Athene, he honestly confesses that no analogy can be found for this, and yet he adds: 'the connection of Atthis and Athene is so completely beyond the reach of doubt that it is not injured in the least by this defect.' Lastly, when he perceives that the first vowel in Athene is short, while it is long in âptya, he tries to explain this by the accent, which is again impossible; or he simply postulates a form ǎptya, by the side of âptya, which, however, has no existence. = I doubt whether after this, a single Sanskrit scholar would put his name to the equation âptyânâ = Athana, and there is no necessity therefore to examine the further speculations, which are based on it. If Athana, according to Benfey, is the lightning, and not the dawn, or if she is, according to others, both the lightning and the dawn, this would have to be established by other evidence; it cannot be established by her name. The equation Ahanâ Athene, on the contrary, is phonetically irreproachable, and mythologically perfectly intelligible1. I do not wish to deny the principle to which Benfey appeals so frequently in his essay on Athana, namely that dialectic irregularities must by necessity abound in mythological names. There are limits, no doubt, to our respect for phonetic laws, but this applies chiefly to cases where the full bearing of a law has not yet been settled, not where we know the law and knowingly break it. If, for instance, we are told that there is no phonetic law 1 M. Darmesteter (Ormazd, p. 34), an excellent Zend scholar, evidently not convinced by Benfey's Zend etymology of Athana, suggests that the name of Athene may be connected with the Zend atar, fire, lightning, the Vedic *athar; but he has not shown how atar could be represented in Greek by ἀθήνη. sanctioning the change of nis or nakta into vú, νυκτός, of ἑπτά and ὀκτώ into ἕβδομος and ὄγδοος, all I can say is, that though an adequate cause of the change of a into i and v, of π into ẞ, and of κ into y, is not yet known, it will be known in time. I am old and bold enough to declare that, in spite of all that has been written on the subject, I still believe in the relationship of eós and deus, because, though I cannot fully account for it phonetically, it seems to me far more unaccountable that the Aryan word for God should have been lost in Greek, and been replaced afterwards by another, nearly identical in form and meaning, but totally distinct in origin1. And even if we yielded on the point of eós, and admitted that it could not be connected with Sanskrit deva, bright, and Latin deus, god, how could we separate the brilliant and heavenly goddess Theia from the root div or dyu, to shine, she who is the wife of Hyperion, the mother of Helios (Thiae clara progenies, Cat. 66, 44), of Selene, and Eos, and the daughter of Uranos and Ge? What can be the meaning of eîos, éelos, Lakon. σelos, when applied to men like Odysseus, if not cocíKEλos, god-like, or beoeɩdns, of godly kind, or eoyevýs, born of god? If then the same Odysseus is called Atoyevs, sprung from Zeus, or dîos, divine, excellent, if we find in Homer θεῖον γένος and διον γένος, side by side, are we to suppose that Ao and co have no connection whatever with each other 2? By all means let 1 See Selected Essays, vol. i. p. 215; Pott, in Kuhn's Zeitschrift, xxvi. p. 200 (1883). 2 On the word cós, as derived from @ée, to run, see Cratyl. 397 D; from beâoba, to see, Macrob. Sat. i. 23; from aïoew, Gregor. Nazianz. or. 30, c. 18; Migne, P. Gr. t. 36, vol. 128; Z. D. M. G. xxxvii. pp. 126, 451; xxxviii. p. 486. us put a mark against all these names, for they still require justification; but let us not suppose that to be dogmatic negatively is less objectionable than to be dogmatic positively. If it could be proved that Greek and Sanskrit had no mythological names in common, there would, of course, be an end of Comparative Mythology in the narrow sense of the word. We might still be able to compare, but we could no longer think of identifying gods and heroes, having no common name, and therefore no common origin. We can, if we like, compare Jupiter, Jehovah, and Unkulunkulu, but we cannot identify them. We should find many things which these three supreme deities share in common, only not their names, that is, not their original conception. We should have in fact morphological comparisons, which are very interesting in their way, but not what we want for historical purposes, namely genealogical identifications. LECTURE XVII. THE GENEALOGICAL SCHOOL. Identification and Comparison. T is curious that it should be necessary to repeat again and again what seems almost self-evident, namely that it is one thing to compare, but quite a different thing to identify. No two deities can be identified, unless we can trace them back to the same name, and unless we can prove that name to have been the work of one and the same original name-giver. This is a point that must be clearly apprehended, if further discussions on mythology are to lead to any useful results. But when the preparatory work of the etymologist has been finished, when we can show, for instance, that the Sanskrit name for dawn, Ushas, is the same as the Greek Eos; that the Sanskrit name for night, Nis, is but a dialectic variety of the same base which we have in Núg and Nox (noc-tis); that Dyaus is Zeus, and Agni, fire, is ignis, what then? We then have, first of all, irrefragable evidence that these names existed before the Aryan Separation; secondly, we know that, whatever character may have been assigned to the bearers of these mythological names in later times, their original conception must have been that which their etymology discloses; thirdly, that whatever, in the shape of story and legend, is told of them in common in the mythologies of different countries, must have existed before the final break up of the Aryan family. This is what constitutes Comparative Mythology in the strict, or if you like, in the narrow sense of the word. This stronghold must never be surrendered, and in order to keep it impregnable it must be kept distinct both from the Analogical and from the Psychological divisions of Comparative Mythology. Sarad and Ceres. To take another instance. If I have succeeded in proving the identity of Ceres and Sk. sarad, autumn or the ripening season, a solid foundation is laid. That foundation must be examined by scholars, and no one who is not an expert, has anything to say here. He must simply accept what is given him, and, if he cannot himself decide between two opposite opinions, he must at all events not try to pose as a linguistic Hercules in bivio. Neither common sense, nor even forensic eloquence, will here be of any avail. Now it is well known that the Romans had their own etymology of Ceres. Servius, V. G., i. 7, says 1, alma Ceres a creando dicta, quamvis Sabini Cererem panem appellant. If this were true, Ceres would originally have been conceived as creatrix. We know that the ancient Romans did not pretend to be more than folk-etymologists, but even they would have hardly found a bridge from creare to Ceres. Modern etymologists, however, have taken the hint, and have proposed to derive Ceres from the Sk. root kar, 1 Preller, Römische Mythologie, p. 403. G g |