savage cannot be more, as I have said to you, than a branch detached from the social tree.... Now, what matter does it make at what epoch such and such a branch was separated from the tree? It suffices that it is detached: no doubt as to its degradation; and I venture to say no doubt as to the cause of degradation, which can only have been some crime. A chief of a nation having altered the principle of morality in his household by one of those prevarications which, so far as we can judge, are no longer possible in the actual state of things, because happily our knowledge is no longer such as to allow us to become culpable in this degree; this chief of a nation, I say, transmits the curse to his posterity; and every constant force being accelerating in its nature, this degradation, weighing incessantly upon his descendants, has ended in making them what we call savages. Two causes extremely different have thrown a deceptive cloud over the lamentable state of savages: the one of ancient date, the other belonging to our century.... One cannot for an instant regard the savage without reading the curse written, I do not say only in his soul, but even in the exterior form of his body. He is an infant, robust, yet deformed and ferocious, in whom the flame of intelligence no longer throws more than a lurid and intermittent glare.... I cannot abandon this subject without suggesting an important observation: The barbarian who is intermediate between the civilised man and the savage, has been and may be again civilised by some sort of religion; but the savage, properly so called, has never been so except by Christianity. It is a prodigy of the first order, a species of redemption, exclusively reserved to the true priesthood.[236]... For the rest, we must not confound the savage with the barbarian.

“No language could possibly have been invented, either by a single man, who could not have extorted obedience, or by many who would not have made themselves understood to each other.... But I would wish, before concluding this subject, to recommend to your notice an observation which has always struck me. Whence comes it that in the primitive language of every ancient people, we find words which necessarily suppose a knowledge foreign to these people? Whence, for instance, have the Greeks, three thousand years ago at least, found the epithet ‘physizoos’ (giving or possessing life), which Homer sometimes gives to the earth?.... Where have they taken the still more singular epithet of ‘philomate’ (liking or thirsting for blood), given to this same earth in a tragedy? (Euripides, Phœn. v. 179). Æschylus had alluded before ‘to the earth drinking the blood of the two rival brothers, the one slain by the other.’[237] Humboldt (‘Monum. des Peuples Indigènes de l’Amerique,’ Paris, 1816) has said: ‘Many idioms which at present belong only to barbarous nations seem to be the remains of rich and flexible languages, which indicate a high culture.... But tell me, I pray you, how it entered the heads of the ancient Latins, at a time when they were only acquainted with the arts of war and of tillage, to express by the same word the idea of prayer and of punishment? Who taught them to call fever the “purifier,” or the “expiator”?’[238] Would not one say that there was here a judgment, a veritable knowledge of the cause, by virtue of which the people affirmed the name so justly? But do you believe that these sorts of judgments could possibly have belonged to a time when they scarcely knew how to write, when the Dictator dug his garden, and in which they composed verses which Varro and Cicero no longer understood?... The Greeks had preserved some obscure traditions in this regard—[Mr Gladstone has shown them to be neither few nor obscure],—and who knows if Homer does not attest the same truth, perhaps without knowing it, when he speaks of certain men and certain things ‘which the gods called after one manner, and men after another?’”—Count Joseph de Maistre, “Soirées de St Petersbourg,” i. Deux: Entretien.[239]

Against this view of De Maistre, which I consider to be indirectly sustained by the testimony of all antiquity, stands the theory of Sir John Lubbock. There is the constant historical tradition and testimony of the human race on one side, and there is the history of “Pre-historic Times” on the other. Nevertheless, I venture to say, that the author of “Pre-historic Times” only takes up with man at the point where De Maistre leaves him.

Of course I do not seek to detach Sir John Lubbock from the evidence he has collected; neither do I forget that he is the representative of an opinion and a school; at any rate, that there is an opinion of which he is the most conspicuous exponent.

So far as my limited acquaintance with the special subjects with which Sir John Lubbock deals extends (and with these I am only indirectly concerned), he appears perfectly straightforward and candid; and, moreover, I must acknowledge my obligations to him, for he has written with remarkable breadth and ability; and it is with the aid of the interesting matter which he has accumulated,[240] expressly in disparagement of tradition, that I venture to undertake to reinstate it in honour.

Neither do I wish to ignore that Sir John Lubbock’s main argument is the geological argument derived from the discovery of the fossils and implements in the drift. But on this point I beg to be allowed to say a word in protest.

As a geologist Sir John Lubbock may be entitled to rely mainly upon the geological evidence of a palæolithic age;[241] but as an ethnologist dealing with history and writing on the subject of tradition, his argument, however incontrovertible he may deem it, sinks to the second rank; and secondary I shall take the liberty of considering it. On the same grounds, though I think with more reason, that Sir J. Lubbock seeks to be relieved from “the embarrassing interference of tradition” (“Pre-historic Times,” p. 336), I protest, when tradition is the subject-matter of the discussion, against a geological argument being brought to take the ground from under our feet!

In the first place, I beg to urge that if Sir J. Lubbuck’s argument be well founded, Professor Rawlinson’s reconstruction of Assyrian history cannot be true. Now I assume that the one order of facts is as well established as the other.

If Professor Rawlinson takes back Assyrian history and corroborates history and tradition by the evidence of recent excavations to B.C. 2234, identifies the Erech of Scripture with the Huruk of the cuneiform tablets and the modern Urka; similarly identifies the other three cities of Nimrod; and, finally, identifies Nimrod himself as Bil-Nipru; and if, further, bronze implements are found (Rawlinson, i. 101, 123, 211), along with flint doubtless (but this was common throughout the bronze age, as Sir John himself admits), at an early period;—and bronze, though comparatively rare, yet exists among the very early Assyrian remains—there seems no good reason to suppose that the knowledge of metals, which we know (Gen. iv. 22) to have existed before the Deluge, and which the construction of the ark presupposes, was ever lost.

A stone age, exclusive of metals, common to the whole world and to all mankind, is therefore an untenable hypothesis according to the testimony of history. If it existed anywhere it must have been only partially, locally, and contemporaneously with this traditional knowledge of metals, which seems to be historically proved.[242] I may at least be permitted to believe in the accuracy of Professor Rawlinson’s conclusions, and to regard them as the verdict of history: and if the historical arguments so pronounce, why should the geological or palæontological argument override it? Is not history supreme on its own ground—and if Scripture is always found in perfect consistency with history, is it not as much as in strictness we should have a right to expect? “Tradidit mundum disputationi eorum” (Eccles. iii. 11).

Now, secondly, as it happens that bronze is only a combination of copper and tin in certain proportions, and as neither existed on the spot (in the Mesopotamian valley), it is a curious question how they could have hit upon the discovery through actual experiment. Tin, for instance, is only found in Cornwall, Banca (between Sumatra and Borneo), Spain, Saxony, and Siberia. Now, how did it enter the heads of even these wise Chaldæans to go to these distant countries in search of this metal unless they knew beforehand through tradition, that if procured along with copper it would produce the useful amalgam they sought? True, it might have been brought to them through commerce, but in that case there must have been some other race more advanced in civilisation than themselves. If the Phœnicians, much the same argument will recur. If some race in the countries where tin was procured, where is it now? If it exists it must be represented by some race at present or historically known to have been in a state of barbarism. This, however, at this stage of the argument, would be too precipitate an admission of degeneracy!

Now, in a certain modified sense, I should be quite prepared to admit a stone age. Nothing more probable than that in the dispersion certain families would have taken only what came readiest to hand. Those who made long marches, and came to countries where minerals were scarce, would have been in the way of losing the knowledge of metals altogether, except in so far as they preserved the tradition of them; and this would much depend upon how far they preserved other traditions.[243] Some instance should be given us—and as there are savages who are still using nothing but flint, there is still the chance—of some set of savages who have spontaneously hit upon the plan of fusing different metals, or even of smelting metals which were under their eye? Certainly not our supposed flint ancestors, who, as Professor Nillson and Sir J. Lubbock agree, must have got their knowledge of bronze from Asia: Sir J. Lubbock inclining to an Indo-European, Professor Nillson to a Phœnician “origin of the bronze age civilisation.” (“Pre-historic Times,” p. 49.) All this perfectly coincides with the view I have indicated, that the contrast arose through the divergence of the lines of the dispersion, leading the tribes to varied fortunes, some losing and others retaining the tradition; and those who retained it eventually communicating it to those who had lapsed. But then there are those unfortunate Bashkirs, who, Professor Nillson tells us, are still in their stone age, and who have remained Bashkirs since Herodotus described them as such 2300 years ago. As they have resisted the contact of civilisation so long, one can only watch with careful curiosity the transitionary process by which they will pass by internal development from their stone to their bronze age.[244]

I must now revert to what I at present wish to limit the discussion, viz. Sir J. Lubbock’s views on the subject of tradition.

Sir John says that history can throw no light upon the question of the stone and bronze age, “because the use of metals has in all cases preceded that of writing.” I should like to know whether Sir John is prepared to adhere to this “dictum” under all circumstances, inasmuch as, if he does, he must allow me to trace the use of metals in Assyria even beyond the date at which Professor Rawlinson seems actually to have found evidence of their use; for (pp. 80, 198) “in the ruins of Warka, the ancient Huruk or Erech” (the city of Nimrod) we find inscriptions on bricks of the date of the reign of Urukh or Orchamus, who, according to classical tradition, was the seventh in succession from Bel or Nimrod; which tradition, says Rawlinson (p. 189), “accords very curiously with the information derived from the inscriptions.” There is nothing to indicate that the bricks here discovered were the first bricks ever inscribed; on the contrary, wherever we find bricks and metals there will be a prima facie presumption as to their previous use.[245] Only upon Sir John Lubbock’s “dictum,” finding evidence of writing at this date, we must necessarily conclude that the use of metals preceded it. This would bring us well up the seven reigns, and into close contact with the time of Nimrod.

“Nor,” says Sir J. Lubbock (p. 335), “will tradition supply the place of history. At best it is untrustworthy and shortlived. Thus in 1770 the New Zealanders had no recollection of Tasman’s visit. Yet this took place in 1643, less than one hundred and thirty years before, and must have been to them an event of the greatest possible importance and interest.... I do not mean to say that tradition would never preserve for a long period the memory of any remarkable event. The above-mentioned facts (De Soto’s expedition is also referred to) prove only that it will not always do so; but it is unnecessary for us to discuss this question, as there is in Europe no tradition of the Stone Age, and when arrow-heads are found the ignorant peasantry refer them to the elves or fairies; stone axes are regarded as thunderbolts, and are used not only in Europe but also in various other parts of the world for magical purposes” (p. 336).

“Relieved” then “from the embarrassing interference of tradition, the archæologist can only follow the methods which have been so successfully pursued in geology” (p. 336).[246]

This is partly a limitation of the question to oral tradition, and partly an anticipated denial of what I shall now venture to assert, namely, that we can only look for the savages’ traditions of things known to them before they were savages, religious impressions which have not been effaced from their minds, legends connected with their race, facts which have determined their destiny. The very characteristic of the savage is that he lives only for the present; that he has little memory for the past, and no forecast for the future; that his mind is stricken with a hopeless sterility and fixedness, so that he only seems to remember things that are bred in the bone, and the tradition of which he cannot divest himself.[247]

And so the ignorant peasantry when these flints were first dug up, although they had “no tradition,” rushed instinctively upon these hatchets and considered them magical, apparently on no better grounds than that they had belonged to a former race of men whom they associated with elves and fairies. Was not this their way of saying with Cicero, “Antiquitas proxime accedit ad deos.”[248]

And so far from tradition supplying us with no clue to solve the problem of the stone age, does it not in this way suggest a very decided though an antagonistic view to that of Sir John Lubbock. The superstitious regard of the peasantry for these newly found relics—which I presume came under Sir John’s own observation when exploring the northern coast-finds—is really very curious, because it shows that their ideas and feelings in these matters were, after the lapse of at any rate a thousand years, identical with those of their ancestors. In evidence of which I adduce the following passage from Professor Nillson, having reference to the legend of the “guse arrows” or “Orvar Odd’s saga”:—

“This ancient romance shows very clearly that at the time when it was composed, neither arrows, nor other weapons of stone were in common use as weapons, but that even then the opinion was generally current that these stone weapons, which owed their existence to the dwarf race skilled in sorcery, were endowed with a magic power against witches and witchcraft which no other weapons possessed.”—Professor Nillson, “Stone Age,” p. 199.

But this suggests the further reflection, whether this stone age among certain tribes was not as much in rejection as in ignorance of metals. Professor Nillson (p. 97, 98) shows that flint was used for sacred sacrificial purposes by the Jews, Egyptians, Phœnicians, and Latins, long after they were acquainted with weapons of metal. Among these the traditional idea about flint, whatever it was, was kept in due subordination; but among tribes that had sunk into savagery it is conceivable that it may have become a superstition, and dominated.

I am not sure that we do not underrate the capacity for tradition among savages where it has once taken hold; still, if it had been a question of mere savages, at the first glance I should have been disposed to agree with Sir John Lubbock. But let us take the case of Tasman, which Sir John puts forward as a sort of crucial case, and which may be accepted as such, seeing that the New Zealanders may fairly claim to be regarded as “barbarians.”[249]

In the first place, I find the following in a note to “Cook’s Voyages” (Smith, 1846):—“Mr Polack, in his ‘Narrative of Travels and Adventures during a residence in New Zealand between the years 1831–37,’ collected all the particulars relating to Cook’s brush with the natives, 1769, on the spot.”

Next, let us see what Cook says on the subject of Tasman (“Cook’s Voyages,” i. 164)—

“But the Indians still continued near the ship, rowing round many times [hardly the most favourable conditions under which to recover a tradition], conversing with Tupia [the Otaheitan interpreter] chiefly concerning the traditions they had among them with respect to the antiquities of their country. To this subject they were led by the inquiries which Tupia had been directed to make, whether they had ever seen such a vessel as ours, or had ever heard that any such had been on their coast. These inquiries were all answered in the negative, so that tradition has preserved among them no memorial of Tasman, though by an observation made this day we find we are only fifteen miles south of Murderers’ Bay!”

Evidently the shrewd and gallant investigator himself was not satisfied with the cross-examination, for we find at p. 170—

“When we were under sail one old man, Topaa his ancestors had told him there had once come to this place a small vessel from a distant country called Ulimaroa, in which were four men, who upon coming on shore were all killed. Upon being asked where this distant land lay he pointed to the northward.”

But what does Tasman himself say?—

“On the 17th December these savages began to grow a little bolder and more familiar, insomuch that at last they ventured on board the Heemskirk, in order to trade with those in the vessel. As soon as I perceived it, being apprehensive that they might attempt to surprise that ship, I sent my shallop, with seven men, to put the people in the Heemskirk on their guard, and to direct them not to place any confidence in these people. My seven men, being without arms, were attacked by these savages, who killed three of the seven, and forced the other four to swim for their lives; which occasioned my giving that place the name of the Bay of Murderers.[250] Our ship’s company would undoubtedly have taken a severe revenge if the rough weather had not prevented them.”—Tasman’s Voyage of Discovery, Pinkerton, xi.

Now, I submit that this old man Topaa’s recollection of the tradition of an event which occurred one hundred and thirty years before his time, was much more perfect than Captain Cook’s, Sir Joseph Banks’, Dr Solander’s, and Sir J. Lubbock’s recollection of the same event from geographical records.

Emboldened by this instance of the fallibility of scientific men, I now proceed to question the truth of the two following propositions of Sir J. Lubbock, after which I shall ask to be allowed to enunciate a proposition of my own.

First, Sir J. Lubbock says: “It has been asserted over and over again that there is no race of man so degraded as to be entirely without a religion—without some idea of the Deity. So far from this being true, the very reverse is the case” (p. 467).[251]

Second, “It is a common opinion that savages are, as a general rule, only the miserable remnants of nations once more civilised; but although there are some well-established cases of national decay, there is no scientific evidence which would justify us in asserting that this is generally the case” (p. 337).

In opposition to the first proposition, I maintain that there is no race of men so degraded as to be without some vestige of religion.

And in opposition to the second, I assert that if they have a vestige of religion, and nothing else, they have still that which will convict them of degeneracy.

First, To say that a savage has no idea of the Deity, is to say merely that he is a savage; and it appears to me that this extinction of all knowledge of the Deity among a people, precisely marks the point where the barbarian lapses into the savage.

Taking the range of the authorities quoted by Sir J. Lubbock,[252] I find a great concurrence of testimony to the fact that there is some vestige of religion. One only—whose authority on any other point incidental to African travel I should regard as of the highest value—Captain Richard Burton, asserts without qualification, and in language sufficiently explicit, that “some of the tribes of the lake district of Central Africa admit neither God, nor angel, nor devil.” Others assert the same negatively—they did not come upon any signs of religion, any external observances, any trace of ceremonial worship. For instance, it is said that the Tasmanians had no word for a Creator (p. 468, Lubbock), which need not excite surprise, as it is also said of them that they were incapable of forming any abstract ideas at all (p. 355, Lubbock). Again, in many of those cases where it is more or less roundly asserted that there is no vestige of religion, we find it plainly intimated that there is a belief in the devil, e.g. Lubbock, p. 469.

“The Tonpinambas of Brazil had no religion, though if the name is applied ‘à des notions fantastiques d’êtres surnaturals et puissans on ne sauroit nier qu’ils n’eussent une croyance religieuse et même une sorte de culte exterieur.’”—Freycinet, i. 153.

Now, although the devil may, and in many instances no doubt has,[253] made a special revelation of himself to his votaries, the ordinary channel of information concerning him is through tradition, and through the tradition of the fall of man.

But I ask further of those who dispute this, If savages are found with this fear of the supernatural world, after they have lost the idea of God, how do they get it? If not from tradition, then from reflection? But savages do not reason (Lubbock, p. 465). Moreover, at p. 470, Sir J. Lubbock says, what really brings us very nearly to agreement, “How, for instance, can a people who are unable to count their own fingers, possibly raise their minds so far as to admit even the rudiments of a religion?” This is said with reference to a previous allegation, “That those who assert that even the lowest savages believe in a Deity, affirm that which is entirely contrary to the evidence” (p. 470). But there is a great concurrence of evidence that “even the lowest savages” believe in the devil. Belief in the devil involves a realisation more or less obscure of the fallen angel, of the Spirit of Evil—and this for the savage who “cannot count his fingers” is as great an intellectual effort as would be, merely considered as an intellectual effort, a belief in the Deity. On any theory of growth or development how could he (“the lowest savage”) have got the idea?

Several writers who are quoted, whilst they deny the existence of any notion of religion among a particular people, mention facts which are incompatible with that statement. I may also say, parenthetically, that to detect or elicit the sentiment of religion in others, one must have something of the sentiment in ourselves; e.g. there is the instance of Kolben (Lubbock, p. 469), “who, in spite of the assertions of the natives themselves, felt quite sure that certain dances must be of a religious character, let the Hottentots say what they will.” Now I must say there is great à priori probability in the truth of Kolben’s conviction, although he was probably led to it merely by the insight of his own mind. Let it be taken in connection with the following evidence in Washington Irving’s “Life of Columbus,” iii. 122–124:—

“The dances to which the natives seemed so immoderately addicted, and which had been at first considered by the Spaniards mere idle pastimes, were found to be often ceremonials of a serious and mystic character.” Again—“Peter Martyn observes that they performed these dances to the chant of certain metres and ballads handed down from generation to generation, in which were rehearsed the deeds of their ancestors. Some of these ballads were of a sacred character, containing their traditional notions of theology, and the superstitions and fables which comprised their religious creeds.”

Pritchard, “Researches into Phys. Hist. of Man” (i. p. 205), quoting Oldendorp, and speaking of the African negroes, says:—“At the annual harvest feast, which nearly all the nations of Guinea solemnise, thank-offerings are brought to the Deity. These festivals are days of rejoicing, which the negroes pass with feasting and dancing.” Vide also “Hist. of Indian Tribes of North America, 120 portraits from the Ind. Gal. in Depart. of War at Washington, by T. M’Kenney (late Ind. Dep. Wash.) and J. Hall of Cincinnati” (Philadelphia, 1837).

“Dancing is among the most prominent of the aboriginal ceremonies; there is no tribe in which it is not practised. The Indians have their war dance and their peace dance, their dance of mourning for the dead, their begging dance, their pipe dance, their green-corn dance, and their Wabana (an offering to the devil). Each of these is distinguished by some peculiarity ... though to a stranger they appear much alike, except the last.... It is a ceremony and not a recreation, and is conducted with a seriousness belonging to an important public duty.”

At p. 437 (Lubbock) it is said, “Admiral Fitzroy never witnessed or heard of any act of a decidedly religious character among the Fuegians.” Still, as Sir John admits, “some of the natives suppose that there is a great black man in the woods who knows everything, and cannot be escaped.” If this is not the devil, it looks very like him. Again, p. 469, Mr Mathews says, speaking of the Fuegians, “he sometimes heard a great howling or lamentation about sunrise in the morning; and upon asking Jemmy Button what occasioned the outcry, he could obtain no satisfactory answer; the boy only saying, ‘people very sad, cry very much.’” Upon which Sir John remarks, “This appears so natural and sufficient an explanation, that why the outcry should be ‘supposed to be devotional’ I must confess myself unable to see” (469).

Now, if this was not their traditional notion and mode of prayer, degraded according to the measure of their degeneracy, the degeneracy is at least proved in another way, for, being still reasonable beings, they had, according to the account, congregated together to send up a lamentation, which, if it was not prayer, could be likened only to the moonlight howling of wolves. This mode of prayer resembles what Father Loyer and the missionary Oldendorp (Pritchard, i. 197) tells us of the negroes. Father Loyer “declares that they have a belief in a universally powerful Being, and to him they address prayers. Every morning after they rise they go to the river side to wash, and throwing a handful of water on their head, or pouring sand with it to express their humility, they join their hands and then open them, whisper softly the word ‘exsuvais.’” Oldendorp says (p. 202): “The negroes profess their dependence on the Deity, ... they pray at the rising and setting of the sun,[254] on eating and drinking, and when they go to war.” Compare also Helps’ “Spanish Conquest in America,” i. 285:—

“The worship of the Peruvians was not the mere worship of the sun alone as of the most beautiful and powerful thing which they beheld; but they had also a worship of a far more elevated and refined nature, addressed to Pachacamac, the soul of the universe, whom they hardly dared to name; and when they were obliged to name this Being, they did so inclining the head and the whole body, now lifting up the eyes to heaven, now lowering them to the ground, and giving kisses in the air. To Pachacamac they made no temple and offered no sacrifices, but they adored him in their hearts.”[255]

At p. 468 Sir John somewhat too roundly asserts that “Dr Hooker tells us that the Lepchas of Northern India have no religion.”

Turning to Dr Hooker’s “Himalayan Journal,” I find (i. 135), “The Lepchas profess no religion, though acknowledging the existence of good and bad spirits.... Both Lepchas and Limboos had, before the introduction of Lama Boodhism from Tibet, many features in common with the natives of Arracan, especially in their creed, sacrifices, faith in omens, worship of many spirits, absence of idols, and of the doctrine of metempsychosis” (p. 140). We have already seen (supra, [p. 224]) that they had a very distinct tradition of the Deluge; indeed there is much in the account of them which reminds us of the primitive monotheism.

So, too, Sir John asserts, p. 469, “Once more Dr Hooker states that the Khasias, an Indian tribe, had no religion. Col. Yule, on the contrary, says that they have, but he admits that breaking hens’ eggs is the principal part of their religious practice.”

It is true that Dr Hooker says (ii. 276), “The Khasias are superstitious, but have no religion;” he adds, however, “like the Lepchas, they believe in a Supreme Being, and in deities of the grove, cave, and stream.” It seems, however, that the only outward manifestation of their religion is in “breaking hens’ eggs”! What can be more ludicrous! yet here, too, would seem to be a vestige of primitive tradition. We know (vide Wilkinson, “Ancient Egyptians,” second series) how primitive truth was concealed under material symbols. Gainet (i. 127) also says, “Even upon the hypothesis that these fragments of the Egyptian cosmogony were lost, one of the hieroglyphics which this people has left us would suffice to convince us of their belief in a Creator. It is the image of the god Kneph, whom they represent with an egg in his mouth; this egg being the natural image of the world taking its birth from this divinity.” Again, p. 115, “In the mysteries of Bacchus[256] the dogma of the Creation was proposed under the emblem of that celebrated egg, of which the poets have so often spoken, which contained the germ of all things.” “The egg,” says Plutarch, “is consecrated to the sacred ceremonies of Bacchus, as a representation of the Author of nature who produces and comprehends all things in himself.” There is a passage in Athenagoras to the same effect.

Superstitions were also connected with cocks and hens in Khasia. Whether these again were connected with the symbolical representation of the egg can only be conjectured. It may possibly be that the representation had a common origin with the cock of Apollo and the cock of Æsculapius, if, indeed, these were not also originally derived from the same primal conception. This would be only to renew the old classical dispute as to whether the hen proceeded from the egg, or the egg from the hen, which I take to be only the form in which the great question of the First Cause was debated by the Gentile world after their ideas of a Creator had become indistinct, and with reference to this ancient symbol. However that may be, I wish to point out that this ceremonial use of the cock may be traced in Europe, Asia, and Africa: e.g. Asia—“The Lepchas scatter eggs and pebbles over the graves of their friends.... Among the Limboos, the priests of a higher order than the Lepcha, Bijoras officiate at marriages, when a cock is put into the bride-groom’s hands, and a hen into those of the bride. The Phedangbo then cuts off the birds’ heads, when the blood is caught in a plantain leaf, and runs into pools, from which omens are drawn” (Dr Hooker, “Himalayan Journal,” i. 238). Africa—vide Pritchard, “Phys. Hist. of Man,” i. 203, 204, 208: “Even the dead are not buried without sacrifices. A white hen is slain by the priest before the corpse comes to the grave, and the bier whereon the body lies is sprinkled with its blood. This custom was introduced by the nation of Kagraut.” Europe—If any one will turn to the Illustrated London News of Nov. 14, 1868, he will find an account and illustration of a local ceremony peculiar to the village of Gorbio in the Maritime Alps, in which the priest, on a particular day in the year, is solemnly presented with four cocks hung upon a halberd—together with an apple by the bachelors and spinsters of the village—from which it would seem to have had originally some connection, as we have seen above, with a marriage ceremony. Wilson (“Archæologia”) remarks that the custom of “Easter, or, in the north, Paste eggs (Pasch), was very prevalent in the north.”[257]

It strikes me that it would be difficult to assign a Christian origin for the custom. It must then have been a custom which the Church diverted or sanctioned in giving it an innocent or Christian application; in which case, in so far as it is pagan, it may possibly be traced to a common origin with the practices in Khasia among the Lepchas.

It would extend the inquiry too far to follow Sir J. Lubbock through all the cases adduced by him. I will conclude, therefore, with his account of the Andaman islander—who, with the Australians, Esquimaux, and Fuegians, dispute the point of being considered the lowest of mankind. It is said of the Andamans, “that they have no idea of a Supreme Being, no religion, or any belief in a future state of existence” (p. 346). It is, however, casually mentioned that, “after death, the corpse is buried in a sitting posture.” Now this mode of burial is common to them with Esquimaux (p. 409), the Australians (p. 353), the Maories (p. 369), and the natives of the Feegee Islands (p. 361), among whom we seem to get a clue to this strange mode of burial; “the fact is, they (the Feegee islanders) not only believe in a future state, but are persuaded that as they leave this life, so will they rise again.” Sir J. Lubbock, in his “Introduction to Prof. Nillson” (xxxiii.), says that this was the common mode of burial in the Stone Age; and Prescott (“Hist. of Mexico,” ii. 485) says, “Who can doubt the existence of an affinity, or at least an intercourse, between tribes, who had the same strange habit of burying the dead in a sitting position, as was practised to some extent by most if not all of the aborigines from Canada to Patagonia?”[258] But not only may it be presumed that they had an affinity and intercourse, but a common religious idea. It may be doubted then whether even the naked Andaman is so entirely destitute of all religious impressions as he is supposed to be.

I have already urged that if any vestiges of religion remain they must be considered as evidence of tradition and proof of degeneracy. I think the following reflection will tend to clench this argument.

Although it is obscure and disputed to what extent certain savages do retain glimmerings of religion, it is certain and admitted that some savages have religion and a religious ceremonial. Now, as Sir J. Lubbock says, “How, for instance, can a people who are unable to count upon their fingers possibly raise their minds so far as to admit even the rudiments of religion.” It is clear, then, that the lowest grade of mankind did not invent it, how then did the higher grade get it, “assuming always the unity of the human race”?

Finally, if man commenced with the knowledge of the devil, how did they proceed on to the idea of God? “The first idea of a God is almost always as an evil spirit” (Lubbock, p. 468). How then did they advance to the knowledge of the God of purity and love, or even of “the Great Spirit” of the Indians?[259]

Let us at least know whether it is supposed that this was the order of knowledge ordained by Divine Providence, or whether it is believed that man in this manner developed the idea of God out of his own consciousness, his primitive, or perhaps innate, idea being, the conception of evil and of the evil spirit.[260] Sir John says (p. 487), “There are no just grounds for expecting man to be ever endued with a sixth sense.” But why not? If by his own mental vigour he can out of the primitive idea of evil generate the idea of good—what may we not expect?

Yet, if any one will compare the evidence which Sir John has collected, he will come, I think, to the conclusion, that the invention and adaptability of the savage is very slight indeed. He will find (p. 350) that the inhabitants of Botany Bay had fish-hooks, but no nets; those of Western Australia, nets but not hooks; that those who had the throwing-stick and boomerang, were ignorant both of slings and bows and arrows; that those who had retained the knowledge of the bow did not pass on to the use of the bola; that the northern tribes visited by Kane were skilful in the capture of birds with nets, yet were entirely ignorant of fishing (452); that the nearest approach to the South American bola is among the Esquimaux (450); that the throwing-stick is common only to the widely distant Esquimaux, Australians, and some of the Brazilian tribes (id.); that the “sumpitan” or blowpipe of the Malays occurs only in the valley of the Amazons. Does not this point to a traditional knowledge of these things? Nevertheless, this mass of evidence seems to have produced the very opposite conviction with Sir J. Lubbock.

“On the whole, then, from a review of all these and other similar facts which might have been mentioned, it seems to me most probable that many of the simpler weapons, implements, &c., have been invented independently by various savage tribes, although there are no doubt also cases in which they have been borrowed by one tribe from another” (p. 451). Instances in which they have been borrowed from each other are not infrequent, but then neither are they inconsistent with the theory of tradition; but the instances of invention are limited to one. (See for instance p. 394.) At p. 394 we find—“Although they (the Esquimaux) had no knowledge of pottery, Captain Cook saw at Unalashka vessels “of flat stone, with sides of clay, not unlike a standing pye.” We here obtain an idea of the manner in which the knowledge of pottery may have been developed. After using clay to raise the sides of their stone vessels, it would naturally occur to them, that the same substance would serve for the bottom also, and thus the use of stone might be replaced by a more convenient material.”

Recollecting how roast pig came to be discovered, it cannot be said to be impossible that pottery may thus have been invented; but in this instance it might equally have been the rough substitute for the pottery of their recollection. Besides, the proof is wanting that they ever did pass on to the invention of pottery. It may, for anything we know to the contrary, be in this inchoate state amongst them still.

Now, until further evidence is forthcoming, I shall take the liberty of maintaining that savages seem to show no inventive faculty or power of recovery in themselves.[261] Whatever they possess seems to be limited to what they have retained of primitive civilisation, and what they have retained of civilisation seems exactly in proportion to what they have retained of primitive religion.

In supporting this proposition I shall hardly have occasion to go beyond the four corners of Sir J. Lubbock’s “Pre-historic Times.”

It is indeed a moot point with the travellers and ethnologists who have given their attention to the subject, which race of savages is “the lowest in the scale of civilisation.” In this competitive examination a concurrence of opinion seems to decide in favour of the Fuegian, who at any rate is miserable enough, living, when better food fails him, on raw and putrid flesh, eked out with cannibalism; and whose clothing (in Central Fuego) consists “in a scrap of otter skin, about as large as a pocket handkerchief, laced across the breast with strings, and shifted according to the wind” (Darwin, apud Lubbock). Their religion, as we have just seen, consists in a vague apprehension of the black man who lives up in the woods—and their prayer is something slightly elevated above the howl of the wolf. Their civilisation, therefore, like their religion, may be considered to be at a “minimum.” The Australians have been called “the miserablest people in the world” (p. 445). They are said to have “no religion or any kind of prayer, but most of them believe in evil spirits, and all have a dread of witchcraft” (p. 353). Here again we see their civilisation degraded pari-passu with their religious belief—so, too, with the Andaman (vide supra) and the Tasmanian (p. 355).

When, however, we come to the inhabitants of the Feegee Islands, not greatly different from the people surrounding them, their characteristics, manners, and customs being partly Nigrito and partly Polynesian, although in the matter of cannibalism they are simply horrible, and eat their kind, not on any high notion that they are appropriating the spirit and glory of him whom they devour (vide Lubbock, 371), but from a repulsive preference; yet they have a distinct notion of religion, with temples, and ceremonies, and we are told they look down upon the Samoans because they had no religion. Well, we find the Feegeeans in a state of material civilisation exactly corresponding—they live in well built houses, 20 to 30 feet long and 15 feet high, in fortified towns, with earthen ramparts, surmounted by a reed fence, &c. “Their temples were pyramidal in form, and were often erected on terraced mounds like those of Central America” (p. 357). They had efficient weapons, agricultural implements, well-constructed canoes, and (p. 372) pottery.[262]

When, however, we come to the Tahitians we find a very high state of civilisation. Of their religion it is said—“That though they worshipped numerous deities,” and sometimes sacrificed to them, “yet they were not idolators.” “Captain Cook found their religion, like that of most other countries, involved in mystery and perplexed with apparent inconsistencies.” They had a priesthood (p. 387). “They believed in the immortality of the soul, and in two situations of different degrees of happiness somewhat analogous to our heaven and hell, though not regarded as places of reward and punishment; but the one intended ‘for the chief and superior classes,’ ‘the other for the people of inferior rank.’” This is substantially Captain Cook’s account of the Tahitians, and allowing it to be exact, although I have a suspicion that a missionary would have put it somewhat differently,[263] it shows a comparative state of religion very much elevated above anything we have yet seen. They had besides curious customs, such as that of eating apart. “They ate alone,” they said, “because it was right, but why it was right they were unable to explain”—a custom which is common to them with the Bachapins (p. 384), (who, by the way, are also among the races classified as “of no religion”). Although the inhabitants of Tahiti present to us a much higher standard of religion and morality than we have yet met with, also “they, on the whole, may be taken as representing the highest stage in civilisation to which man has in any country raised himself, before the discovery or introduction of metallic implements” (Lubbock, p. 372).

It is impossible within these limits to investigate every case. I have taken the more salient cases, as instanced by Sir J. Lubbock, and contrasted them. I now wish to present the contrast in somewhat livelier form, and I do not see that I can do better than to present to the reader two scenes precisely similar, as to substance, yet under different conditions, in different parts of the world. The first shall be a description of “a whale ashore,” by Sir J. Lubbock, among the Australians; and the second, a description of the same scene by Catlin (“Last Rambles, &c., among the Indians of Vancouver’s Island”).

I must preface that Sir J. Lubbock says that the Australians “have no religion nor any idea of prayer, but most of them believe in evil spirits, and all have great dread of witchcraft” (p. 353).

The following is the scene to which I refer:—

“They are not, so far as I am aware, able to kill whales for themselves, but when one is washed on shore it is a real godsend to them. Fires are immediately lit to give notice of the joyful event.... For days they remain by the carcase, rubbed from head to foot with the stinking blubber, gorged to repletion with putrid meat, out of temper from indigestion, and therefore engaged in constant frays, suffering from a continuous disorder from high feeding, and altogether a disgusting spectacle.”—Capt. Grey, apud Lubbock, p. 347.

This is one picture; now for the other. It may be said that it is only the different idiosyncrasies of the writers transferred to their pages—that one is the narrative of Jean qui pleure, &c., or of the médicin tant pis, &c.; but I do not think so.

Mr Catlin premises by telling us that the scene occurred when on a visit with the chief of the Klah-o-gnats, of whom he says that he knew at first sight by his actions that he was “a chief, and by the expression of his face that he was a good man,” and whom his companion described as “a very fine old fellow; that man is a gentleman; I’d trust myself anywhere with that man.” Of their religion, the chief himself told Catlin that on that western coast of Vancouver’s Island “they all believed in a Great Spirit, who created them and all things, and that they all have times and places when and where they pray to that Spirit, that he may not be angry with them.”

One day came the startling announcement that a whale was ashore.

“The sight was imposing when we came near to it, but not until we came around it on the shore side had I any idea of the scene I was to witness. Some hundreds, if not thousands of Indians, of all ages and sexes, and in all colours, were gathered around it, and others constantly arriving. Some were lying, others standing and sitting in groups; some were asleep and others eating and drinking, and others were singing and dancing.” The monster was secured by twenty or thirty harpoons, to which ropes were attached. “These were watched, and at every lift of a wave moving the monster nearer the shore, they were tightened on the harpoons, and at low tide the carcass is left on dry land, a great distance from the water.... The dissection of this monstrous creature, and its distribution amongst the thousands who would yet be a day or two in getting together, the interpreter informed us, would not be commenced until all the claimants arrived.”

Several immense baskets had been brought in which to carry away the blubber. The possession of these baskets made all the difference in the scene which followed. To some this will be a sufficient explanation. How, then, did the others come to know nothing of baskets? Truly there are people who cannot be made to see the effect of “character upon clover.” I rely, however, upon the broad lines of the contrast. The absence in this latter scene of the disgusting sights above so graphically described—their quick use of the harpoons—and the general order and equity of the distribution. “A whale ashore,” Mr Catlin says (“Last Rambles,” p. 105), “is surely a gift from heaven for these poor people, and they receive it and use it as such.”

Whilst quoting from Catlin, I must be allowed to refer my readers to the very striking proof (p. 248) he incidentally affords of the theory of degeneracy in his comparative illustration of the heads of the alto and bas Peruvian, and of the Crow and modern Flathead:—

“The Crow of the Rocky Mountains and the alto-Peruvian of the Andes, being the two great original fountains of American man, to whom all the tribes point as their origin, and on whom, of course, all the tribes have looked as the beau ideals of the Indian race. The Flathead (letter c), aiming at the Crow skull (like the copyists of most fashions), has carried the copy into a caricature; and the Bas-Peruvian (d), aiming at the elevated frontal of the mountain regions, has squeezed his up with circular bandages to equally monstrous proportions.” Also vide Prescott’s “Mexico,” ii. 493, 6th ed., 1850. “Anatomists also have discerned in crania disinterred from the mounds, and in those of the inhabitants of the high plains of the Cordilleras an obvious difference from those of the more barbarous tribes. This is seen especially in the ampler forehead, intimating a decided intellectual superiority.... Such is the conclusion of Dr Warren, whose excellent collection has afforded him ample means for study and comparison.”

Before quitting this subject I must revive a question which I think Sir John Lubbock will admit, if he turns to the evidence dispersed in his pages, is at present involved in some obscurity. It is simply this, “How did the savage come by the knowledge of fire?” Sir John Lubbock suggests (p. 473) “that in making flint instruments sparks would be produced; in polishing them it would not fail to be observed that they became hot, and in this way it is easy to see how the two methods of obtaining fire may have originated.... In obtaining fire two totally different methods are followed; some savages, as for instance the Fuegians, using percussion, while others, as the South-Sea Islanders, rub one piece of wood against another.... Opinions are divided whether we have any trustworthy record of a people without the means of obtaining fire” (p. 453). To this point I shall recur. I will now give Sir John’s quotation from Mr Dove: “Although fire was well known to them (the Tasmanians), some tribes at least appear to have been ignorant whence it was originally obtained, or how, if extinguished, it could be relighted. In all their wanderings,” says Mr Dove, “they were particularly careful to bear in their hands the materials for kindling a fire. Their memory supplies them with no instances of a period in which they were obliged to draw upon their inventive powers for the means of resuscitating an element so essential to their health and comfort as flame. How it came originally into their possession is unknown. Whether it may be viewed as the gift of nature or the product of art and sagacity, they cannot recollect a period when it was a desideratum” (“Tasmanian Journal of Natural Science,” i. 250, apud Lubbock, p. 355).[264]

Now, if it is a tenable opinion—and at least these are the statements of Father Gobien, and of Alvaro de Saavedra, and of Commodore Wilkes, to whose testimony I shall revert, that there are some tribes who are unacquainted with fire—that there are some who have and some who have not the art of rekindling fire, then arises the question whether those who have it not have lost the art, or whether those who now possess it invented it. If they did not invent it, they must have held it as a tradition, until, reaching a lower point of degradation still, they lost it. Mr Dove’s testimony to this effect is very strong. What an emblem that never-extinguished torch of primitive tradition! We find the same tradition among the American Indians. “The Chippeways and Natchez tribes are said to have an institution for keeping up a perpetual fire, certain persons being set aside and devoted to this occupation” (Lubbock, p. 421). Freycinet certainly declares that Peré Gobien’s statement, that the inhabitants of the Ladrone were totally unacquainted with fire until Magellan burnt one of their villages, to be “entirely without foundation.” “The language,” he says, “of the inhabitants contains words for fire, burning, charcoal, oven, grilling, boiling, &c.” Again, as against Commodore Wilkes’ assertion as an eye-witness, that he saw no appearance of fire in the island of Fakaafo, and that the natives were very much alarmed when they saw sparks struck from flint and steel, we are told that “Hale gives a list of Faakaafo words in which we find asi for fire” (Lubbock, p. 454). However, Sir John does not attribute to this argument the same force that Mr Tylor does, as asi is evidently the same word as the New Zealand ahi, which denotes light and heat as well as fire.[265] If, then, we have positive evidence that they have not the thing (Wilkes), and also evidence that they have the word (vide [note]), does not this prove that it is a tradition which they have lost? and is there not the presumption that they have lost it through degeneracy?

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APPENDIX TO CHAPTER XII.

Compare the following account of the New Zealanders:—

“Shut out from the rest of the world, without any to set them a pattern of what was right or to reprove what was wrong, is it surprising that morally they should have degenerated, even from the standard of their forefathers? They were not always addicted to war, neither were they always cannibals; the remembrance of the origin of these horrid customs is still preserved amongst them. If the progressive development theory were true, aboriginal races should have progressively advanced; every successive generation should have added some improvement to the one which preceded it; but experience proves the contrary. A remarkable instance of this may be adduced in the fact, that the New Zealanders have retrograded, even since the days of Captain Cook; they then possessed large double canoes, decked, with houses on them similar to those of Tahiti and Hawaii, in which, traditionally, their ancestors arrived; it is now more than half a century since the last was seen. Tradition also states that they had finer garments in former days and of different kinds; that, like their reputed ancestors, they made cloth from the bark of trees—the name is preserved, but the manufacture has ceased. There are remains also in their language which would lead us to suppose that, like the inhabitants of Tonga, they once possessed a kingly form of government, and though they have now no term to express that high office, still they have words which are evidently derived from the very one denoting a king in Tonga. Their traditions, which are preserved, also establish the same fact, and perhaps one of the strongest proofs is their language; its fulness, its richness, and close affinity not only in words but in grammar to the Sanscrit, carries the mind back to a time when literature could not have been unknown.” From “Te Ika a Maui,” or “New Zealand and its Inhabitants,” by the Rev. Richard Taylor, M.A., F.G.S., a Missionary in New Zealand for more than thirty years, pp. 5, 6.

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CHAPTER XIII
NOAH AND THE GOLDEN AGE.

Taking as the basis of this theory that the law of nations forms part of a tradition, that the stream of this tradition has never ceased to flow, and that the diffusion of its waters has ever been the source and condition of fecundity; and further, that this tradition in its main current has run in the channels which Dr Newman (infra, [p. 338]) has indicated—for although there are other reservoirs, they have become stagnant, and exist like the fresh-water lake, the Bahr-i-Nedjig (vide Rawlinson’s “Ancient Monarchies,” i. 18), whose waters are “fresh and sweet” so long as they communicate with the Euphrates, but when they are cut off become “unpalatable,” so that those “who dwell in the vicinity are no longer able to drink of it”—taking these various facts as the basis, we come inevitably to the question—Whence this tradition arose, and upon what authority and sanction it rests?

In answer to this I do not hesitate to affirm that presumptively it goes back to the commencement of human history, and more demonstrably to that commencement—which for historical and practical purposes is sufficient—the era of Noah.

I propose now to inquire how near this theory can be brought to the facts.

A fairer opportunity could hardly have been afforded for ascertaining the force and fulness of primitive tradition than the discovery of the American continent; yet this opportunity was totally disregarded by the Spanish conquerors,[266]—rough men, and for the most part the offscourings of Spain,—and its evidences were but sparsely and negligently collected by the explorers of a different character who followed at a later date.

Something, however, of primitive tradition has been thus preserved (vide Help’s “Spanish Conquest of America,” i. 278, 286, 290; Prescott, “Mexico,” i. 54). Indeed, the approximation to the biblical narrative is so close that the suspicion would be quite reasonable that missionaries of whom we have no record had found their way to these people before the continent became known to us; or that the people themselves were of Jewish descent; or that they had left the Asiatic mainland subsequently to the preaching of St Thomas the apostle. Manco Capac (vide infra), according to this conjecture, may have been one of these missionaries; or it may even be that in the venerable image which the description calls up we see in vision the apostle himself.

When, however, the description is compared with the traditions I have collated of a patriarchal character—still more remote and venerable, “Him of mazy counsel—Saturn” (Hesiod), I shall ask the reader to decide whether the more improbable conjecture, measured according to time and distance, has not the greater weight of evidence.

I proceed to place in juxtaposition a recapitulation of the classical and oriental traditions, and the quotations from Helps above referred to.

“One peculiar circumstance, as Humboldt remarks, is very much to be noted in the ancient records and traditions of the Indian nations. In no less than three remarkable instances has superior civilisation been attributed to the sudden presence amongst them of persons differing from themselves in appearance and descent.”

[As to the argument to be derived from colour and appearance, vide supra, [p. 79].]

“Bochica, a white man with a beard, appeared to the Mozca Indians in the plains of Bogota, taught them how to build and to sow, formed them into communities, gave an outlet to the waters of the great lake [compare supra, [p. 70], Chronology], and having settled the government, civil and ecclesiastical, retired into a monastic state of penitence for two thousand years.[267]

“In like manner Manco Capac, accompanied by his sister Mama Ocllo, descended amongst the Peruvians, gave them a code of admirable laws, reduced them into communities, and then ascended to his father the Sun.”[268] (A confusion with the tradition of Enoch, parallel to the like confusion in the person of Xisuthrus,[269] unmistakably identified with Noah in the Babylonian tradition.)

“Amongst the Mexicans there suddenly appeared Quetzalcohuatl, the green-feathered (i.e. elegant) snake” (compare with Chaldæan fish-god, [p. 199]), “a white and bearded man of broad brow, dressed in strange dress, a legislator who recommended severe penances, lacerating his own body with the prickles of the agave and the thorns of the cactus, but who dissuaded his followers from human sacrifices. While he remained in Anahuana it was a Saturnian reign; but this great legislator, after moving on to the plains of Cholulas, and governing the Cholulans with wisdom, passed away to a distant country” [if this looks more like the movement among them of some apostolic missionary, it is also in keeping with the journey of Bacchus, “travelling through all nations,” &c.], “and was never heard of more.” It is said briefly of him, that “he ordained sacrifices of flowers and fruit, and stopped his ears, when he was spoken to of war.”[270] Such a saint is needed in all times, even in the present advanced state of civilisation in the old world.”[271]—Help’s “Spanish Conquest of America,” i. 286.

I have shown ([p. 211]) that Calmet (and other authorities of the same date might be adduced) identifies Saturn with Noah. Among other proofs he points to the tradition of Saturn devouring his children (with the exception of three), as a distorted tradition of the destruction of mankind according to the prediction of Noah, upon the canon of interpretation, “that men are said often to do what they do not prevent, or even what they predict.” I have also shown that this conjecture receives attestation from a fragment of Sanchoniathon’s (Phœnician),important whether regarded as a more ancient parallel tradition, or as the same tradition nearer the fountain-head.

Without recapitulating the other points of resemblance (vide [ch. x.]), let us compare what is said of Saturn with what is said of Bochica, Manco Capac, &c.

“Under Saturn,” says Plutarch, “was the golden age.” “Saturn is represented with a scythe, as the inventor of agriculture.” Virgil (Æn. viii. 315) describes Saturn as bringing the dispersed people from the mountains and giving them laws. I have also drawn attention to the Saturnalia as connecting Bacchus with Saturn. Now Cicero tells us that one Bacchus was king of Asia, and author of laws called Subazian; and Bacchus is also said to have travelled through all nations doing good, in all places, and teaching many things profitable to the life of man.

Noah has also been identified with Janus, and under Janus as under Saturn was the golden age; and it is, moreover, said (vide [p. 218]), “that in the time of Janus all families were full of religion and holiness.” He is said to have been the first that built temples and instituted sacred rites, and was therefore always mentioned at the beginning of sacrifices. [This, in common with what is said of Quetzalcohuatl is again possibly a combined tradition of Enoch and Noah.]

Let both these traditions be compared with Berosus’ account of Hoa, or the fish-god (vide Rawlinson, “Anct. Mon.” i. p. 155, and supra, [p. 238]).

“He is said to have transmitted to mankind the knowledge of grammar and mathematics, and of all arts (or of any kind of art), and of the polity of cities, the construction and dedication of temples, the introduction of laws, to have taught them geometry, and to have shown them by example, the mode of sowing the seed and gathering the fruits of the earth; and along with them to have tradated all the secrets which tend to harmonise life. And no one else in that time was found so experienced as he.”[272]

In the traditions, however, which connect Noah with the Saturnian reign,[273] it appears to me that threefold confusion has to be disentangled.

I. There is a tradition of a golden and of a silver age frequently transfused.

II. When thus transfused there is often along with the tradition of a golden or silver age trace of a subordinate and incongruous tradition of a state of nature as a state of barbarism—both at the early commencement of things.

III. There is a double tradition of the succession of ages, the one ante-, the other post-diluvian.

I. The tradition of the golden age is primarily the tradition of Paradise, to which succeeded in gradation of degeneracy a silver, brass, and iron age. Of this line of tradition we have seen distinct trace in Sanchoniathon (supra, [p. 127]).

But there is also, as we have just seen, a tradition of another golden age connected with Saturn, Janus, &c., and of this perhaps we have the most direct testimony in the Chinese tradition.

“The Chinese traditions,” says Professor Rawlinson (Bampton Lectures, ii., quoting “Horæ Mos.” iv. 147) “are said to be less clear and decisive (than the Babylonian). They speak of a ‘first heaven’ and age of innocence when ‘the whole creation enjoyed a state of happiness; when everything was beautiful, everything was good; all things were perfect in their kind. Whereunto succeeded a second heaven, introduced by a great convulsion, in which the pillars of heaven were broken, the earth shook to its foundations, the heavens sank lower towards the north, the sun, moon, and stars changed their motions, the earth fell to pieces, and the waters enclosed within its bosom burst forth with violence and overflowed,’” &c.

Here, then, is a tradition of a second heaven, or a Saturnian reign, following a convulsion which will perhaps be conceded to be a tradition of the universal Deluge (vide [p. 223]), and which links the tradition of the Saturnian reign with the patriarch Noah?[274]

I ask now to be allowed to look at the same tradition from a different point of view.

I have elsewhere shown ([p. 27]) that according to the operation of natural causes everything in the primitive ages would have led to dispersion, but however probable or even certain these conjectures may be, we know as a fact that they did not operate (Gen. xi. 1, 3, 8) for some three hundred years or more, probably until after the death of Noah. Does not this look as if mankind were kept together for a period, in order that they might become settled in their ideas and confirmed in their maxims, under the influence and direction of the second father of mankind, whose direct communications with the Most High had been manifest, and whose authority necessarily commanded universal respect—“Him of mazy counsel, Saturn?” (Hesiod, “Theog.”)[275]

If this theory appears far-fetched and fanciful, let it be recollected, on the other hand, that there has long subsisted a tradition among mankind of a code of nature as connected with a state of nature, which has to be accounted for (vide [chap. ii].)

And when we consider how the impulsion which a nation receives at the commencement of its history continues—how much, for instance, at the distance of a thousand years we resemble our Saxon ancestors of the eighth century, and even our ancestors of the German forest in identity of character, sentiment, and institution—we must not make the lapse of centuries an impassable barrier to a belief in the traditions of mankind in the early periods of history.

Let us also, in regarding the golden or silver age, glance beyond it to that iron age which ultimately followed it, in which the world, becoming crowded and also corrupted, many families and tribes collected together for warfare, and in which one nation swallowed another until all came to be absorbed, at least on the Asiatic continent, into one or two great empires, which again contended for supreme dominion. An age of universal war, of many sorrows, of great perturbations, but one in which the process of dispersion was stayed, and mankind settled down within certain definite lines of demarcation, which in great part have continued to this day.

No wonder, then, that men turned to each other in these dark days, and talked with regret of the simple agricultural and pastoral age which had passed, and which came variously to be called, in their recollection, the second heaven, the Arcadian era, the Saturnia regna,[276] the golden age. Neither is it surprising that the idea of a state of nature misconceived as to the facts, and of a law of nature dimly remembered and distorted by human perversity, has so often obtained among mankind in modern times and also in antiquity. This is a point which I shall discuss with reference to the historical evidence in another chapter.

II. The conception of the state of nature ([chap. ii].) as a basis of theory and belief arose in the main out of the speculations of lawyers and philosophers; yet it is curious that we frequently come upon a concurrent yet always subordinate tradition of equality associated with the tradition of a golden age which, if the age of Noah, we know aliunde to have been a state of hierarchical subordination to a patriarchal chief; and, along with a reminiscence of a time of peaceful prosperity at the commencement of things, the tradition of the primitive age as one of great barbarism and privation, man living on acorns, &c.

That these testimonies of tradition are incongruous and confused, I am bound to admit; but then, looked at from the point of view of tradition, they seem to me to have their explanation. If this happens to be deemed somewhat fanciful, I contend that the test in all these cases must be—(1.) Does the key fit the lock? (2.) Is there any other key producible?[277] I venture, then, to suggest ([p. 211]) that the notion of the primitive equality may be traced through the Bacchanalian traditions; and the tradition of a primitive age of great privation I believe to be the recollection of that brief but probably sharp period of suffering during which mankind clung to the mountains in distrust of the Divine injunction and promise, until brought into the plains by Noah.[278] (Vide [p. 137].)

Moreover, the characteristics of this subsequent period, when mankind were living together in groups of families under the mild sway of the patriarch, when “all families were good” ([p. 218]), and when

... “With abundant goods midst quiet lands,

All willing shared the gatherings of their hands.”

was just that semi-state of nature which it only required the Bacchanalian tradition on the one side to transform into the fiction of the state of savage and absolute equality, or the touch of poetry to convert into the golden reminiscence on the other.

In this way, in the person of the patriarch Noah, the fiction of a state of nature was brought into contact with the tradition of a law of nature and a law of nations, regarded as the law of mankind “when men were nearest the gods.”

III. I have already noticed ([p. 127]) the double tradition of the succession of ages, the tradition from the fragment of Sanchoniathon, upon which Mr M’Lennan relies, being ante-, that of Hesiod partly ante- and partly post-diluvian. The following lines of Hesiod, for instance, bearing allusion to the confusion of tongues and the shortening of life, being plainly post-diluvian:—

“When Gods alike and mortals rose to birth,

The immortals formed a golden race on earth

Of many-languaged men; they lived of old,

When Saturn reigned in Heaven; an age of gold.

“The Sire of Heaven and earth created then

A race the third, of many-languaged men,

Unlike the silver they; of brazen mould,

Strong with the ashen spear, and fierce and bold.”[279]

And again, of the iron race which followed them, he says—

“Jove on this race of many-languaged men

Speeds the swift ruin which but slow began;

For scarcely spring they to the light of day

E’er age untimely strews their temples grey.”

I must here, too, point out how curiously the testimonies of tradition and science coincide.[280] Both are agreed as to the transition from a brass (bronze) to an iron age; but in one it is referred to as evidence of degeneracy—in the other, the transition is adduced in proof of progress. But the fact is established by the evidence of tradition, as certainly as by the conclusions of science, and is referred to accordingly by Sir John Lubbock (“Pre-historic Times,” p. 6).

The lines of Lucretius are certainly remarkable—

“Arma antiqua, manus ungues dentesque fuerunt,

Et lapides, et item sylvarum fragmina rami

Posterius ferri vis est, ærisque reperta,

Sed prior æris erat, quam ferri cognitus usus.

Quo facilis magis est natura et copia major

Ære solum terræ tractabunt, æreque belli

Miscebant fluctus.”—De Rerum Natura, lib. 5.

But here I cannot help thinking the tradition has reference rather to the use than to the knowledge of metals. We have seen, for instance, that the cultivation of the ground commenced with Noah—the fact being attested both by Scripture and tradition. Now, in the above passage, although the primitive weapons are referred to, as of stones, yet it is said “æreque solum terræ tractabunt,” an averment which no doubt has reference to the brazen age; yet nothing forbids the construction, which on other grounds seems the more natural that the land was from the first so cultivated,[281] and that in strictness the commencement of the brazen age was identical with the commencement of cultivation, although in the mind of the poet it had reference to the introduction of bronze weapons and implements of war. Moreover, the sylvarum fragmina rami may point to the period immediately preceding cultivation, when the human race clung to the mountains. The testimony of Scripture to the point seems plain. Not only does the construction of the ark appear to imply the use of metals, but the reference to Tubalcain, “who was a hammerer and artificer in every work of brass and iron” (Gen. iv. 22), seems to put the antediluvian knowledge of metals beyond question.

In the first commencement after the Deluge, unless miraculously supplied, there would have been no grain or bread food until time had been allowed for its production. During this interval acorns, &c., may have been the only food. Perhaps it was so ordained to incite to the new permission to eat flesh meat. On the other hand, I ask, in those ages when men were supposed to live exclusively on acorns, was not flesh meat eaten,—were there no hunters? Had man no control over the domestic animals?

That in a peaceful period, and the intercommunication of families previous to the dispersion implies a state of peace ([ch. xiii.]), in a period in which, if we follow the other traditions, “all families were good,” and were under the rule of an old man, “who held his hands to his ears when they spoke to him of war,” it is not surprising to learn either that they had no weapons, or that they were of the simplest description. It is characteristic of an age which piques itself upon the perfection of its artillery, and whose greatest triumphs and inventions have been in the science of destruction, to look back upon a totally different age which happened only to have stone weapons, as necessarily an age of barbarism. But from our point of view it must be regarded not as an age of barbarism, but of prosperity,—not as a state of equality, but of the subordination of the members of the family to each chief, and of families relatively to each other; an age of much mental vigour and spiritual intuition, and, so far from being a period of misery, it left reminiscences of happiness such as lingered long in the memory of mankind.

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CHAPTER XIV
SIR H. MAINE ON THE LAW OF NATIONS.

Dr Newman in his inaugural discourse as Rector of the Dublin University (“On the Place held by the Faculty of Arts in the University Course”), which I think never received the attention it deserved, has with a few masterly touches sketched the history of Western civilisation, which in its main lines may be considered to run into, and be found identical with, the tradition I am now regarding—with this difference, that Dr Newman regards Western civilisation in its progressive, whereas we are concerned with its traditive aspects. Dr Newman says: “I take things as I find them on the surface of history, and am but classing phenomena (I have nothing to do with ethnology). Looking, then, at the countries which surround the Mediterranean seas as a whole, I see them from time immemorial the seat of an association of intellect and mind such as to deserve to be called the intellect and mind of human kind. Starting and advancing from certain centres, till their respective influences intersect and conflict, and then at length intermingle and combine, a common thought has been generated, and a common civilisation defined and established. Egypt is one starting-point, Syria another, Greece a third, Italy a fourth (of which, as time goes on, the Roman empire is the maturity, and the most intelligible expression), North Africa a fifth, ... and this association or social commonwealth, with whatever reverses, changes, and momentary dissolutions, continues down to this day.... I call it, then, pre-eminently and emphatically Human Society, and its Intellect the Human Mind, and its decisions the sense of mankind and its humanised and cultivated states—civilisation in the abstract; and the territory on which it lies the orbis terrarum, or the world. For unless the illustration be fanciful, the object which I am contemplating is like the impression of a seal upon the wax; which rounds off and gives form to the greater portion of the soft material, and presents something definite to the eye, and pre-occupies the space against any second figure, so that we overlook and leave out of our thoughts the jagged outline or unmeaning lumps outside of it, intent upon the harmonious circle which fills the imagination within it.” (“There are indeed great outlying portions of mankind, ... still they are outlying portions and nothing else, fragmentary, &c., protesting and revolting against the grand central formation of which I am speaking, but not uniting with each other into a second whole.”) The same orbis terrarum, which has been the seat of civilisation, has been the seat of the Christian polity. “The natural and the divine associations are not indeed exactly coincident, nor ever have been.” “Christianity has fallen partly outside civilisation and civilisation partly outside Christianity; but on the whole the two have occupied one and the same orbis terrarum.... The centre of the tradition is transferred from Greece to Rome.... At length the temple of Jerusalem is rooted up by the armies of Titus, and the effete schools of Athens are stifled by the edict of Justinian.... The grace stored in Jerusalem, and the gifts which radiate from Athens, are made over and concentrated in Rome. This is true as a matter of history. Rome has inherited both sacred and profane learning; she has perpetuated and dispensed the traditions of Moses and David in the supernatural order, and of Homer and Aristotle in the natural. To separate these distinct teachings, human and divine, is to retrograde; it is to rebuild the Jewish temple and to plant anew the groves of Academus; ... and though these were times when the old traditions seemed to be on the point of failing, somehow it has happened that they have never failed.... Even in the lowest state of learning the tradition was kept up;” ... and this experience of the past we may apply to the present, “for as there was a movement against the classics in the Middle Ages, so has there been now.... Civilisation has its common principles, and views, and teaching, and especially its books, which have more or less been given from the earliest times, and are in fact in equal esteem and respect, in equal use, now, as they were when they were received in the beginning. In a word, the classics and the subjects of thought and study to which they give rise, or to use the term most to our present purpose, the arts have ever on the whole been the instruments which the civilised orbis terrarum has adopted; just as inspired works, and the lives of saints, and the articles of faith and the Catechism have been the instrument of education in the case of Christianity. And this consideration you see, gentlemen (to drop down at once upon the subject of discussion which has brought us together), invests the opening of the schools in arts[282] with a solemnity and moment of a peculiar kind, for we are but engaged in reiterating an old tradition, and carrying on those august methods of enlarging the mind, and cultivating the intellect and ripening the feelings, in which the process of civilisation has ever consisted.”—Dr Newman on Civilisation.

Before examining Sir H. Maine’s view on the Law of Nature and the Law of Nations, it will perhaps facilitate the inquiry if I gather up, out of the evidence which has accumulated in the previous chapters, such conclusions as will show how we stand in regard to Sir H. Maine’s general theory.

I. Accepting Sir H. Maine’s dictum that “the family and not the individual was the unit of ancient society;” and, in a certain sense, the further position, that it is difficult “to know where to stop, to say of what races of men it is not allowable to lay down that the society in which they are united was originally organised on the patriarchal model,”[283] I venture to maintain against Sir H. Maine the continuance of family life in a quasi state of nature, before either the development or creation of the State.

II. But in maintaining that there was a period in human history anterior to the formation of governments, I am far from asserting—on the contrary, I distinctly repudiate the notion—that there was ever an ante-social state. Society is complete within the family circle;[284] and society in any wider organisation is only the requirement and consequence of imperfection and corruption within the family, or of collision between families. Undoubtedly, there were instances in which the State grew up imperceptibly out of the extension of the family into the patriarchal system;[285] but these instances will probably have occurred among the families who remained stationary, whether by right of seniority, or by virtue of superior power, at the central point from which the Dispersion commenced. So long, however, as family government sufficed, there would have been nothing but the family; but when mankind increased, and actual relationship died out, disputes must have multiplied and become complicated—not only between individuals but between families; hence the necessity of State government—hence the necessity of an appeal on the part of individuals from the family to some supreme authority. This would be the first mode in which governments would have arisen among those who came under the action of the Dispersion. But even here—assuming the family groups to have descended from the same progenitor—we see first the family, first property, then the State. The second mode would be where several families, differing in language and race, came together and formed States.[286] Although they would have come together on unequal and varying conditions, yet they would necessarily have come together on some conditions, and for the mutual protection of their rights, their property, and their personal security. In all such cases there would have been something of a recognition and adjustment of rights, something of the nature of a compact more or less explicit, but much more formal and explicit in this mode than in the former. In any case, the end and intention of the formation of States and governments would have been the security of rights, as Cicero tells us:—“Hanc enim ob causam maxime ut sua tuerentur respublicæ civitatesque constitutæ sunt. Nam etsi, duce naturæ, congregabantur homines, tamen spe custodiæ rerum suarum urbium præsidia quærebant.” But does not Sir H. Maine himself supply similar testimony? Referring to the notions of “primitive antiquity,” he says:—

“How little the notion of injury to the community had to do with the earliest interferences of the State, through its tribunals, is shown by the curious circumstance, that in the original administration of justice the proceedings were a close imitation of the series of acts which were likely to be gone through in private life by persons who were disputing, but who afterwards suffered their quarrel to be appeased. The magistrate carefully simulated the demeanour of a private arbitrator, casually called in.”—Chap. x. 374; vide also pp. 375, 376.

III. We come to the conclusion that the collation of the sentiments and maxims, as preserved in tradition by the families who had coalesced into States, would have formed the basis of the morality and of the jurisprudence of the States so constituted; and that in every case of oppression appeal would have been made to their pre-existing and natural rights.

IV. That whilst certain traditions—the tradition of religion, for instance—would have been perhaps more faithfully preserved in the patriarchal governments of the East, and we find evidence of this in the monotheism of the Persians; on the other hand, if there was a tradition of a law common to all nations, it would be more likely to be preserved in States formed by the amalgamation of many distinct families and races.[287]

V. That such was the origin and history of the Greeks and Romans—the two nations which formed the nucleus of the orbis terrarum within which, as Dr Newman tells us (supra, [p. 339]), is found the centre of Christianity and the seat of civilisation.

VI. That, whether the Roman law goes back in tradition, or, as Sir H. Maine will say, in fiction only—the fact remains, that it does so trace itself back to remote antiquity, and that the Roman law subsists to this day as the foundation of most of the codes of Europe, and has extended its ramifications to all; and that outside the circle of its influence other nations equally retrace their codes to remote antiquity, and, as a rule, to revelations made to their earliest founder. That nothing is more striking in ancient times than the manner in which their codes, which are the embodiment of laws previously in tradition, were held as a sacred deposit. This was the reason why the laws of the Medes and the Persians might not be altered; and that, according to the laws of the Visigoths, no judge would decide in any suit unless he found in their code a law applicable to the case; and perhaps we may find trace of it in the phrases familiar to us—nolumus leges Angliæ mutari, stare super vias antiquas, and so, too, in the ita scriptum est, which, as Sir H. Maine says (p. 31), silenced all objections in the Middle Ages.

VII. That the fact of a tradition of “a law common to all nations” and of “a lost code of nature,” is in accordance with the historical and scriptural evidence which would render such a tradition probable.

Sir H. Maine, with whose argument I now propose to deal, is, as far as I am aware, the most conspicuous opponent of the common belief in the “Law of Nations;” and yet it appears to me that we shall find testimony to the tradition even in the very terms in which he repudiates it. I must at least consider this a recognition on his part of the strength and inveteracy of the opposite view. In the following extracts I shall suppose my readers fresh from the perusal of Sir H. Maine.

Sir H. Maine says (“Ancient Law,” pp. 7, 8), that the further “we penetrate into the primitive history of thought, the further we find ourselves from the conception of law of any sort.” And again, “It is certain that in the infancy of mankind, no sort of legislation, not even a distinct author of law, is contemplated or conceived of.” Now if Sir H. Maine had said nothing more, I should have felt bound to take this assertion upon his authority; but Sir H. Maine adds:—“Law has scarcely reached the footing of custom; it is rather a habit. It is, to use a French phrase, ‘in the air,’” [Is not Sir H. Maine here hunting for a phrase which shall not imply that it is in tradition?] “The only authoritative statement of right and wrong is a judicial sentence after the facts, not one presupposing a law which has been violated, but one which is breathed for the first time by a higher power into the judge’s mind at the moment of adjudication.”

This passage may be adduced in evidence of the tradition of Noah and his heavenly-inspired judgments, but apparently it is in contradiction to the view of a law of nature, since it supposes the judge to decide through direct inspiration, or in the way of stet pro ratione voluntas, and not with reference to a “law which has been violated.” Now, Sir H. Maine comes to his conclusion upon the ground of the “Themistes” of the Homeric poems. “The earliest notions connected with the conception ... of a law or rule of life are those contained in the Homeric words ‘Themis’ and ‘Themistes’” (p. 4). “The literature of the heroic ages discloses to us law in the germ under the ‘Themistes,’ and a little more developed in the conception of ‘Dike’” (p. 9).If this were so, law according to the conception of “Themistes” and law according to the conception of “Dike” were never contemporaneous, but necessarily successive, or rather progressive; but at page 8 we read, “The Homeric word for a custom in the embryo is sometimes ‘Themis’ in the singular, more often ‘Dike,’ the meaning of which visibly fluctuates between ‘a judgment’ and a ‘custom’ or ‘usage.’ ‘Νομος,’ a law ... does not occur in Homer.”[288]

Well, allow that there need not be as yet the metaphysical conception of law, or law as a positive enactment, embracing indifferently a variety of cases. Eliminate the word “law.” Instead of the phrase “law of nature” substitute “natural justice,” and “the sense of right and wrong;” and it suffices that we detect “usage,” “custom,” right; for even if it were conceded that right is a post-Homeric rendering of δικη, yet “custom” and “usage” in their definition would have been in recognition of pre-existing right. This becomes more clear if we consider the alternative opinion. Sir H. Maine says that “under the patriarchal despotism,” “every man was practically controlled in all his actions by a regimen not of law but of caprice” (p. 8). The judgments, then, of the patriarchal times were mere “caprice,” and rights were defined without reference to any sense of justice. From “Themistes” of caprice they would proceed to legislation upon “caprice,” and, ultimately, to codes which would represent nothing but a digest of the precedents of “caprice.” It is difficult, then, to understand in what way and at what point the sense of justice, the conception of “dike,” originated, and most of all, if this is true, it is difficult to account for the “Themistes” being regarded as akin to inspiration, as well as for the veneration with which, we have the authority of Sir H. Maine (vide infra) for saying, that Archaic law was held, and, moreover, for the persistent tendency to revert to the past.[289]

If, however, we follow Sir H. Maine in his illustration taken from English law, we shall find ourselves reinstated in our original convictions. Sir H. Maine says (p. 8), “An Englishman should be better able than a foreigner to appreciate the historical fact that the ‘Themistes’ preceded any conception of law;” but at page 32, he says, “Probably it will be found that originally it was the received doctrine that somewhere in nubibus [Q. “in the air”], or in gremio magistratuum there existed a complete, coherent, symmetrical body of English law, of an amplitude sufficient to furnish principles which would apply to any conceivable combination of circumstances.” If, then, we take the analogy of the English law, we come also to the identical conclusion for which I contend—viz. that the “Themistes,” whether they partook of the character of commands or of judgments, were still in recognition of a “law which was violated.”

If the “Themistes” had no reference to a law which was violated; if they were mere caprice, I have already asked, whence arose the regard for ancient law among the nations of antiquity? and I may add, how came it about that their ideas of justice were inseparably connected with the notions of morality? Does Sir H. Maine deny either of these facts? On the contrary, he affirms them:—

“Quite enough, too, remains of these collections [‘ancient codes’] both in the East and in the West, to show that they mingled up religious, civil, and merely moral ordinances without any regard to differences in their essential character; and this is consistent with all we know of ancient thought from other sources, the severance of law from morality, and of religion from law, belonging very distinctly to the later stages of mental progress” (p. 16).

And at p. 121, “Much of the old law which has descended to us, was preserved merely because it was old. Those who practised and obeyed it did not pretend to understand it; and in some cases they even ridiculed and despised it. They offered no account of it except that it had come down to them from their ancestors.”

Does Sir H. Maine dispute the persistency of tradition in general? No. At [p. 117], vide supra, I have quoted a passage in which he explicitly maintains it.

I must observe further, that in the very passages in which he repudiates the notion of a “law of nature,” two things irresistibly transpire—(1.) That there was a persistent tradition in ancient society of a law of nature; (2.) That this tradition was invariably associated with the golden age, e.g.:—

“After nature had become a household word in the mouths of the Romans, the belief gradually prevailed among the Roman lawyers,[290] that the old jus gentium was in fact the lost code of nature, and that the prætors, in framing an edictal jurisprudence on the principles of the jus gentium, were gradually restoring a type from which law had only departed to deteriorate” (p. 56). “But then, while the jus gentium had little or no antecedent credit at Rome, the theory of a law of nature came in surrounded with all the prestige of philosophical authority, and invested with the charms of association with an elder and more blissful condition of the race” (p. 60). “The law of nature confused the past and the present. Logically it implied a state of nature which had once been regulated by natural law; yet the juris-consults do not speak clearly or confidently of the existence of such a state, which indeed is little noticed by the ancients except when it finds a poetical expression in the fancy of a golden age” (p. 73). “Yet it was not on account of their simplicity and harmony that these finer elements were primarily respected, but on the score of their descent from the aboriginal reign of nature” (p. 74). “Yet it is a remarkable proof of the essentially historical character of the conception that, after all the efforts which have been made to evolve the code of nature from the necessary characteristics of the natural state [i.e. à priori] so much of the result is just what it would have been if men had been satisfied to adopt the dicta of the Roman lawyers without questioning or reviewing them. Setting aside the conventional or treaty law of nations, it is surprising how large a part of the system is made up of pure Roman law” (p. 97). [Because the Roman law was in the main stream of the tradition.][291]

I now come to what I may call the exposition of Sir H. Maine’s argument proper, and, although I feel the full difficulty of doing this, in the case of so subtle and able a writer, I shall endeavour to condense into as short a space as possible whatever is material to Sir H. Maine’s position. Sir H. Maine says (p. 46):—

“I shall attempt to discover the origin of these famous phrases, Law of Nations, Law of Nature, Equity, and to determine how the conceptions which they indicate are related to one another. The most superficial student of Roman history must be struck by the extraordinary degree in which the fortunes of the Republic were affected by the presence of foreigners under different names on her soil. The causes of this immigration are discernible enough at a later period, for we can readily understand why men of all races should flock to the Mistress of the World; but the same phenomenon of a large population of foreigners and denizens meets us in the very earliest records of the Roman State—no doubt the instability of society in ancient Italy.... It is probable, however, that this explanation is imperfect, and it could only be completed by taking into account those active commercial relations, which though they are little reflected in the military traditions of the Republic, Rome appears certainly to have had with Carthage and with the interior of Italy in pre-historic times.... In the early Roman Republic the principle of the absolute exclusion of foreigners pervaded the civil law no less than the constitution. The alien or denizen could have no share in any institution supposed to be coeval with the State. He could not have the benefit of the Quiritarian Law, &c.... Still neither the interest nor the security of Rome permitted him to be quite outlawed.... Moreover, at no period of Roman history was foreign trade entirely neglected. It was therefore probably half as a measure of policy and half in furtherance of commerce that jurisdiction was first assumed in disputes to which the parties were either foreigners or a native and a foreigner. The assumption of such a jurisdiction brought with it the immediate necessity of discovering some principles on which the questions to be adjudicated upon could be settled.... They refused, as I have said before, to decide the new cases by pure Roman civil law. They refused, no doubt, because it seemed to involve some kind of degradation, to apply the law of the particular State from which the foreign litigant came. The expedient to which they resorted was that of selecting the rules of law common to Rome, and to the different Italian communities in which the immigrants were born. In other words, they set themselves to form a system answering to the primitive and literal meaning of jus gentium, i.e. law common to all nations. Jus gentium was, in fact, the sum of the common ingredients in the customs of the old Italian tribes, for they were all the nations whom the Romans had the means of observing, and who sent successive swarms of immigrants to the Roman soil.... The jus gentium was, accordingly, a collection of rules and principles determined by observation to be common to the institutions which prevailed among the various Italian tribes. The circumstances of the origin of the jus gentium was probably a sufficient safeguard against the mistake of supposing that the Roman lawyers had any special respect for it. It was the fruit in part of their disdain of all foreign law, and in part of their disinclination to give the foreigner the advantage of their own indigenous jus civile. It is true that we, at the present day, should probably take a very different view of the jus gentium.... We should have a sort of respect for rules and principles so universal.... But the results to which modern ideas conduct the observer, are, as nearly as possible, the reverse of those which were instinctively brought home to the primitive Roman. What we respect or admire, he disliked or regarded with jealous dread. The points of jurisprudence which he looked upon with affection were exactly those which a modern theorist leaves out of consideration as accidental and transitory—the solemn gestures ... the endless formalities, &c.... The jus gentium was merely a system forced on his attention by a political necessity. He loved it as little as he loved the foreigners from whose institutions it was derived, and for whose benefit it was intended. A complete revolution in his ideas was required before it could challenge his respect.... This crisis arrived when the Greek theory of a law of nature was applied to the practical Roman administration of the law common to all nations.”—Sir H. Maine’s Ancient Law, 46–52.

Sir H. Maine’s theory may be summarised as an attempt to identify the “Law of Nations” with the history of Roman law, leaving out of sight the tradition of it which may be traced in other nations. Now, although there is nothing, as Napoleon used to say, which one nation hates more than another nation—and this certainly holds true of the Roman people—yet it is scarcely possible to point to any which, from the circumstances of its origin, would have been less predisposed to look in the abstract with disdain upon the laws and customs of surrounding nations, however much they may have hated them as concrete nationalities; and least of all would they have had this feeling for the institutions of the Latins, a people whom, from their peculiar connection with themselves, they would principally have had as residents among them. Sir H. Maine seems unable to shake off the prepossession, which the analysis of Roman law, to the exclusion of other evidence, would tend to lead him, viz. that the Romans were a homogeneous people, and we have just heard him speak of their “own indigenous jus civile.” This indigenous jus civile was compounded, as was their nationality, of many miscellaneous elements. Whatever truth may be attached to the legends as to the foundation of Rome, and they are various, it cannot well be disputed that there was a strong trace of Sabine[292] and Etruscan,[293] in addition to the original miscellaneous Roman, or, if not miscellaneous, pure Latin element; to which, in any case, in the subsequent reigns a large Latin immigration must be added, when Rome, through the conquest of Alba Longa, became the head of the Latin league, and the infusion of a Greek in addition to an Etruscan element in the dynasty of the Tarquins. The Latin league has its significance over and above its bearing upon the present argument; and to this I shall presently revert. But to go no further, does not the existence of the Latin league[294] sufficiently account for the large influx of strangers into Rome, on account of which Sir H. Maine sees the necessity for an extension of the Roman jurisprudence? But, if this be so, his theory must fall to the ground; for, if the Roman element was distinctive at all, and was a pure Latin population, miscellaneously collected by Romulus, and not a miscellaneous population of various tribes—it was Latin quâ Roman. How then, supposing the Roman element to have become predominant, did it come to contemn the Latin element and the law of the Latins? That it excluded them is another thing, or that they were kept in a subordinate position, and not admitted to the full privileges of naturalisation, is quite conceivable on other grounds; but that there should have existed a feeling of contempt for the laws and customs of the people among whom, if their legends were true (and at any rate we have nothing else to go upon), was found the cradle of their race, is hard to understand, yet this assumption is essential to Sir H. Maine’s position.

Again, the Roman family and tribal system, with their principle of agnatic relationship, was in all probability part of their organisation for war: it was the secret of their strength. Grant that they shrank from applying the principles of their domestic law, which in their application would have involved in time an organisation in conformity with it, we can at once see why they withheld the principles of their jurisprudence without withholding it in mere scorn of an alien nationality.

We rather see influences which would have predisposed them to look with reverence on the laws and customs of a people among whom they must have known that they had sprung, even if there had been no tradition of a law common to all nations “of the lost code of nature,” a notion which the edicts of the prætors of the later period would hardly have generated if it had had no foundation in tradition.

If you change the venue to Etruria, the same arguments will apply. In proof, I quote the following passage from a competent, if somewhat antiquated (1837) authority—(Pastoret, “Hist. de la Legislation,” xi. 355)—more especially as it mentions a circumstance to which I do not remember that Sir H. Maine adverts, and which would make it a matter of some difficulty for the prætors to introduce laws and principles of their own making: “Peu amis de la guerre, Ancus Martius voulut du moins ajouter à l’art de la faire quelques formalités pour la declarer; elles étoint d’usage avant lui chez des peuples voisins; ce sont les lois féciales, lois que nous avons déjà fait connoître (c. iii. 286). L’adoption des lois étrusques par les Romains reçoit une force nouvelle d’un fait conservé par Dénys et Halicarnasse (Liv. ii. § 27); c’est que après l’abolition de la monarchie on exposa dans la place publique de Rome à la vue de tous les citoyens toutes les lois et coutûmes de la patrie, avec les lois étrangeres nouvellement introduites, afin que le droit publie ne changeât pas en même temps que les pouvoirs du magistrat.”

Sir H. Maine says, at p. 151, “The prætors early laid hold on cognation as the natural form of kinship, and spared no pains in purifying their system from the older conception [i.e. older according to Roman law]. Their ideas have descended to us, but still traces of agnation are to be seen in many of the modern rules of succession after death.”

The reader will find (from p. 146 to 160)[295] in Sir H. Maine the distinction between cognation and agnation very completely and lucidly stated. I may say roughly, however, that cognation is the form of relationship which we acknowledge and which is familiar to us, descending in graduated degrees, including males and females alike, from common ancestors. Agnatic relationship is rigidly confined to the male lines, excluding the connections and descendants of females, upon the maxim, Mulier est finis familiæ, though including unmarried females on the side of the father.

Now, I venture to think that the argument which may be drawn from the passage which I have quoted ought not lightly to be dismissed as a mere argumentum ad hominem.

Sir H. Maine says that the prætors early laid hold on cognation as the natural form of kinship. Either, then, they did this really detecting this principle as inhering in the natural law which was in tradition, or as detecting it as the “law common to all the nations known to the Romans.” In the latter case, it shows that, whereas cognation was common among the surrounding nations, agnation obtained among the Romans. The latter was therefore their peculiar institution, which sustains the argument which I have just put. If, on the contrary, they detected cognation underlying the institutions of all nations, and as part of their traditional law of nature, we cannot wish for a better and clearer instance of the natural law cropping up. And it is an instance, too, of the advantage at which those argue who have on their side the authority of Scripture, indicating the landmarks. Knowing that mankind sprang from a single pair, we can see that cognation must have been the law from the commencement: for it stands to reason that commencing with common ancestors the normal and natural mode would be to include all the relations according to degrees of descent, until there was some object in excluding them. With some political necessity or expediency for the limitation to males and the exclusion of females would agnation have commenced. If we require a case in point we have it in the relationship of Laban to Jacob. According to agnatic relationship they were second cousins, but according to cognatic relationship Laban was his maternal uncle, and such accordingly he is called in the sacred text (Gen. xxviii. 2). But in the seventh century before Christ, in the thickness of Paganism, men would scarcely have come to this conclusion, since they had apparently lost, as far as we know, the knowledge of their origin; although, as we have already seen, they retained dimly the tradition of many things of which they had forgotten the specific history. From the information we derive from Sir H. Maine, the memory of cognation, as the earliest and most natural scheme of kinship, must somehow have subsisted in tradition. It was not certainly in their power to verify the truth of the tradition as we can by a reference to revelation, and yet it would seem as if, having come to this conclusion, that it was almost within the grasp of human reason to have inferred from it the origin from a single pair, and thus to have recovered the knowledge they had lost from the tradition they had preserved.[296]

A few points in Sir H. Maine’s argument (supra, [p. 352]) remain to be noticed. I must take exception, for instance, to his averment “that what we respect and admire,” viz. “principles so universal,” the Roman “regarded with jealous dread.” “The parts of jurisprudence which he looked upon with affection, and the solemn gestures, &c., were the parts which a modern theorist leaves out of consideration,” for he seems to have recognised their justice, and allowed them to operate so effectually that his whole system of jurisprudence, which was originally based on agnatic kinship, came round to the principle of cognation.[297] In the process, and through the action so skilfully evolved and unfolded in Sir H. Maine’s pages, two principles, equally to our mind, were brought into gradual recollection, viz. the comity of nations and equality before the law. The “solemn gestures,” "the nicely-adjusted questions and answers of the verbal contract,“ "the endless formalities,” are at least in evidence of the tradition.

And this suggests a reflection upon the basis of Sir H. Maine’s argument, viz. that the Romans could only draw their induction from “the customs of the old Italian tribes, as these were all the nations whom the Romans had the means of observing.” Now, if we attach the weight which is due to Dr Newman’s remarkable view (vide supra) as to the course and confines of civilisation, we shall be, I think, struck with the fact that the two nationalities of Greece and Rome, which were destined to form its heart and centre, had as their common substratum a very peculiar people, whose characteristics exactly adapted them to retain traditions, and to carry out the scriptural saying about the people, “And they shall maintain the state of the world”—a people who were the first occupiers of the soil of Greece and Italy, and who, if not directly and historically, can through philology be traced back to the most primitive times;[298] a people tenacious of customs and traditions,[299] who were the guardians of the worship and tradition of the Dodonæan Jupiter,[300] and in possession of his shrine when the worship of Jupiter was only the thinly-disguised corruption of the worship of the true God;[301] a people to whom, according to Mr Gladstone, the Greek religion owed its sacerdotal and ceremonial development,[302] and who also inclines to the opinion, which has a more especial significance, and bearing on the present argument, that the Amphictyonic Council was a Pelasgian institution.

Now, let us consider this special significance of the Amphictyonic Council. On the one hand, it is attributed to Amphictyon, the son of Deucalion; on the other hand (as I shall presently show), we see the almost identical institution in Italy in contact with Roman law. What, then, was the Amphictyonic Council? Those who have written upon it appear to me to have endeavoured to regard it too much as a federation. Hence a double error. On the one side it was found that, instead of being a federation of all Greece, at most it was only a federation of twelve cities; it was further found that it had no external action, and that on occasions, as, e.g. the Persian war, in which the whole nation of Greece acted as one people, it made no appearance.[303] A feeling of disappointment necessarily supervened, and it was asked, if not a federation, what was it? On the other hand, although not a federation for the purposes of government or war, it would be an equal error to deny that it was a federation for certain purposes, more or less invisible to the eye, and which for such purposes retained sufficient vitality to assemble deputies twice a year, and during several centuries, for it is certain that it subsisted to the close of Grecian history, when, indeed, we are astonished to find that when faith in everything else had died out, belief in the Amphictyons again flickers into life. It is true that we know little, but the little that has transpired implies so much more. Were it not for a casual passage in a speech of Æschines, we should hardly have known more than of their existence. As it is, we are thrown back upon conjecture, and upon what we can recover indirectly from tradition. Now, if we suppose the Amphictyonic Council to have tradited down, and to have been a federation for the purposes of traditing down from primitive times, even in their rudimentary form, the rules and principles of the laws of nations, much that is strange and mysterious in its history will disappear.[304] It will at once account for its duration and prestige, in spite of its inactivity and merely passive existence, even supposing that it is reduced in our estimation to a sort of convocation, powerless for action, and merely keeping alive a tradition of the past. From this point of view, the fact of its merely being a federation of twelve States, which is generally adduced to reduce it to unimportance, taken in connection with another fact which I shall presently substantiate, really militates in favour of my argument. It shows that instead of being the one typical institution of the sort, it is only the one which stands out most prominently in history, and merely handed down a tradition which was common to many others. I have already alluded to the Latin league, through which, apparently, the Romans recovered their tradition of the law common to all nations. If all these isolated federations retained their tradition of a law common to all nations—although practically limited to the members of their own confederation—is it not at once in evidence of the action of the Dispersion and at the same time of a tradition anterior to the disruption? Without pretending to have gone over the ground necessary to present an exhaustive catalogue of such federations, I may present the following facts in evidence and illustration.

Outside the Amphictyonic union there were other federations, even within the confines of Greece itself:—

“Qui avoient le même caractère, et peut-étre un caractère plus intime d’association entre des etats voisins, pour honorer ensemble des dieux, ou pour se prêter, dans certains cas, un appui necessaire. Il s’en reunissoit une non loin de Trezime ou Argolide, une autre à Corinthe, une autre à Onchiste en Beotie; on en trouve de semblables encore dans plusieurs îles de la Grece, et dans les colonies de l’Asie Mineure.[305] Ces associations, au reste, ne seconderent pas moins la civilisation generale que n’auroit pu le faire un Amphictyonat universel.”—Pastoret, Hist. de la Legis., v. 27.

We find the same federations when we come to Italy:—

“Among the other works of Servius Tullius was a temple of Diana, which he erected on the Aventine, apparently near the present church of Sta. Prisca. This temple, in imitation of the Amphictyonic confederacy, was to be the common sanctuary and place of meeting for the cities belonging to the Latin league, of which Rome had become the chief through the conquest of Alba Longa; and her supremacy was tacitly acknowledged by the temple being erected with money contributed by the Latin cities. It is said to have been an imitation of the Artemisium, or temple of Diana at Ephesus. (Liv. i. 45; Dionys. iv. 26; Varro, L. L. v. § 43; Val. Max., vii. 3, § 1.) The brazen column containing the terms of the league, and the names of the cities belonging to it, was preserved in the time of Dionysius.”—Dyer’s Hist. of City of Rome, p. 51.

Compare this with Niebühr, Hist. ii. chap. ii. (Travers Twiss’ “Epitome.”)

“So long as Latium had a dictator, none but he could offer sacrifice on the Alban mount, and preside at the Latin holidays, as the Alban dictator had done before. He sacrificed on behalf of the Romans likewise, as they did in the temple of Diana on the Aventine for themselves and the Latins.... The opinion that the last Tarquinius or his father constituted the festival is quite erroneous, as its antiquity is proved to have been far higher. It is true that Tarquinius converted it into a Roman festival, and probably, too, by throwing it open to a larger body, transformed the national worship of the Latins into the means of hallowing and cementing the union between the states. The three allied republics had each its own place of meeting—at Rome, at the spring of Ferentina, and at Anagnia, where the concilium of the Hernican tribes was held in the circus; that the sittings of the diets were connected with the Latin festival, seems to be evinced by the usage, that the consuls never took the field till after it was solemnised; and by its variableness, which implies that it was regulated by special proclamation. Like the Greek festivals it ensured a sacred truce.”

In these extracts we come upon a federation resembling the Amphictyonic league, whose union is also cemented at a religious festival, the origin of which must be sought for in remote antiquity, and which festival has a direct connection with questions of peace and war. We also catch glimpses of similar federation among the Hernici and Marsi.

Now, let us go to quite an opposite point; and, if we find the same stratification cropping up, may we not conjecture it to have been once the same throughout.

“When the Europeans made their first settlements in America, six such nations had formed a league, had their Amphictyons or states-general, and by the firmness of their union, and the ability of their councils, had obtained an ascendant from the mouth of the St Lawrence to that of the Mississippi. They appeared to understand the objects of the confederacy as well as those of separate nations; they studied a balance of power.... They had their alliances and treaties, which, like the nations of Europe, they maintained or they broke upon reasons of state, and remained at peace from a sense of necessity or expediency, and went to war upon any emergency of provocation or jealousy.”[306]

In Mexico also there was “that remarkable league, which indeed has no parallel in history (?) It was agreed between the States of Mexico, Tezcuco, and the neighbouring little kingdom of Tlascopan, that they should mutually support each other in their wars, offensive and defensive, and that in the distribution of the spoil one-fifth should be assigned to Tlascopan, and the remainder be divided—in what proportions is uncertain—between the two other powers.... What is more extraordinary than the treaty itself, however, is the fidelity with which it was maintained.”—Prescott’s Mexico, i. p. 17. And in the republic of Tlascala, it is said (id. i. 378) “after the lapse of years, the institutions of the nation underwent an important change [they had previously separated into three divisions, of which Tlascala was the largest]. The monarchy was divided, first into two, afterwards into four separate states, bound together by a sort of federal compact, probably not very nicely defined. Each state, however, had its lord or superior chief, independent in his own territories, and possessed of co-ordinate authority with the others in all matters concerning the whole republic. The affairs of government, especially all those relating to peace and war, were settled in a senate or council, consisting of the four lords, with their inferior nobles.” The Tlascalans subsequently incorporated the Othonius, or Otomius (p. 378).

Here, as in the Greek and Latin Leagues, the primary objects of the law of nations seem to have been secured within the limits of their confederation, or of what they would have deemed the pale of civilization. The requirements of their horrible worship (i.e. the necessity of procuring human victims for their sacrifices) seems, however, to have overridden every other consideration, and to have impelled them to frequent wars with the nations outside the pale. In the case of the Tlascalans, the traditional lines seem more clearly defined. I have already hinted, in a note, with reference to the Greek and Latin Leagues that the Atlantis of Plato was, as indeed it professes to be, an embodiment of tradition, and not, as it is commonly regarded, as a figment of the imagination; but this strikes me still more forcibly when the League of the Ten Kings in the Atlantis is compared with the League of the Tlascalans.

Plato says: “The particulars respecting the governors were instituted from the beginning as follows. Each of the ten kings possessed absolute authority, both over the men and the greater part of the laws in his own division and in his own city, punishing and putting to death whomsoever he pleased. But the government and communion of these kings with each other were conformable to the mandates given by Neptune; and this was likewise the case with their laws. These mandates were delivered to them by their ancestors on a pillar of orichalcum, which was erected about the middle of the island, in the temple of Neptune. These kings, therefore, assembled together every fifth, and alternately, every sixth year, for the purpose of distributing an equal part both of the even and the odd; and when they assembled they deliberated on the public affairs, inquired if any one had acted improperly ... a sacrifice of bulls was made in the temple of Neptune, at the foot of the pillar of orichalcum.... But on the pillar, besides the laws, there was an oath, supplicating mighty imprecations against those who were disobedient.... There were also many other laws respecting sacred concerns, and such as were peculiar to the several kings; but the greatest were the following: that they should never wage war against each other, and that all of them should give assistance if any one person in some one of their cities should endeavour to extirpate the royal race. And as they consulted in common respecting war, and other actions, in the same manner as their ancestors, they assigned the empire to the Atlantis family.”—Plato’s Works, Sydenham and Taylor’s tr., ii. 589.

I think it will then be conceded, that whether or not there was a tradition “of a law common to all nations,” there were at any rate channels provided, well adapted to conduct and disseminate it, and that these channels everywhere converge upon the most primitive times. Before proceeding to ascertain whether anything has in fact been transmitted, I must draw attention more particularly to the circumstance that the tradition of all law is everywhere closely connected with the traditions of religion, has been handed down in a similar manner; and, so far as it retains the purity of primitive truth, under the same sanction. From this point of view the following passages from Cicero appears to me to be very significant:

“Hanc igitur video sapientissimorum fuisse sententiam legem neque hominum ingeniis excogitatum, neque scitum aliquod esse populorum, sed æternum quiddam quod universum mundum regerat imperandi, prohibendique sapientiâ.... Quæ non tum denique incipit lex esse, cum scriptum est, sed tum cum orta est; orta autem simul est cum mente divina.” “Jam ritus familiæ patrumque servari, id est quoniam antiquitas proxima accedit ad Deos, a Deis quasi traditam, religionem tueri.”—Cicero de Legibus, ii. 4, 11.

There is another curious passage which seems to prove that the oracles originally existed simply for the preservation of the primitive tradition; and, although mixed up with imposture, that they seem to have had the knowledge, or at least the instinct, that their prestige and power of influence was within the limits of the traditions which they had corrupted or preserved.[307]

“Deinceps in lege est, ut de ritibus patriis coluntur optimi, de quo cum consulerent Athenienses Apollinem Pythium, quas potissimum religiones tenerent, oraculum editum est eas quæ essent in more majorum. Quo cum iterum venissent, majorumque morem dixissent, sæpe esse mutatum, quæsivissentque quem morem potissimum sequerentur, e variis respondit, optimum. Et perfecto ita est ut id habendum sit antiquissimum et a Deo proximum quod sit optimum.”[308]—Cicero de Legibus, ii. 16.

But this sentiment and tradition was not only common to the people of Greece and Rome, but to the yet uncivilised tribes of Germany.

“Or les dispositions, où la coutume barbare et la loi romaine s’accordent, sont encore celles qui semblent faire le fond des législations grèques: non que les douze tables aient été copiées, comme on l’a cru, sur les lois de Solon, mais à cause de l’étroite parenté des peuples de la Grèce et du Latium. A travers l’obscurité des siècles héroïques, on découvre un sacerdoce puissant qui a ses premiers établissements en Thrace, en Samothrace, à Dodone, et qui perpétuera son autorité par l’institution des mystères. On voit aussi la resistance d’une race belliqueuse.”—Ozanam, “Les Germains avant le Christianisme,” vol. i. chap. “Les Lois.”

“Au premier abord rien ne semble plus contraire aux mœurs barbares que la loi romaine, si subtile, si précise, si bien obéie. Cependant si l’on en considère les origines, on n’y trouve pas d’autres principes que ceux dont la trace subsistait dans les vieilles coutumes de la Germanie. Le droit primitif du Rome, comme celui du Nord, est un droit sacré.”—Ib. p. 148.

“Il existait chez les Germains une autorité religieuse, dépositaire de la tradition, et qui y trouvait l’idéal et le principe de tout l’ordre civil. Cette autorité avait créé la propriété immobilière en la rendant respectable par des rites et des symboles, ... elle l’engageait dans les liens de la famille légitime, consacrée par la sainteté du mariage, par le culte des ancêtres, par la solidarité du sang: elle l’enveloppait dans le corps de la nation sédentaire, ou elle avait établi une hierarchie de caste et de pouvoir, à l’exemple de la hierarchie divine de la création” (p. 147). “Dans cette suite de scènes dont se compose pour ainsi dire le drame judiciaire, on reconnaît un pouvoir religieux, qui cherche à sauver la paix, à désarmer la guerre et qui s’y prend de trois façons différentes” (p. 142).

Now, if we are agreed that fitting channels for the diffusion of the tradition existed; if, further, we find that all law seems to trace itself back to a common source of supernatural revelation; if the resemblances in the traditions concerning the lawgivers of antiquity—and, with the exception of Lycurgus, the agreement in the fundamentals of their codes—in the great lines of the family, property, and the external relations of life, seems to require the supposition of some common fountain-head at which they all filled the pitcher—we shall, I think, when we come to the question of public law, only require further some evidence of a tradition of maxims, rules, and precedents of procedure in war, founded on and appealing to natural right, and claiming the sanction of the gods, to establish the existence of a law common to all nations different from that which would have arisen from the judgment of the prætors, merely applying the rules and maxims common to the Romans and the adjoining nations, in case of conflict where the law of the State was not allowed to be applied (supra, Maine).

I shall, doubtless, be reminded that this was only part of Sir H. Maine’s argument, and that it was this, taken in connection with the influence of the Stoics on Roman law, and the stoical conception of nature,[309] which created the fiction of a law of nature, and of a law common to all nations.

Let it then be granted that the theories and maxims of the Stoics had their influence on Roman society and Roman law. It was only part of the influence which stole over and everywhere impregnated the field of primitive tradition. Sir H. Maine shows us how it at once seized upon the element of law, which, be it in fiction only, was said to be common to all nations. Would it the less have seized upon it if, instead of being a fiction, it had been a reality?—à fortiori, it would have done so. Therefore Sir H. Maine leaves the question as to the belief among the ancients in a “law common to all nations” still open, or rather, so far as there is an argument, it is only with the previous part of his theory that it is necessary to deal; for all that Sir H. Maine’s finely-drawn reasoning and subtle detection of the influence of Grecian stoicism on Roman law accounts for—so far as the present argument is concerned—is the greater attention and respect which was henceforward paid to the fiction, supposing that it had not heretofore and always been paid to the fact, that there was a traditional law common to all nations.

I have previously ([p. 3]) pointed out the distinction between the law of nations and international law, and I am under the impression that I made the distinction before the publication of Sir H. Maine’s work—certainly before I had become acquainted with it. The manner in which Sir H. Maine makes the distinction does not appear to me to be quite accurate. He says:—“It is almost unnecessary to add that the confusion between jus gentium, or law common to all nations, and international law, is entirely modern. The classical expression for international law is jus feciale, or the law of negotiation and diplomacy” (p. 53). The Fecial College was very far from corresponding with our Corps Diplomatique, neither was its law a law of negotiation and diplomacy; and the distinction between the law of nations and international law was made in modern times, precisely because in antiquity treaty law was subordinate to, and identified with, the traditional law. The Fecial College corresponded much more nearly to what our Heralds’ College would be, supposing the Heralds’ College invested with the authority of our Admiralty Courts, and also made the trustees of the foundation for the study of international law, which Dr Whewell’s bequest had the intention of instituting at Cambridge. We should then have, as in ancient times, a body of men who would be at once the depositaries, the interpreters, and the heralds of a tradition, though, to complete the picture, we should have to invest them with a sacred character, and in some way to give to their decisions the sanction of religion. Dionysius of Halicarnassus tells us that they were priests chosen from the best families at Rome, and that their special intention was to see that the Romans never made an unjust war. “The seventh part of the Sacred Laws was devoted to the college of the Fecials, whom the Greeks call εἰρηνοδικαι.[310] They are men selected from the most illustrious families, and are dedicated during their whole life to this priesthood.... It would take long to enumerate all the various duties of the Fecials, which were multifarious, ... but in the main they are these,—to take heed lest the Romans should ever undertake an unjust war with a city with which they were in league” (Lib. ii.); it was their duty to demand reparation, and, failing, to declare war; in case of differences with allies, they acted as mediators, and they adjudicated in case of disputes. It was for them to decide what constituted an injury to the person of an ambassador, and whether or not the generals had acted according to their oaths; to draw up the articles of treaties, truces, and the like; and to decide as to their nullity and validity, and to communicate accordingly with the Senate, which deliberated upon their report.

What Cicero tells us is not less to the point:—

“There are certain peculiar laws of war also, which are of all things most strictly to be observed.... As we are bound to be merciful to those whom we have actually conquered, so should those also be received into favour who have laid down their arms.... Our good forefathers were most strictly just as to this particular, the custom of those times making him the patron of a conquered city or people who first received them into the faith and allegiance of the people of Rome. In short, the whole right and all the duties of war are most rigorously set down in the fecial laws, out of which it is manifest that no war can be justly undertaken unless satisfaction has been first demanded, and proclamation of it made publicly beforehand.”—Cicero, Offices, i. xi.; again, also, vide iii. xxxi.

Compare these passages with Mr Gladstone’s account of the Homeric age:—

“In that early age, despite the prevalence of piracy, even that idea of political justice and public right, which is the germ of the law of nations, was not unknown to the Greeks. It would appear that war could not be made without an appropriate cause, and that the offer of redress made it the duty of the injured to come to terms. Hence the offer of Paris in the third Iliad is at once readily accepted; and hence, even after the breach of the act, arises Agamemnon’s fear, at the moment when he anticipates the death of Menelaus, that by that event the claim to the restoration of Helen will be practically disposed of, and the Greeks will have to return home without reparation for a wrong, of which the corpus, as it were, will have disappeared.”—Iliad, iv. 160–62.[311]

It is certainly not within the scope of this chapter to indicate the multiform applications of the law of nations, which it would require a legist’s special knowledge (to which the writer can lay no claim) to determine with any exactness. My object has been merely to sustain the traditional belief against those who deny it. I shall indeed, for the purposes of illustration, go into detail on one point, viz. the declaration of war; but I may mention incidentally that the Fecial and Amphictyonic law presumably extended to many other points, such as treaties, trophies,[312] truces,[313] hostages, and the like. Moreover, the maritime law of Rhodes and the islands of the Ægean, known to the Romans long before it was embodied in their code (which was not probably until they had extended maritime relations), presents, as Pastoret (ix. 118) informs us, “analogies et rapprochemens multipliés” with modern maritime legislation from the time of the Romans to the “ordonnance de la marine” drawn up by order of Louis XIV.

In an article on “Belligerent Rights at Sea” (in the Home and Foreign Review, July 1863), in which there will be found a nice discrimination of these questions, Mr E. Ryley says:—

“The very largest rule of belligerent rights limits the voluntary destruction of life and property by the necessity of the occasion and the object of the war. Bynkershock and Wolf insist that everything done against the enemy is lawful, and admit fraud, poison, and the murder, as we should call it, of non-combatants, as permissible expedients for attaining the object of the war. But these are the writers who lay the foundations of the law of nations in reason and custom, and ignore that perception and judgment of right and wrong which God has communicated to man. It is true that for the most part, and practically, we know the law of nations by reason and usage; but this law is founded not on that by which we know its decisions, but on justice; and reason must admit, and usage must adopt, whatever is clearly shown to be just and right, however this may be against precedent, and what has hitherto been held to be sound reason. There is no law without justice, nor any justice without conscience, nor any conscience without God. Grotius thus admirably expresses himself:—‘Jus naturale est dictatum rectæ rationis, indicans actui aliqui, ex ejus convenientiâ aut disconvenientiâ cum ipsa naturâ rationali, inesse moralem turpitudinem, aut necessitatem moralem, ac consequenter ab auctore naturæ, Deo, talem actum vetari aut præcipi. Actus, de quibus tale extat dictatum, debiti sunt aut illiciti per se, atque ideo a Deo necessario præcepti aut vetiti intelliguntur.’[314] And this principle obtains greater force from the objections which have been made to it, and the efforts to establish another foundation for the law of nations. Thus the principle of utility is only a feeble attempt to give another name to the law of justice which God has implanted in His creatures; and to pretend to found a law on general usage and tacit consent is to mistake the evidence of justice for justice itself.”

At first sight the passage quoted from Mr Ryley’s article would seem to militate against my position; in reality we merely take up different weapons against Bynkershock and Wolf. If custom means merely precedent, it may or may not be in accordance with “that perception of right and wrong which God has communicated to man;” but if there is a tradition of a law of nations, the fact creates so great a presumption in favour of its pronouncements, that what is of usage and custom will be the criterion of what is right until the human intellect has shown that what has hitherto been held to be permissible was founded in a precedent of iniquity. On the other hand, we are agreed that the law of nations must be such as to stand the test of the “perception and judgment of right and wrong.” As this perception, however, has never wholly died out among mankind, whatever is of general acceptance carries with it an assurance that it has stood this test; and “general usage and the tacit consent” is so much “the evidence of justice,” that it has practically been taken, or mistaken by mankind “for justice itself,” and the law of nations has always been discussed on the basis of usage. This, I contend, would not have been the case if there had not been behind usage the immemorial sanction and tradition, or if the tacit consent had been only acquiescence in wrong. I am the more confirmed in this view on perceiving that Mr Ryley, after stating his own opinion as to the right of blockade, finds his conclusions, when he has discriminated such precedents as were of an exceptional and retaliatory character, to be in conformity with usage and the decision of legists.

From this point of view those who contend for the basis of tradition and those who contend for the basis of natural justice mean the same thing. They both affirm that there are limitations to human passion even in war. They are both opposed to precedents based on force, and are equally hostile to “the principle of utility,” for if, as Mr Ryley puts it, “the principle of utility” is only “another name for the law of justice which God has implanted in His creatures,” the phrase is an understatement of the truth, liable to misconstruction, and tends to lower the standard of right; and if it means something different or distinct from this, it means that against which the tradition of mankind protests.

I have already said that international law, as distinguished from the law of nations, requires to be constantly discriminated by the intellect or the conscience of mankind, and more especially now that diplomatists are no longer legists.

There was a certain indirect and collateral influence arising out of the tradition of a law of nations from the fact that a body of men existing as its interpreters, or at least as its depositaries, which it appears to me was destined to operate powerfully in the interests of peace. The existence of such a body of men perpetuated a public opinion in these matters, they fostered an esprit de corps stronger even than the spirit of nationality which then reigned supreme and dominated society. When a violation of treaties or an unjust aggression took place there was thus found a body of men who would stigmatise or at least recognise it as such. The sentiment thus sustained was not all-influential for the purposes of peace, but it was operative to the extent of arresting the attention and perturbing the consciences of mankind. In like manner I venture to say that the diplomatic body, although the depositaries only of a bastard tradition, subserve this purpose also after a fashion, and I much doubt whether many well-intentioned men, in striving to compass its abolition would not, as matters stand, destroy the last breakwater which secures the peace of Europe.

In ancient times the comity of nations was virtually restricted to groups of cities or nations of kindred descent, or which had become confederate by reason of contiguity. This circumstance has been adduced by Sir G. C. Lewis to stop in limine the theory of a law of nations;[315] as if it was necessarily in denial of a tradition of morality common to all nations. Yet, I think that I shall be able to show instances of its recognition as between the groups, but it is precisely in its restricted application within the groups, and in the channels thus provided, that I think we shall find common features, and dimly and obscurely, though certainly, catch glimpses of the tradition.

If I may complete my thought, these confederations were so many types and anticipations of that Amphictyonic Council, which, if things had not persistently gone wrong in the world, might have been formed in mediæval times by Christendom under the presidency of the Popes,[316] and which may yet be realised in the triumph of religion which seems to be signified in the motto lumen in cœlo, as attaching to the successor of the present Pope, whose pontificate has been so singularly prefigured in the indication crux de cruce.[317]

In the Times, November 29, 1867, it was said, “If this theory [‘the states of Christendom constituted as a species of commonwealth’] could be rendered effectual, international law would be furnished at once with its greatest need, a court to enforce its behests; but nothing is plainer than that for such arbitration the arbitrators must be fetched from another planet.”

But, inasmuch as Abraham Lincoln practically remarked, you cannot have “a cabinet of angels” in this world, the thing is to discover the arbitrator who is the furthest removed from sublunary influences. Now, how strong soever may be our national mistrusts and prejudices, we cannot refuse to recognise that the Papacy ostensibly satisfies these conditions, and this irrespective of the belief of the preponderant section of the Christian world that he is the infallible guide, and the divinely appointed interpreter of the tradition of morals.

Its representatives being always old men naturally inclined to peace,[318] the sovereign of a small state which a general war would imperil—professing maxims and therefore pledged to a programme of peace—(so that any deviation from it, as in the case of Julius II., would render glaring and abnormal acts which would have been unnoticed in an ordinary sovereign), a sovereign without a family (and whatever may be said of nepotism, it must be conceded that a man who has only collateral relatives is less tempted to found a family than one who has sons), a sovereign, in fine, representing the oldest line of succession in the world,[319] in the oldest city, in the centre of tradition, and like Noah in the traditional symbols (ante, [p. 220]), linking the new world with the old.

This, I find (I quote from a series of important papers on “English statesmen and the independence of Popes,” Tablet, November 1870), was fully recognised by our greatest minister, Mr Pitt. In 1794, “Pitt suggested, through François de Conzié, Bishop of Arras, that the Pope should put himself at the head of a European league.” “On more than one occasion,” he wrote, “I have seen the continental courts draw back before the divergences of opinion and of religion which separate us. I think that a common bond ought to unite us all. The Pope alone can be this centre.... We are too much divided by personal interests or by political views. Rome alone can raise an impartial voice, and one free from all exterior preoccupations. Rome, then, ought to speak according to the measure of her duties, and not merely of her good wishes, which no one doubts.”

There have been at different periods of the world various projects of universal pacification;[320] but it is worthy of remark that they have almost all, from that of Henri IV. to the one recently broached by the Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, taken the traditional lines of a confederation of states more or less circumscribed with an amphictyonic council. This has its significance from the point of view I am indicating, but I do not see that it is satisfactorily accounted for on any other view.[321]

It would seem, then, that there has always existed in the world the tradition, and since the triumph of Christianity, the conditions by which, if it had so willed, it might have recovered the golden age of peace and happiness of which it has never entirely lost the tradition.

Until this consummation we must fall back upon the law of nations,[322] though even here it must be borne in mind that Christianity has exercised an indirect influence, and has raised the standard of morality for the world at large.[323] But when all is abated the law of nations remains the lex legum, deeply founded in the maxims, sentiments, and usages of mankind. These maxims in their tradition have been concurrently interpreted, adapted, and in a certain sense moulded by the intellect of legists, whose discriminations or conclusions have received the tacit approbation of mankind. Rarely has the production of any profane writer received such an unanimous ratification as the great work of Hugo Grotius, mainly, as we have seen (ante, [p. 4]), based on tradition. Again, the agreement and correspondence among the legists of different nationalities is substantial, and is only to be accounted for upon the supposition that each in his own groove faithfully incorporated and elaborated a tradition; and if you say that this was only an argument among the separate traditions of the Roman law, you only put back the argument one remove, as I have attempted to demonstrate. If conversely you say that the law of nations as we find it is purely the work and elaboration of legists, and the conclusions of abstract reason, put it to this test, bring all the legists of the world into a congress—such a congress is much needed just now—with instructions to create a new code on abstract principles, and upon the basis of the rejection of what is of custom and tradition, and see what they will accomplish! Do not all our difficulties begin exactly where, owing to the complications of modern civilisation, tradition ceases? For the rest we shall presently see what the Congress of Paris, in 1856, was able to effect in this kind.

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CHAPTER XV
THE DECLARATION OF WAR.

I think we have already distinct evidence that the Fecial Law was something more than our Treaty and Diplomatic Law. Let us examine it more particularly in action. If the law of nations ever was appealed to, and, if over and above, there was a tradition of a Divine revelation, or even of a prescriptive law founded on natural right, and having reference to war, which was ever invoked, it would have been in the first instance of aggression, supposing, as is implied in the term, that it was without fair cause and without fair warning. The declaration of war, therefore, is manifestly the hinge upon which the whole system of the law of nations turns.[324] Accordingly, the further we go back the more solemn and formal do we find the declaration of war to be.

“In every instance the declaration of war was accompanied by religious formalities. When the Senate believed that it had cause of complaint against a nation, it sent a Fecial to his frontier. There the pontiff, his head bound with a woollen veil,[325] exposed the griefs of the Romans and demanded satisfaction. If it was not granted, he went back to render an account of his mission to the Senate, ... and after a delay of thirty or thirty-three days they voted a declaration of war. Then the Fecial returned to the frontier, and, casting a javelin into the enemy’s country, he pronounced the following formula—‘Quod populus Hermundulus,’ &c.... Every war which had not been declared in this manner was considered as unjust, and certain to incur the displeasure of the gods. In the course of time this solemn declaration was replaced by a vain formality.”[326]

Montfauçon (“L’Antiquité Expliquée,” ii. 1, p. iv., p. 35) says:—

“Lorsqu’ils alloient parlementer, ils avoient sur la tête un voile tissu de laine,[327] et ils étoient couronnéz de vervaine: leur office étoit d’impêcher que les Romains n’entreprissent point de guerre injuste: d’aller comme legats vers les nations qui violoient les traitez, etc.... ils prenoient aussi connaissance faits au legats de part et d’autre. Quand la paix ne se trouvoit pas faite selon les loix, ils la declaroient nulle. Si les commandans avoient fait quelque chose contre la justice et contre le droit des gens, ils reparoient leur faute et expioient leur crime, ... à cause du violement des traites faits devant Numance, dit Ciceron par un décret du Senat le Patrapatratus livra, C. Mancinus aux Numantins.”[328]

We must content ourselves, of course, with what evidence we may get of similar institutions elsewhere; but what strikes me as strange in the contrast of modern civilisation with barbarism, is, that whereas our advances, whether in the sense of peace and war (whenever they are formally made), are commonly understood, the corresponding demonstrations on the side of barbarism are invariably misconstrued.

When, for instance, Captain Cook approached the shores of Bolabola, he describes the following scene, which reads to me very like the account we have just been reading of the Roman herald:—

“Soon after a single man ran along the shore armed with his lance, and when he came abreast of the boat he began to dance, brandish his weapon, and call out in a very shrill tone, which Tupia defiance from the people.... As the boat rowed slowly along the shore back again, another champion came down, shouting defiance, and brandishing his lance. His appearance was more formidable than that of the other, for he wore a large cap made of the tail feathers of the topia bird, and his body was covered with stripes of different coloured cloth, yellow, red, and brown.... Soon after a more grave and elderly man came down to the beach, and hailing the people in the boat, inquired who they were, and from whence they came.[329]... After a short conference they all began to pray very loud. Tupia made his responses, but continued to tell us they were not our friends” (i. 119).

Let this be taken in connection with the following narrative:—[330]

“The large canoes came close round the ship, some of the Indians playing on a kind of flute, others singing, and the rest blowing on a sort of shells. Soon after, a large canoe advanced, in which was an awning, on the top of which sat one of the natives holding some yellow and red feathers in his hand. The captain having consented to his coming alongside, he delivered the feathers, and while a present was preparing for him, he put back from the ship, and threw the branch of a cocoa-tree in the air. This was doubtless the signal for an onset, for there was an instant shout from all the canoes, which, approaching the ship, threw volleys of stones into every part of her.”

Here the question appears to me to be whether this act of throwing the branch, so analogous to the throwing the javelin, which was the final act in the Roman declaration of war (and to which our throwing down the glove or the gauntlet has analogy), was merely the signal to themselves, or whether it was not also the notice of attack to the enemy. Upon this will depend whether we are to consider it a treacherous “ruse” (and the presentation of the feathers has that aspect), or whether it was their traditional mode of declaration of war, and construed to be a treacherous attack, because the gallant navigator belonged to a nation more ignorant of the laws of nations than the savages they encountered.

From the very fact of their having enacted this comedy or ceremonial, it must be inferred either that they attached some superstitious importance to its performance, and expected some good effects from it to themselves, or that they thought that it would be understood by their adversaries, in which case they must implicitly have believed it to be common to all nations.

In either case it is just possible that after the manner of savages, they may have confused the symbols of peace and war, and ran into one what the Romans had carefully distinguished—the “caduceatores”,[331] who went to demand peace, and the “fecials,” who were sent to denounce war.

The red and yellow colours of the feathers in the above account may afford a clue, when it is remembered (vide [note]), that they coincide with the colour used by the Otaheitans to testify fidelity and friendliness; but, to appreciate this in its full significance, it will be necessary to show how commonly the traditional symbols of peace among the ancients had reference to the diluvian traditions, more especially the Dove and the Rainbow.

Assuming for the moment that Bryant is right in his derivation of the names of Juno and Venus from Jönah (Hebrew), and Οινας (Greek) = Dove,[332] I ask attention to the following, in connection with the red and yellow feathers of the Polynesians, and the tail feathers of the topia bird mentioned by Cook (supra, [p. 388]).[333] (Bryant, ii. 345), “As the peacock, in the full expansion of his plumes, displays all the beautiful colours of the Iris (the rainbow), it was probably for that reason made the bird of Juno, instead of the dove, which was appropriated to Venus. The same history was variously depicted in different places, and consequently as variously interpreted.” (Compare [p. 279].)

If this is true, if the rainbow is the symbol of peace, and the peacock is the symbol of the rainbow, will it absolutely surprise us to find feathers of various colours presented as tokens of peace? I am prepared for the reply, that Bryant’s etymology is now considered obsolete; but I shall fall back upon the argument which I have urged elsewhere, that in cases where tradition renders the transmission of certain words probable, there is a presumption which overrides the ordinary canons of philological criticism. Philologers very properly lay down, e.g. Mr Max Müller’s “Chapter of Accidents in Comparative Theology,” Contemp. Rev., April 1870, p. 8:—

“Comparative philology has taught us again and again that when we find a word exactly the same in Greek and Sanscrit, we may be certain that it cannot be the same word; and the same applies to comparative mythology ... for the simple reason that Sanscrit and Greek have deviated from each other, have both followed their own way, have both suffered their own phonetic corruptions, and hence, if they do possess the same word, they can only possess it either in its Greek or in its Sanscrit disguise.”

This is of course only upon the assumption that the languages have gone their own way, have followed their own corruptions; but if it can be shown that certain words, &c. &c., were preserved in tradition, and so guarded as not to come under the laws of deviation which philology traces out, or to come under them on different conditions, then, on the contrary, it is exceedingly probable that we should find them identical, or at least recognisable; in any case, this is a point which must be decided according to the evidences of tradition, and not according to the laws of philology. This will be better understood from a case in point. I append the evidence respecting the traditions of the Dove and the Rainbow—which are just the incidents which are likely to have impressed the imagination and memory of mankind.[334]

The digression we have just made involves some risk of distracting attention from the point it was intended to enforce—viz. the traditionary character of the mode, and, by implication, the traditionary recognition of the obligation, of the declaration of war. We have already seen in Ozanam (supra, [p. 371]) indications of the probability of similar traditions among the primitive tribes of Germany. Will it clench the argument if we find Romans and Gauls on a common understanding in these matters, when brought for the first time into contact since their original separation?—

“The great misfortunes which befel the city from the Gauls, are said to have proceeded from the violation of these sacred rites. For when the barbarians were besieging Clusium, Fabius Ambustus was sent ambassador to their camp with proposals of peace, in favour of the besieged. But receiving a harsh answer, he thought himself released from his character of ambassador, and rashly taking up arms for the Clusians, challenged the bravest man in the Gaulish army. He proved victorious, ... but the Gauls having discovered who he was, sent a herald to Rome to accuse Fabius of bearing arms against them, contrary to treaties and good faith, and without a declaration of war. Upon this the Feciales exhorted the Senate to deliver him up to the Gauls, but he appealed to the people, and, being a favourite with them, was screened from the sentence. Soon after this, the Gauls marched to Rome, and sacked the whole city except the Capitol, as we have related at large in the life of Camillus.”—Plutarch’s Numa.

I venture further to think that the traditionary modes of the declaration of war may be detected among the Gauls in Cæsar’s time, in the manner of their challenge. E.g. it so came about that Cæsar wished to draw the enemy (the Nervii) to his side of the valley and to engage them at a disadvantage before his camp. To this end he simulated fear. “Our men meanwhile retiring from the rampart, they approached still nearer, cast their darts on all sides within the trenches and sent heralds round the camp to proclaim,” &c. (Duncan’s Cæsar, B. v. xlii.)

We will now turn to the Greek tradition. I quote from an old author who has examined the matter more fully than I find it treated elsewhere. Rous. (“Archæologiæ Atticæ,” lib. 6, s. 3, civ.) says:—“As careful and cunning as they were in warlike affairs, I cannot find but that they did ‘propere signi quæ piget inchoare,’ bear a great affection to peace; as may appear in their honourable receiving of ambassadors, to whom they gave hearing in no worse place than a temple.... The usual ensign carried by Greek ambassadours was κηρυκεον, caduceus,[335] a right staff of wood with snakes twisted about it and looking one another in the face.... If the peace could not be kept, but they must needs have war, yet they would be sure to give warning and fair play, and make proclamations of their intentions before they marcht. The manner in proclaiming war was to send a fellow of purpose either to cast a spear or let loose a lamb into the borders of the country, or into the city itself whither they were marching (which Hesychius rather thinks to have been the signal before a battel), thereby showing them, that what was then a habitation for men, should shortly be a pasture for sheep.”[336] I should rather have thought that it had analogy with the Jewish scapegoat; but, whatever the idea, it was apparently symbolled and commemorated in the woollen veil prescribed to the Roman pontiff in the declaration of war. It would seem, however, that the signal for battle ([chap. v.]) was “instead of sounding a trumpet, they had fellows whom they called πυρφορους, that went before with torches, and throwing them down in the midst between the two armies, gave the sign.... Now, this business they might do safely and without any danger, ... for the torch-bearers were peculiarly protected by Mars, and accounted sacred.”[337]

The sense of national responsibility in war, and the reluctance of kings to involve themselves without the consent of their people would appear from Œschylos’ “Supplicants” (v. 393, 363).

I have referred ([p. 326]) to the Peruvian traditions of Manco Capac’s laws of war, and that “in every stage of the war the Peruvian was open to propositions for peace.”

From the Hindoo tradition, apparently, Manu’s code was conceived in an identical spirit. (Vide “Hist. of India,” “The Hindu and Mahometan Periods,” by the Hon. Mountstuart Elphinstone; Murray, 1866, ch. ii. p. 26.) “The laws of war (Manu’s code) are honourable and humane. Poisoned arrows and mischievously barbed arrows and fire arrows are all prohibited.” [Dr Hooker, in his “Himalayan Journal,” mentions a similar tradition among the Limboos, I think, or Lepchas.[338]] “There are many situations in which it is by no means allowable to destroy the enemy. Among those who must always be spared are unarmed or wounded men, and those who have broken their weapons, and one who says, ‘I am thy captive.’ Other prohibitions are still more generous.... The settlement of a conquered country is conducted on equally liberal principles. Immediate security is to be assured to all by proclamation. The religion and laws of the country are to be maintained and respected.” And I have fancied (vide [395]) that the recognition at least of such a tradition, if it be only the “homage which vice pays to virtue,” is to be read in the devices carried by the Babylonians.[339]

There was, moreover, a law at Athens which forbade them to declare war until after a deliberation of three days—“Bellum vero antequam decerneretur, triduo deliberare lex jubebat” (Apsines, Marcell. in Hermog. ap. J. Meursii Them. Att., l. i. c. xi.); and we have seen that the Senate at Rome postponed the declaration of war for thirty days. I cannot help thinking, though it is the merest surmise, that it is in the dim recollection of some such tradition that we must account for the meaningless and superstitious delays which we occasionally read of in the warfare of barbarous nations; e.g. Cæsar (De Bello Gallico, i. xl. c.) had drawn up his troops and offered the enemy battle, but Ariovistus thought proper to sound a retreat. “Cæsar inquiring of the prisoners why Ariovistus so obstinately refused an engagement, found that it was the custom among the Germans for the women to decide by lots and divination when it was proper to decide a battle; and that these had declared the army would not be victorious if they fought before the new moon.”[340] [There was also a law at Athens that it was not lawful to lead forth an army before the seventh day of the month. “Vetitum Athenis erat, exercitum educere ante diem septimum.”] J. Muersii, id.

I have discussed the ancient mode of declaration of war at some length as an instance of tradition. There are some, I am afraid, to whom the discussion will appear ineffably trifling; and I may even be misconstrued to say that everything would be set right in Europe, if only a herald were sent in proper form to declare war. There are men of a certain cast of mind to whom forms are repugnant; there are others to whom they are unintelligible. It has been observed, however, that the rejection of forms is one thing, the neglect of them another. The rejection of forms may be, on some principle, good, though misapplied, often does unconscious homage when it means to spurn, and may be compensated for in other ways. The neglect of them is simply evidence of laxity. Cromwell perfectly well knew the divinity which attached to forms when he said, “Take away that bauble;” and, on the other hand, no one better than he would have judged the state of an army (not his own) in which he was told that it was the custom of soldiers not to salute their officers. The declaration of war without any solemnity, still more the commencement of hostilities without any declaration at all,[341] seems to me closely analogous—as a sign of disorganisation—to the absence of any form of salute at a parade. I am far from contending that old forms, when they have become obsolete, can be resuscitated; but I do contend for the resuscitation of ancient maxims and ideas. In any age fully imbued with the responsibility of war, in which it was considered unseemly to declare it until after a three days’ deliberation in solemn conclave, and which even then protracted the declaration till the seventh or the thirtieth day, would it have been possible for two great nations to have gone to war because there had been “a breach of etiquette,” if indeed there was a breach of etiquette, “at a German watering-place?”[342] Allowing that this was merely the ostensible pretext, and that the real grounds remained behind—if these long deliberations had been necessarily interposed, would there not have been a thousand chances in favour of such a European intervention as saved the peace of Europe three years before in the affair of Luxembourg? Yet, so far as we know at present, the following is the history of the commencement of the most horrible, the most destructive, and the most barbarous war[343] of modern times.

“A private letter from Paris relates that the Duc de Grammont, who has taken to spend his evenings at the Jockey Club, was lately asked there, ‘How he came to blunder into such a fatal war?’[344] He replied, ‘I asked the Minister of War, Lebœuf, if he was ready, and he answered, “Ready! ay, and doubly ready;” otherwise,’ added the Duc, ‘I should have taken care not to have counselled a war which there were twenty modes of averting.’”—Times, Sept. 1, 1870.[345]

The extent of the disorganisation and the laxity into which we have fallen, appears perhaps as strikingly as in any anything else in the frequency of the complaints of the little regard paid to “parlémentaires” and officers bearing flags of truce. But what startles us more than all is the light manner in which this transgression of the law of nations is referred to even by the parties aggrieved.

I will here place two extracts which I have made in juxtaposition:—

Carver (“Travels in North America,” p. 358) says, that when a deputation sets out together for their enemy’s country with propositions of peace, “They bear before them the pipe of peace, which, I need not inform my readers, is of the same nature as a flag of truce among the Europeans, and is treated with the greatest respect and veneration even by the most barbarous nations. I never heard of an instance wherein the bearers of this sacred badge of friendship were ever treated disrespectfully, or its rights violated. The Indians believe that the Great Spirit never suffers an infraction of this kind to go unpunished.”

Count Chandordy, in his reply to Count Bismarck, dated Bordeaux, Jan. 25, 1871, says:—“Count Bismarck reproaches the French armies with having fired on parlémentaires.” An accusation of this nature had already been brought to the knowledge of the Paris Government, and we may quote the following words of M. Jules Favre in his circular of 12th January—“I have the satisfaction to acquaint your excellency that the Governor of Paris has hastened to order an inquiry into the facts alleged by Count Bismarck, and in announcing this to him he has brought much more numerous facts of the same nature to his own cognizance which are imputed to Prussian sentinels, but which he never would have allowed to interrupt ordinary relations.”

I do not know whether this contrast between barbarism, such as it existed in the last century, and modern civilisation, will astonish those partisans of success whom in truth nothing in all the multiform atrocities of this dreadful war seems to have astonished or shocked, so that it was at times almost ludicrous to hear these introuvables declare such things as the bombardment of hospitals and churches, as at Strasburg and Paris, quite right, which even the German commanders, when the matter was brought to their attention, admitted to be wrong.

This perhaps is the worst symptom of corruption we have yet seen, and yet there was a time, and that quite recent, when a different sentiment prevailed. I have just referred[346] to the declaration in the Treaty of Paris, which thought to inaugurate a new era by bringing all causes of conflict in Europe to a settlement of arbitration. But let no one be discouraged or cease to believe in the possibility of such a consummation because of the result. There never was a stronger instance of the intellect of the world vainly striving to create an international code and system for itself which was to be distinct from the law of nations; for at the same moment that the diplomatists who were collected in Paris set to work upon their tower, which was to erect itself above the waters of any future inundation, they one and all agreed to demolish, and as a first step to pull down, the cornerstone from the temple of the past. How this was brought about will best be told in an extract from the Count de Montalembert’s “Pie IX. et la France en 1849 et 1859,” p. 10:—

“Let us go back to the origin of the evil, ... it dates back more especially from the Congress of Paris in 1856, from that diplomatic reunion which, after having solemnly declared that none of the contracting powers had the right to interfere either collectively or individually in the relations of a sovereign with his subjects (Protocol of 18th March), after having proclaimed the principle of the absolute independence of the sovereigns, for the benefit of the Turkish Sultan against his Christian subjects, thought it within its competency, in its protocol of the 8th of April, and in the absence of any representative of the august accused, to proclaim that the situation of the Pontifical States was ‘abnormal’ and ‘irregular.’ This accusation developed and exaggerated at the Tribune, and elsewhere by Lord Palmerston and Count Cavour, was equally formulated under the Presidency and upon the initiative of the Minister of Foreign Affairs in France, and it is consequently France which must bear the principal responsibility before the Church and Europe. We can recall the grief and surprise which this strange proceeding created in the Catholic world.”

Thus was the game set rolling; and the policy thus indicated was pursued with the eager and unrelenting pertinacity of some, and with the tacit approval of the rest of the co-signatories.

The war declared by France against Austria, which was the precipitating cause of the storm which broke upon the Papal States, can, it is true, only be regarded as evidence of the conspiracy—inasmuch as it was declared by one of the conspirators at the instigation of another, whose ultimate aim was the seizure of the States of the Church and of the other independent Italian sovereignties to the profit of Piedmont. So soon as the victory of the French arms was decided, the Emperor’s proclamation from Milan appeared, inciting the populations to insurrection. All then followed in sequence—the revolt of the Romagnas four days after the Milan manifesto, their annexation along with the other independent states of Central Italy by Piedmont, this annexation being effected with the connivance, if not the consent, of France, and for which payment was eventually made in the cession of Nice and Savoy (all this being in contravention of the treaties of Villafranca and Zurich). But what mattered the contravention of treaties in comparison with the scenes which followed? The programme of the congress, or, if that is denied, the programme of two (if not three, for it is difficult to acquit Lord Palmerston and Lord John Russell of participation by consent) of the powers who had entered into the conspiracy against European order, and these, at that time, the powers in the highest state of military efficiency, was to be carried out per fas et nefas. Naples and the patrimony of St Peter had to be secured, and as they morally presented no vulnerable side, they were seized by the hand of the marauder in defiance of “all law, human and divine.”[347] Garibaldi’s descent on Sicily, effected under the cover of the English navy, was simply a brusque and flagrant act of piracy, for which no plea of justification has ever been set up. The usurpation of the Papal States, though not less ruthlessly accomplished in the end, was carried through with more regard to form in its preliminary stages; yet at the last the diplomatic mask was torn off, and the invasion was made without any pretext or justification known to the law of nations, and without even a declaration of war.

Here, again, the Imperial diplomacy and Italian intrigue went hand in hand. Lamoriciere, in reliance upon the honour of France, had made all his dispositions against Garibaldi, and had received a letter from the French ambassador as late as the 7th September (bearing the same date as the so-called ultimatum of Cavour, although the Piedmontese troops had crossed the frontier before it was delivered), which I shall here reproduce, seeing that it is not on record in the Annuaire des Deux Mondes (1860)—“I inform you by the Emperor’s orders that the Piedmontese will not enter the Roman States, and that 20,000 French are about to occupy the different places of those states. Make, then, all your dispositions against Garibaldi.—Le Duc de Grammont.”[348] (This letter was dated September 7, 1860, the battle of Castelgidardo was fought on the 18th September 1860.) It is needless to add that no reinforcements from France appeared, and that the assurance served no other purpose than to mislead, and to throw Lamoriciere off his guard. Indeed, in spite of various protestations and the subsequent withdrawal of the French ambassador from Turin, the Catholic world settled down into the belief, not only that the Emperor of the French had never had the intention of sending troops to the rescue, but that the whole scheme of the invasion had been deliberately devised at the ominous interview which took place on the 28th of August previous, between the Emperor, Farini, and General Cialdini. It was even said that the words used by the Emperor on the occasion transpired, “frappez fort et frappez vite,”—a terse and striking phrase, which will fitly perpetuate in the human memory the most flagrant violation of the law of nations which history affords.[349]

All this was done with the undisguised satisfaction of several veteran English statesmen, who were, moreover, directly or indirectly represented at the same congress which sought to bind the European powers to call in the arbitration of a friendly power, in case of disagreement, before making an appeal to arms.

Now there is no reason why this rule, good in itself, and congruous to the spirit and maxims of the law of nations, should not have been embodied as a fundamental article in the code; for the law of nations is not a dead-letter, but, like everything that is of tradition, easily lending itself to adaptation and development according to the changing circumstances of the world.

Can we be surprised that this principle, good and according to reason, but which nevertheless presupposes certain sentiments in the world in correspondence with it, should in the actual circumstances have been barren of results? Is it wonderful that it should have miscarried in the hands of men who were parties to the invasion, without even the form of a declaration of war, of the State predestined by divine Providence to be the cornerstone of Christendom? Would it have been befitting that this beneficent arrangement should have been destined to be the work of men who, either by participation or as accessories after the fact, had set their hands to a deed which shocked every principle of morality, and made the very notion of public law in Europe ridiculous?

The early commencements of this policy cannot be studied at a more appropriate moment than now, when we are witnessing its denouement.

What has been the result to France of its Italian policy? To Austria? To England? To Europe?

Has any power prospered that had a hand in setting the ball rolling, or, for that matter, any power that had the responsibility of staying the parricidal hand, and held back? If Austria, the first victim, had firmly and strenuously resisted the early instigations of evil, would she ever, according to human calculations, have had to fight at Magenta and Solferino? and, in another way, was there not something dramatic in the sudden reverse and displacement of Count Buol, who had been the Austrian representative at the Congress, immediately after he had hurled the fatal ultimatum? The retort will be triumphant. Did not France, the great culprit of all, who both cast its own responsibility to the winds and sowed the hurricane, conquer at Solferino? Truly she did; but respice finem, or rather, we may say, we have lived to see the end. Did not Solferino, after some ten years of delusive prosperity, lead up to Sedan? Of England I do not wish to say more than that since that date she has unaccountably fallen in the esteem of men; has, in her turn, met with injustice, and no longer maintains the same relative position which she held during the fifty years preceding the Congress.

Everything, in fine, since that date, seems to have gone in favour of that European power which remained in the background, and which, if it did no good act at the Congress, at least had the worldly wisdom to fold its arms and refrain from sacrilege. Yes, Prussia has had her victory; but by all accounts there never was a victory which has made a nation so sad and mournful, and which was greeted with fewer manifestations of joy. It was peace rather than victory which was welcomed home. Here, too, we seem to see the subtle and nicely-measured retaliation. Again, was there no significance in the unlooked-for disasters at Forbach and Woerth, occurring coincidently with the final abandonment of Rome by France?

These are things which strike the eye, but which are difficult of demonstration, and it would appear a hopeless errand to convince a generation which has witnessed the burning of Paris, if not without emotion, at any rate without serious reflection, and, in spite of manifest prediction, has refused to see in it “the finger of retribution and the hand of God.”

And yet belief in this retribution of heaven is at the foundation of the law of nations. Previously to the astounding experiences of the recent war, during those years so fruitful “in pledges and perjuries,” it was a common phrase, and most frequently used with reference to France, that war was no longer an affair of divine Providence, but that Providence was always on the side of the big battalions.

With one word as to the significance of this phrase, which is tantamount to a negation of the law of nations, I shall conclude.

It may certainly happen, that in a contest one party may be consciously hypocrite, whilst the other is conscious of its rectitude; but presumedly, and until the contrary is manifested, both parties must be supposed to believe themselves in the right, and to run the tilt like knights in the mediæval tournament. Nevertheless, as Dr Johnson said, there are arguments for a “plenum” and for a “vacuum,” but one conclusion only can be true; and in some way in every conflict, which is true and which is just is known only to the inscrutable judgment of the Most High. We do not know all the secrets of courts, neither could we exactly determine the point if we had before us all the deliberations of councils, it is sufficient for us to know that victory is not always on the side of the big battalions, as witness, inter alia, Marathon, Morgarten, Bannockburn, Lepanto, Mentana. Will any Englishman maintain the proposition that victory is always on the side of the big battalions? Then, beginning with Cressy and Poictiers, and following Marlborough through the fields of Blenheim, Ramilies, and Malplaquet, and the Duke of Wellington through the Peninsular War, we must renounce that which gives “the éclat to all our victories.” Doubtless, then, the quality of troops will in some instances weigh far more than numbers. You allow it? We now introduce an element of great uncertainty, and about which there will always be much dispute, and moreover it will always be a matter concerning which religion and morality will have much to say. It is no longer an affair of big battalions, it is no longer reduced to a matter of calculation, on which side the victory is to be. Let me further remark, that whilst there is one set of writers who will be ready to say that Providence is on the side of the big battalions, there is another set of writers, and these the men who are more conversant with the details, who will with great acuteness undertake to prove to you that it is so much an affair of Providence that in each case the victory was scarcely a victory, and only such because some casualty on the other side intervened to convert what would otherwise have been a victory into a defeat. It is unfortunately true that this latter class of historians and strategists do not, as a rule, trace in the turn of events the retribution of Providence. Still, the presumption will always be that victory favours the righteous cause, although it may be only pro hac vice, and ultimate success may not crown the career of the victorious nation, because its virtues may not have merited more than a signal and single success;—or it may even be that its merits may be of a kind such as to gain it a reward which transcends the rewards of earthly victory; or, again, the career of victory must be explained and measured by the depths of the final catastrophe and discomfiture.

In any case, it is a great thing for a nation to have won a victory in a rightful cause. The reward of virtue remains and gladdens the heart in the day of disaster and distress. Whatever may chance to us, there will always lie in store for us the consolation of reading the history of the battle of Waterloo; not, let us say, as the victory of one nation over another nation, but as the great and final triumph of a righteous over an unrighteous cause, gained by England. It is, thank God! impossible alike for the conqueror and the revolutionary multitude to destroy the Past.

INDEX.

• Aboriginal races, their mysterious origin, [35].
• Acton, Lord, [251].
• Adam, supposed identity with Prometheus and Hercules, [42], [180];
  • with Fohi, [64], [232];
  • meaning of the word, [134];
  • correspondence of, with Chaldæan god, Ana, [189].
• Adams, Mr Arthur, [348].
• Adaptability of law of nations, [410].
• Adonis and Venus, myths of, [396], [397].
• Adrastus, the legend of, [179].
• Æneid, the, of Virgil quoted, [212].
• Æschylus, the “Supplicants” of, quoted, [131].
• Africa, commemorative ceremonies of Deluge, [248], [250];
  • Captain Burton’s account of, [251];
  • compared with Catlin’s narrative, [254–260].
  • See also [Deluge], [Commemorative Festivals.]
• Africanus, [95].
• Age of Bronze, the, [334], [335];
  • commencement of, [336].
• Age, the Golden, [323];
  • theory of and commencement, [323];
  • tradition of, [328].
• Age, the Iron, [129].
• Agnatic relationship, [357], [358], [360].
• Algonquins, the, [152].
• Allies, Mr, on divergence between religion and philosophy, [108].
• America, the Mozca Indians of, [70];
  • diluvian traditions in, [242];
  • the “O-kee-pa” of the Mandans, [245], [246];
  • Catlin’s account of ceremonies, [254–262];
  • the Peruvian deity, [186];
  • Peruvian worship, [304].
  • See also [Deluge], [Commemorative Festivals].
• America, the discovery of, a proof of tradition, [324].
• American continent, source of peoples of, [263–266].
• American Indians, the legend of Michabo among the, [152], [153];
  • tradition of fire among, [320].
• Amida or Adima, the Japanese god, [65].
• Amphictyonic Council and League, [361–365].
• Ana, a Chaldæan god, [187];
  • traditional identity of with Adam, [189];
  • a reduplication of Enu or Enoch, [192].
• Ancestors, worship of, [161], [205].
• Ancient society, the unit of, [339].
• Andamans, the, [308], [313].
• Andriossy’s hypothesis regarding overflow of the Nile, [68].
• Anthisteries, the, [226].
• Antiquity of man, [91].
• Apollo, [241].
• Apotheosis of Nimrod, [160].
• Arab and Iroquois, exceptional instances of human progress, [33].
• Arba-Lisun, the, or Four Tongues, [184].
• Arbitration instead of war, [380].
• Areopagus, a cosmopolitic, [383].
• Argos, feast of the deluge at, [243].
• Argyll, Duke of, on tradition, [120], [123];
  • on capability of savage races, [314].
• Arrival and conflict of different races in India, [35–38].
• Aryan nations in India, their struggle with the Santals, [36];
  • their dialect, [36];
  • Mr Tylor on, [41];
  • one of the primitive races, [43];
  • probable identity with Japhetic race, [43];
  • their colour, [84];
  • their mythology, [168].
• Ash, the, tradition regarding, [175], [176].
• Assemblies of Greece, the, [369].
• Assyrian history, corroboration of, [289].
• Assyrian mythology, [182];
  • deities of, 183;
  • Il or Ra, [185];
  • L’Abbe Gainet on, [187];
  • Ana, [187];
  • Bil or Enu, [190];
  • Hea or Hoa, [194];
  • Nebo, [206].
• Asteropœus, [252].
• Astral religion, [163].
• Astronomical cycle of China, [61].
• Athens, the Hydrophoria at, [244].
• Atlantis, the, of Plato an embodiment of tradition, [367].
• Autochthones, or earth-born, [131].
• Avocations of primitive life—hunter, husbandman, and shepherd, [33].
• Babylonian chronology, [57], [58];
  • Hales on, [57].
• Bacchus, connection of, with Saturnalia, [214];
  • reduplications of, [215], [216].
• Baldr, the legend of, localised and individualised, [171];
  • in the Scandinavian Edda, [172];
  • paralleled with an account of the Fall, [172].
• Ballad, Welsh, quoted, [253].
• Basis of international law, [11].
• Basis of theory of Golden Age, [323].
• Baskets of water, the, parallel accounts of by Burton and Catlin, [256].
• Bastian, M.A., on human progress, [75].
• Bath, the Marquis of, [408].
• Bel Nipru or Nimrod, [191].
• Belligerent Rights, [376], [377].
• Belus, the god, [133];
  • identity of with Nimrod, [159].
• Bentham, on International Law, [3], [5];
  • his peculiar crotchet, “utility,” [6];
  • on public opinion, [7];
  • the “greatest happiness” principle, [13];
  • criticism on Blackstone’s views of primitive life, [54].
• Benthamism tested by Darwinism, [17].
• Berosus’ account of Hoa, [327].
• Bertrand, M., legend concerning the man-bull, [203].
• “Bhilsa Tope,” the, [252].
• Bifrons, a name applied to several gods, [220].
• Big battalions, [412], [413].
• Big canoe, the, parallel accounts of, by Burton and Catlin, [255];
  • correspondence of to the canopied boat of Egyptians, [273].
• Bil or Enu, a Chaldæan deity, [190].
• Blackness of complexion, the result of the curse of Canaan, [79];
  • associated with evil, [79];
  • traditions regarding, [81], [82];
  • a mark of inferiority, [84];
  • how used by satirists, [85];
  • operation as a curse, [89], [90].
• Blackstone on primitive life and a state of nature, [54].
• Boat, philology of the word, [196].
• Bochica, [325].
• Bolabola, declaration of war at, [388], [389].
• Bonzies, the, [270].
• Book of Genesis, the, [120].
• Book of Sothis, [95].
• Bougainville on divinities of the Tahitians, [315].
• Boulanger, M., quoted, [118];
  • on diluvian tradition, [242], [243], [247], [262];
  • on the Golden Age, [328], [329].
• Brace, Mr, his “Ethnology,” quoted, [27], [37], [267].
• “Breach of etiquette,” a, consequences of, [403];
  • the ostensible pretext of Franco-German war, [404].
• Brigham Young and the Mormons, [18].
• British Medical Journal on explosive bullets, [400].
• Bronze Age, the, [293], [334], [335];
  • its commencement, [336].
• Bryant, Mr J., [xi].;
  • on creation of man, [133], [136];
  • on the symbol of the bull, [203];
  • on Dionusus, [215];
  • on Noah and Janus, [219];
  • his derivation of Juno and Venus, [392];
  • on the dove, [395].
• Buddhist legend, [136].
• Buffaloes, Feast of the, [260].
• “Bull-dance,” the, [254];
  • parallel accounts of, by Burton and Catlin, [254].
• Bunsen, Baron, [37];
  • on Chinese and Egyptian chronology, [58–62], [73];
  • on Egyptian chronicles, [94–96];
  • on tradition of creation, [132];
  • on the Kabiri, [198];
  • on Arya, [335].
• Burial customs among Mandans and Formosans, [268].
• Burial, mode of, common to several savage nations, [308].
• Burton, Capt. Richard, on Fetish, [80];
  • on Dahome customs, [250];
  • the bull-dance, [254];
  • the big canoe, [255];
  • the baskets of water, [256];
  • the gourds or calabashes, [257];
  • the “aged white man,” [258], [259];
  • customs at Whydat, [262].
• Burton, J. Hill, [3].
• Cadmus and alphabetic writing, [221].
• Caduceatores, the, [390].
• Cain, tradition in Tonga connected with, [82].
• Calmet on “Sem,” or Shem, [207];
  • on Saturn, [210].
• Canaan. See [Chanaan].
• Canada, Col. Macdonell’s service in, [xxiii.], [xxiv.]
• Canaanite race, the correspondence between and aboriginal tribes in India, [39], [48];
  • literal fulfilment of prophecy regarding, [40], [41], [83], [85].
• Canopied boat, the, of the Egyptians, [273].
• Carver, Mr, on Indian wars, [28];
  • the Indian mode of declaration of war, [399], [401];
  • Indian flags of truce, [405].
• Cashmir, tradition of Deluge in, [68];
  • commemorative festival in, [69].
• Catholicism and Christianity, identity of, [113].
• Catlin, Mr G., on traditions of Creation among the Indians, [134], [138];
  • of Deluge, [223];
  • the “O-kee-pa,” [245];
  • the big canoe, [255];
  • the baskets of water, [256];
  • the gourds or calabashes used by the Indians, [257];
  • the “first man,” [258], [259];
  • the “evil spirit,” [260];
  • water ceremonies, [262];
  • on the pheasant, [266];
  • description of a “whale ashore” at Vancouver’s Island, [317];
  • on the cranial development of the Flathead and Crow Indians, [318].
• Caverley’s Theocritus quoted, [217].
• Centre of tradition, the, [339].
• Ceremony at Gorbio, [307].
• Chaldæa, early inhabitants of, [184].
• Chaldæan Pantheon, deities of the, [183].
• Chaldæan system of chronology, [57];
  • religion, [163].
• Champagny, M. F. de, [404], [409].
• Chanaan, or Canaan, the curse of, [79];
  • tradition of this curse among the Sioux Indians, [81];
    • in Tonga, [82].
  • Chandordy, Count, [405].
  • Chaos in the Phœnician cosmogony, [174];
    • the commencement of all things, [174–177].
  • Chateaugay, [xxviii.]
  • China, certain and uncertain history of, [58], [59];
    • astronomical cycle of, [61];
    • aboriginal tribes, [133];
    • belief in, as to creation of man, [134].
  • Chinese chronology, [58–65];
    • confusion in, [65].
  • Chinese tradition of first and second heaven, [328].
  • Chin-nong, [240].
  • Chippeways and Natchez tribes, institution of perpetual fire among, [320].
  • Choctaw Indians, tradition regarding creation of man, [134].
  • Christian doctrine, the foundation of, [142].
  • Chronicles of Egypt, [93].
  • Chronology, Egyptian, Palmer on, [92–104];
    • the Sothic cycle, [96–100];
    • various systems of, [101].
  • Chronology, from the point of view of science, [72];
    • Bunsen’s views, [73];
    • Lyell’s, [73];
    • Sir John Lubbock’s, [73–75];
    • Hales on, [85].
  • Chronology, from the point of view of tradition, [55];
    • historical testimony and evidence in favour of Scriptural, [55];
    • Indian, [56];
    • Babylonian, [57];
    • Hales, Rev. W., on, [57];
    • Chinese, [58–65].
  • Chronos, Saturn as, [218].
  • Cicero, on International Law, [10];
    • “De Legibus” quoted, [368];
    • the “Offices,” [375].
  • Civilisation, a state of, the primitive condition of man, [284].
  • Civilisation, principles and teaching of, [339].
  • Civilisation, progress of man to, [329], [331].
  • Cognation and agnation among the Romans, [357], [358].
  • Coincidences of the Bible with Sanchoniathon, [130].
  • Coleridge, H. N., on oral transmission of tradition, [122].
  • Coleridge, Rev. Henry J., [224];
    • on conflicting elements of heathenism, [344].
  • College, the Fecial, [373].
  • Colour in man, persistency of, [77].
  • Coloured cloth and feathers, emblematic of peace and war, [388–392], [398].
  • Commemorative Festivals. See [Festivals, Commemorative].
  • Comity of nations, restriction of the 379.
  • Communal marriage, [51], [52].
  • Commune, the, [110].
  • Communistic schemes, [109].
  • Comte and the Comtists, [112].
  • Conflicting elements of heathenism, [344].
  • Confusion of tongues, Hesiod on the, [334].
  • Confusion of tradition of Enoch with Xisuthrus and Noah, [326].
  • Conscience, Mr Darwin on, [2], [12];
    • its subjective existence, [12];
    • outward expression, [13].
  • Constituent Assembly, the, of 1789, Montalembert on, [113].
  • Cook, Capt., on customs at Huaheine, [271], [272];
    • quoted, [298];
    • on declaration of war at Bolabola, [388], [389].
  • Copan, the peaceable people of, [29].
  • Cosmogony, Roman ideas of the, [23].
  • Cosmopolitic Areopagus, a, [383].
  • Cox, Rev. G. W., [xiv].;
    • on mythology, [158], [165], [168];
    • on myths of Venus and Adonis, [396], [397].
  • Cranial development of Flathead and Crow Indians, [318].
  • Creation of man, tradition of among Red Indians, [133];
    • Max Müller on, [133].
  • Creation, the, Mexican tradition of, [152], [153];
    • Slavonian account of, [154].
  • Creoles, the persistency of colour in, [77].
  • Cunningham, Major, the “Bhilsa Tope,” [252].
  • Curse of Canaan, the, [79];
    • traditions of, [81–85], [217].
  • Customs of the Samoides, [28];
    • at Huaheine, [271].
  • Cycle, astronomical, of China, [61];
    • the Sothic, [96], [98–100].
  • Dagon, the god of the Philistines, [200];
    • the Fish-man, [219];
    • Mr Layard on, [238].
  • Dahome, the “So-sin” customs of, [250], [251], [254–262];
    • precedence of women in, [259].
  • Dancing an Indian ceremonial, [302], [303].
  • D’Anselme, Vicomte, on philology of Noah and boat, [196].
  • Darkness, associated with the Serpent, [173];
    • the parent of light, [174–177].
  • Darwinism, Benthamism tested by, [17].
  • Darwin on Conscience, [2], [12];
    • and the utilitarians, [15–17].
  • Davies, Rev. E., [xi.], [253].
  • Day and night, used as symbols, [84].
  • Declaration of war, the, [386];
    • accompanied by religious formalities, [386], [387];
    • method of, at Bolabola, [388], [389];
    • at St Julian, [389];
    • symbols used at, [389–392];
    • Plutarch on, [397];
    • traditionary modes of, [398–400];
    • importance attached to forms of, [402];
    • consequences of the violation of forms of, [406–411].
  • Deities of the Chaldæan Pantheon, [183].
  • “De Legibus” quoted, [10], [133].
  • De Quincey, quoted, [383].
  • Deluge of Deucalion, the, [224], [225], [229].
  • Deluge of Ogyges, the, [229];
    • anterior to that of Deucalion, [230];
    • its date, [231].
  • Deluge, the—traditions of, localised in China, [65–67];
    • commemorative monument of, [67];
    • traditions of, in Egypt, [67];
    • in Cashmir, [68];
    • among Sioux Indians, [81];
    • among Tartar tribes, [135];
    • L’Abbé Gainet on, [137];
    • Phrygian legend of, [193];
    • Phœnician legend of, localised, [198];
    • Santal legend of, [199];
    • Etruscan monument commemorative of, [204];
    • connection of Saturn with, [210–212];
    • of Ogyges and Deucalion, [222];
    • traditions of, among Indian tribes, [223];
    • Sanscrit story of, [224];
    • its date, [231];
    • traditions of, among Greeks, [230–235];
    • Frederick Schlegel on, [233], [234];
    • traditions of, in Africa and America, [242];
    • Boulanger on, [242], [243];
    • commemorative festivals of, [243–246], [252–262], [275–282];
    • the dove and rainbow of, [393], [396].
    • See also [Noah].
  • “Democracy in America,” Tocqueville’s, [8].
  • Demonolatry, [146].
  • “De Rerum Natura” quoted, [334].
  • Deucalion, [222];
    • Mr Grote on traditions of, [224], [225];
    • Max Müller on legend of, [226];
    • Mr Kenrick on, [230–232], [241];
    • connected with Hydrophoria at Athens, [244].
  • Devil, the, belief in among savages 302.
  • Devil-worship, [141].
  • Diana, the temple of, [364].
  • Diffusion of Hamitic races, [41].
  • Dike and dikaspoloi, [347].
  • Diluvian tradition. See [Noah], [Deluge].
• Diluvian traditions in Africa and America, [242–282].
  • See [Deluge]. [Festivals (commemorative)].
• Diogenes Laertius’ scheme of chronology, [101].
• Dionusus, identified with Noah, [215];
  • the first king of India, [220], [221].
• Dionysia, [249].
• Discovery of America, the, a proof of tradition, [324].
• Dispersion, the, [329], [336]; rise of government under, [342].
• Disraeli, Mr, on sceptical effects of discoveries of science, [xvi.], [xvii.]
• Distribution of races, [89].
• Divergence between religion and philosophy, [108].
• Divinities of the Tahitians, [315].
• Divinity attaching to forms, [402], [403].
• Dixon, Hepworth, his conversation with Brigham Young, [18];
  • his views of human progress, [32].
• Donoughmore, Earl of, [408].
• Dove, the bird of Venus, [392];
  • traditions of, [394–396].
• Duc de Grammont, the, [404].
• Dyaks and Javanese, contrast in colour, [81].
• Dyans, [170].
• Dyer, Dr, on the Sabines, [352];
  • the temple of Diana, [364].
• Dynasties of Egypt, [97], [98], [102], [103].
• Dynasty of the Popes, [381], [382].
• Eastern Islanders, tradition among the, [200].
• Egg, the mundane, tradition of, [306];
  • an emblem of the Creation, [307];
  • the Mahabarata account of, [308].
• Egypt, chronology of, [92];
  • its Chronicles, [93];
  • dynasties of, [97];
  • commemorative festival of the Deluge in, [249].
• Egyptian chronology, Palmer on, [92–104].
• Egyptians, the, canopied boat of, [273];
  • Jewish rites and ceremonies borrowed from, [274].
• Ellis’s “Polynesian Researches” quoted, [265];
  • on Tahitian relics, [312].
• Endogamy, [45–47], [50].
• English socialists, [110].
• Enoch, result of his disappearance regarding Nimrod, [160];
  • embodied traditionally in Chaldæan gods Ana and Enu, [192].
• Enu or Bil, a Chaldæan deity, [190];
  • a reduplication of Enoch, [192].
• Epimetheus (afterthought) and Prometheus (forethought), [180].
• Epochs of prehistoric archæology, [287], [288].
• Equality of the sexes, [109].
• Eratosthenes, [95];
  • scheme of chronology of, [103].
• Eros and Iris, [394].
• Eschylus, the “Supplicants” quoted, [398].
• Esquimaux, the, [311].
• Ethnological difficulties, [89–91].
• Etruscan monument commemorative of the Deluge, [204].
• Etymologies—of man, [134], [227], [228];
  • Noah, [196];
  • boat, [196];
  • river, [253];
  • horse, [253], [255];
  • plough, [255];
  • names of metals, [290];
  • fire, [321];
  • plough, [335].
• Euridike and Orpheus, [173].
• European league, a general, [381], [382].
• European radicalism, [110].
• Eusebius’ testimony to value of tradition, [120].
• Evil associated with blackness, [79].
• Evil Spirit, the, in Mandan ceremonies, [260].
• “Excursion,” the, of Wordsworth quoted, [145].
• Exogamy, [45–47].
• Falconer’s “Palæontological Mem.,” [139].
• Fall, the, Lenormant on, [128].
• Family, the, [26];
  • tendency to dispersion of, [27];
  • gradual consolidation and expansion into tribes and then to states, [30], [31];
  • the unit of ancient society, [339].
• Family tradition, confusion of, [116].
• Fatimala, the, [40].
• Feast of the Buffaloes, the, [260].
• Feathers, coloured, emblematic of peace and war, [389–392].
• Fecial College, the, [373];
  • correspondence of, with Herald’s College, [374].
• Federal union between Romans and Latins, [355].
• Feegees, the, religion among, [301];
  • their characteristics and civilisation, [313].
• Fergusson, Adam, on the Six Nations, [365].
• Festivals, commemorative, of the Deluge, [66];
  • in Cashmir, [69];
  • among various nations, [243];
  • the Hydrophoria at Athens, [244];
  • the “O-kee-pa,” [245];
  • the Panathenæa, [248];
  • the Dionysia, [249];
  • in Egypt, [249];
  • among the Mandan Indians, [250];
  • the “So-sin” customs of Dahome, [250], [251];
  • at Sanchi, [252];
  • the “Bull-dance,” [254];
  • the “big canoe,” [255];
  • the baskets of water, [256];
  • the gourds and calabashes, [257];
  • the “first man,” [258], [259];
  • among the Santals, [262];
  • among the Japanese, [268], [269];
  • at Huaheine, [271];
  • among the Egyptians, [273];
  • among the Patagonians, [275–279];
  • Pongol Festival of Southern India compared with Mandan and Dahoman ceremonies, [275–282].
  • See [Deluge].
• Fetish, [80].
• Feuds and wars, origin of, [27–29].
• Fire, unknown to various ancient nations, [128], [129];
  • knowledge of among savages, [318–320];
  • Polynesian etymology of the word, [321].
• “First man,” the, in Mandan ceremonies, [258], [259], [263].
• Fish-god, the, of Berosus, [202].
• “Fish, history of the,” [197].
• Flag, the white, a symbol of peace, [391].
• Flags of truce, Carver and Count Chandordy parallelised, [405].
• Flathead and Crow Indians, the heads of, [318].
• Flint, use of, among ancient nations, [297].
• Fohi the great, [63];
  • identified with Adam, [64], [232].
• Formation of States, [342], [343].
• Formosans, burial customs among the, [268].
• Foundation of law of nations, [412].
• Foundation of Christian doctrine, the, [142].
• Foundation of Roman law, [352–360].
• Four Races, the, or Kiprat-Arbat, [184].
• France against Austria, consequences of the war of, [407–409].
• Franco-German war, the, its ostensible pretext, [404];
  • its abnormal character, [404];
  • origin of traced to Congress of 1856, [406].
• Fresquet, De, on declaration of war, [386], [387].
• Fuegians, religion among the, [303], [304];
  • the lowest race of savages, [313].
• Fulfilment of prophecy regarding Chanaan, [40], [41].
• Gainet, L’Abbé, on diluvian tradition, [137];
  • on mythology, [159];
  • on Chaldæan monotheism, [187];
  • translation of the “History of the Fish,” [197];
  • on Deucalion, [228];
  • on Mandan traditions, [272].
• Genesis, the Book of, [120];
  • relation of traditions to, [127], [128], [130].
• Geological speculations, [233].
• “Gesta Romanorum,” tale from the, [179].
• Gibbon, on the use of letters, [120];
  • his “Decline and Fall,” quoted, [120], [361].
• Gladstone, W. E., his “Juventus Mundi,” [114];
  • on the mythology of Homer, [162];
  • on tradition, [182], [183];
  • on impersonation of good and evil, [310];
  • the key to the Homeric system, [332];
  • the progress of Greek morality, [349];
  • the Homeric age, [375].
• Gnostic sect, a curious, [154].
• Goguet, M., on origin of laws, [121];
  • human progress, [128];
  • kinship, [129];
  • Janus, [219].
• Golden Age, the, and Noah, [323];
  • basis of the theory, [323];
  • its commencement, [323];
  • under Saturn, [325];
  • tradition of, [328];
  • Boulanger on, [328], [329];
  • Sir Henry Maine on, [351].
• Gorbio, curious ceremony at, [307].
• Gould, Mr Baring, [xvi.];
  • on “Origin and Development of Religious Belief,” [140];
  • summary of his views, [141];
  • his views opposed to tradition, [142];
  • partial recognition of the value of revelation, [147];
  • on monotheism, [150];
  • on the Samoyed superstitions, [155].
• Gourds and calabashes, the, used in Dahoman and Mandan festivals, [257].
• Govat, Charles E., his description of the Pongol festivals, [275–282].
• Governments, rise of, after Dispersion, [342].
• Gradual progress of religion among primitive peoples, [143], [144], [148], [154].
• Great Hare or Rabbit, tradition of the, [152], [153].
• Greatest happiness principle, the, [13], [16].
• Grecian mythology, [164–170].
• Grecian traditions of the Deluge, [230–235].
• Greek and Latin Leagues, [367].
• Greenwood’s, Col. G., “Rain and Rivers,” quoted, [233], [234].
• Grote, Mr, [30], [42]; on importance of myths, [117];
  • on Deucalion, [224].
• Grotesque belief of the Hindoos as to support of the Earth, [138].
• Guanches, religion of the, [305].
• Guinea, religious festival in, [303].
• Guinnard, M., his narrative of Patagonian ceremonies, [275–279].
• Hales, Rev. W., on chronology, [57], [85], [90].
• Ham, identified with Hoang-ti, [64];
  • prosperity of, [85];
  • tradition of his blackness of complexion, [86];
  • Sir J. G. Wilkinson on, [86];
  • Bacchus identified with, [215].
• Hamitic races, diffusion of the, [41];
  • apostasy of, [160].
• Hea or Hoa, a Chaldæan deity, [194];
  • the inventor of cuneiform writing, [195].
• Heathenism, conflicting elements of, [344].
• Heavens, First and Second, Chinese tradition of, [328].
• Helps, Mr, on worship of Peruvians, [304];
  • his traditions of Peru compared with classical and oriental traditions, [325–327].
• Hercules or Herakles, supposed identity with Adam, [42];
  • confusion of traditions regarding, [158], [180].
• Herodotus quoted, [33], [68].
• Hero-worship an early form of idolatry, [160], [161];
  • among the Chaldæans a source of deification, [188], [190], [191].
• Hesiod and the Iron Age, [129];
  • on the confusion of tongues, [334].
• Hetairism, [53].
• Heterogeneity, [46].
• Hieroglyphic of the Dove, [395].
• Hindoo laws of war, [400].
• Hindoos, curious belief as to the world’s support, [138].
• “Historicus” (in Times) on International law, [384].
• “History of the Fish,” [197].
• History of Western civilisation, Dr Newman on, [338–340].
• Hoa or Hea, [194].
• Hoa, account of, by Berosus, [327].
• Hoang-ti, [60], [63];
  • identified with Shem or Ham, [64];
  • with Noah, [65].
• Home and Foreign Review on Belligerent Rights at Sea, [376], [377].
• Homeric Age, the, [375].
• Homer’s Iliad quoted, [347].
• Hooker, Dr, on the beliefs of the Lepchas, [305];
  • on the Khasias, [306];
  • on the conduct of war, [400].
• Horrors of war, limitations to, [400].
• Horse, etymology of the word, [253], [255].
• Houacouvou, director of evil spirits, Patagonian festival in honour of, [277].
• Huaheine, customs at, [271].
• Human race, tradition of the, [105–153].
• Human society founded upon a contract, [21].
• Hunter, Mr, on Indian traditions, [29];
  • on primitive life in India, [34], [36];
  • on Aryan colour, [84];
  • on Santal customs, [247], [262].
• Husenbeth, Very Rev. Dr, [xv.]
• Huxley’s definition of Positivism, [113].
• Hydrophoria, the, at Athens, [244].
• Hyksos or Shepherds, dynasty of, [102].
• Identification of Noah with Saturn, [325].
• Identity of Christianity and Catholicism, [113].
• Il or Ra, the Chaldæan deity, [183];
  • account of, by Rawlinson, [185].
• Iliad, the, quoted, [347].
• Illustrated London News on Japanese religious festivals, [268];
  • on ceremony at Gorbio, [307].
• Impersonation of good and evil, Mr Gladstone on, [310].
• Indian ceremonials, Washington Irving on, [302].
• Indian chronology, [56].
• Indian mode of declaration of war, [399], [401].
• Indian tribes, close resemblance of one to another, [77].
• Indian wars, their causes, [28], [29].
• Indians, Red, tradition regarding creation of man, [133];
  • of the earth, by Michabo, [152], [153];
  • ordeals and tortures, [247].
• Indians, traditions among Mozca, [70].
• Indo-Germanic races identified with descendants of Japheth, [42].
• Influence of Stoics on Roman law, [372].
• Inheritance through females, [52].
• Interfusion of ancestral and solar worship, [205].
• International Law, the Tablet on, [3];
  • Bentham on, [3], [5], [6];
  • its origin and growth, [4];
  • an unwritten law, [4];
  • De Tocqueville on, [8];
  • Pall Mall Gazette on, [9], [11];
  • Cicero on, [10];
  • an “organised constraint,” [10];
  • analogy with law of honour, [11];
  • original idea at its basis, [11];
  • relation to utilitarianism, [14], [15];
  • the jus feciale, [373];
  • “Historicus” on, [384].
• International Society, the, [110].
• Invention of writing, [123].
• Inventiveness of savage races, Sir J. Lubbock on, [310].
• Ionian federation, the, [364].
• Iris and Eros, [394].
• Iron Age, the, [129].
• Iroquois, traditions regarding creation of man, [135].
• Irving, Washington, on Indian ceremonials, [302].
• Jacob, [151].
• James, W., [xxiii.]
• Janus, [217];
  • derivation of January, [218];
  • a double-headed god, [219], [220];
  • identified with Noah, [326].
• Japan, commemorative festival of the Deluge in, [268], [269].
• Japanese legend of the bull and the egg, [257].
• Japetus, identity of with Japheth, [43].
• Japheth, fulfilment of prophecy regarding the race of, [41];
  • their prosperity, [41];
  • identity with Indo-Germanic races, [42].
• Javan, son of Japheth, identified with Yavana, [43].
• Javanese and Dyaks, contrast in colour, [81].
• Jenkins, Captain, [xxvii.]
• Jewish monotheism, [149].
• Jewish rites and ceremonies borrowed from Egyptians, [272–274].
• Juno and Venus, derivation of names of, [392].
• Jus Feciale, the, [373].
• Jus Gentium, the, [351], [353], [373].
• Kabiri, the, [197];
  • Bunsen on, [198].
• Kant’s scheme of a universal society, [383].
• Kenrick, Mr, on Manu, [228];
  • the tradition of Deucalion, [230–232].
• Khasias, the, superstitions of the, [306].
• King, Captain, quoted, [265];
  • on Sandwich Islanders, [315].
• Kinship through females, [46], [47], [51];
  • Goguet on, [129].
• Kiprat-Arbat, the, or Four Races, [184].
• Klaproth, on Sanscrit history, [68];
  • on the curse of Canaan, [83].
• Kronos, or Noah, [136].
• Lacordaire, L’Abbé, [4];
  • on tradition, [105–107].
• Laertius’, Diogenes, scheme of chronology, [101].
• Lamech, the story of, embodied in various traditions, [178], [179].
• Lapland tradition, a, [296].
• “Last Rambles,” the, of Catlin, quoted, [134].
• Latin League, the, [355].
• Law connected with religion, [368].
• Law, International. See [International Law].
• Law of honour, the, [11].
• Law of Nations, the, an unwritten law, [4];
  • Sir Henry Maine on the, [338];
  • common to all nations, [345];
  • testimony to in the Manx Thing, [347];
  • ancient codes of, [350];
  • the jus gentium, [351];
  • origin of the phrase, [352], [353];
  • the Amphictyonic Council, [361];
  • primary objects of, [367];
  • common source, [371];
  • discussed on the basis of usage, [378];
  • the lex legum of mankind, [385];
  • a modern transgression of, [405];
  • the seizure of Papal States a flagrant violation of, [407–409];
  • adaptability of, [410];
  • foundation of, [412].
  • See [International Law].
• Law of Nature, the, [20];
  • question whether there is or is not a, [20];
  • different solutions of this question, [20];
  • Sir G. C. Lewis on, [22];
  • Sir H. Maine on, [22], [25];
  • what the Roman meant by it, [23];
  • among the ancients, [23];
  • a social compact, [23], [24];
  • tradition of, [350];
  • origin of the phrase, [352], [353].
• Law, unwritten, [369];
  • Ozanam on, [370], [371].
• Laws, the first, of all nations, [121].
• Layard, Mr, on the man-fish, [238].
• League of the Ten Kings, [367].
• Legend of the tortoise, [138], [139];
  • of Michabo, [152], [153];
  • of the bull and the egg, [257].
• Legends of Œdipus and Perseus, [178].
• Legists of different nationalities, their agreement accounted for, [385].
• Lenormant, on Noe, [88];
  • on the Fall, [128].
• Lepchas, the, curious legend of, [224];
  • religion among the, [305], [307].
• Letters, the use of, a distinction between a civilised and savage people, [120].
• Levitical worship, the ceremonial borrowed from Egypt, [272], [273].
• Lewis, Sir G. C, on Law of Nature, [22], [24], [380].
• Light and darkness, as symbols, [84].
• Limitations to horrors of war, [400].
• Local tradition, persistency of, [117].
• Lower Egypt, dynasties of, [103].
• Lowest races of savages, the, [313].
• Lubbock, Sir John, on primitive marriage, [51];
  • on the antiquity of man, [91];
  • on water-worship, [252];
  • on tradition, [283];
  • his theory opposed to that of De Maistre, [287];
  • division of pre-historic archæology, [287],288;
  • untrustworthiness of tradition for evidence of history, [294];
  • on religion among savage races, [299], [300], [308];
  • his suppositions regarding inventiveness of savage races, [310–314];
  • views supported by Duke of Argyll, [314];
  • description of a “whale ashore” in Australia, [316];
  • on the knowledge of fire, [318–321].
• Lucas, Mr Edward, [xv.]
• Lucretius’ “De Rerum Natura” quoted, [334].
• Lyell, Sir C., [xiii.];
  • on human progress, [73], [123].
• Macaulay, Lord, on Benthamism, [13], [15];
  • the dynasty of the Popes, [381], [382].
• Macdonell, Col. George, [xii.];
  • memoir of, [xix.];
  • parentage, [xx.];
  • an admirer of the Stuarts, [xxi.];
  • results of a letter to the War Secretary, [xxii.];
  • raises a regiment of Macdonells, [xxiii.];
  • service in Canada, [xxiv.];
  • the taking of Ogdensburg, [xxv.–xxix.]
• M’Lennan, Mr, on primitive marriage, [44];
  • on marriage customs, [47], [125].
• Macrobius, on Janus Bifrons, [218].
• Maine, Sir Henry, [xv.];
  • on the law of nature, [22], [25];
  • on the law of nations, [338];
  • the unit of ancient society, [341];
  • notions of primitive antiquity, [343];
  • on ancient codes, [350];
  • the jus gentium, [351];
  • origin of name of law of nations, of nature, &c., [352], [353];
  • the foundation of Roman law, [357], [358];
  • his distinction between jus gentium and jus feciale, [373].
• Maistre, Count Joseph de, his theory regarding the early races of man, [78];
  • his view of tradition, [283–286];
  • on the pontifical power, [381].
• Malays, traditions among the, [136].
• Malthus, Mr, theories regarding over-population, [17].
• “Man,” Max Müller on derivation of the word, [134];
  • its etymology, [227], [228].
• Man and the monkey, traditions connecting the, [136].
• Man-bull, the, traditions of, [203].
• Manco-Capac, [240];
  • the lawgiver of Peru, [325];
  • identity of with Quetzalcohuatl, [326].
• Mandan Indians, traditions among the, [134], [138];
  • tradition of the Deluge, [191];
  • commemorative festivals among, [250], [254–262];
  • the Evil Spirit of, [200];
  • source and origin of, [263–266];
  • mode of burial of, [268];
  • art of fortifying their towns, [314].
• Manetho, [94];
  • system of chronology of, [95], [96].
• Man-fish, Mr Layard on the, [238].
• Manning, Dr. See Westminster.
• Manning, W. Oke, [14], [384].
• Man’s progress, from a savage to a civilised state, [32];
  • exceptional cases of the Arab and Iroquois, [33];
  • Lyell’s views of, [73];
  • Lubbock’s views, [73], [75];
  • Bastian’s views, [75].
• Manx Thing, the, [347].
• Maritime Alps, local ceremony in the, [307].
• Marriage, primitive, [44], [125];
  • customs, [47];
  • communal, [51], [52].
• Maupertuis’, M., account of a Lapland tradition, [296].
• Meaco, ceremony in the temple of, at Japan, [269].
• Meaning of the word Adam, [134].
• Melia, Very Rev. Dr P., [xv.]
• Memoir of Colonel Macdonell, [xix–xxix].
• Memphis, [67].
• Menes, the first king of Egypt, [67];
  • early legend regarding, [192];
  • the first who put laws in writing, [295].
• Menu, Ordinances of, [40], [49].
• Metallic weapons of ancient races, [290], [293].
• Metallurgy of the ancients, Mr Vaux on the, [292].
• Mexico, the States of, [366].
• Mexicans, traditions among the, regarding creation of man, [133];
  • of the earth, [153].
• Michabo, the legend of, among the American Indians, [152], [153].
• Mill, Mr J. S., quoted, [32];
  • on the status of women, [109].
• Mistletoe, the legend of the, [172], [176].
• Mivart, Mr St George, [xv.]
• Modes of settlement into communities, [31].
• Monkey and man, traditions connecting the, [136].
• Monogamy, [124].
• Monotheism, Jewish, [149];
  • Semitic, [170];
  • Chaldæan, [187].
• Mosaic law, origin of, [359].
• Montagu, Lord Robert, M.P., [xvi.]
• Montalembert, De la, [4], [113];
  • on results of Congress of Paris, in 1856, [406].
• Montesquieu, [384], [385].
• Montfauçon on Bacchus, [215];
  • the declaration of war, [387].
• Mormons, the, [18].
• Mosaic authorship of Pentateuch, evidence of, [359].
• Mozca Indians, the, [70];
  • tradition of Bochica among, [325].
• Müller, Mr Max, on Aryan dialects, [36];
  • on Comparative Philology, [116];
  • on derivation of the word man, [134], [228];
  • nature-worship, [143];
  • mythology, [165], [167–170];
  • on legend of Deucalion, [226];
  • “Comparative Philology” quoted, [393].
• Mundane egg, the, [306], [307].
• Myrmidon, [240].
• Mysterious origin of aboriginal races, [35].
• Mythological tradition among the Eastern Islanders, [200].
• Mythology, [157];
  • source and origin of, [159–164];
  • solar, [166];
  • Rev. G. W. Cox on, [168];
  • Max Müller on, [167–170];
  • complications and confusion in, [171–181];
  • Assyrian, see [Assyrian mythology].
• Myths connecting man with the monkey, [136].
• Myths, their importance, [117].
• Natchez tribes, institution of perpetual fire among, [320].
• Nations, law of. See International Law, Law of Nations.
• Natural right, [5].
• Nature, law of. See Law of Nature.
• Nature-worship, [143], [163], [173].
• Nazarians, the, a curious Gnostic sect, [154].
• Nebo, a Chaldæan deity, [206];
  • resemblance of, to Shem, [207].
• Necessities of the pastoral life, [27].
• Negro, the, persistency of colour in, [77];
  • subserviency of, [80].
• Ner, soss, and sar, Chaldæan periods of time, [57].
• Nergal identified with Mars, [164].
• Newman, Dr, [310], [323];
  • on history of Western civilisation, [338–340].
• New Zealanders, curious tradition among, [139];
  • their degeneration and retrogression, [321], [322].
• Nicolas, Mon. A., [107].
• Niebühr, quoted, [364].
• Nillson, Professor, on the Stone Age, [290], [292];
  • quoted, [297].
• Nimrod, a powerful chieftain, [88];
  • in the Chaldæan mythology, [158];
  • identity with Belus, [159];
  • his apotheosis confounded with Enoch’s disappearance, [160].
• Nin or Ninip, the true fish-god, [200];
  • identification with Noah, [202];
  • emblem of, in Assyria, [203];
  • note of Rawlinson on, [205].
• Noah (or Noe), identified with Shin-nong, [64], [232];
  • with Oannes, [139];
  • confusion of traditions regarding, [158];
  • traditions of, among the Chaldæans, [183];
  • philology of the name, [196];
  • warlike epithets applied to, [202];
  • correspondence of Nin to, [202];
  • Nebo a counterpart of, [206];
  • identifications of (with Xisuthrus) [208], (with Saturn) [210–212], (with Bacchus) [215], (with Janus) [217], [326], (with Ogyges and Deucalion) [222];
  • the depositary of tradition and channel of law, [236];
  • summary of evidence regarding traditional identifications, [236–241];
  • and the Golden Age, [323];
  • proofs of identity with Saturn, [325];
  • associations of dove and rainbow with, [393], [396]. See also Deluge, Festivals, commemorative.
• Nomadic life, [27].
• Normandy, the Marquis of, [408].
• Notions of primitive antiquity, [343].
• “Num,” the deity of Samoides, [155].
• Oannes, the mysterious fish, [199];
  • the god of science and knowledge, [201].
• Oceanus, Saturn identified as, [217].
• Œdipus, legend of, [178];
  • identified with Lamech, [178];
  • corruption of the legend in the “Gesta Romanorum,” [179].
• “Offices,” the, of Cicero quoted, [373].
• Ogdensburg, the taking of, [xxvii.]
• Ogier, M. Pegot, on the worship of the Guanches, [305].
• Ogilby’s “Japan,” quoted, [268], [269].
• Ogyges and Deucalion, traditional connection of, with Deluge, [222].
• “O-kee-pa,” the, a religious ceremony of Mandans, [245], [246].
• Old Chronicle of Egypt, the, [93];
  • analysis of, [97].
• Opischeschaht Indians, ceremonies among the, [268].
• “Oracula Sybillina,” the, quoted, [188], [195], [236], [237].
• Oral transmission of tradition, [121], [122];
  • H. N. Coleridge on, [122].
• Orbis terrarum, the, [338], [339];
  • nucleus of, [344].
• Ordeals among the Indians, [247].
• Ordinances of Menu, [40], [49].
• Oriental religions, Cardinal Wiseman on the, [154].
• “Origin and Development of Religious Belief,” Mr Baring Gould on, [140–153].
• Origin and growth of International law, [4].
• “Origin of Laws,” Goguet’s, quoted, [128].
• Origin of Mosaic law, [359].
• Orpheus and Euridike, [173].
• “Orvar Odd’s saga,” [296], [297].
• Osiris, the judge of the soul, [189], [240].
• Over-population, Malthus’ views regarding, [17].
• Ox Temple of Meaco, ceremony in the, [269].
• Ozanam, on Laws, [370], [371].
• Pachacamac, the Peruvian deity, [186], [304], [305].
• Pagan view of the social compact, [23].
• Pall Mall Gazette, the, on the Darwinian theory of conscience, [2], [12];
  • on laws, [9], [11];
  • on utilitarianism, [14], [18];
  • on European radicalism, [110];
  • on the custom of the Manx Thing, [347].
• Palmer, Mr William, on Egyptian chronology, [92–104], [159];
  • on Osiris, [189].
• Panathenæa, the, [248].
• Pantheon, the, of the Egyptians, [159];
  • of the Chaldæans, [163].
• Papacy, the, head of a general European league, [381], [382].
• Papal States, seizure of the, [407–409].
• Paralleled traditions, [254–262];
  • customs, [268];
  • festivals, [275–282], [325–327].
• Parlementaires, [405].
• Pastoral life, necessities of, [27].
• Pastoret’s History, quoted, on Amphictyonic Council, [363], [364], [369].
• Patagonians, religious festivals among the, [275–279].
• Peace and war, symbols of, [388–392].
• Peacock, the, symbol of the rainbow, [388–392].
• Pelasgians, the, [361].
• Pelasgus, [240].
• Pentateuch, the Rev. W. Smith’s work on, quoted, [272], [273], [359].
• Pentheus, the fate of, [217].
• Peopling of American Continent, how accomplished, [263–266].
• Persistency of colour in African races and others, [77].
• Perseus, legend of, [178].
• Persians, ancient tradition of the, [128].
• Peru, the deity of, [186].
• Peruvians, worship of the, [304];
  • Garcilasso de la Vega on, [305].
• Pheasant, the, relation of, to the Mandans, [266].
• Philology, comparative, [116].
• Philosophy alone is not religion, [145].
• Phœnician tradition of Deluge, [211];
  • cosmogonies, [132], [159].
• Phoroneus, the father of mankind, [90], [239].
• Phrygian legend of the Deluge, [193].
• Pinkerton’s account of religion of the Samoides, [155].
• Plato, tradition of condition of families recorded by, [30], [332];
  • his Atlantis, an embodiment of tradition, [367].
• Plough, etymology of the word, [255], [335].
• Plumtre’s Æschylus, [390].
• Plutarch’s “Numa,” quoted, [397].
• Polyandry, regulated and rude, [48], [49].
• Polygamy, [125].
• “Polynesian Researches,” quoted, [265].
• Polytheism and monotheism, [149–151].
• Pongol festival of Southern India, [275–282].
• Pontifical power, the, [381].
• Poole, Mr, [76].
• Pope, the, centre of a European league, [382].
• Pope’s Odyssey quoted, [389].
• Poseidon, [240].
• Positivism, Huxley’s definition of, [113].
• Posterity of Ham, the, [87], [88].
• Precedence of women in Dahome, [259].
• Pottery, the art of, an evidence of progress, [73], [311].
• Pre-historic Archæology divided into four epochs, [287], [288].
• Prayer and Punishment, expressed by same word by Latins, [286].
• Prescott’s “History of Mexico” quoted, [309], [366].
• Prevost, Sir G., [xxv.], [xxvi.]
• Primary objects of Law of Nations, [367].
• Primitive condition of mankind, traditions regarding, from Sanchoniathon, [126], [284].
• Primitive life, [26];
  • the family, [26];
  • society and government, [26];
  • necessities of pastoral, [27];
  • origin of feuds and wars, [27–29];
  • tendency to dispersion, [27];
  • gradual consolidation, [30], [31];
  • Mr J. S. Mill on, [32];
  • progress from a savage to a civilised state, [32];
  • the Arab and Iroquois exceptional instances, [33];
  • distinctive avocations of hunter, husbandman, and shepherd, [33];
  • in India, Mr Hunter on, [34], [36];
  • exogamous tribes, [46];
  • polyandrous families, [48];
  • marriage, [49–51];
  • views of Blackstone on, [54].
• Primitive marriage, Mr M’Lennan’s theory of, [44];
  • Sir John Lubbock on, [51].
• Primitive races, [43].
• Prophecy of St Malachy, [380].
• Progress of man to civilisation, [329], [331].
• Prometheus, supposed identity with Adam, [42];
  • confusion of traditions regarding, [158], [180].
• Promiscuity, [47], [125].
• Pu-an-ku, the primeval man, [63].
• Public opinion, [6], [7].
• Purification and punishment, association of, [286].
• Pythagoras, [233].
• Quapaws, tradition of the, [29].
• Quetzalcohuatl, identity of with Manco Capac, [326].
• Quincey, De, [136];
  • on Kant’s scheme of a universal society, [383].
• Rabbit, the Great, tradition of, [152], [153].
• Races, primitive, [43].
• Radicalism, European, [110].
• Radien, the deity of Scandinavian mythology, [186].
• “Rain and Rivers,” the, of Col. G. Greenwood, quoted, [233], [234].
• Rainbow, the symbol of peace, [392];
  • tradition of the, [393–395].
• Ra or Il, the Chaldæan deity, [183];
  • account of, by Rawlinson, [185].
• Ravana, [50].
• Rawlinson, Professor, [xvi.], [25], [30];
  • on Babylonian chronology, [57], [58];
  • on good and evil personifications, [83];
  • identification of Nergal with Mars, [164];
  • on deities of Chaldæan Pantheon, [183], [185], [190], [194];
  • on Nin or Ninip, [205];
  • on Noah, [239];
  • corroboration of Assyrian history, [289];
  • the use of metals, [293].
• Reduplication and confusion of deities, [190].
• Reduplications—of Yao and Hoang-ti, [65];
  • of Enoch, [192];
  • of Bacchus, [215], [216].
• Relics of Scriptural tradition in Greece, [182].
• Religion and philosophy, divergence between, [108].
• Religion of the Samoides, [155];
  • among savage races, [299];
  • the Tonpinambas of Brazil, [301];
  • the Feegees, [301];
  • among Indians, [302], [303];
  • in Guinea, [303];
  • among the Fuegians, [303], [304];
  • among Peruvians, [304], [305];
  • among Lepchas and Limboos, [305];
  • among the Khasias, [306];
  • among Andamans, [308];
  • among Tahitians, [314], [315];
  • among Sandwich Islanders, [315];
  • in Vancouver’s Island, [317].
• Religion, gradual progress of, among primitive peoples, [143], [144], [148], [154].
• “Religion the representation of a philosophic idea,” [141].
• Religious formalities on declaration of war, [386].
• Restriction of the comity of nations, [379].
• Revelation, primitive, [146], [147].
• Rites, Levitical, borrowed from the Egyptians, [272], [273].
• River, etymology of the word, [253].
• Rock, the Very Rev. Dr, [387].
• Roman Church, the Spectator on, [110].
• Roman law, [351–353];
  • influence of Stoics on, [372].
• Roman ideas of the cosmogony, [23].
• Romans and Latins, political union of the, [355].
• Rude and regulated polyandry, [48], [49].
• Ryley, Mr E., on Belligerent Rights, [376], [377].
• Sabines, the, [352].
• Sacrifices in the Temple of Neptune, [368].
• Sacrificial weapons, [293].
• St Julian, scene at, [389].
• St Malachy, ancient prophecy of, [380].
• Saluberry, General De, [xxvii.]
• Samoans, the, [313].
• Samoides, customs of the, [28];
  • their religion, [155], [156].
• Samoyed traditions of Creation, [154], [155].
• Sanchi, commemorative festival of Deluge at, [252].
• Sanchoniathon, traditions from, [126];
  • relation of, to Genesis, [127], [128], [130];
  • on diluvian tradition, [211].
• Sandwich Islanders, religion among the, [315].
• Sanscrit literature, [56];
  • etymology of the word plough, [335].
• Sanscrit story of the Deluge, [224].
• Santals, the, [35];
  • struggle with the Aryans for the mastery, [36];
  • traditions of, [223];
  • customs of, [262].
• Satirists, use of blackness of complexion by, [85].
• Saturday Review, the, on Mr Gladstone’s “Juventus Mundi,” [114];
  • on Indian traditions, [228].
• Saturnalia, the, [214].
• Saturn, identified as Nin, [201];
  • traditional connection of, with Deluge, [210–212];
  • reference to as Oceanus, [217];
  • the inventor of agriculture, [325].
• Savage belief in the devil, [302].
• Savage races, vestiges of religion among, [299], [300].
• Scandinavian Edda, story of Baldrin, [172];
  • quoted, [175].
• Scandinavian mythology, the deity of, [186].
• Sceptical effect of discoveries in science, [xvi.], [xvii.]
• Scheme of a universal society, Kant’s, [383].
• Schemes, communistic, [110].
• Schlegel on tradition, [124];
  • on Chaldæan mythology, [188];
  • on Indian traditions, [199];
  • on diluvian tradition, [233], [234].
• Scriptural chronology, historical testimony and evidence in favour of, [55].
• Scriptural tradition, relics of in Greece, [182].
• Scripture and tradition, [119].
• Scythians, the, [33].
• Seebohm, Mr F., [xv.]
• Semitic monotheism, [170].
• Serpent, the, associated with darkness, [173].
• Servitude in marriage, the law of, [109].
• Sethites and Cainites, [188].
• Shakergal, the feast of roses in Cashmir, [69].
• Shem, resemblance of Nebo to, [207].
• Shepherds, dynasty of the, [102].
• Shin-nong, the divine husbandman, [63];
  • identified with Noah, [64], [232].
• Siethas, the, worshipped by the Lapps, [155].
• Sioux Indians, tradition among the, regarding blackness of complexion, [81];
  • of creation of man, [134].
• Six Nations, tribes of the, [365].
• Slavonian account of the Creation, [154].
• Smith, Rev. Dr, on the Pentateuch, [272], [273];
  • origin of Mosaic law, [359].
• Social compact, the, Pagan view of, [23].
• Socialists, English, [110].
• Society and government, elementary constituent of, [26].
• Society, human, founded upon a contract, [21].
• Solar and ancestral worship, interfusion of, [205].
• Solar mythology, [166], [172].
• “So-sin,” the, commemorative festival in Dahome, [250], [254].
• Soss, sar, and ner, Chaldean periods of time, [57].
• Sothic cycle, the, [96], [98–100].
• Sothis, Book of, [95].
• Southern India, Pongol festival of, [275–282].
• “Spanish Conquest of America,” the, of Helps, quoted, [304], [325–327].
• Spectator, the, on the Roman Church, [110].
• Spencer, Dr, [274].
• State of nature, a, [331–333].
• States, formation of, [342–343].
• Stephens’ “Central America” quoted, [29].
• Stevens, Mr E. T., [269], [296].
• Stoics, the, their influence on Roman law, [372].
• Stone Age, the, untenable hypothesis of, [289];
  • Professor Nillson on, [290], [292], [297];
  • evidence in favour of, [296], [297];
  • mode of burial in, [308], [309].
• Stripes of coloured cloth, emblematic, [388].
• “Struggle for existence,” the, [16].
• Subjective existence of conscience, [12].
• Sudra, the, [40].
• Sun-worship, [154–156], [163].
• Superstitions of the Khasias, [306].
• “Supplicants,” the, of Æschylus quoted, [131].
• Symbols of peace and war, [388–392].
• Syncellus, [94], [95], [97];
  • quoted, [199].
• Tablet, The, quoted, [2];
  • on Arbitration instead of War, [380];
  • on position of the Papacy, [382].
• Tahitians, the, tools of, [290];
  • religion and civilisation of, [314], [315].
• Tamanacs, tradition of the, [229].
• Tangaloa, the Tonga god, [82].
• Tartar tribes, tradition of Deluge among, [135].
• Tasman’s “Voyage of Discovery” quoted, [298], [299].
• Tasmanians, knowledge of fire among the, [319].
• Taurus, [204].
• Taylor, Rev. Richard, on the New Zealanders, [321], [322].
• Temple of Diana, the, [364].
• Temple of Neptune, sacrifices in the, [368].
• Tendency of tradition to uncertainty and distortion, [115], [116];
  • to reduplication, [209].
• Ten Kings, League of the, [367].
• Themis and Themistes, [346], [348], [349].
• Three stages of progress with man, [32].
• Times, The, quoted, [245], [380];
  • on Franco-German war, [403].
• Tlascala, the republic of, [366], [367].
• Tlascopan, the kingdom of, [366].
• Tocqueville, De, on international law, [8].
• Tohil, the fire-god, [319].
• Tonga, tradition in, regarding blackness of complexion, [82].
• Tongusy, the religion of the, [156].
• Tonpinambas, the, of Brazil, [301].
• Topan, the idol, [269].
• Tortoise, curious belief regarding the, [138], [139].
• Tortures among the Indians, [247].
• “Totems and Totemism,” [125].
• Tradition—among Mozca Indians, [70];
  • of the human race, [105];
  • Père Lacordaire on, [105–107];
  • common origin of, [108];
  • antagonism of religion to, [109];
  • tendency of, to uncertainty and distortion, [115], [116];
  • confusion of family tradition, [116];
  • persistency of local, [117];
  • unity of Scripture with, [119];
  • Duke of Argyll on, [120];
  • testimony of Eusebius to value of, [120];
  • oral transmission, the main channel of, [122];
  • Schlegel on, [124];
  • Sanchoniathon on, [126];
  • concordance and divergence in, [130];
  • truth and persistence of, [131];
  • of the creation of man, [131–137];
  • intellectual strictures upon, [139];
  • opposition of Baring Gould’s views, [142];
  • relics of scriptural, in Greece, [182];
  • of the man-bull, [203];
  • of the Deluge among American Indians, [223];
  • among Santals and Lepchas, [224];
  • the Saturday Review on Indian, [228];
  • Sir John Lubbock on, [283];
  • De Maistre’s view, [283–286];
  • untrustworthiness and uncertainty of, according to Lubbock, [294];
  • a Lapland, [296];
  • capacity of savages for transmission of, [297–299];
  • evidences of, in religion of savage nations, [301–306];
  • of the mundane egg, [306–308];
  • of fire, [319], [320];
  • the discovery of America a proof of, [324];
  • of Bochica among Mozca Indians, [325];
  • Peruvian, compared with classical and oriental, [325–327];
  • transfusion and intermixture of, [327], [328];
  • of Golden Age, [328];
  • of first and second heavens among Chinese, [328];
  • of age of primitive equality, [332];
  • coincidence of science with, [334];
  • the centre of, [339];
  • preservation of, under patriarchal governments, [343];
  • of a law common to all nations, [345];
  • of a law of nature, [350];
  • the Atlantis of Plato an embodiment of, [367];
  • of law connecting religion, [368];
  • of the rainbow, [393–395];
  • of the dove, [393–396];
  • of modes of declaration of war, [398].
  • See also [Deluge], [Festivals], [Noah].
• Traditions connecting man with the monkey, [136].
• Traditions, paralleled and compared, of diluvian customs, [254–262], [268].
• Transition from Stone to Bronze Age, [293].
• Treaties, the violation of, [409], [410].
• Tressan, L’Abbe, on mythology, [208].
• Tribes of the Malay peninsula, [136];
  • of the Six Nations, [365].
• Triptolemus, the inventor of the plough, [216].
• Truth and persistence of tradition, [131].
• Turanian race, their migrations, [37].
• Turditani, the, [240].
• Tylor, Mr E. B., [xiv.], [41];
  • on myths connecting man with the monkey, [136];
  • on Animism, [300].
• Union of Romans and Latins, the, [355].
• Universal society, scheme of a, [383].
• Unwritten laws, [369].
• Usage the basis of law of nations, [378].
• Untenable hypothesis of a Stone Age, [289].
• Urquhart, Mr D., [386].
• Utilitarianism and international law, [14], [15].
• “Utility,” Bentham’s peculiar crotchet, [6];
  • the basis of his juridical system, [12].
• Vaivaswata, [197].
• Valdegamas, Marquis de, [112].
• Vancouver’s Island, scene on, [317].
• Vaux, Mr, on metallurgy of the ancients, [292].
• Vega, Garcilasso de la, on Peruvian religion, [305].
• Venus, [396];
  • myths of, [396], [397].
• Vestiges of religion among savage races, [299], [300].
• Vigne, Mr G. G., [64], [69].
• Violation of treaties, the, [409], [410].
• Virgil, lines of, on Saturn, [137];
  • his Æneid quoted, [211];
  • the Eclogues, [327].
• Virtue and vice personified as white and black in the Zendavesta, [83].
• Voltaire, the intellect of, [113].
• Voltairean prejudices against primitive records, [25].
• Vul, the son of Ana, [193].
• Wallace, Mr, [81];
  • on man, [91].
• Wallis, Captain, [291], [389].
• Wallis, Mr J. E., [2].
• War and peace, symbols of, [388–392].
• War, the Declaration of, [386]. See Declaration of War.
• Warburton, E., on oral transmission of past events among the Indians, [121].
• Waring, Mr J. B., [308].
• Warlike epithets applied to Noah, [202].
• Water, etymology of the word, [253].
• Weapons of metal among ancient races, [290], [293].
• Weld, Rev. A., [xiv.]
• Weld, F. A., Governor of Western Australia, [297].
• Welsh ballad quoted, [253].
• Westminster, Archbishop of, [xv.]
• “Whale ashore,” a, contrasted descriptions of, by Catlin and Sir John Lubbock, [316], [317].
• Whately, Archbishop, [283].
• White and black personifications of vice and virtue in the Zendavesta, [83].
• White flag, the, a symbol of peace, [391].
• Wilkinson, Sir J. G., on Ham, [86];
  • his “Ancient Egyptians” quoted, [335].
• Wilson’s “Archæologia of Scotland” quoted, [289], [293].
• Wiseman, Cardinal, [39];
  • on the distribution of man, [82];
  • the unity of Scripture with tradition, [119];
  • the Oriental religions, [154];
  • conformity of grammatical forms, [189];
  • Jewish rites and ceremonies, [274];
  • the growth of nations, [331].
• Wordsworth’s “Excursion” quoted, [145].
• Women, their status, [109];
  • precedence of, in Dahome, [259].
• Worship, mode of, among the Peruvians, [304].
• Worship of ancestors, [161], [205].
• Writing, its invention, [123];
  • cuneiform, [195];
  • Greece indebted to Cadmus for, [221].
• Xisuthrus, attempted identification of with Noah, [208].
• Yao or Yu, [65];
  • erection of monument by, commemorative of the Deluge, [67].
• Yavana identified with Javan, son of Japheth, [43].
• Yokohama, religious festivals at, [268].
• Zendavesta, the, [83].
• Zeus, [169–171].

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Disputationes Theologicæ de Justitia et Jure ad Normam Juris Municipalis Britannici et Hibernicæ conformatæ. Auctore Georgio Crolly, in Collegio S. Patricii apud Maynooth Sacræ Theologiæ Dogmaticæ et Moralis Professore. 12mo, 7s. 6d.

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Faith and Reason. A translation of the well-known work of the Abbé Martinet, well adapted for circulation in the present day. 8vo, cloth, 5s. 6d.

17 & 18 Portman Street, & 63 Paternoster Row.

The New Testament Narrative, in the Words of the Sacred Writers. With Notes, Chronological Tables, and Maps. A book for those who, as a matter of education or of devotion, wish to be thoroughly well acquainted with the Life of our Lord. What is narrated by each of His Evangelists is woven into a continuous and chronological narrative. Thus the study of the Gospels is complete and yet easy. Cloth, 2s.

“The compilers deserve great praise for the manner in which they have performed their task. We commend his little volume as well and carefully printed, and as furnishing its readers, moreover, with a great amount of useful information in the tables inserted at the end.”—Month.

“It is at once clear, complete, and beautiful.”—Catholic Opinion.

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The Countess of Glosswood: a Tale of the Times of the Stuarts. From the French. 3s. 6d.

“The tale is well written, and the translation seems cleverly done.”—Month.

“This volume is prettily got up, and we can strongly recommend it to all as an excellent and instructive little book to place in the hands of the young.”—Westminister Gazette.

“An excellent translation, and a very pretty tale, well told.”—Catholic Opinion.

“This is a pretty tale of a Puritan conversion in the time of Charles II., prettily got up, and a pleasing addition to our lending-libraries.”—Tablet.

“This tale belongs to a class of which we have had to thank Messrs. Burns for many beautiful specimens. Such books, while they are delightful reading to us who are happily Catholics, have another important merit—they set forth the claims of Catholicism, and must do a vast deal of good among Protestants who casually meet with and peruse them. The book before us is beautifully got up, and would be an ornament to any table.”—Weekly Register.

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The Agonising Heart: Salvation of the Dying, Consolation of the Afflicted. By the Rev. Father Blot, Author of “The Agony of Jesus.” With approbation of the Bishop of Mans. Price 4s. 2 vols.

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The Love of our Lord Jesus
Christ. Three vols. 8vo, 31s. 6d. A translation for the first time of the standard work of St. Jure.

The Glories of Mary. By St. Alphonsus Liguori. Edited by the Rev. F. Coffin, Provincial of the Redemptorists. New edition, cloth, 3s. 6d. This is the only edition which has the Work of the Saint entire, and in a correct translation.

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The Raccolta of Indulgenced
Prayers. Translated (by authority) by the Rev. Father St. John. New edition, cloth, 3s. 6d.; calf, 6s. Supplement to former editions, 6d.—Also, uniform, Sarra on Indulgences, 1s.

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Memorials of those who suffered for the Faith in Ireland in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, and Eighteenth Centuries. Collected from authentic and original documents by Myles O’Reilly, B.A., LL.D. 8vo, cloth, 7s. 6d.

“A very valuable compendium of the martyrology of Ireland during the times of active Protestant persecution. The language of many of these original records is inexpressibly touching.”—Dublin Review. “Very interesting memories.”—Month.

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The Doctrine of the Spiritual Life. By Father Lallemant, S.J. New edition, 5s.

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A Harmony of the Gospels. By the Rev. Father Law, of the Oratory. 1s.

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Little Book of the Love of God. By Count Stolberg. With Life of the Author. Cloth, 2s.

“An admirable little treatise, perfectly adapted to our language and modes of thought.”—Bishop of Birmingham.

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Heroines of Charity. Containing Popular Lives of

• Mme. de Miramion.
• Mme. de Pollalion.
• Mdlle. de Lamoignon.
• Louise de Marillac.
• Duchess de Aiguillon.

• The Sisters of Vincennes.
• Jeanne Biscot.
• Anne de Melun.
• The Little Sisters of the Poor.

Cloth neat, 2s. 6d.

17 & 18 Portman Street, & 63 Paternoster Row.