That never of him was founden shred;
But dust upon the ground he lay.
The white dragon vanished and was seen no more; but the tyrant Vortigern fulfilled the fate of the red dragon, being burnt in his castle near Salisbury. These two dragons met again, however, as red and white roses.
Many developments corresponding to these might be cited. One indeed bears a startling resemblance to our English legends. Of King Nuat Meiamoun, whose conquest of Egypt is placed by G. Maspero about B.C. 664–654, the Ethiopian ‘Stele of the Dream’ relates:—‘His Majesty beheld a dream in the night, two snakes, one to his right, the other to his left, (and) when His Majesty awoke ... he said: ‘Explain these things to me on the moment,’ and lo! they explained it to him, saying: ‘Thou wilt have the Southern lands, and seize the Northern, and the two crowns will be put on thy head, (for) there is given unto thee the earth in all its width and its breadth.’ These two snakes were probably suggested by the uræi of the Egyptian diadem.
Beyond the glory reflected upon a monster from his conqueror, there would be reason why the alchemist and the wizard should encourage that aspect of the dragon. The more perilous that Gorgon whose blood Esculapius used, the more costly such medicament; while, that the remedy may be advantageous, the monster must not be wholly destructive. This is so with the now destructive now preservative forces of nature, and how they may blend in the theories, and subserve the interests, of pretenders is well shown in a German work on Alchemy (1625) quoted by Mr. Hardwicke. ‘There is a dragon lives in the forest, who has no want of poison; when he sees the sun or fire he spits venom, which flies about fearfully. No living animal can be cured of it; even the basilisk does not equal him. He who can properly kill this serpent has overcome all his danger. His colours increase in death; physic is produced from his poison, which he entirely consumes, and eats his own venomous tail. This must be accomplished by him, in order to produce the noblest balm. Such great virtue as we will point out herein that all the learned shall rejoice.’
It will be readily understood that these traditions and fables would combine to ‘hedge about a king’ by ascribing to him familiarity with a monster so formidable to common people, and even investing him with its attributes. The dragon’s name, δράκῶν, derived from the Sanskrit word for serpent (dṛig-visha), came to mean ‘the thing that sees.’ While this gave rise to many legends of præternatural powers of vision gained by tasting or bathing in a dragon’s blood, as in the poem of Siegfried; or from waters it guarded, as ‘Eye Well,’ in which Guy’s dragon dipped its tail to recover from wounds; the Sanskrit sense of eye-poisoning was preserved in legends of occult and dangerous powers possessed by kings,—one of the latest being the potent evil eye popularly ascribed in Italy to the late Pius IX. But these stories are endless; the legends adduced will show the sense of all those which, if unexplained, might interfere with our clear insight into the dragon itself, whose further analysis will prove it to be wholly bad,—the concentrated terrors of nature.
[1] I have in my possession a specimen of the horned frog of America, and it is sufficiently curious.
[2] Gesta Rom., cap. 68. Grimm’s Myth., 650 ff. Simrock, p. 400.
[3] Others derive the name from the ancient Borbetomagus.